#he is collateral damage in a war that will last long after he's gone

[transrevolutions]

as much as I can appreciate the interpretation of enjolras as being a naturally kinda quiet and calm guy, I tend to prefer the idea that he had to teach himself to be charming. he isn't necessarily cruel by nature, but he's intense. the force of his passion can scare even his closest allies as well as his enemies so he learns to file the edge of his knife sharper and smaller and sharper and smaller until he can hide it in a bouquet of flowers.

[razorsadness]

I love writing. I thought, “I’ll be a news writer.” That was why I went to grad school.

This is why I quit grad school: I learned that there are only four stories and there’s only one way to tell each but no matter what pen I used, new stories came out, seditious and unwieldy, and I still can’t stop finding new ways to tell them.

This is why I correct typos for a living while others depict glorious international events in black, white and read Virginia Woolf the other day; she said for a woman to write, she must first kill the angel in the house.

The grad school chair was too alive to be an angel, but given another chance I’d fix that and drive a red ball-point like a stake through his shriveled black heart and watch the ink run out then wash my hands.

I still read. I read all the time. I read the newspaper. On the bus. Over the shoulder. Of the person sitting in front of me. Today, it’s Wednesday but the paper’s stuck on Sunday. You’ve got to figure, though, with the speed of information these days, it was out of date on Sunday even for speed readers, outmoded even before the ink was dry and here’s the headline: NIGHTMARE IN BAGHDAD: A WOMAN SEARCHES FOR THE TRUTH ABOUT THE GULF WAR.

Do you believe everything you read? Do you believe anything you read in the newspaper? Teen Pregnancy Up, Moral Decay in America Up, Rate of Incarceration of Black Males Up, Dear Beth, Why can’t he get it up? So, there’s a NIGHTMARE in Baghdad. Wake up and the nightmare’s gone It’s not like it affects property values here in Baghdad-by-the-Bay and it’s about a woman anyway and it’s in the newspaper and she’s looking for what really happened to her son or something like that I’m sure because it’s a woman and women are only news when they have sons or husbands or they’re dead and I’m sure he’s not really dead since no one ever really dies in press rhetoric and anyway it’s only one woman “searching” for the “truth” so she’s obviously a kook or a martyr or both and we can make her disappear by turning a page we can make thousands of deaths disappear by talking about collateral damage we can make thousands of deaths disappear by not writing about them at all; wasn’t Bosnia last year?

It’s hard to turn the page of a newspaper on the bus. You hit the elbow of whoever is sitting next to you, jostle the hair of the woman putting on eyeliner in front of you. It’s messy, yes, and difficult, but a search for a story, even just one, is like that keep turning those pages next page

Headline: 70 YEARS AFTER SUFFRAGE: WHAT DO WOMEN WANT Why don’t you go ask the angel in the house? All she’s doing is reading Cosmo, which won’t cover AIDS since women aren’t really at risk no one really dies in the glossy pages with perfume strips and why dwell on that when you could be talking about seven ways to drive him wild in bed or six ways to flatten your stomach or five ways to love your body (as long as he loves it) or four ways to dress for dinner or three new hairstyles or two pages about knowing when it’s over or one story that the angel knows as she lies on her bed, looking so pretty. All stretched out, wearing her high, high ivory pedestal heels. Look at her pretty painted mouth twist in an O as I pluck her wings feather by feather—it’s painful, yes, but I guess it’s going to be like that— and I pull a feather and she’s saying there’s a story— that one about the woman who bit an apple and ruined the world and I pull a feather and she’s crying that in the beginning there was the father, the son and something invisible and I yank a handful of feathers and she screams that in the beginning there was the law, the father and I shove the feathers in her mouth and tell her, quietly, that here is the beginning and we have a murder, a motive and a body of evidence that here is the beginning and we have blank walls to write on that here is the beginning and we have blood.

—Daphne Gottlieb, “Death and the Maiden and the Information Age” (Pelt, Odd Girls Press, 1999)

[echoing--stars]

Heyo Worm o/

6, 19, 29, if you please!

o/

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

I've only recently started bookmarking stuff so usually I would only reread stuff if I happened to come across it again while going through tags 😅 Some highlights from the fics I do have bookmarked:

Iconoclasm by CrimsonRavioli (Rav!) (My tag: "Very Good Wars Stuff". Happens to be the only one with that tag, because I forgot to use it again. But it's also very well deserved.)

Marigolds by theScrap_Witch (Sad, very good)

The Inner Warriors by FlamingIdiot (Rock shared this with me early on in the process or writing TFWS, after I told them Warriors was a dragon! It's very good!)

The rest got long so -

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

His only request was that he’d be allowed to walk — with support — from the cart to the bakery’s back door.

“In case anyone is watching.”

When the medics tried to reason with him, telling Link his pride wasn’t worth injuring himself further, Rowan stepped in. He knew the real reason why Link was insisting that. There were many watchful eyes in their neighborhood, and Rowan knew Link had overheard him telling Zelda on one of her visits about how concerned some of their neighbors must be.

Link wasn’t ashamed of his injuries — he just didn’t want anyone to worry about him.

Ah this one doesn't have much written for it yet, but have this little bit anyways!

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

I think I mentioned this bit in a previous answer, actually! It was a trashed whumptober idea because I didn't have the time to do it justice. I think it was also going to be the Rowan whump fic you requested, but I turned that into request into Stay With Me instead.

Link cursed as he ran down the streets between burning destroyed buildings. He couldn’t believe that Castle Town had been attacked, and with such devastating force. For the past few hours, he’d been at the walls, trying to prevent the monsters from getting in that way. He knew that some had already made it in, knew that civilians had been ordered to evacuate to the castle earlier in the day when they’d realized the attack was inevitable. 

But he hadn’t realized how bad it had been.

Links heart leapt into his throat as he rounded the corner into his neighborhood. The one he’d spent the last few years, the best years of his life. With his husband in the home above the bakery. With the elderly neighbors that had practically adopted them. The young ones that came in because they knew Rowan would sneak them treats or to catch a glimpse of the famous hero.

The perfect memory was ruined, because many of the homes were damaged, some smoking from monster’s fiery attacks. There were still soldiers milling about, some medics helping the injured. None he recognized, but he didn’t stop for pleasantries.

Now that the official word had gone out that the attackers were repelled, there were some civilians around as well. Many seemed shell shocked at seeing their homes so damaged, but there were signs of hope as well. Neighbors helping each other clear rubble, civilians helping medics take care of injured soldiers. He overheard snatches of conversation as people offered to share what they had with those who had lost more.

Link didn’t know where Rowan would have ended up, could only hope that he’d followed the evacuation orders. He hadn’t had time to go tell him in person, too caught up in directing the defensive measures on his side of Castle Town.

Apparently, the monsters had gotten in through the EAST gate before it was fully blockaded and made their way through the city, destroying everything in their path. By the time they made it this far, the army had rallied and fought back, but there was still collateral damage.

But when turned the last corner onto his home street, Link froze at the sight. Most of the buildings here had taken heavy damage, and at least half of the homes were on fire. Windows were blown out, walls destroyed, the road torn up. Whatever had happened here, it was bad. It was a small blessing that he didn’t see any of their neighbors

[toshootforthestars]

From the report by Ken Klippenstein, posted 11 Jan 2024:

Targeting intelligence — the information used to conduct airstrikes and fire long-range artillery weapons — has played a central role in Israel’s siege of Gaza. A document obtained through the Freedom of Information Act suggests that the U.S. Air Force sent officers specializing in this exact form of intelligence to Israel in late November. Since the start of Israel’s bombardment in retaliation for Hamas’s strike on October 7, Israel has dropped more than 29,000 bombs on the tiny Gaza Strip, according to a U.S. intelligence report last month. And for the first time in U.S. history, the Biden administration has been flying surveillance drone missions over Gaza since at least early November, ostensibly for hostage recovery by special forces. At the time the drones were revealed, U.S. Gen. Pat Ryder insisted that the special operations forces deployed to Israel to advise on hostage rescue were “not participating in [Israel Defense Forces] target development.” “I’ve directed my team to share intelligence and deploy additional experts from across the United States government to consult with and advise the Israeli counterparts on hostage recovery efforts,” said President Joe Biden three days after the Hamas attack.  But several weeks later, on November 21, the U.S. Air Force issued deployment guidelines for officers, including intelligence engagement officers, headed to Israel. Experts say that a team of targeting officers like this would be used to provide satellite intelligence to the Israelis for the purpose of offensive targeting. 

* * * * *

“For air advisory missions, which I imagine involve intelligence sharing and training, specific domestic legal restrictions such as the Leahy law and the assassination ban would likely come into play,” [Tyler McBrien, managing editor of Lawfare, a website specializing in national security law] said. But the Leahy vetting process is “reversed” for Israel; rather than vetting Israeli military units beforehand, the U.S. State Department sends aid and then waits for reports of violations, according to a recent article by Josh Paul, who resigned from his post as a State Department political-military officer over his concerns with U.S. support for Israel. “As a general matter, U.S. officials who are providing support to another country during armed conflict would want to make sure they are not aiding and abetting war crimes,” Finucane told The Intercept. He emphasized that the same principle applies to weapons transfers and intelligence sharing. The Israeli military intentionally strikes Palestinian civilian infrastructure, known as “power targets,” in order to “create a shock,” according to an investigation by the Israeli news website +972 Magazine. Targets are generated using an artificial intelligence system known as “Habsora,” Hebrew for “gospel.” “Nothing happens by accident,” an Israeli military intelligence source told +972 Magazine. “When a 3-year-old girl is killed in a home in Gaza, it’s because someone in the army decided it wasn’t a big deal for her to be killed — that it was a price worth paying in order to hit [another] target. We are not Hamas. These are not random rockets. Everything is intentional. We know exactly how much collateral damage there is in every home.” The Biden administration has gone to great lengths to conceal the nature of its support for the Israeli military. The Pentagon quietly tapped a so-called Tiger Team to facilitate weapons assistance to Israel, as The Intercept has previously reported. The administration has also declined to reveal which weapons systems it’s providing Israel and at which quantities, insisting that the secrecy is necessary for security reasons.  “We’re being careful not to quantify or get into too much detail about what they’re getting — for their own operational security purposes, of course,” White House spokesperson John Kirby told reporters during a press briefing in October.  This contrasts with its support for Ukraine, about which it has been far more transparent.

[spitfire-of-the-sea]

Holding on

Another little Ace x reader scenario. I SHOULD work. Instead, I'd rather contemplate dumb scenarios because they make me giggle. :D Mostly spittballing ideas here, of scenes I might like to put into a fanfic. This one is a mess, since I literally just typed it down and it's not beta-ed... but I hope you still find it amusing. =) Somewhat at least. No beta. We die like pirates.

Ace x reader; SFW

Napping during the daytime didn’t pay off.

Well, at least it didn’t anymore since one Portgas D. Ace had joined your crew. For one, there was a chance that somehow you’d end up in the middle of one of his I-will-murder-Pops-challenges. The chance was slim – usually, in some way, he tried his best to make sure to not cause collateral damage – but it was never zero. You’d know. Pretty early on after he’d been brought on board you’d taken a nap on deck and the next thing you knew your hair was singed and your little deck chair had broken down with you and Ace on top of it in a mess of flailing limbs and breathless curses.

A couple of months had gone by since then and things had changed – at least at this point the challenges were officially announced ahead of time and you had time to scramble off before you or your hair were in any real danger. You’d also started to notice that Ace was, in fact, damn attractive when he wasn’t spitting hissed insults like a feral cat backed into a corner. His freckles were damn cute and he was actually quite polite and nice, at least when he wasn’t talking to Pops.

Not that you’d ever admit it. You butted heads with him often enough, tired of his completely insane quest to defeat Pops and Ace’s complete inability to realize that it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, if ever.

Hence, you’d done the sensible thing. You’d taken all those nauseating little feelings unfolding somewhere deep in your chest, fluttering up in your belly, tugging on the corners of your lips, and had stuffed them into a drawer labeled “Hard Nope” somewhere deep in the back of your head. Sure, sometimes they slipped out and you couldn’t help but watch him a tad too long or take it upon yourself to clean his wounds and bandage them even if there were so many other people around who could have easily done an even better job… but mostly, you managed. Distance helped.

However, all this had made you somewhat careless. You had gone back to your habit of taking naps on deck whenever you had an hour of time in between. As Marco’s assistant, you were used to long evenings and sometimes hectic days. The naps helped. You liked your naps.

They had gotten you into this situation, though: the situation being that you had been asleep when there had been a vote on who would be on Ace-duty today. Without the ability to protest, you had ended up being volunteered and so… here you were.

Ace-duty meant you’d have to keep an eye on him while you were on the island and that was a full-time job that allowed no mistakes. You’d have to keep him in sight at all times and make sure he didn’t accidentally light anything on fire, eat somebody out of a living without paying, blurt out his plan to kill Pops to the whole world (it was unlikely the pirate world would react with only mild amusement; most likely, they’d sense a sign of weakness and send tons of challengers and that would be annoying). Plus, you had to keep him from drowning in his food and starting a small-scale war.

Thatch had lost him sometime during a late evening only weeks ago and mere hours later you’d somehow ended up in the middle of a civil war between two villages. It had something to do with a shrine of some sun deity and half of the people started to worship Ace while the other half tried to kill him as an imposter.

The time before that Izou had simply not given enough fucks to take his duty seriously and from what you’d heard, Ace had eaten a whole restaurant empty, then fainted in his last plate and almost been buried alive by a very panicked middle-aged couple who were afraid they had somehow killed one of Pops’ sons and tried to get rid of the evidence.

So, long story short… it was your turn to watch Ace tonight and you would not let him escape your sight and cause mayhem. Spotting his bright orange hat in the distance, he was already making his way off the Moby Dick. You narrowed your eyes and cracked first your knuckles and then your neck. After a few stretches, you set off to catch up with him, simply vaulting over the railing and landing right in front of him.

He came to a halt abruptly, almost bumping into you and you saw his eyes widen for a moment. In the next one, a bright smile appeared on his lips as he regarded you.

“Oh, hey!” he said easily and watched you straighten yourself up in front of him. Your height wasn’t very impressive, you were smaller than almost everybody else on the Moby Dick. You were cursing yourself for miscalculating and jumping down too close in front of him, now you had to look up to him. You glared.

He cocked his head to the side, watching you. “Oh, well,” he said then, his smile growing as he reached out a hand and patted your head. “I’ll be off then.”

Patted. Your. Head.

Caught between the urgent feeling of your cheeks suddenly being on fire and the urge to slap his hand away because you were not a dog, you froze for a precious second. Words were piling up on top of your tongue, nonsensical and undecided and locked away behind clenched teeth. By the time you’d formulated a sentence, his warm hand had already slipped off your head as he moved past you and moved into the crowd. It was more reflex than conscious thought that made your hand snap out and catch him by his shirt, barely catching it by the hem.

He stopped again when he felt the tug, throwing you a confused glance over his shoulder and his warm brown eyes on you only made matters worse if possible. You stared at him like a damn idiot, unable to put together even the most rudimentary word combination. Something that vexed you to no uncertain extent, you were not usually so tongue-tied and that left only one conclusion:

It was clearly his fault. He made you look dumb. Or perhaps he made you dumb. Whichever it was, you didn’t like it. Perhaps it was the magic power of the physique he was displaying so generously, shirt open all the time and now even within reach. Damn his magic abs.

“Do you need something?” Ace asked finally and cocked an eyebrow at you, his eyes searching you before they dropped to your hand on his shirt.

Finally, finally, something came out of your mouth: “You have to stay close.”

His second eyebrow joined the first one, both now almost touching his hairline before he chuckled, hunching down to be on eye-level with you. Which made things so much worse. So. Much. Worse. You could basically have bumped your nose against his with only one step forward.

“Are you scared?” he asked gently and reached out again, patting you again. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”

That did it.

You used your free hand to slap his away from your head, huffing and puffing. “I’m not scared!” you snapped. Despite your size, you were, in fact, not completely helpless! Sure, you were not exactly a top-tier fighter but you could hold your own well enough.

His smile softened and he nodded, dropping his hand. “Of course not.”

Oh, that guy ticked you off on so many levels. Like, why couldn’t he just fucking close his shirt?!

“I’m not!” you repeated and were very aware that you sounded like a petulant four-year-old. You took a deep breath, willing at least a few of your brain cells to stop registering the outline of his abdominal muscles and the V you could see trailing down into his…-

Damnit it! Again!

“I’m not scared!” you said for the third time and would have slapped yourself if it hadn’t made you look even weirder. “What I mean,” you continued immediately when he opened his mouth, “is that you need to stay close to me so you’re safe!”

Ace laughed at that. The bastard.

“I think I’ll be fine,” he finally said, mirth still making his eyes twinkle as he straightened again. “I think I’ll go off on my own tonight. I’ll see you later!”

You stared at him. He stared right back, then looked down at your hand on his shirt, and then back at you.

“No you won’t,” you said and tried to do so calmly. “Go off on your own, that is.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because this island is not Pops’ territory, per se. It’s right at the border with Kaido and we don’t want to lure him out of Wano. It will be annoying to explain to the commanders why I let you bring a dormant volcano back to life just for shits and giggles...-“

“There’s a dormant volcano here?” Ace interrupted you, interest lighting up his face and you cursed yourself.

“No?” you tried and tightened your fingers on his shirt.

“So yes?” he asked with a grin and already looked up toward the forest-covered mountain not too far in the distance.

“Listen, we won’t go there,” you told him and quickly considered your options. “There’s a BBQ place just down the road, I’m sure you’re hungry. Let’s go there…!” You started walking in that direction and only realized after a few steps that you were holding his shirt in your hand. Only his shirt. Without him in it.

Pivoting on the balls of your feet you quickly spotted his broad back as he made his way through the crowd heading for the mountain. He’d simply slipped out of his shirt. Panic rose in you before anger quickly pushed it back down. Dropping the shirt you quickly sprinted after him, catching up just before he turned into a side-street and could slip out of your sight. Reaching out you curled two fingers around a belt-hoop on his trousers, jerking him back.

Still fully focused on catching up with him, you had not thought it fully through, and were not prepared for your motion making Ace stumble back a step and bump into you. Embarrassingly, you bounced off of him like a ping-pong-ball bounced against a wall and would have gone down if not for your reflexes.

“I said no!,” you told him firmly, your voice muffled by the hand you had brought up to tenderly feel your nose – you’d smashed into his shoulder with it and since the damn man apparently had the consistency of a brick wall, it was throbbing now.

“Ach, come on!” he whined. “I am just going to take a look, I’ve never seen one. I’ll behave!”

Which was a lie if you’d ever heard one. You doubted Ace knew the meaning of ‘behave’. Your fingers tightened around the belt hoop as you stared up at him. There was little doubt in your head that you’d not be able to contain whatever he could start at that volcano and you weren’t willing to give it a try.

“No! We’ll go and eat! You like food!” you told him and tugged. To no avail, he didn’t budge. Instead, his eyes went to your hand and you could see the cogs in his head turn.

“You want to strip out of those, too?” you snapped.

He lifted his head to meet your eyes and you didn’t like the grin on his face. You liked even less that you couldn’t help but drop your gaze to your hand and thereby his waistline and thereby the V-shape and thereby the thoughts of what if he actually stripped out of those…

“Why not?” Ace asked, the ever-present grin making pretty good progress in driving you up the wall. “Freedom might be worth it.”

Clenching your teeth you snapped your eyes back up to his. He wouldn’t. Right? Right?!

Deciding to call his bluff you leaned closer. “If you do,” you told him succinctly, “I’ll still have something to hold onto.”

For once it seemed as though you had succeeded in wiping that grin off his face.

[maximons]

Without You

Summary: Everything seems to be going alright for Wanda Maximoff, but a mission gone horribly awry makes everything crash and burn.

Word Count: 3,101

Genre: Angst

Requested?: Yes

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood, burns, scarring

A/N: Alright kids, you ready for angst time? My first full out angst fic, oh boy. This ones got no happy ending guys, so do with that what you will. This takes place during Civil War, so spoilers...? I guess? I’d say Happy Reading, but I don’t think you guys will be that happy by the end of this sooo good luck!

Lagos.

That’s the place where everything in Wanda’s life fell apart. Or at least fell apart even further than it had before.

Some of the team were out on a mission. You guys finally managed to track down Rumlow and his gang after about a year of searching. Everything was going fairly well, yes there was some collateral damage, and things didn’t exactly go according to plan, but overall, it looked like you guys would come out of this with a win.

And then, it happened.

Wanda and you had begun to jog up to Steve’s location, where you saw him stare Rumlow down. Something in you just told you that this wasn’t going to go well. You looked at the scene in front of you, and then your gaze fell onto the building behind it. It was too close for comfort.

“Babe, I’m gonna go check that building.” You turned to your girlfriend. “Looks like there could be a lot of people in there, I’m gonna try to get them out.” She looked at you, and then to the building briefly. Part of her wanted to question why when the fight was happening out here, but she knew in your line of work things can be unpredictable.

She nodded. “Okay, be safe.” You nodded back with a small smile, and pecked her on the cheek.

“Always am.” With that, you ran off.

It was only about two or three minutes after you ran in when things went to hell.

Rumlow pulled a pin on his vest, and Wanda reacted as quickly as she could, capturing him mid explosion in her magic. She lifted him up, trying to get him as far away from the people below as possible, but she couldn’t hold it anymore. The explosion went off.

Blowing a huge hole into that building.

Wanda stood there, shocked for a moment over what just happened. Her hand came and slowly covered her mouth, mind going over all the damage she just caused. She vaguely heard Steve calling for fire and rescue, and then it hit her.

You were in there.

“Y/n...” She whispered, still in a state of shock, but she quickly snapped out of it and sprang into action. “Y/n!” She heard Steve yell for her to wait, but she didn’t care. She took off, flying up and landed in one of the building’s destroyed floors.

She did her best to ignore the carnage around her, carnage she caused. She pushed down the bile that was rising in her throat, and continued her search for you. 

And then she found you.

You were a super soldier, so luckily you didn’t die from the blast, she could still feel your pulse. But you didn’t look good.

You were lying on the charred floor, unconscious. Half of your suit was burned off, leaving nasty burns all on your arm and torso, some even creeping up your neck and face. Blood also dripped down from an open wound on your temple.

Wanda couldn’t bring herself to care about your appearance, though. You were still alive, and that’s the main thing she cared about right now.

“Don’t worry.” She sobbed out, hand gently caressing your unburned cheek. “You’re okay...you’re gonna be okay...” She tore her gaze away from you for a minute, and looked around. Tears falling at the sight of multiple bodies, people who weren’t as lucky as you.

People who were dead because of her.

“...I’m so sorry...”

The next week was chaos.

You were brought to the compound’s medical facility immediately, doctors working fast to try and save your life. They managed to stabilize you, now it was just a waiting game as to when you would wake up. Wanda would visit you everyday, barely being able to leave your side. Steve managed to convince her that she needed to rest, saying that you wouldn’t want to see her neglecting her needs. She hesitantly complied, and finally went to her room to sleep for the night.

The next morning, the news started reporting the incident.

And of course they blamed her.

Logically, Wanda knew this wasn’t entirely her fault. Rumlow was the one who turned himself into a bomb. She was just trying to save the lives below. That thought brought her little comfort though.

She was still responsible for the lives lost in that building. She was still responsible for you, the love of her life, being severely injured and in a coma.

Maybe they were right.

Steve didn’t let her wallow in that thought for too long though, because he shut the TV off. He sat down and gave her one of his hope speeches, and she appreciated the effort, but she didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s my fault.” She whispered. “All of those people, dead because of me...and Y/n...” She trailed off, tears forming in her eyes. Steve placed a hand on her leg, trying to comfort her.

“You know...she doesn’t blame you, I know she doesn’t.”

“Maybe she should...they all should.”

Steve couldn’t get anything else out, as Vision phased in the room and told them of the arrival of Secretary Ross.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, he had told them about the Sokovia Accords. Wanda hated the idea, forcing heroes to register with the government, essentially making them puppets for them. She knew you would hate it too, you never were one to trust the government.

“Look, we understand where you’re coming from, but if it weren’t for us, there’d be a lot more blood spilled.” Sam argued.

“Tell that to the innocent civilians in that Lagos hospital building.” Ross argued back. “Oh wait, you can’t.”

“If it weren’t for Wanda, hundreds of people in the streets below would have been killed.” Steve cut in. “If it weren’t for Y/n, hundreds of more people would have been in that building.”

“And look where that landed her.”

Wanda had enough. She shot up from her chair, and stormed out of the room.

She went straight to your hospital room, your still unconscious body covered in bandages. She pulled up a chair beside your bed, hand going to grip yours. She tried to speak, but couldn’t bring herself to form the words. So she just rested her head on your joined hands and cried.

The next few weeks saw the Avengers falling apart, divided over the accords. Wanda was especially disappointed in Natasha’s decision, given that you two were best friends. 

Wanda hasn’t left the compound. Most of her time was spent visiting you and sleeping as best she could. Your burns had begun healing, but barely. They still left pretty nasty scars. Your breathing had improved, which satisfied the doctors. They had said you could wake up any moment now, Wanda just hoped it was soon.

The next day, Wanda walked into the kitchen to find Vision cooking. She found that odd, since she knew he didn’t eat, but he explained that he was making it for her. You used to cook for her a lot, and after a few disasters, you finally got the recipe down. Vision’s was no where near as good as yours, but she appreciates the effort.

After a conversation about their powers and their fear of them, Wanda volunteered to go to the store to pick up some paprika that would greatly help the dish. Vision stopped her.

“Vision...are you not letting me leave?”

“It’s a matter of safety.”

“I can handle myself.”

Vision stopped her again. “Not yours. Mr. Stark would like to avoid the possibility of another public incident.”

Wanda looked at the synthezoid in disbelief. “I’m not an out of control time bomb. It was an accident.”

“I know. I do, but...you powers are very unpredictable. You are also...vulnerable. My scanners have indicated you are, how you say, ‘on edge’. You have been ever since Miss L/n was admitted in the medical wing.”

Wanda’s gaze turned into a harsh glare. “I know that human emotion is a foreign concept to you Vision, but trust me, if your girlfriend was ever put in a coma because of you...being ‘on edge’ is the least you would be.”

Without waiting for a response, Wanda turned around and stormed off. She headed to the one place that her feet often dragged her to the last weeks. Your bedside. 

She sat and took a hold of your hand. She stared at you for a moment before she spoke. “Hey, baby. Things have been...hard without you to say the least. Not that this wouldn’t be hard anyway, but everything is falling apart. These stupid accords are ruining everything. Tony has become a government pet, Nat joining him, Steve is off doing who knows what, and now...I’m locked in.” She paused. “You know, as much as I wish more than anything that you were awake and by my side right now...part of me is glad that you wouldn’t have to see your family fall apart like this. It’d break your heart...” She stayed for a few more moments, staring at your face and taking in your features once again. She then leaned down to kiss your hand. “I love you.” With that, she left.

Later that night, Wanda was back in the main room of the compound. You still haven’t woken up, she just learned she was essentially on house arrest, so she was trying to find ways to find ways to distract herself. She was reading a book, when she heard a loud explosion go off outside. She walked over to the window to take a look, Vision joining her a few moments later.

“What is it?”

“Stay here please.”

Wanda was left alone for a moment, before she felt a presence behind her. She quickly grabbed hold of the knife on the table, and flinging it towards the new presence. She halted it when she saw who it was.

Clint.

The next few minutes passed by like a blur. Clint was convincing her to come help Steve, Vision came back in but was trapped, Wanda hesitated and Clint gave her one of those hope speeches. She was about to decline, before he said one last thing.

“You know, if Y/n was awake...I know she’d side with Steve, and she’d only hope you’d do the same.”

Was it manipulative? Possibly, but he was also right. You would have sided with Steve, no question. Doing what you could to help. She thought on it for a few more moments, before she nodded. They were about to leave before Vision broke free. The two men fought, and before she knew it, she was sending the synthezoid several floors down and into the ground. 

She went to her room, quickly packing her suit and anything else she thought she would need. She went back out to meet Clint, about to leave, but she stopped.

“Wait! I gotta see Y/n first.” 

Clint sighed, but knew he couldn’t deny her of this. “Alright, make it quick.”

She booked it to your hospital room. You were lying there, same as you have been for a while. She quickly surged forward grabbed your hand, not bothering to sit. She knew they didn’t have time.

“Alright, baby. I’m gonna go out for a bit, okay? I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but...I’m going to do what’s right. I’m going to fight. I finally ‘got off my ass’ as you would say.” She chuckled, but it held no real joy behind it. “I just hope you’d be proud of me...and I just hope that I can come back to see you-”

Wanda cut herself off when she felt you begin to move. All of a sudden your face shifted, and you began to turn your head. 

“Y/n?...”

You began to open your eyes slowly, head slowly lifting off your pillow. Your eyes looked around, trying to adjust to the brightness of the room. Before you could even look at Wanda though, you began coughing. 

Wanda rushed to poor you a glass of water, knowing your mouth would be dry from not using it for a while. She handed it to you, quickly, and you slowly raised your hand to take it. As you began to drink, Wanda couldn’t help but smile. You were finally awake. She was beyond relieved. She was put in a rough spot now, she knew she had to meet Clint so they could go, but...you were finally awake. She couldn’t leave you.

“Wanda, we gotta go!” She heard Clint yell, and without tearing her eyes away from you, she yelled back.

“In a minute! Y/n just woke up!”

She didn’t hear a response from the man, but she heard footsteps quickly making its way towards your room. 

You finished drinking your water and placed the cup on the bedside table. You began to try to sit up, but Wanda rushed to your side to help.

“Here you go, easy.”

When you fully sat up, you took in the appearance of the woman next to you. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She breathed out. You looked her in the eyes, smile still on both your faces. But, Wanda’s smile dropped instantly at the next words that came out of your mouth.

“Sorry, hi, I’m Y/n. You probably already knew that though.” You chuckled nervously. “Are you one of the nurses?”

Wanda froze. No. This couldn’t be happening. The doctors told her that Amnesia was a possibility since you hit your head on impact from the blast, but it never seemed like a real threat. She stared at you, jaw slacked for a few more moments.

“Um, hello?...Oh! Are you my doctor? Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

Wanda snapped out of it when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to see it was Clint. You spoke up again before she could say anything though.

“Oh, hey, are you a nurse? Or doctor?”

Realization filled Clint’s face, but he held it together. He simply shook his head.

“Oh...so, is someone supposed to help me or...?” You trailed off. 

Clint looked to Wanda, who was still in shock, tears beginning to form in her eyes. He knew he had to take over, get them out as soon as possible. “Sorry, Y/n. We’ll get your nurse to come and check on you. Glad to see you’re awake.” Before you could respond, he quickly rushed out of the room, pulling Wanda with him.

Wanda finally let herself break down, and cried in the van. She barely had time to process everything before they picked up a man name Scott and flew to the airport to meet Steve.

Steve broke down the plan and the team went separate ways to suit up and get in position. Except Wanda. Steve was about to go get himself ready, but paused when he saw the witch frozen in place.

“Wanda? You okay?” Wanda simply shook her head and looked up at him, he could see the tears in her eyes. “What happened?”

“Y/n woke up.”

Steve raised his eyebrows in shock. “She did? That’s great-” He was cut off when Wanda let out a sob. He then put two and two together, something was wrong. “...What was it?”

“She...doesn’t remember anything...doesn’t remember me...”

Steve sighed. He was saddened by the news as well, you and him were very close, both being super soldiers and all. He couldn’t even imagine what Wanda was going through in this moment though, so he put on a brave face. He went over to the witch and wrapped an arm around her. “Y/n is strong...when this is over, we’ll go see her and start-” Steve was cut off again when Wanda shook her head.

“Steve...you and I both know this isn’t gonna end with us just being able to go back...” She looked up at him. He was about to speak up again, when he heard Sam in his ear.

“Cap, Tony and Rhodey are flying in now. You good to go?” 

Steve looked to Wanda, knowing she heard him too since they all had coms. She nodded. “On my way.” He turned to leave, before giving Wanda one last look. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t.

The fight at the airport was beyond tiresome, and they lost. Steve and Bucky got away to handle the other Winter Soldiers, but the rest of the team was captured.

So now here she was, sitting in a cell in a high security prison in the middle of the ocean...with a straight jacket and shock collar on. Wanda couldn’t even be upset about it. She was numb. She’s already lost everything she possibly could. Her parents, her brother, her country, and now...you. She couldn’t bring herself to care whether or not she wasted away in this cell. Maybe she deserved to.

But of course, she couldn’t even have that for long, as Steve broke them out a few days later.

Up on the quinjet with Steve and the rest of the team, she sat alone, staring out the window watching the dark clouds pass by. After a few moments, she felt a presence next to her. She looked over to see who it was. Natasha.

“What are you doing here?” Wanda asked, looking back out the window. 

“It’s a long story.” She answered. “Steve told me what happened, I...I’m not even sure what to say. I am so sorry Wanda.” Wanda merely nodded, not trusting her voice right now. Natasha took a deep breath and continued. “Y’know...I can pull some strings, the ones I have left anyway. Get Y/n relocated to be with us. I know she doesn’t remember anything right now, but-”

“No.” Wanda cut her off, surprising the redhead.

“Wha...what do you mean ‘no’?”

Wanda had thought about it, she’s thought about it the entire time she was in the Raft. She would love nothing more than to see you again, to hold you and help you on your recovery, but...she couldn’t. She was a wanted fugitive now, and you were only in this predicament because of her...she had to be selfless here. She couldn’t bring you into this life, not when you were missing chunks of your own.

“I mean no.” She said, looking up into Natasha’s eyes, tears pooling in her own. “She’s better off.”

And with that, Wanda got up, walking towards the back of the jet to be alone. She took a deep breath, and prepared herself. Preparing herself for a new life as a fugitive on the run. And most importantly...

Preparing for a life without you.

[starlightrows]

Head Over Heels

Part I—

Next →

Pairing: Wrecker x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Mentions of sex, this chapter is pretty much nothing but fluff

Summary: A feisty little mechanical engineer and a massive clone trooper

The last few months have been rocky to say the least, with the way the war is progressing you have to take on more and more work to pick up the slack left behind from fallen troopers, and enlisted men and women alike. Which means you were suddenly promoted up to senior mechanical engineer on this base, leaving you with five permanent squadrons operating out of this base to look after, as well as any pit stops made by any of the other six hundred some odd battalions in the GAR.

You never thought you would be in a position of command, in any form, being the senior mechanical engineer made you the second most senior person in charge of this base. Base Commander, it sounded stranger with your name in front of it. You always thought you’d be glossed over for a position like this, given your overly enthusiastic and rather sunny disposition. A stark contrast from the clone commanders, and high authority military men that were now your peers. But then again, no one knew GAR technology and space craft mechanics like you did.

Your newest permanent squadron stationed at your base was an odd combination of men, who clashed deeply not only with themselves but also with everyone else around them. Clone Force 99, or The Bad Batch as they had dubbed themselves. You didn’t find them to be all that bad.

Hunter was a bit intimidating at first, any man with half of his face tattooed with a skull could be considered intimidating. But he wasn’t all that bad, he was respectful and tried his best to keep his ragtag squad on their best behavior.

Tech wasn’t so bad either, though he did have a nasty habit of trying to get you to slip up in your technical knowledge and execution. He may be genetically engineered to be smart, but that doesn’t mean he knows everything. And besides he hasn’t succeeded yet in getting you to make a mistake.

Crosshair… okay, there is something to be said for him. He could be horrible sometimes with the things he said and the way he treated people. Even the other members of his own squad.

But the last member, Wrecker. He was something else entirely. Loud, boisterous, funny, incredibly sweet and kind when he wasn’t actively trying to blow something up. You figured since they seemed intent on break every rule they encountered anyway, being in a relationship with Wrecker was worth the risk of getting in trouble with higher command.

It started out fairly innocent, he just liked being around you. Watching you fix various parts of the ship, listening to you talk about whatever it was you’re doing… even if it all went over his head. He just liked to hear your voice and see you get excited over things. As time went on, he liked sitting with you while you ate when taking breaks from your work. Holding your hand and marveling at how itty bitty it was compared to his massive one. Everything about you was smaller and softer than him. But your spirit, your passion, and your smile were larger than life.

He couldn’t seem to get enough of your small, soft hands. Any chance he got he’d pull you away from whatever you were doing to come down to your height and steal a kiss, or snatch you up to come to his height to cuddle you close. When he was sure you really wouldn’t be caught, he’d sneak off with you to explore more of your soft skin. Long nights spent in your private quarters on the base, exploring each other’s bodies and giggling through the effort of trying to keep quite. Being with Wrecker meant being patient. Waiting for the right moment to sneak away, waiting for him to come back from mission, and patient in your love making. Taking a man his size is a challenge for you, but patience pays off, every single time.

Every time they left for an assignment you triple checked their ship, The Havoc Marauder, to make sure it was up to whatever perils they were about to put it through. Usually Tech would hover around, inspecting every little thing you touch. Eventually you’d call out your preflight check complete, and Tech would have to resign himself to accepting your clearance. Crosshair would largely ignore you, or more often find something rude and unpleasant to say. Hunter would usher him on, and remind you of their designated return date. Wrecker always lingered, waiting until his brothers were safely on the ship and not gawking so he could bend down and scoop you up for a hug.

“Bye Tiny,” he’d always say, giving you a squeeze.

“Bye big guy, I’ll see you soon,” you always give him a kiss on the cheek before he sets you down gently and steals a quick kiss on your lips.

They’d usually be gone for a couple days, sometimes a week or two. If they had to stop off at another base, Hunter would usually contact you to be aware of a new return date. You hate getting those calls, not like you don’t have enough to keep you busy when they’re not around. But still, when you’re in a new relationship, the only thing you really want to do is be around them. You missed your loud, energetic mountain of a man.

This time, Hunter had commed you not once, not twice, but three times to push back their estimated return date. Apparently they’d been roped into helping a couple other squads in nearby systems.

“It’s good for our image,” Hunter had said “we don’t exactly have the greatest reputation in the GAR”

“Yes, and I wonder how that came to be?” you laughed knowing Hunter would understand your meaning. Their squad truly wasn’t so horrible, but between Wrecker’s collateral damage and Crosshair’s incessant need to antagonize literally every other member of the GAR, it’s not hard to see why others have such a dim view of them.

“Oh you know, people are just hard to please.” he joked

“Well… stay safe. Don’t break too much on that ship you’re so attached to,” you said, Hunter paused for a moment.

“You wanna talk to him?” he asked, you could hear the grin in his voice.

“Can I?” you asked hopefully

“He’s not provoking Crosshair when he’s talking to you, take as long as you’d like” he said “try not to get him too riled up though, not a lot of privacy on the ship,”

You laughed a bit “No promises Sarge,”

Hunter shook his head and left the cockpit, leaving the com channel open, you could hear him walking away. Heavy footsteps rapidly approach the comlink receiver, even though you can’t see him with the holovid feature turned off you know he’s got a big grin on his face. The door to the cockpit slides shut, and there’s a soft sound of him sinking into the pilots seat.

“Hi Tiny,” he said excitedly.

“Hello handsome, causing trouble?” you asked with a giggle

“Me? Trouble? Nah, I’m a model soldier. Poster child for the Grand Army of the Republic,” he replied.

You spent nearly two hours that night talking to Wrecker over the comlink. About the mission, about how things were going on the base, about plans for when he got back, plans for the future, and nothing at all. Eventually, your eyes were beginning to droop and your responses interspersed with muffled yawns.

“Think it’s time for you to go to bed Tiny,” he laughed

“Hmmm…. you’re probably right. Can’t keep my eyes open,” you mumbled “guess that means it’s time to say goodbye,”

“Goodnight Tiny, see you soon,” he said

“Goodnight Big Guy…. love you,” you realized in your sleepy mind, that was the first time you’d said that to him. Maybe this wasn’t the right time, but you’d been thinking it over and over the last few weeks it just slipped out.

“I love you too baby,” he replied before switching off the comlink.

Wrecker sat back in the silence for a moment, letting the gravity of what you’d just said wash over him.

She loves me! He thought to himself She loves ME!

Tag List: @escapedthesarlacc

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: The Star Wars Wednesday Menace

(This came from a crack-treated-seriously idea I was throwing around with -- and at -- my friends where Vader didn't suppress his Anakin side as much as he thought, and he keeps finding himself amused by the trouble that pesky Death Star Pilot causes. Sometimes he lets him escape on purpose, just to see what he'll do next. He kind of tries to stealth-train him, like Maul and Ezra)

“Oh, the Force is certainly with you, boy.” 

Vader easily sidestepped the blade with good humor and parried. “But you are no Jedi.”

“I will be!” the Boy snarled.

Oddly, that seemed to make Vader almost falter.

“You’re...very certain that’s what you want?” he asked suddenly. He caught the Boy’s blade on his own and held it effortlessly. “Have you truly considered the cost of such a commitment?”

The Boy -- one of these days Vader was actually going to learn his name -- glared up at him from those too-familiar eyes. “Scared of what I’ll become, Vader?”

It was a childish taunt, and not one that should have rankled. And yet, somehow, it did. What would the Boy become? Vader pressed his attack a little more forcefully than he needed to. The Boy stumbled, barely able to parry in time.

“You are naive!” Vader snarled. “You play at war like it’s a game! Knights and dragons, like the child you are!” He swung, and the Boy ducked quickly. “Do not be so quick to swear oaths of loyalty to Orders you know nothing about! You do not yet know what you will be asked to sacrifice in return.”

The Boy was taken aback by this. He drew back a foot or so, holding the lightsaber in a guard position. He was cautious now, more so than before. He tilted his head and blinked slowly -- curse him, why did he have to look so much like Anakin he had once imagined his child might? Why was he so familiar? 

“You aren’t talking about me, are you?”

Vader cursed himself, and the Boy, and that inconvenient soft spot he’d inexplicably developed for an enemy. 

“Your insight serves you well,” he grudgingly allowed. “Behold: a cautionary tale made flesh. Do not put your trust in the wrong people, Boy.”

“Will you stop calling me that?!” the Boy protested.

Vader scoffed. “I do not know your name. What else would I call you?”

The Boy opened his mouth to argue, and abruptly closed it again. After a moment, a shrewd light entered his eyes. Vader had seen that look before. It usually heralded the little Rebel doing something infuriating and yet endlessly amusing.

“I’ll tell you my name, Vader,” the cunning brat offered, “After you tell me why you’re a cautionary tale.”

“You are blackmailing me?” Vader casually twirled his lightsaber and circled the Boy. “Ha! You imp. Very well, but do not think I’m going to let you live long enough to tell your Rebel friends.”

The Boy mimicked the twist of his blade -- much more smoothly this time! He was progressing! -- and flashed a cocky grin. “Yeah? That’s the same threat you made the last time I escaped. And the time before that.” 

“True, that is true,” Darth Vader acknowledged. “You are becoming quite accomplished at that.”

Indeed, the last time I did not even have to help you “escape”. 

He thought for a moment, then switched off his blade. Their battlefield was so cluttered with the collateral damage of a Rebel skirmish that it was not difficult to find a still-smouldering piece of an AT-ST to sit on.

Why did he feel the need to advise this young Rebel? What purpose did it serve to coddle him so much? If he was just going to take him as his apprentice either way, he didn’t really need to put so much effort into winning his trust, did he? Well, perhaps he did. It was clear that the Boy was learning in leaps and bounds from their little game, though he would no doubt be loath to admit it. He wanted to outdo Vader. Spite was a very effective motivator.

And besides, perhaps playing the mentor just a little more than usual would serve to make the Boy drop his guard just that little bit more. 

That didn’t mean it was a story he liked to tell. But he had come too far to back down now.

“I...once trusted a man to save my family from imminent death,” Vader said slowly. Reluctantly. “I first went to the Jedi. Yes, your beloved Jedi, for help. And they advised me to “let go” and allow my pregnant wife to die.”

He sensed confusion from the Boy. Then disbelief and suspicion, slowly leveling out into recognition that he was telling the truth. That, and dull horror. Well, that was a bit more validating than he’d expected, wasn’t it?

“The Jedi failed me, Boy. And so I turned to the Sith. He had the power to preserve one’s life force, by drawing on the Dark Side of the Force. He still does, in fact. I have witnessed it.”

“Oh. Great.” The Boy shuddered. “That’s...good to know.”

“Such was my thought. But as you do not seem to understand yet, despite your accent clearly marking you as coming from Tatooine, nothing is done for free. There is always a price, Boy. Always.” Vader turned the hilt of his saber over in his hands slowly. “To prove my loyalty, I was commanded to kill the Jedi. All of them. And I did so, without question: he insisted that I wholly cut myself off from my past so that he could be assured of my future loyalty. Only then would he fulfill his side of the bargain.”

The Boy took another step back, repulsed. “You...you killed hundreds...thousands of Jedi...because someone told you he refused to save your wife and baby otherwise? You just handed your family over as hostages because somebody said they could help you? That’s a Hutt’s bargain, are you nuts?! Why didn’t you just take her to a doctor?!”

Anger crawled up Vader’s throat like acid. The Boy did not know what he was talking about. Nor did he seem to remember to whom he was speaking. You will learn, my reluctant apprentice. 

“Doctors do not understand ailments predicted by the Force,” he said harshly. “No one else was willing to help me but an old mentor and scholar with seemingly noble purpose. Does that not seem familiar to you? I rashly swore my allegiance just as you seem to have.”

With a hiss, the Boy’s lightsaber flicked off and hung useless at his side. He sank into a crouch, just watching him. Those eyes, Anakin’s eyes, held a terrible, knowing, look. A haunted look.

“He didn’t save her, did he?” the Boy whispered.

He sounded as though he wanted to be sick.

“No, Boy. He did not.” Vader’s fists tightened over the hilt with a creak. “But by then, I had cut off my own retreat. There was nothing else left but my vow to his Order.” 

It burned, even letting someone he intended to take as a padawan know anything about his past. It burned to admit that he had been deceived. That he had met the fate he tried to avoid on the path he took to escape it. It stung that this Rebel’s child was nearly the age The Baby would have been.

The Dark Side flickered warmly around him, taking his pain and anger and sorrow and exchanging them for raw power. Padme was gone -- forever beyond his reach. As was the child he had never gotten to meet. To hold.

“That’s why you killed him?”

Vader looked up in time to see the Boy grit his teeth and turn his face away.

“It’s not fair.” 

“What is not fair?”

A spike of anger, bright and sharp, burst through the Force for a moment.

“Why was my family less important than yours?” the Boy challenged. “Why, Vader?! I lost my father because you thought you might lose your family?”

“I did lose my family!” Vader roared. He leapt up, blade at the ready again. “What do you know of such matters? Tell me! What would you have done for a chance to save your father, Boy?”

He brandished the lightsaber threateningly. “Speak up! Look at you. Look at me! That you are so eager to avenge him is answer enough.”

He stormed forward before the Boy had a chance to stand, and leveled his sword at the Boy’s throat. “Do not be so quick to deal out judgement, Boy,” he hissed, “You are already blindly following a path not unlike mine.”

The Boy stared mutely up at him with wide, panicked eyes. His presence in the Force reeked of fear, and the Dark Side absorbed it eagerly. Darth Vader contemplated killing him then and there. But his hand would not move. He knew full well that he couldn’t make himself do it. Not when he’d already put in this much effort to teach the boy.

With a disgusted sound, the Sith deactivated his lightsaber and turned his back on the Boy.

“Go,” he growled, “Before I change my mind.”

The Boy scrambled to his feet and wasted no time in getting out of range. Strangely, at the very edge of their battlefield, he hesitated.

“Leave me!” Vader snarled at him.

There was a limited time before his temper snapped. If the foolish child didn’t get out of the way, he would only have himself to blame.

“Skywalker.”

The world stopped, like an unwound clock. Even the motes of dust seemed frozen in place. Blood roared in Vader’s ears as he slowly turned to look up at the boy at the top of the crater.

“What did you say?” 

The Boy raised his chin.

“My name. It’s Luke Skywalker.”

He didn’t wait to see if the name rang a bell. He didn’t stop to ask if Vader remembered his father yet. He just ran.

Darth Vader stood motionless in a field of debris.

Skywalker.

Skywalker?!

LUKE.

The name that she’d picked!

The face that seemed so familiar-

His eyes-!

Barely twenty. 

He was barely twenty.

The pieces fell into place almost too quickly, carried along on the reproachful whisper of the Force. Light Side or Dark, he could not tell.

And you just let him go like this? 

Vader whirled.

“Luke!” 

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: You Can Run

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Language, fighting verbally, sadness

-Words: 3.4k

Chapter 14: You Can Run

Words: 3.4K

When Tom was mad, it was hot. His anger sometimes made you weak at the knees but now, he was fuming. There was nothing remotely sexy about Tom abandoning Parker, his only son.

Parker had been working with Angus Wilson, a sworn enemy of the Hollands, in an attempt to hurt Tom. Parker had been taking out Tom’s men, one by one by the order of Wilson. From the beginning there had been an unspoken rivalry between Wilson’s mob and the Hollands.

Wilson always trying to weasel his way into the inner workings of the mob and cause chaos. Nobody never knew he’d take as far as killing someone innocent just to get to Tom.

Tom’s feelings were divided straight down the middle. He was seething with anger from Parker’s reveal but he had never been so fearful in his entire life. For the past fews months, everything only escalated.

Starting with a somewhat threatening note to the death of Charlotte. In the end she was just collateral damage on a one-sided war.

To the planned murders of Tom’s soldiers. People he had chosen to protect him and his family. People he was close to.

To the death of a close friend. Jazz meant a lot to Tom, her being one of his first friends after joining the mob. They came up together among the ranks. Learning the rules one by one.

To orchestrated murder attempts on you and Tom. You multiple times. Seeing you half-dead lying in his arms, changed him. Only thinking about, coming home and having to tell Parker and Rosie you didn’t make it. He wouldn’t allow himself to be put in the position, he couldn’t.

Tom was selfish the day of the helicopter accident. Vowing to follow you, to be with you, if you died and leave everyone else behind. But his mind couldn’t just allow him to forget about Parker and Rosie though. He didn’t want to leave them, but he felt as though he didn’t have a choice.

At the moment he was granted the liberty to be selfish. Being free of the guilt of choosing to leave his kids. As you slowly lost the life inside you, his mind flooded with what if’s. What if he decided to die alongside you? Leaving Parker, Rosie, his family, and even Harrison and Henry distraught. But Tom had never known happiness where you weren’t in his life. You brought light and laughter into his dark and gloomy existence. You were someone he couldn’t live without.

Tom vowed to only to protect you, Parker and Rosie from now on. Torn by all the thoughts that roamed through his head, if Parker deserved any of this. Parker’s very soul has been tainted with blood and death. Exposing him to the mob might have been a mistake, one you will have to live with.

Tom didn’t see an outcome where someone didn’t end up shattered. Broken down by betrayal or loss. Parker had already broken his heart once today and he wouldn’t let him be the reason you or Rosie had lost their lives. Tom was now looking out for himself, you and Rosie. Parker was nothing more than a traitor.

“You can’t kick him out Tom,” you yelled, trying to calm Tom down.

“The hell I can’t,” Tom shouted, greater in volume.

“He is my son and I won’t allow it,” you said, holding your ground.

“Y/N, he has been working against me this entire time. Against us.”

“He stays.”

“He killed half my men. He killed Jazz.”

“So that’s what you’re really upset about your dead mistress.”

“I never slept with her and you know that. Parker can’t stay here, I can’t even at look at him.”

“I say he can. What are you gonna do? Hurt me? Because you didn’t get your way,” you quipped. You knew Tom would never lay a hand on you.

“No, love. I could never. But know this, from this moment on he is no longer my son,” Tom explained. It was up to you to mend the bridge Parker burned.

You walked out of the office, suddenly craving a drink. Something strong and potent to drown yourself in.

In some way, you understood where Tom was coming from. The mob lessons only started about 2 months ago and you realized that Parker was no longer your sweet loving boy.

Parker, as a child, was always carefree. Never desired the mob life. Scared to hurt even the most delicate butterfly. But now, you had lost sight of who your son was. Lying, sneaking out, back stabbing, all these things were something you and Tom never instilled in Parker.

When Parker first turned down the offer to take on the mantle, you were relieved, ecstatic actually. You knew it would crush Tom’s soul but your son would get to live a rather normal life. Tom definitely wouldn’t stand for it and banish Parker the moment he turned on him but at least Parker would be happy living a life on his own. Not living in the shadows, scared of what lurks behind every dark corner. He could find love and happiness, somewhere far away from here.

Hearing about all the horrible acts Parker has committed broke your heart. That night a few months ago, corrupted him. Inviting him to be a part of a table that he was never ready to play at.

“Mom, is dad in his office?” Parker asked timidly.

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s such a good idea you go in there,” you said, trying to comfort Parker.

“He has to talk to me eventually.”

“He will, he just needs time.”

“How long?” Parker asked. Tom refusing to acknowledge killed him.

“I don’t know —“ you said, but was cut off by Tom slamming his office door shut, hard enough to shake the paintings that adorned the walls.

“Dad, I’m sorry. Everything started when Charlotte died.” Parker stammered, trying to explain himself as quickly as possible as Tom came out his office for a brief second to freshen up glass of scotch.

“Not now Parker, I just ran out of scotch,” Tom said, brushing him off. “Dad please. Talk to me. Let me explain,” Parker begged.

“Parker, you put all our lives in danger. Your mom’s, Rosie’s and mine. I think you understand I can’t trust you anymore.”

“Dad, can we just talk?”

“No.” Tom said retiring back into his office. You didn’t see him for the rest of the night, until he finally stumbled his way up the stairs to your guys bedroom.

Having drunk himself silly though the hours. Finishing every bottle found in his office bar cart. Mixing various liquors such as, whiskey, scotch, bourbon, vodka. If it was in the Holland household he drank it dry.

The next day, he repeated the same process. His men would funnel throughout his office, mainly Haz. And Tom would only leave to freshen up his drink or retrieve the meal you had cooked for him. One time when Tom came back, he found Parker waiting for him in his office.

“Parker what are you doing in here?” Tom asked, annoyed to the last person he wanted to see.

“I need to talk to you,” Parker pleaded.

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what? Ignoring me,” Parker quipped.

“No. I’M FIXING THE MESS YOU FUCKING CREATED!” Tom screamed, letting all his frustrations out.

“Good.”

“What?”

“Yell at me. At least you’re acknowledging me. I’m here. Yell at me,” Parker encouraged.

“You’re only here because your mother insisted you be. If it were up to me you’d be long gone. Parker, I’m not ready to talk about this. Please leave,” Tom begged.

He couldn’t face Parker yet. Not until he had a plan to deal with Wilson. Parker had conveniently left out the part of Wilson being dead.

Parker’s standing with Tom only grew worse. Coming from a normal father and son dynamic, morphing into a mentor and student to now pure chaos. Parker had no clue as to where he stood with his dad.

So he came to the person who knew Tom better than he knew himself, you. Parker knocked on your cracked door, finding you laying in bed invested in a book.

“Mom?” Parker murmured with teary eyes, hiding in the shadow of the doorframe. Shielded from the light.

“Parker? Oh baby come here,” you said, as you saw your son fighting back tears. How matter how old he gets he will always be your baby.

“He hates me,” Parker whispered, crying into your shoulder.

“No, your dad loves you,” you reassured.

“No, he doesn’t. He wishes I was dead,” Parker cried.

“Did he say that?” You questioned, a little agitated with Tom.

“No, but I know. Everything that has happened is my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Mom, it was Wilson who caused the helicopter crash. You almost died. How do you not hate me also?” Parker exclaimed. He knew he really screwed up and didn’t know how to fix it.

“Like this. I love you. I’m your mom and I will always love you. I know you didn’t know Wilson was using you. You made a mistake,” you told him.

“Thank you mom, I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I wish dad believed that.”

“I’ll talk to him and you’ll never lose me.” You held Parker in your arms a little longer. Cherishing the moment. It didn’t matter if he old he grew, you were still able to comfort him.

You made your way downstairs to confront your husband. Parker was more of an adult than Tom at that moment. Tom pouted like his toys had been taking away.

“Tom, we need to talk,” you said, coming into the office.

“Now’s not a good time,” Tom asserted, barely acknowledging you.

“When is it ever? You need to talk to Parker.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t be in the same room with him let alone look at him. What makes you think I can talk to him?” Tom explained. “Tom, he’s your son. Please just talk to him, for me. He thinks you hate him.”

“Y/N, I don’t understand why you aren’t mad. He almost got us killed!” Tom shouted, annoyed that you didn’t feel the same way. It was you who fought for your life the most in the helicopter accident.

“Tom, you can’t blame him for that. Wilson would’ve done it with or without him,” you exclaimed.

“I thought you were fucking dead. And that entire time we sat waiting for someone to come. All I could think about was how I encouraged you to go on the business trip. You couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me but, I made you get on that helicopter,” Tom cried, finally allowing the guilt to get to him.

When you came home, he was only focused on getting your memory back. And if he needed to be everyone’s shoulder to cry on, then he would. Not allowing himself to break. “Tom, you didn’t know—“ you tried to say but were cut off.

“You asked for a separate room at the hotel and refused to eat dinner with me. I thought we could make up on the flight back. Because you’d be confined to a space with me. That’s why I switched it to a helicopter ride instead the jet. Cause the view would be pretty. Give you one last nice memory together before you divorce me.” “I would have never, Tom.”

“I thought I was the reason, I almost lost you. The kids almost lost you. I blamed myself.” Tom cried, a few tears falling. “Tommy, I’m here now. I’m okay,” you whispered.

“Yes you are, but are son is actually the reason. And I can’t look at him without knowing he almost took away the most important thing to me. I’m sorry.”

“Tom, he was just a kid, still is. He needs you to tell you love him and forgive him. If I can forgive him, for almost costing me my life, twice. Can you?”

“Yes, darling. If you need me to, I can. Can you just come here for a second first?” Tom questioned, just wanting to forget everything and have you comfort him for a second.

“Yes.” “I just want to hold you,” Tom said, grabbing a hold of you. You always felt sane in Tom’s arms. Finding solace in the darkest of places. The warm embrace last a while as Tom would shift to get a better hold of you. Nuzzling his head in the crook of you neck as you fiddling with his hair and rubbed soothing circles into his back.

You were the only person Tom could be a hundred percent vulnerable with, besides himself. He complete broke in your arms. A few tears fell down his face as he moved to press soft kisses to your forehead.

“Tom, I love you and we will get through this,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his. “I love you too, darling. I never knew love until I met you,” Tom soothed.

Rosie tried to avoid the family drama as much as possible. She was off in her own little world. Going on supervised dates with Henry around the city of London. Tom required men to be with them at all times. Henry refused it be his dad and Tom needed Haz at the mansion twenty-four seven.

Rosie would try to ditch her security as much as possible. Running from them and tell them she was going to the bathroom when she was going to the alley to make out with Henry.

As she and Henry were coming out a movie. They asked to take the back exit, pretending they were being followed.

“Excuse me miss, but do you mind if we take the employee exit? We think we are being followed by those men over there. Do you see them?” Rosie asked the concessions lady at the theater.

“Not at all. Yes, I see them. Want me to call the police?” She responded.

“No it’s ok. We just need to get home, our car is outside.”

“We lost them. Slow pokes,” Rosie chuckled as they exited to the alley.

“No I don’t feel guilty kissing you in front of them,” Henry muttered breaking away from the kiss.

A black SUV slowly pulled up next to them. It came to screeching halt in front of them and out came two tall, muscular men dressed in all black and one young man, dressed rather dashingly.

“Rosie Holland?” Barked the handsome mystery man.

“Umm… Who’s asking?” Rosie quipped “Someone who really needs to talk to your brother.” “My brother. What did he do know?” Rosie snapped annoyingly. “Oh believe me, something heinous…. Grab her.” Both the men, snuck up behind Rosie and Henry. Knocking them out with a swift knock to the head by the butt of their guns. They stashed Rosie in the backseat and left Henry alone in the alley.

Back at the manor, Tom swallowed his pride and finally approached Parker.

“Hey, Parker. Can I talk to you?” Tom asked. He’d been shutting Parker out this entire time, what would want to make him talk to him.

“Dad, I’m really not in the mood to be yelled at right now. I have made my peace with you, hating me,” Parker explained. “I’m trying to apologize.”

“Oh, sorry. You can continue,” Parker faltered.“I was over reacting, we’ve all

done things we aren’t proud of. I was just mad when I found out you were behind the murders of my men and the helicopter crash. But I realized you couldn’t have known about the crash. You never intended to hurt you mother and I. It’s my fault you went to Wilson,” Tom began. “Actually, I was trying to hurt you,” Parker interjected.

“Well, mission accomplished. Let’s just move on from this,” Tom assured

“Done and done,” Parker said with a tight lipped smile.

“I need a cigar,” Tom said, opening his humidor, pulling out a crisp cuban ,and lightning the end. “Mom, doesn’t like it when you smoke in the house. I specifically remember her saying Tom if you smoke in the house one more god damm time, I’m going to—” Parker mimicked you but was cut off. “Hey. Don’t talk about her like that. We owe our lives to your mother. Okay? What she doesn’t know won’t kill her. Want one?” Tom offered. “Are you sure?” “Yeah, I’ve kind of always wanted to share your first cigar with you. First time smoking anything.” “Well it’s not my first,” Parker mumbled, hiding his face. “Don’t ruin the moment.” Tom blurted.

“TOOOOMMMMM!!” You called out, busting into his office.

“Y/N? Honey, what’s wrong?” “They can’t find Rosie. Or Henry. Jared lost them. He just called the house to tell me,” you hyperventilated, talking so fast Tom and Parker could barely understand you.

“Woah baby, slow down. Take a few breaths. In and out, ]” Tom whispered trying to calm you down. Rubbing you back to soothe you. “Now, tell me. What happened?”

“Rosie is missing. Jared can’t find her. She and Henry went to the movies and then they got lost for a little and now they can’t find either of them.” You explained, tears prickling at your eyes.

“What? Haz, get in here!” Tom whisper-yelled, trying not to blast out you ear drums. As he was still holding you.

“What’s up? Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Haz questioned.

“Rosie and Henry are missing. I’m sorry Haz, but I need you to take the car and go around London looking for them. Take Parker with you. I’m going to stay here with Y/N.”

“Ok,” Haz couldn’t barely manage to speak two words. His son’s life was on the line. “Tom, we have find him. I can’t lose him. He’s all I have left.”

“Haz, we will. I promise,” Tom concluded as Haz left without saying another word.

Haz and Parker immediately got in the car and went to the movie theater, the place Rosie and Henry were last seen.

“Rosie? Henry? Enough games, come out!” Haz screamed, growing more worried by the second.

“I’m going to check behind the theater.” Parker informed Haz. He walked through the emergency exit, the same one Rosie and Henry did 30 minutes ago. He opened the door to find Henry unconscious, lying on the cold concrete.

“Oh my god. Hey, hey, hey. Henry get up. Come on Henry. UNCLE HAZ!” Parker yelled. Henry was knocked out cold. Haz and Parker drove him home but Rosie was still nowhere to be found.

Tom was sitting in the living room, still comforting you. You knew Rosie’s disappearance wasn’t a good sign. Rosie missing was exactly like your kidnapping years before. Mobsters only used you as leverage to get to Tom. They never intended on letting you go, their only agenda being to kill you but Tom had other plans.

You and Tom received a video chat message from an unknown number and decided to answer it. In hopes that it would lead you to Rosie.

“Who the hell are you?” Tom spoke first, alerting the mystery man.

“Oh, how rude. Let me introduce myself. I’m Carter Wilson. As in the son of your dearly departed foe, Angus Wilson.” Carter, Angus Wilson’s son, informed Tom of his demands.

“He’s dead?… What do you want?” Tom barked, trying to dwell on the important parts.

“Someone in your family has done something unspeakable and I’m here to return the favor. Tom Holland, give up your son or face the consequences.”

“He’s not going anywhere.”

“Fine, I see you need a little convincing. Oh, Rosie,” Carter said, snapping his fingers to have one of his goons bring over a battered and bruised Rosie. She had duck taped across her face and red puffy eyes most likely from tears.

“You monster. Let her go. What do you want? Money?” Tom pleaded. The very sight of his daughter in such agony made his heart clench.

“You know what I want, more specifically who. The clock is ticking,” Carter concluded, ending the video without a word more.

“This ain’t a fucking rivalry anymore. This is a war,” Tom muttered, he sure as hell wouldn’t let his daughter’s blood be added to the lives lost.

A/n: Sorry, this is definitely a filler chapter. Even my brother said it was his least favorite chapter.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @dummiesshort @adriannauni @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy @quaksonhehe

[dorcxsmdws]

@fxprewettx

"Heard my brother and Carrow got one of the Prewett twins last night.”

 She hated this assignment.  She hated every moment she had to associate with these disgusting, brainless psychopaths.  But she was good at it.  She was good at finding an opening, at integrating herself into their circles.  At gaining trust and influence with all the wrong sorts of people.  She was good at it, and she despised that she was.  But it was a necessary evil, having a spy behind enemy lines.  She had to step back and look at it logically and understand that every piece of collateral damage, every person she was forced to hurt, every morally bankrupt action she took, was all a part of the greater good.  Did the ends justify the means?  She had to believe that they did.  She was gaining their trust, and the more trust she gained the more people she could save in the end.

The greatest hinderance had been her blood status, but even that was quickly minimized once she pried the door open far enough to show them her talent.  Magic came easily to her, so when she was competing against men like William Mulciber and Rabastan Lestrange, who looked at the war as a sort of dick measuring contest , it became easy to sweep her lack of purity under the rug.  Equally, that talent allowed her to create a false sense of comradery with some of the others near her age.  It was how she found herself at Rabastan Lestrange’s flat, helping him work through a plan for an assignment.  It was quite an easy task.  It should have been idiot-proof, but perhaps even that was too high a bar for Rabastan.

The quill had been pressed to her lips as she worked through exactly how to imply he was an idiot without saying those words exactly when she comprehended what he had said.  She was well versed in stoicism, even when her friends were being discussed by the worst of humanity; she had learned to keep a straight face while listening in on plans that required an urgent warning.  She knew how to do her job, and she knew how to do it well.  It was the only reason she was still alive.  

But for the first time she nearly blew her cover.

"Yeah?”  Her voice was steady, but her back was to him.  He couldn’t see the wave of emotions hit her.  She had always been quiet.  It wasn’t insecurity, as so many had assumed.  She wasn’t an insecure person.  Rather, she simply preferred to watch and observe, to form an opinion before allowing herself to step forward into an unfamiliar situation.  It was just that not many bothered to wait until she was ready.  The Prewetts had though.  They had waited, and they had never left.  “Did you hear which one?”

She had no siblings, not by blood anyway.  But from the moment Gideon had held her broom steady when the pair of them caught her down practicing on the pitch after hours, from the moment Fabian tossed walnuts at her so she could practice her dives, from the moment they had cheered the loudest when she made the team, when she caught her first snitch, despite being in different houses, she knew what it meant to have brothers.  People she could count on to support her, and in equal measure, there wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for them.

The war was heating up.  It had been weeks since she had been able to safely get away.  If Rabastan was right, if one of them was truly gone, the fact that she hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye had easily become her greatest regret.  Who had she lost?  Who had the world lost?   Gideon with his easy laugh and kind nature?  Fabian with his compassion and his love of dragons?  Which had been taken, and which was going to have to find a way to survive without their other half?  God, she needed to go.

“Dunno.  Don’t suppose it matters.  They’ll find the other soon enough.  It’s a good thing, if you ask me.  A dead blood traitor is the best sort.”

She just nodded.  “Can I see your wand for a moment?”  Her voice was as even as it always was, but she could feel something dangerous building inside of her at the cavalier nature of his words.  “I’m thinking this will work best if you get a Muggle suit jacket.  Not a full tuxedo coat, that will be too much.  But a nice blazer in whatever color will blend the most.  I can pick one up for you, but I want to be sure I add enough room for you to holster your wand up the sleeve.”  She gestured down to her paper where she was prepared to mark the size of his wand.  “You could tell me, but I don’t know what nine inches looks like.  I need a visual.”

Rabastan, the idiot, Lestrange passed her his wand without looking at her, his eyes still on the toy quaffle he was tossing into the air.  It was for that reason he didn’t notice as she pulled her sleeve over her hand to cover her finger prints.  The jet of green light, from his own wand, struck him in the chest and he never saw it coming.  She watched as his arms fell against the bed like a marionette whose strings were cut, his vacant eyes staring at his bedroom ceiling.  Never allowing his wand to touch her bare fingers she carefully rolled it under the bed, watching it get lost in a jungle of dust bunnies and crumpled candy wrappers.  She pulled out her own wand, making quick work of the room, vanishing any sign that he wasn’t alone that night.  Before she left she walked to him, the only guilt was over the lack of guilt she felt for taking a life.  Using her sleeve again, she gently closed his eyes, tilting his head to the side.  She used her wand to slide the blanket out from under him and over his stocky frame.  With any luck it would take them some time to even realize he was dead.  She walked out onto the balcony and twisted, disappearing from the Lestrange manor like she had never been there at all.

----

It was not a good idea.  She didn’t think she was being followed.  If she was someone surely would have retaliated after she killed Rabastan Lestrange.  But it still wasn’t safe.  For more her own sake than anyone else’s, but the risk for her Order friends wasn’t nothing.  She’d stopped caring about what happened to her a long time ago, but it was grossly unfair of her to put anyone else at risk.  But this?  This was more important than her safety, and she felt very sure that anyone who threatened her or the people she cared about this moment would be easily dealt with.  She was angry, she felt like she was teetering on the edge, uncaring what was right and wrong in this moment.  Two wrongs didn’t make a right, but killing a Death Eater surely would save someone grief somewhere down the line.  She was more than willing to compromise her own soul for that benefit in this moment..

She knew she’d be able to get into their flat.  A better question was whether she was wanted.  Was quiet grief more important than support?  She thought about it for only a moment before she decided that she didn’t care.  She opened her mouth to call out down the hallway, but she closed it as soon as she realized she didn’t know who to call out to?  Her heart ached far more for the brother who had lost his twin than for her own grief, although there would be time to manage that later.  The floor board creaked as she stepped into the hall, her wand held loosely in her hand.  She was prepared to disarm if needed.

First she poked her head into Fabian’s room.  She could feel the fear creeping in as she found it empty, but she didn’t want to make assumptions.  Not until she knew.  She turned, stepping deeper into the flat -- and that’s when she heard the rustling.  Her fingers tightened around her wand as she pushed the door open.  Her eyes closed as she saw the figure on the bed, immediately recognize Fabian; relief and grief fighting for dominance in her.  One of them was okay.  Fabian was -- he was alive, but Gideon...

Hesitantly stepping forward she sat next to him on the bed.  This was not her first brush with death.  This was not the first time she had lost someone she cared about, not the first time she was at a loss for words.  But this was the first time she desperately reached for the right ones.  This was the first time she wanted to get it right, to say the right thing.  She wanted to take on some of his pain, even though she knew it to be impossible.  So instead she just sat there, reaching for his hand after a long moment of silence.

[philliamwrites]

Stay Where You Are And Then Leave (prologue)

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Zhongli / Reader

Tags: #yaksha! reader, #historical references, #yaksha war, #unreliable narrator, #angst and hurt/comfort, #enemies to friends with xiao, #found family trope, #you know until they start to slaughter each other, #chuckles nervously, #female! reader, #tho i want to write it as genderneutral as possible

Words: 1.1k

Summary: When Rex Lapis picked your soul to serve him as Yaksha, nothing could have prepared you for the suffering and hardships waiting on your neverending journey to bring peace to Liyue.

But you are not alone. A hot-headed Ifrit-Yaksha who loves flowers but cannot collect them for every living thing fears fire; a gruff D'ao-Yaksha who has a hard time letting go his mundane life; a dishonest Raijū-Yaksha with an addiction for gambling; and a lone Garuda-Yaksha they call "Conqueror of Demons" who doesn't care about any collateral damage on his purge of all evil.

And you in the middle of everything, the only Yaksha who cannot remember her past—and if it were up to Rex Lapis, he'd rather it stays that way.

Note: The title is inspired by John Boyne’s book with the same title: ‘Stay Where You Are And Then Leave.’ In the books, this was said to the soldiers waiting in the trenches until it was their time to leave for the battlefield.

Prologue: Where The Dream Ends And The Nightmare Begins

Farewell, ye woods! Headlong from some towering mountain peak

I will throw myself into the waves; take this as my last dying gift!

— Vergil

The earth shook, the air pulsed, and you felt a thousand needles puncture you from all sides. A force took hold of your mind and twisted it, squeezing it and kneading it like dough into an entirely different shape. You screamed into the darkness.

Pain washed the world white. When you blinked away the dazzle, your eyes opened to a cavern ceiling twinkling with gems shaped like stars, mapping constellations you didn’t recognize, and an unfamiliar voice calling your name.

“Menogias of the Aqua Morte. I summon thee to this mortal plane in service of Liyue and its people. Wake up.”

A ban broke. Your muscles, tight and hard like stones, relaxed, finally allowing you to become their master. You were lying in water, nearly horizontal so only your face broke the water’s plane. Like a magnet needle pulled towards the northern skies, your body rose to your feet. Exhaustion tried to coax your weary bones back into the quiet; the safety of the water but the voice was a chord strung tightly around your mind, commanding one step after another towards its source.

A young man was waiting for you, balancing effortlessly on stones protruding out of the water. He wore a white tunic without sleeves that showed muscular, bare arms that shined with golden lines, leaving the blue gleam of the stones set in the cavern’s walls bleak. A hood concealed most of his face, only showing a sharp jawline and thin, pale lips.

You didn’t know who this man was exactly, but you knew what he was. Gracefully, you sank to one knee, still inside the water, and dropped your head in devotion.

“My Lord.”

Rex Lapis considered you for a moment, his golden eyes were stern, yet not unkind. With a slow gesture, he allowed you to get back on your feet.

“I know you have many questions,” he said, and just as the words left his mouth, questions flooded your mind like a tidal wave. Who were you? Why were you here? Before you could ask any of them, the Geo Archon continued, “About your past, about the present. None of them are important, for you shall have one purpose only.” He offered you his hand and helped you out of the water. Even though you felt the Geo energy flow through his body, his skin was soft and the golden blood running through his veins warm. He held on for a second longer than necessary, averting his gaze when you looked up at him in question. Instead he nodded towards a small shrine built from the same stone as the rest of the cavern that presented a beautiful white bow. They called to you like a lone wolf calling to its comrades, and without waiting for Rex Lapis’ approval, you closed the distance and pressed your fingers to the smooth ivory and elegant curves, built by a true master of their craft.

You plugged its string and closed your eyes at the familiar sound. Blurry pictures flashed before your eyes. A little village tucked away inside a mountain pass. Standing with arms spread wide on bridges shaking dangerously between clouds like a wingless bird ready to take flight. Greedy flames climbing towards the wooden ceiling of a house. Your eyes snapped open when the taste of smoke and ashes settled on your tongue. You looked up at Rex Lapis.

“Someone came to destroy my village. I remember anger. I remember fighting to survive. Is that why I am here?”

Rex Lapis turned away, his gaze following the gems lining the walls up to the cavern where an opening showed the moon glimpsing down at you two from up high, a silent watcher sworn to keep conversations like these secret to the sun.

“I have called upon you because your heart is noble and your courage sharper than your bow’s arrows,” he said. “Your past life is of no concern to the journey lying ahead of you.”

“But I—” I still want to know. It was like the desire to know how the end of a story turned out, the want to turn a book to its very last page to make sure the heroes received their well-earned happy ending. You wanted to know if you had your happy ending as well.

“The war goes on,” Rex Lapis continued. “The relentless fighting between the warmongering archons takes its toll on Liyue. Those who die with bitterness and rage become evil monsters who ravage the land and turn it into a wilderness, into a pandemonium. Hence I am calling upon the yakshas to protect this country. Liyue needs every single one of you.” He dropped his gaze from the moon and fixed his eyes on you. Looming above you, it was easy to finally get a good glimpse of his handsome face and the piercing amber eyes with an edge harder to them than freshly cut Cor Lapis. “I need every single one of you.”

A shudder crawled up your spine. You looked to the ground. “I solely exist to follow your command, my Lord.”

Rex Lapis hummed in agreement and took a step closer, his approach quiet as his barefoot feet didn’t make any sound on the cool stone. A warm finger brushed against your forehead, the touch conjuring the picture of a moonlit lake on top of a mountain.

“I await all of you by the end of the next moon at this place.” Rex Lapis’ voice was barely a whisper. “Mount Hulao. Until then, be fierce, my yaksha. Fierce but good.”

Something about the way he said my yaksha made you raise your gaze back up, expecting … to see what exactly in his eyes? Anything else besides the cold calculation of a deity worshiped as the God of Contracts? This was no different from a commerce, your serving the bargaining chip to a second chance on the mortal plane even though you are unsure about the fine print.

Rex Lapis’ face was unreadable like a board wiped clean. His hand hovered over your face a second too long before he quickly pulled it back, withdrawing completely as if touching your burned him. A last inquiry emerged like the tip of an iceberg from your mind. You said, “Wait. This anger … were they angry with me? Did I do something wrong?”

But he had already disappeared—without any flourish, just like a village swallowed up by an earthquake, there and then a second later gone.

[carboniteprincess]

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, character death, murder, you're literally a rebel sniper, it's enemies to lovers boba is not going to be nice to you yet, love at first fist fight, I cannot stress this enough, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, he's kind of arrogant? but he's young give him time

Pairing: Boba Fett x F! Reader | 2.0k words

You're arguably the best sniper in the entire rebel alliance, with hundreds of high ranking Imperial officials on your belt. When you're given the order to kill Boba Fett, you are under the impression that this would be like any other mission. Unfortunately, he seems to have great skill of getting out of situations that aren't in his favor. Now you're on Tatooine, where your comrade Orda has lured him into discussing business in a shady restaurant under the guise of being an Imperial Commander. His luck has to run out at some point, and you intend that to be today.

Crossposted on Ao3!

Being a rebel wasn't as glamorous as you thought. You weren't conducting high-level espionage or anything of the like. Instead, your penchant for sniping was homed in on, making you one of, if not the best in the entire squad. The only flaw you had, was arrogance. Never have you let a target walk away, never have you allowed yourself into a tight spot. 

You were always ahead of the enemy, so when your general gave you the order to kill Boba Fett. You assumed it would be an easy in and out job, perhaps he would've posed a threat to other members of your squad. But to you it would be simple, right? Unfortunately not. 

This is your third attempt at some kind of ambush, luring him into a perfect position. Mandalorian armor had few weak points, meaning you had to meticulously spend hours figuring out where would land a good, clean blow. His neck. If angled correctly, one tilt of his helmet and it would be over. Right through the jugular, no more bounty hunter. Another imperial dog to add to your list. 

If he would just turn his head, a little more to the right. Sweat beads on your forehead, eyes focused down the scope. Being a good assassin was all about your ability to linger, to wait. You're positioned on a balcony, a blind spot to the restaurant below. Your associate kept him talking under the guise of being an Imperial Commander, negotiating pay for the next rebel target. Boba Fett sits across from him, drink untouched. If you could see his face you'd swear he seemed bored. His legs wide open, leaning back nonchalantly. 

Fingers clenching on the trigger, you close your left eye. It wasn't like you enjoyed your job, when this war was over you'd swore to never lift a weapon again. The Empire made you, molding you like clay into a perfect killer. A painful truth, a driving force. Your parents. Both were medical professionals, caught smuggling medication to the galaxy's poorest. Promptly executed and then you, an orphan. A street urchin, nothing more. 

It wasn't long into your teens that you heard of the resistance, your heart burned with a want of revenge. So you got stronger, learned how to use a blaster, pilot and any skills that would make you useful to their cause. But you weren't a rebel, not really. You didn't care for politics, didn't even bother listening to the speeches about restoring the Republic. It didn't matter to you, but what did matter was taking out as many Imperials as you could before you die in battle or finally become numb to the anger. 

Self-preservation was no concern of yours, and that made you dangerous. A loose cannon, hot-tempered, and scarily a woman. You were used to being underestimated by your peers on gender, height, birth planet…. and you were the one who gets the high-profile missions. You were the one who has the highest accuracy, years of practice which left your trigger finger calloused, and every other emotion muted. 

Boba Fett had become a real thorn in your side. Threatening your record, career and possibly your sanity. His uncanny talent for escaping situations, even if all cards were against him, was exasperating. You would be lying if you didn't have some modicum of respect for him though, you were somewhat alike. Respect, no matter how great, does not destroy a death warrant. 

Someday soon his luck would run out, and it would be you at the other end of the blaster. That day was today. Lips twitching into a smirk, you watch his neck turn. Bingo. You steady your rifle, pulse pounding in your ears. At last, this mission would be over. You'd become a legend, the woman who killed Boba Fett. 

Bang. You take the shot, accurate as ever. A hum leaves your lips, watching him fall to the ground. Your calculations were correct, there was a weak point. Every armor has one, even Mandalorian. It was like a drug, the puzzle pieces clicking together with every fragility you discovered. 

The restaurant below descends into chaos, even the bartender is panicking. All guests rushing from their tables, abandoning their meals as your associate checks the man's pulse. You stare down your scope, watching the ordeal. He gives a thumbs-up, definitely dead. A buzz in your ear alerts you to a comlink.

"He's dead. But I think you'll want to come down here." Orda replies through static. Your brow creases, what the hell could've gone wrong. Muscles twitching with irritation, you make your way through the currently uninhabited building. You were ordered to avoid collateral damage by all means necessary, a false fire alarm did the job well. 

Your feet tap against the stairs as you make quick work of assessing your surroundings— if something is wrong, then it's always better safe than sorry. It seemed to be all clear, so you proceeded out the door and onto the street. This area of Mos Eisley was pretty habitable, aside from the abundance of criminal undertakings. Dust kicks as you march into the restaurant, pushing through various guests who were piling out at lightspeed. 

With a gruff, you finally make it to the rooftop, an exclusive VIP spot which proved difficult to doctor identity necessary to enter. You're about to start asking what the hell could've been so important that he dragged you down here, but your eyes meet Orda's now slumped body, face down with all color residing. A frustrated sigh leaves you, he was a good man. Even worse, he was a great rebel. His heart was in it, unlike yours. He shouldn't have been the casualty here. You reach down, pulling out his identichip and stashing it in your pocket. An action that you've taken with far too many of your comrades. 

Painfully you pull yourself from Orda's body, standing upright. Lingering would be a deathwish, whoever killed Orda was skilled. An impressive marksman, obviously one of Boba's accomplices who mistakenly thought he was the one that shot him. You could go over what-ifs later, right now you were going to finish the fucking job. 

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in crimson constellations as the wind settled. Inspecting Boba's body was your primary concern, whatever Orda discovered, it cost him his life. You were determined to find out what exactly it was, from a glance it seemed like Boba Fett. With a grimace, you move his drooping head around. Concerningly heavier than expected, beskar is light and durable. 

You hook your fingertips under the helmet, pulling it off and coming face to face with…. not your target. Fuck. You'd be deceived, spectacularly. Knuckles white, feeling bile in your throat threatening to explode in a cocktail of frustration and admiration. The crudely made edges of the helmet abrasive against your palm, a reminder of your failure. 

Without a second thought, your balled fist comes into contact with the wall, encasing the helmet and sending tendrils of pain, a shock wave through your arm as you verbalize your confliction with a strangled scream. Orda died for nothing, you were a joke. Everything you had built, buried and locked away was floating to the surface. 

But you haven't felt this alive in years. Being outsmarted, so cunningly sent a morbid thrill up your spine. You could almost laugh, had you not heard footsteps approaching. Impulsively your hand fell to your blaster, making a mental note to thank your teacher for always carrying more than one. 

"Surely you didn't believe it was that easy to kill me." Before he can finish you turn, firing your blaster in his direction. Of course, his armor deflects it with ease. "I must admit, I'm impressed. Not everyone could distinguish beskar through weight alone." A snort leaves him at your feeble attempt to hold ground, looking over your pathetic secondary weapon that could barely injure an Ewok. 

"Go thing I'm not everyone then." You stand, keeping your right arm extended, blaster aimed at his inner thigh. It wouldn't kill him, however it would allow ample time for escape. "You killed my friend." He's circling you now. "Who's your Intel? How did you know I'd be here?" 

"You are hardly in the position to be making demands, little rebel." Another chuckle, you'd heard of him toying with his advisories before, but this was different. A teacher disciplining a student. 

"You're going to kill me anyway, what's the harm." You huff, shrugging. He stops pacing, chewing over your words. 

"Killing you would be a waste." That bastard. "Of my time and resources." He adds matter-of-factly. 

"Orda wasn't?" You spit, voice cracking in frustration. Figuring out what made others tick was your specialty, but the lack of motivation and reason within Boba's actions is what baffled you. 

"That was a favor." He sounds like you should be grateful, almost insulted that you hadn't figured it out yet even with him practically dangling the answer in front of you. Perhaps you weren't as clever as he thought. 

"A—favor? How would killing my comrade benefit me!" You reply astounded, cheeks burning red, hand shaking on your blaster. 

You think for a second, taking your eyes off him. Why did it take until after the kill for Orda to realize what was wrong with the body… He isn't… wouldn't…could've of… you've been double-crossed. "He wouldn't— I've spent months with him—" 

"And every little thing you did, he told me." His admission is calm, you look over Orda's body, no longer do you feel remorse. Just shame. You couldn't even see betrayal under your nose. 

You walk closer to him, the barrel of your blaster getting dangerously close. Nothing could stop you from finishing your mission right now, but he's letting you. Knowledge is far more appealing than rewards in the resistance. 

With your grip around the handle tight, you slam it down across his helmet, your knee reaching his groin. "You're very easy to fool." A smirk replaces the look of misery on your face, it was a dangerous game to pretend to let your guard down. Your risk paid off, managing to get a shot at his thigh. 

Swiftly, you press all your weight on him, knocking him back just enough to make a run for the edge of the balcony. He groans in pain, you're so close to the edge, escape almost in your grasp— when a grappling hook wraps around your ankle. 

You struggle against the cold floor, doing anything you can to wriggle free from his grasp.

It's fruitless, as soon as he's in reach you're kicking him, hurtling all kinds of abuse. Your attempts to wrestle him are almost comical and in a frenzy, you grip the only thing that seems viable. His Helmet. You manage to free it, your fingers hooking under and pulling it off his head, sending it on the floor beside you. For a moment you're the one stunned, not him. 

Dark curls frame his face, a beautiful border to tanned skin. His nose is prominent but compliments his features. Scars pepper his face, but he's young. Younger than you thought. You watch as his forehead crinkles in anger, hands pinning yours beside your head. 

Wasting no time, you bring your head to crack his, sending him back with a kick to the stomach. Your nose pours from impact, dripping onto the floor as you clamber to your feet. 

"This isn't over." You hear his voice, unmodified. You rush to the edge, peering over and assessing if you can land in one of the speeders below. He stands, trying to rush over to stop you. "Don't!" 

With a wink, you throw yourself over the side. In seconds you're hurtling onto the street, watching a bare-faced Boba Fett grow smaller with each passing second. His eyes are widened in either admiration or shock for your bravery. 

He eventually dares to look over and finds that you're gone. Whoever you were, he finally had a worthy opponent. He would find you again. His little rebel. 

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 29 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: While Daryl and the others are fighting their way through Alpha’s trap, the reader comes face to face with their fear as Beta enters Alexandria. 

Word Count: 4826

Warning: Swearing, Violence

Song I Wrote To: “Seven Nation Army” by The White Stripes

Note: So, this scene is a bit different. Judith is not in Alexandria at the moment as she’s with her mom in Hilltop. I am not removing Michonne from the story like she is in the show. So, this fight is gonna play out a bit different!

-------

Arriving back home in Alexandria, Enid words followed you.

She was right, Lydia should not have been out there alone and it would be your fault if she got hurt or worse, fell back into the hands of her mother.

Even as you walked down the darkening streets of Alexandria, there was a part of you that didn’t care if Alpha took more lives and that terrified you. You loved your friends, your family, but if collateral damage was necessary for Beta and Alpha to die, then so be it. 

The bitter taste in your mouth followed you as you walked towards home. When you noticed Rosita pacing outside the cell, you slowed.

“What are you doing?” you asked. Rosita looked up at you and then walked forward wrapped her arms around you. 

Confused, you hugged her back before letting go. “Ro?” you asked again. 

“Sorry, I’m just… A lot has been happening,” she said. 

“Like what? I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Gamma is here,” Rosita said, gesturing towards the cell. 

“What?” you asked, glancing towards the small window. 

“She arrived earlier, said she wants to help us,” Rosita said. 

“And you believe her?”

“I don’t know. That’s why she’s locked up,” Rosita explained. 

“You think she’s another spy?”

“No,” Rosita said, shaking her head. “Though, I don’t know what to do with her. I keep thinking about when Dwight switched sides.” Nodding, you understood where she was coming from. Dwight had given you valuable information that helped you win the war against Negan and his men. 

“Dwight had someone he cared about pushing him forward,” you reminded her. “Sherry was everything to him.” 

“Gamma has her nephew,” Rosita reminded you and you knew she was right. Earl had taken in the Whisperer baby after Connie had saved him from his mother abandoning him in the sorghum field. 

“Is Adam enough?” you asked. 

“I hope so,” Rosita said. “I don’t know if we can win this fight without her help.”

“Is that willingness I hear, Espinosa?” you asked. 

“It just might be, (Y/L/N),” Rosita countered. 

“Well, what does Daryl think? Michonne?”

“Michonne is a bit MIA at the moment. She’s travelling from Oceanside or to Oceanside, I don’t really know. Daryl however, is gone.” 

“What do you mean he’s gone?” you asked, suddenly concerned.

“He, Jerry, Aaron, Connie, Kelly, Magna, and Carol got a lead on the horde. They went looking for it,” Rosita explained and you could see that she was worried as well. Sighing, you rubbed at your temples. This was why Carol had wanted you home. She needed someone to watch the front lines so she could go find Alpha’s Walkers. 

“They should have waited for me,” you said, clenching your fists. 

“I think one unstable person is enough,” Rosita mumbled and then realized what she said. 

“Nice,” you quipped, storming past her. 

“(Y/N)!” Rosita tried, but you kept walking, not wanting to hear what she had to say. You weren’t stupid, you knew that you had been acting irrationally. That much was clear and you could see that when it came down to it, you were not thinking clearly. However, you couldn’t get Beta’s face out of your head. 

It would be a cold day in Hell before you let him win. Then again, you felt as if the last decade had been Hell on Earth. Still, you pushed on, ignoring the worried looks of your friends as you headed to your house. 

Gabriel was coming out of Rosita’s house as you passed the front steps and he looked as if he was going to say something, but didn’t. Considering how pissed you were, he must have figured it was better to give you a moment alone. 

Shoving open your front door, you let it slam behind you. You went straight to your garage. The overhead gaslight illuminated the myriad of maps laid out on your workbench only reminded you of the failure you had experienced when trying to find Negan. Lashing out, you swept your hand across the table, scattering the maps across the map. 

Bracing your hands on the table, you struggled to keep it together. “I really need you,” you whispered to the empty room. A single tear dripped onto the old wood and you scrubbed the second from your cheek. Your knees sunk to the floor as you began to feel the loss of him again. 

“He’s not dead,” you reminded yourself. “He’s out there.” Even as you encouraged yourself, Negan’s face remained behind your eyes. Negan being alive was the only thing that was keeping you going. 

Sitting there on the floor of your garage, you thought back to a conversation you had during the war against the Saviors with the one and only Rick Grimes. 

Eight Years Ago…

“Hey, Boss,” you said as you walked into Rick’s house. 

“You don’t have to call me that,” Rick said with a small smile. 

“Ah, well, it’s a force of habit. You are, in fact, our boss. One that I am more than willing to follow.” 

“Well, thank you, (Y/N),” he said. 

“So, what’s up?” you asked, hopping up on the counter of his kitchen. 

“I need your advice on something,” he said. 

“Is this about Dwight?” you asked. “Because if it is, then I have to tell you that I don’t trust the weasel, no matter what he told Daryl.” 

“It’s not,” Rick said with a small frown. “It’s about Negan,” he said. 

“What about him?” 

“Carl thinks that he’s more than we think,” Rick said. 

“More than a psychopath who murdered our friends?” you asked, not liking where this is going. 

“Carl thinks we can reason with him.”

“And I think that the dinosaurs are going to come back,” you deadpanned. Rick gave you one of his looks, but you weren’t deterred by it. “Come on, Grimes, you don’t actually think that we can resolve all of this by a damn conversation, do you?” 

“I want the killing to stop,” Rick said. 

“I know, I know,” you said. “I just don’t want you to lose focus.”

“You think I should kill him?” Rick asked, but you paused. Taking a moment, you reviewed everything that had happened since the Satellite Station. 

“I think,” you began, “that you should do whatever is necessary to protect our people.” 

“What if that doesn’t include killing Negan?” Rick asked.

“Then it doesn’t,” you said with a shrug. “Look, I don’t know the man. I haven’t had the opportunity to actually speak to him or see what’s behind the cocky grin so I can’t speak on his character. I believe in a person’s actions and so far, Negan’s have been horrendous. Do I think that maybe one day he can be a decent person? Yeah, sure. I don’t think anyone is truly lost, but the future is a long ways away and we need to think about surviving now.” 

Rick was quiet for a moment before he looked back up at you and nodded. He then reached out and gripped your forearm and you mirrored the movement. “Thanks, Shots,” Rick said, using Carl’s nickname for you. 

“I’m always gonna be here, Rick. I ain’t never leaving you behind,” you promised. Rick smiled at you. 

“I know,” he said. “You never leave anyone behind. That’s why I love you so much, kid.” 

“Not a kid,” you reminded him. 

“Shut up and take the compliment,” he said and then you pushed him back. Rick feigned surprised and then pushed you back. The two of you ended up wrestling in the kitchen, laughing the entire time. Regardless of what was to come, you would be by his side as one of his closest friends and that was all that mattered.

--------

A loud thud pulled you from your thoughts. 

You waited, listening, and when you heard it again, you grabbed your sword and slipped out the side door, picking up a spare radio on the way. 

Pausing out front of your house, you searched the darkness around you. Something felt off and it made your skin crawl. Drawing your blade from its scabbard, you began to walk along the sidewalk, checking around every corner you could find. Your heart was hammering in your chest, but your breath remained steady. You were trying to rationalize that it could have been anything. Maybe a stray animal had gotten in and couldn’t get out. However, there was a part of your brain that knew how ridiculous that was. 

You never got this particular feeling unless it was for a good reason, or rather, a bad one. 

Slipping in between the houses, you searched darkened windows, checking in on your fellow Alexandrians, but everything seemed to be okay. That is until you came across a specific house. You could hear dull thuds as if someone was redecorating at the odd hour. 

Sneaking up to the front window, you peered into the dark living room. Suddenly, a pair of white eyes and a gaping jaw appeared at the window, startling you. As the freshly-turned Walker fought to get to you through the pane of glass, you noticed the slash mark on its throat. One that a very particularly large blade would make. 

“Shit,” you swore and pulled your radio as you stumbled back from the house. “Gabriel?” you whispered into the radio as you tried to get your nerve back. 

“What is it?” he asked, answering your call. 

“Walkers, there are Walkers inside the walls,” you said, finally turning away from the house. 

“What?” he asked, confused. 

“Something’s wrong,” you whispered, looking around. It was then that you noticed a trail of fresh soil on the ground. If you hadn't been trained by the best tracker out there, you probably wouldn’t have noticed. However, the large boot prints in the soil only confirmed the fear in your mind. That fear turned to rage as your eyes began to scan for your target. 

For Beta. 

“(Y/N),” Gabriel said. “What is going on?” You went to answer him when you had a realization. 

“Gamma,” you gasped as you took off running, letting the radio crash to the ground as you ignored Gabriel’s worried tone that crackled over the line. You pushed your legs harder to get to Michonne’s house as quickly as possible. 

Throwing yourself down the cement steps, you burst into the jail that had its door broken down. When you beheld what was in front of you, however, you nearly crumbled to the ground. Instead of Gamma, you found Laura on the floor with blood across her face. 

Sliding to her side, you grabbed for her face and neck, checking for a pulse. “Laura? Laura, wake up,” you begged. Her eyes opened weekly as she saw your face. 

“(Y/N)?” she asked. 

“I’m here,” you said, trying to wipe the blood from her face. Her blonde hair was soaked in her own blood as she struggled to stay awake. “It’s going to be okay,” you promised her. As you pulled back your hand, however, they were drenched in red. 

“Beta,” she choked out as blood dripped from her lips. “Run,” she said, gripping at your shirt with weak fingers. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said to her as she kept staring into your eyes. “You’re not alone,” you whispered. Gripping her hands tight, you felt her trying to return the favor, but she was too weak. “Where is Gamma?” you asked her. 

“Got her out,” Laura said. “Safe… I… Think…” she said just as a tear fell from her eye. “I, I can’t,” she struggled. 

“Shh, don’t talk,” you said, trying to soothe her, but you didn’t have any more words of comfort to offer her. How could you tell her everything was going to be alright when he had done this? 

“Eugene,” Laura sputtered, choking a bit. “Tell him, thank...you.” 

“I will,” you promised as she reached for your face once more before her hand fell to her side and Laura drew her final breath. “No, no, no,” you cried as her pulse dwindled and then stopped altogether. “No!” you yelled, clutching her body to yours. It was as if the world stopped spinning. You knew that there wasn’t a guaranteed amount of time, you knew that and you had to finish it before she came back. There was a universal agreement across all the communities, nobody turned.

Pulling the knife from her belt, you quickly slipped it into the base of her skull, silencing her soul. As you pulled the blade, you fell into her again, hugging her close to you. Your tears mixed in with the dirt and blood on her skin as you clung to her, not ready to let go.

“I’m sorry,” you cried into her neck, holding onto her with dear life. “I’m so sorry.” As sorrow filled you, the anger began to boil over, nearly drowning you. Beta had done this. He had taken yet another person from you and probably enjoyed it too. Laura had been given a second chance after the war and he had stolen her life as if it meant nothing. 

Gently placing her down onto the floor of the jail, you shut her eyes with your steady hand. Taking a deep breath, you got to your feet and gripped your sword tight. Looking down at Laura again, you felt your heart breaking, but you ignored the pain and channeled it into fury. 

A loud crash came from above followed by a loud grunt. Turning from the body of your dead friend, you ran from the cell just to see Beta run from Michonne’s home, his knives in both his hands.

His large form was even more terrifying than you remembered. Daryl’s voice was in your head as you were reminded of what happened when Beta had fought him, but you weren’t Daryl and now, this was even more personal. 

As Beta turned his focus to Rosita’s home, you attacked. Drawing a smaller knife from your boot, you reeled your arm back and threw with all your strength. The knife embedded itself into Beta’s shoulder, making him stumble from surprise. You ran at him with all the speed you had left in you. 

Beta turned just as you raised your sword, aiming for his head. Beta ducked, parrying your blade with both of his. He knocked you back, but you returned with a strike aimed at his torso. Beta spun around, knocking you off balance, but you never stopped. 

Trading blows back and forth, you finally had another opening and aimed for his throat. Beta blocked once again, leaning in close as your blades scraped against one another. Looking into his eyes, you didn’t show an ounce of fear, but recognition lit up in his eyes as he groaned against the pain in his shoulder. 

“You,” he spat, his lips pulling back in a sneer. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Me.” Beta roared in anger as he kicked at your stomach, sending you to the ground. Rolling to your feet, you slashed at his leg, cutting into the back of his thigh. Beta stumbled again but remained on his feet. “Did you get my message?” you asked, lowering yourself into a crouch. 

He ran at you again, swinging his blades over your head. Ducking just in time, you avoided decapitation. “What did you do with Gamma?” you asked. 

“Nothing,” Beta said and then braced himself. “Yet.”

As Beta stalked towards you, all you could think about was Jesus and Tara and Laura and everyone else they had taken from you.

Red encompassed your mind as Beta aimed for your heart. With a quick turn, you pivoted on your right foot, ducked under his arms, and brought your sword up along his back. Your blade bit into his flesh as the leather tore. 

Beta yelled out in both pain and alarm as you drew your sword back. He whipped around, landing a blow to your head. You fell to the ground as stars danced in your vision. Beta kicked away your blade as it fell from your hand. Reaching down, he lifted you from the ground and got in your face.

“You are not worth death,” he spat in your face before throwing you against the curb. Your head hit hard and just before the darkness overwhelmed you, you swore you saw Beta smiling.

-------

Negan had no idea what Alpha was up to.

There were cryptic whispers around camp that led him to believe that Alpha had attacked Carol and the others, but he wasn’t sure of anything.

Then there was the Beta problem. Negan had no idea where the human Rottweiler had gone. 

Alpha was across from him, staring into the fire and she looked to be waiting for something. Negan wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but whenever she was that calm, it was never good. Just as he was about to speak up and ask her what was going on, her attention snapped to the shadows as Beta finally reappeared.

Negan watched as the second-in-command arrived and he looked rough. Even in the dark, Negan could see that Beta was injured. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t think the Terminator douchebag could get injured, let alone bad enough to warrant a limp.

“Beta,” Alpha greeted as she didn’t move from her spot. Beta stopped before her, kneeling on the leg that seemed to be the less injured one.

“Gamma has betrayed us,” Beta reported. He then noticed that Negan was there, but Alpha kept her attention on her second, not caring about who was listening. 

“What happened?” Alpha asked, looking at the fresh blood. 

“She was hiding,” Beta said. “I couldn’t find her. These people are protecting her.” Negan had to hand it to Aaron, the man sure did know how to make friends. Negan continued to listen. 

“And the blood?” Alpha asked tilting her head to examine the wounds he had sustained. Her fingers threaded through the torn jacket and Negan could see the blood on her hands as she pulled it back. “Yours?” she asked, confused. 

“Ambushed,” Beta responded. 

“The archer is with Carol,” Alpha said. “Who else could have done this?” she asked. Clearly Alpha thought that Daryl was the only worthy opponent to go up against Beta, Negan thought. However, she had never seen Rosita when she went all “Mama Bear” and Negan hoped that he himself would never be on the other end of one of Espinosa's fists.

“Broadsword,” Beta bit out, the rage echoing out of him like steam on a train. At that one word, Negan’s blood ran cold. He tucked his hands under his legs before either of them could see the small tremor that was sneaking up on him. Negan fought to keep himself from swearing out loud as he put the pieces together. 

You had attacked Beta and you had nearly defeated him. 

“Are they alive?” Alpha asked casually. 

“For now,” Beta said. “I have plans for them. That one, dies by my hand.” Alpha nodded to him and then dismissed him to get his injured taken care of.

“What do you know about this sword-wielder?” Alpha asked him. Negan met her eyes and then relaxed further into the ground, shrugging one of his shoulders. With a lazy look on his face he vaguely waved a hand. 

Beta huffed and disappeared back into the camp. Negan watched after him, trying to keep it together. He knew that you had placed your sights on Beta, but now the man was turning his on you and that terrified Negan. 

“Absolutely nothing.”

-------

When you woke up, you were in a somewhat familiar room. 

An ache in the back of your head made you wince as you tried to sit up.

“I would take it easy if I were you.” Blinking, you turned towards the soft voice to see Enid standing over you. It was then that you realized you were in the medical trailer at Hilltop. “Here,” she said, reaching for your arm. Enid helped you sit up, placing a few pillows behind your back. 

“What happened?” you asked, trying to get your mind to stop racing.

“Beta knocked you out pretty hard,” she said with a sigh. “You hit your head and you’ve been out for almost two days.”

“Two days?” you asked.

“Siddiq brought you here to keep you off Beta’s radar,” she explained.

“That won’t last long,” you said with another wince as you rubbed at your temples.

Everything from that night was coming back in waves and it was making you feel a bit nauseous. Emotions swelled in your chest as you remembered the rage you felt when attacking Beta and the sorrow and dread you felt as Laura died in your arms.

Beta had done all of that just to find Gamma. A stranger had brought death back to Alexandria and you now had lost someone who truly understood you.

“Laura’s dead,” you whispered.

“I know,” Enid said, reaching for your hand. You squeezed hers back as you sat in silence.

“Where is she?” you asked. “Where is Gamma?” 

“Safe,” a new voice said as Michonne approached you. She was looking at you with concern but also relief. 

“Good,” you said, nodding. If Gamma had been taken or killed, all those lives lost the night Beta stalked Alexandria would have been for nothing. “I’m glad you’re here,” you said to Michonne. 

“We’re all here,” Judith’s voice piped up as she appeared behind her mother. 

“Hey, you,” you said, reaching out a hand to her. Judith walked forward and took your hand in hers. “I almost got him, kid. I was pretty damn close,” you promised her. Judith nodded as Michonne placed her hands on her shoulders.

“There’s something else, (Y/N),” Michonne said. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Daryl’s missing.” You fell back into your pillows at the news and you fought the urge to scream. You didn’t know how much more of this you could handle. It was starting to look as if Alpha may win and that made you want to beat her that much more.

--------

Holding a mask made from Walker skin was the last thing Negan expected to receive from Alpha.

"You've earned it," Alpha said as she stood next to him. Standing next to her, he could see the blood that streaked her clothing. Something had happened when she went off on her own hours before. Negan figured she had been in a fight, but he couldn’t be sure who she had gone up against. 

He did know that it wasn’t you. Beta was someone who would be a challenge for you, but Negan had a feeling that if you got Alpha one on one, she wouldn’t be standing next to him right now. No, this was someone else. Trying not to think about any of it, he returned to what was in his hands. 

"Why?" Negan asked, not liking the way the leathery skin felt against his calloused hands.

"You were right about Gamma," Alpha said. She then stepped forward and ran her hand down his arm. "She was the spy. You proved yourself to me."

"All I did was share my opinion," Negan pointed out as he met her eyes. Alpha was examining him and Negan knew what she wanted. His hand slipped into his pocket to rub along the marble, keeping his connection to you.

"You showed me that you want this. You are a crass man, but a smart one. The mask proves my loyalty to you as your words proved it to me."

"Well alright then," Negan said with a small smile. With a shake of his head, Negan pulled on the mask and secured it behind his head.

He could appreciate the irony, the act of putting on a mask when he was already wearing one. As soon as it was in place, Alpha reached up and ran her hands over his new face.

"Perfect," she whispered. Negan stared down, afraid of what he may have to do in order to keep his cover. He had done a lot of shitty things in his life, but sleeping with the enemy was not something he was eager to do, not when he still yearned for you and your touch.

The way that you lay your hands on his skin was as if you were searching for solidity kept him sane. He was your rock, grounding you into this world just as you were his. Without you, Negan wouldn't want to survive and he just hoped you hadn't lost that love you held for him because he sure hadn't. 

“Since we are trading trade secrets and all,” Negan began, causing Alpha to stop looming over him. “I had another idea.” 

“Go on,” she said.

“I know you are all about destroying everyone and proving you’re the alpha female. Though it’s not like you need to, you are the damn Alpha.”

“Your point?” she pressed.  

“How about we get them to join us?” Negan offered. “You were right when you said that these places with their walls and doors don’t last very long. I’ve seen many kingdoms fall since this whole shit show started and trust me, it’s only a matter of time. However, we get them to see how much better the way we live is…” Negan splayed his hands. “I’m just saying it would be something to think about.” 

Alpha was silent for a moment, thinking over his words. Negan was just hoping that she didn’t see the true intentions behind this sudden epiphany. The truth was, after Beta had admitted that you had done some serious damage, Negan was not eager for Alpha to exterminate you and your family. 

“What did you have in mind?” Alpha asked finally. Adjusting the mask on his face, Negan grinned at her. 

“I have some ideas.” Alpha raised her eyebrow at that but gestured for him to keep talking. “First, we’re gonna need a big ass tree.”

-------

Enid had finally cleared you and you were eager to get back on your feet. 

Walking out into the bright sunshine, Hilltop was bustling around you. You felt as if you had the worst hangover in history, but you pushed on. Dianne was on watch, Alden was over at his blacksmithing station, and you could see Ezekiel over at Barrington speaking to Kelly who looked distraught. 

Aaron spotted you then and jogged over. “Hey, you’re okay,” he said, grabbing you into a hug. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you said, pushing him back. “What happened while I was out?” you asked, gesturing to Kelly. Aaron sighed, running his hand through his curls. 

“Alpha, she trapped us in this cave full of Walkers. Her entire horde was down there,” he said. “We managed to find the exit, but…”

“But what?” you pressed.

“Carol tried to take out the horde with some old dynamite,” he said. “The explosion caused part of the cave to collapse.” The look on Aaron’s face told you enough. 

“Who?”

“Magna and Connie are trapped down there and we don’t know if they’re even alive,” he said. You hadn’t known Magna that well, but you liked her enough. However, Connie had become someone you turned to at times and you knew how much Daryl cared about her. Not to mention her sister who was her everything. This was too much after just losing Laura and now two more may be down.

“Are you okay?” you asked him. 

“Not really,” he admitted. You took him back into your arms, hugging him tightly. 

“Me neither,” you admitted, sinking into the embrace. 

“Open the gates!” you heard Dianne yell from her spot up top. You and Aaron split apart then and with a look, you both took off towards the main gate. 

You let out a breath of relief as you saw who was walking into Hilltop. Daryl and Lydia leaned on each other as the gates shut behind him. Daryl seemed dead on his feet as Lydia struggled with both of their weapons. You ran forward and grabbed the crossbow from her as Aaron took hold of Daryl. 

“Daryl fought her,” Lydia said as she breathed heavily. Daryl’s leg was bleeding, and he looked as if he had been run over by the horse and the carriage. Michonne came running behind you, helping Lydia stay on her feet. 

“You’re a moron,” you said to Daryl, grabbing at his face. “But I love you.” Daryl snorted and then you were taking his other arm and helping him to Enid. Lydia followed close by as Michonne carried her staff for her. “I’m sorry, Lydia,” you said to her. “I shouldn’t have asked you to go looking.”

“It was my decision,” Lydia defended. “I didn’t find him, but we have a new problem.” You, Aaron, Michonne, and Daryl all looked at her then. 

“What is it?” Michonne asked. Lydia grimaced. 

“My mother’s coming.”

TAGS: @lucillethings​ @cameronsails​ @stark-dreams​ @amaroho​ @thanossexual​ @yes-sir-hotchner​ @boom-bunny​ @delusionalteenagewhispers​ @scootankle​ @ritajammer21​ @writteriguess​ @tea-atfive​ @jennydehavilland​ @waspyyy​ @yespleasejayhalstead​ @hoemadegrace​ @writingdeadangel​ @huffledor-able541​ @pulplorrd​ @felicisimor​ 

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens one-shot “At the End” (Rated PG)

Summary: When the angels and demons finally succeed in having their war, there's only one thing that Aziraphale and Crowley can do with the time Earth has left...

Say goodbye to their home. (1408 words)

Notes: I wrote this hoping I would be accepted into a zine that ended up being canceled. The theme was basically what happens after Armageddon.

Read on AO3.

"Wot do you think you'll miss most about Earth?"

"Really, my dear?" Aziraphale clicks his tongue in disgust, but he can't bring himself to look away from the chaos ensuing below them to berate his companion properly. "What a question to ask at a time like this!"

"I think this is the perfect time to ask that question," Crowley says, but without his teasing edge. He offers it sympathetically. They both have a similar connection to this planet, had an investment in it thriving, but Crowley feels Aziraphale's heart breaking more than his. "When you lose something, you mourn it."

"It's not entirely lost! N-not yet." Aziraphale chokes around the words. Even though they leave his mouth passionately, he knows he has sinned by saying them. 

Not lost yet may be the biggest lie he's ever told. 

The first few hours had been soul-crushing. 

The moment Holy rays broke through the clouds and shone down from above, ethereal voices announcing the arrival of God's angelic army, a flock of the faithful came out in droves to greet them. They prayed, sang joyously, raised their voices to the Heavens, invoked every one of God's Holy monickers. It should have been a huge stroke to Her ego... if She had been paying attention.

From Aziraphale and Crowley's perch atop St. Paul's Cathedral, that doesn't appear to be the case.

Those God-fearing mortals were the first to get trodden underfoot as angels barreled over them to confront their enemy - an extremely vulgar and unnecessary display when one considers that angelic footsoldiers can fly.

Hordes of evil-doers emerged from hiding as well, in lesser, but equally exuberant, numbers. They seemed suspiciously more eager for the fight, proving that those who call themselves 'Christian' might outnumber worshippers of Lucifer, but demons had their zealots better prepared for what the end of times would actually entail.

Either way, it didn't matter.

Those humans willing to spill blood at the drop of a hat, even their own, were used as cannon fodder against a foe they couldn't possibly hope to defeat. Within seconds, thousands lay dead on the streets of London and, Aziraphale suspected, all over the world.

For their part, Aziraphale and Crowley refused to join the battle, but no one paid them a lick of attention. An angel cavorting with a demon was no longer an issue. They could finally do as they pleased without fear of retribution, albeit on a planet whose hours were numbered.

"I would have to say I'm going to miss my car," Crowley continues, provoking conversation in an effort to allay his angel's anxiety. "And my flat. And alcohol. Hell's bells am I going to miss alcohol."

"Pity we don't have some now. I think a hull full would find itself useful," Aziraphale adds in a weak attempt at humor.

"Wot about you? Will you miss the food? Your bookshop?"

Aziraphale sighs. "Humanity."

Crowley raises a brow. "Humanity?"

"Yes. Without humanity, the rest of it wouldn't have been possible." Aziraphale scans the carnage below, trying not to focus for too long on any one thing... or any one person. He's already seen too many faces he recognizes, twisted from agony. "Without humanity, it wouldn't have meant anything."

"I suppose."

A tortured voice rings out, but it's snuffed out quickly. Aziraphale doesn't know which side does it, but he shakes his head in shame all the same. “I thought She’d show them mercy. I thought that, in the end, She’d come through. Spare them. That She wouldn't allow them to suffer as bystanders in all of this.”

“I hate to be the one to say I told you so, but… ”

“Then don’t, my dear.” Aziraphale reaches out and takes Crowley's hand, pleading wordlessly for him to stop, but also needing him for comfort. “Where is She? Where has She gone? Why has She abandoned them?”

"You've been asking that question for generations. I would think, by now, you'd know the answer."

"But I don't. Perhaps I should... " Aziraphale swallows heavily, his attention pulled to the skies by a streak of gold, then one of violet, passing overhead. "They know," he spits bitterly. Crowley follows his angel's gaze to the trails above them, one which he assumes must be Gabriel's. "She's obviously told them."

"Perhaps not," Crowley says, not in an attempt to defend Her, but to soothe his angel. "Just like last time, they're doing wot they think is right. Following wot they believe."

"And what do they believe? I don't know! They've never told me!"

"You'd think you'd all be on the same page. I mean, there's a book about it and all."

Aziraphale scoffs at that. "I think you and I both know that the archangels, Gabriel in particular, have never held any stock in books. Books are primitive, human things. They have nothing to do with angels. Not even the Bible... " A host more gold streaks zip by, and Aziraphale's words trail off into nothingness. Of all the books in Aziraphale's collection, his Bibles have always been his favorites. And not just the misprinted ones. The words inside gave him comfort, especially during those long stretches when he didn't hear from God at all. Though written by man, they were imparted by Her (if he overlooked the dodgy editing). 

But they're gone. Not a single one remains, not even in the church where they stand, its insides crackling, burning beneath their feet.

Earth had become Aziraphale's Eden. Now, so many things he held dear are disappearing before his eyes.

Crowley squeezes the hand holding his. "Come, my love. It’s time to leave the garden.”

Aziraphale's eyes snap his way. They linger on his face for a moment, then drop to their clasped hands. “6000 years on this planet and you choose today of all days to call me your love?”

“I'm sorry." Crowley inches closer, lifts Aziraphale's hand to his mouth and kisses it. "I really am. I should have said it sooner. But I’m going to take you to a place where I’ll say it every day. I promise.” He wraps an arm around his angel's shoulders, gently urging Aziraphale to leave before the battle brewing, showing no sign of slowing down until it has consumed every last brick, every last breath of air, swallows them, too.

But Aziraphale hesitates. "C-can't we take them with us?" He gestures down to a tattered group of frightened survivors - a shivering young woman, no older than twenty-five if she's a day, and three children, all under the age of ten - huddled in a narrow crevice created by a metal door off its hinges, sheltering them among the rubble of the church's ruined stairs. 

They've found themselves a decent hideaway, Aziraphale thinks. But he knows they're simply delaying the inevitable. They'll be found out before too long, become collateral damage.

Like everyone else.

"We can't just leave them to die, Crowley."

"We have no other choice." Crowley's need to escape intensifies as he watches the poor humans, tastes their fear rise with the heat of the flames. "Besides, perhaps they'll pull through. You never know. Humans have always been resourceful. They might find a way." 

"Do you honestly think so?"

"Yes," Crowley lies. He would give his angel anything in the universe, anything within his power. He's trying to give him faith.

Because he can't give him this. 

They can't save anyone but themselves.

Crowley turns Aziraphale away, blocks his view by unfurling his dark wings, ready to lift his angel into the air on his own if Aziraphale refuses. "I'm sorry, my love. We must leave them behind."

Aziraphale relents, unfurling his own white wings and heading for the upper atmosphere, watery eyes focused on the where in front of him and not the destruction behind him, with Crowley's shard of hope keeping his heart pinned in place. 

Crowley should do the same. Ignorance is bliss, after all. But like Lot's wife, Crowley peeks behind him one last time to say goodbye to this place that has been his home for most of his existence. 

It was a wonderful existence, but mostly because he had Aziraphale there to muddle through with him.

At least Crowley will still have him when all is said and done.

The last thing Crowley sees before they breach the clouds is St. Paul's Cathedral crumble in on itself, leaving behind a mound of ash.

And nothing more.

[lils-writes-stuff]

I Remember

Best years Part 3 | part two | part one

spencer reid x reader

summary: as time moves forward, the readers past begins to creep its way back into her thoughts. 

warnings: normal criminal minds things

A/N: based on season 7 episode 13 (this one may be my favorite i’ve written so far) 

The white sweater on Y/N’s body warmed her as she walked to the kitchen in her apartment. The hard-wood floor was cold against her bare feet as she poured the hot coffee into her mug, along with her cream and sugar. She felt tired that morning, legs feeling heavier than usual as she dragged herself to the bar inside her kitchen. She sat down, opening up her notebook that laid there and began to write. 

Her mind trailed off as she wrote to the note she had gotten a couple of weeks back. The bird on the page mocked her as she thought of the enemy she had made all those years back. Her thoughts trailed back to when the woman made her sit and watch as she tormented people she cared for. The sounds of slapping and skin-on-skin contact making her cringe. The smell of water and fire filled her nose as she felt like she was back where she was almost ten years ago.  

Buzz. Buzz.

The sound of her phone brought her back into the kitchen and she looked over to see who was calling her. The time read 7:30 A.M., Saturday, but that’s not what had her attention. Spencer’s name lit up the screen telling her it was him who was calling. 

She set her pen down before picking up her phone. “Hey, Spence,” she said answering the phone. 

“Hey, did you get Hotch’s message?” He asked, the sound of an elevator ding being heard through the speaker of the phone. 

“No, I just woke up, why is something wrong?” She closed her notebook standing up and heading towards her room. 

“We’ve got a case, Hotch said to get here as soon as possible,” The elevator ding was heard again. 

“I’m assuming you’re already at the office,” she said while placing some clothes together in her go-bag before she got ready. 

“Yeah, I was up anyway, couldn’t sleep,” he explained to her. 

“Oh, that sucks, well I’ll be there in ten,” she said before saying bye.

 “See ya,” was his response before hanging up. 

She buttoned up a blue shirt and grabbed the white sweater she wore to bed, layering it over the shirt. Black pants and boots followed as she put on makeup quickly and headed out the door to the BAU office. 

Spencer smiled at her as he saw her enter the door of the office. She smiled back with radiance. 

“Beautiful,” Spencer whispered to himself, or what he thought was himself.

“What was that Pretty Boy?” Derek questioned from behind Spencer, a smug smirk on his face. 

Spencer flushed looking back at Derek, “I-I didn’t say anything.” He lied, and it was evident, not only because Derek heard him, but because it was a bad lie. 

“You know Reid, I think girl wonder over there has feeling for you too,” the broad man said pointing the woman across the room who was talking to Emily. 

“I never said I had feelings for her,” Spencer said defending his bottled up emotion for the woman he had truly been crushing on since she arrived at the BAU.

Derek rolled his eyes, “Kid, you may be a genius or whatever, but it doesn’t take a profiler to notice you like her. All the small glances and longing looks, come on when are you going to tell her?” 

“Is it that obvious?” Spencer asked looking at his friend.  

“Painstakingly,” was Derek’s response before he walked away towards the round table room.  

Spencer turned back around looking at Y/N as she laughed at something Emily had said to her before they themselves made their way to the room. 

He watched as Y/N smiled and tucked a piece of her hair behind her hair, eyes sparkling as she smiled at Derek who said something to her.   

You’re gonna do it, Spencer, he thought, You’re going to ask her out.

----------

“It looks like a robbery gone bad,” Emily said as they inspected the latest case coming through. “Why was the BAU called in?” 

Hotch clicked a button on the remote pulling up the next photo which was of the crime scene.

 “Eight one-dollar bills surrounding an eight card,” Spencer said as he looked closely at the victim on the screen. “That’s highly ritualistic.” 

“And because Savino has ties to organized crime, agents in New Jersey are worried about things escalating,” Hotch explained. 

 “Well, it doesn’t take much to ignite a mob war,” Derek said looking at the photo on the screen again. 

“And collateral damage means nothing to these guys,” Y/N added to what Derek was saying.

“If we don’t get a handle on this soon, innocent people are gonna die,” Rossi said.

“And we don’t want that, wheels up in 20,” Hotch said dismissing the team to get ready to leave. 

Everyone grabbed their things and headed out the door, leaving Y/N and Penelope the last. 

“Hey, Penelope,” Y/N said turning to her right before she walked out the door. 

Penelope jumped, startled by Y/N’s voice before looking at her ready for her question. 

“Can you look someone up for me, after this case, of course, I need to know where they are,” Y/N explained to her. 

“Sure, yeah, who is it,” Penelope said grabbing out a small notepad and pen from her bag. 

“Uh, her name is Caroline Roberts,” she told the woman in front of her. “And can this stay between us, I don’t want anyone to worry,” Y/N explained to her.

“Oh, sure, should I be worried,” Penelope asked concerned for her friend. 

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know,” She spoke and turned around exiting the room. 

----------  

  “No question. ‘God Father II,’ hands down,” Emily said in response to the question on what her favorite gangster flick was. 

“No, no, gotta be ‘Scarface’,” responded Derek contouring Emily’s choice in the movie. 

“For me, ‘The Untouchables’, ” JJ said the turning to look at Spencer and Y/N who sat on the couch beside each other. “Y/N? Spence?” 

“Hmm, Does ‘Pulp Fiction’ count? If so then that,” Y/N responded. 

“Mm, Probably ‘Le Cercle Rouge,’ the 1970s french classic,” Spencer answered looking up from the book he was reading. “But ‘Den Tredje Vaagan’ is definitely a close second.” 

“Yeah, that was my runner-up, too,” Emily said with a smile, making the others laugh. 

“What about you, Rossi?” JJ said to the man walking down the aisle. 

“Yeah, best ever gangster flick,” Y/N said turning towards him.

“I’ve had too much of the real thing to be a fan of mob movies,” Rossi replied sitting in the chair next to him. 

The others chuckled at his words before turning to Hotch. 

“Garcia, did we get the crime scene surveillance video yet?” Hotch asked looking at the woman on the screen in front of him.  

“No, Sir, because there wasn’t any,” replied Penelope through the screen. Her face showed guilt that wasn’t even hers to have. 

 “That’s not possible,” Spencer said with shock. “Every inch of the casino is surveilled, every minute of every day.”

“Yeah, apparently the footage was tampered with, so…,” Penelope’s voice trailed off. 

“All right, Reid and Y/L/N, go to the crime scene,” Hotch said to the two sitting on the couch. “Dave, you and JJ find out if Savino was involved in anything the local authorities don’t know about. Morgan, Prentiss, and I will contact the local FBI office and arrange a ceasefire with the families.”

Everyone nodded and went back to their previous conversation. Y/N looked over at Spencer who had a book in his hand, reading with his finger trailing down the page to follow the words. For a second she was mesmerized by how he looked, but she soon looked away at the thought of being caught and listened to the conversation between the other four at the table. 

-----------

   Spencer and Y/N walked down the hallway towards the room of the crime scene, the guard sliding the card the lock opening it.

“Electric strike lock, impressive,” Y/N spoke walking into the room, taking into count how it looked. 

“And hard to bypass. If this was a robbery, the unsub must have slipped in right behind him,” Spencer said, looking at the room around him.   

“Well, Savino could have known the killer,” Y/N said as she looked at the scene on the ground. “Could have let him in himself, and probably wasn’t expecting this to turn into a brawl, let alone a murder.” 

“Maybe the unsub wasn’t either,” Spencer said looking at Y/N. “If this was premeditated, you’d think he would have brought a knife or a gun with him,” he walked closer to the scene on the floor bending over to look at it closer. “The bowling trophy looks more like a weapon of opportunity.”

“Is this the only camera?” Y/N asked pointing up towards the camera in the corner. 

“Yes, Ma’am, but the disk was removed,” replied the guard who let them in.  

“But casinos have a central terminal that backs up and stores all surveillance footage, right?” Spencer asked turning around to the guard. 

 “Mr. Savino didn’t want that in his office,” the guard replied. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Of course not.” The words were muttered under her breath, barely even audible.

“He put in a personal camera,” the guard continued.

“So the victim bypassed a security system that would have revealed his own killer,” Spencer said the tone in his voice going up at the end. 

“What didn’t he want anyone to see?” Y/N asked walking over towards the camera on the wall. “Whatever it was he wanted everything kept secret.” 

Spencer nodded his head in agreement, the two thanked the guard and walked out of the room. The walk down the hall was silent as the two made their way towards the elevator. 

“I hate casinos,” Y/N stated as they entered the elevator. 

“Why’s that?” Spencer asked as he pressed the button labeled ‘Lobby’. 

“I think it’s the smell, alcohol, and cigarettes, it just gives me a headache,” she said with disgust at the thought of it. “Don’t get me wrong though, I love a good game of poker, but I’d rather do it with some friends and some pretzels as chips.” 

Spencer laughed at her statement, “Are you good?” Spencer asked her as they exited the elevator and headed towards the doors. 

“At poker? I mean I guess, I have a decent bluff face, but I prefer gin,” she opened the door for them. The brisk air hitting her skin as she wrapped her jacket around her torso as they headed towards the car. 

------------

Y/N and Spencer entered the small conference room behind Agent Gossling who had met them at the door. 

“Agent Gossling,” Hotch said greeting her. 

“Any luck with our mob bosses?” asked Gossling as she walked into the room. 

“Well, I think we bought some time,” replied Derek. 

Y/N and Spencer sat down at the table along with everyone else. 

“What about the crime scene?” Emily asked. 

“Savino purposely bypassed the standard casino security,” Y/N explained, her arms folding over herself as she leaned forward on the table. 

“I think we know why,” stated Rossi as he entered the room, JJ following closely behind him. 

“Danny Savino supplemented his income by loaning money to casino patrons,” JJ explained, relaying the information she and Rossi had learned.

 “Explains why he changed the camera in his office,” Spencer said, shifting in his seat. “He didn’t want his bosses to know he was freelancing.” 

“So we’re looking for a gambler,” Hotch said looking at those around him. 

“A gambler in Atlantic City,” Emily said. 

“Ah, yes because that narrows the field,” Y/N said with light sarcasm in her voice. A few around her chuckled. 

They sat in the room for a few more hours, discussing what could be going down. Y/N’s phone rang, she pulled it out of her pocket, the name ‘Penelope’ on the screen. 

“Excuse me,” She said standing up, walking out of the room. “Hey Pen, what’s up,” she said when she was out of ears-reach from those in the room.

“So that Caroline Roberts you asked me to look into, she was a lot harder to find then I thought,” She spoke through the phone.

“Oh, you found her already,” Y/N whispered, not expecting her to find her, or even look for her, this fast. But who was Y/N kidding, she was asking Penelope Garcia to find her someone, she should have expected this. 

“Yeah, so this girl was in prison about two years ago for assault, which is unusual seeing how violent it was considering she is a woman,” Penelope spoke confusion evident in her voice. 

“She is a very unusual person,” Y/N agreed as more memories of the woman from her past filled her mind. 

“Uh-huh, no kidding, anyway she was let out for parole not too long ago and she has been working for an insurance company ever since,” Penelope explained.

“And there’s been no suspicious behavior since she was let out?” Y/N was nervous about her answer.  

“Nope. None,” she replied. “So are you going to tell me what this is about?” 

Y/N was about to respond, but Hotch approached behind her causing the conversation to be cut short. “I got to go,” she pulled the phone from her ear and hanging up turning around to Hotch. 

“Everything alright,” He asked her, brows furrowed in his normal serious manner. 

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” she said reassuring him. His eyebrows raised, but he didn’t push it anymore. 

“There’s been another victim, we’re heading to the scene now,” he told her. “I want you to stay here, help the other build the profile we’ll be back.” 

Y/N nodded her head. As he turned and walked away, she let out a heavy sigh and headed back to the small conference room.

------------

“We’re looking for a man who’s killing those who appear to prey upon or take advantage of gamblers,” Hotch said beginning to explain the profile. It was the next morning and the office was filled with people ready to hear the profile and catch the man who was doing this. “Loan Sharks and call girls so far.”

“The killings may have been triggered by recent gambling losses,” Derek explained further into the profile. 

“Our unsub is physically fit,” Y/N added.

“He was able to overpower Danny Savino and Patty Riolo was killed with extreme violence,” Emily explained more. 

“It’s doubtful this man has a criminal record, he moves without fear of being recognized,” Derek said looking over the sea of people in front of them. 

“In one of the most surveilled locales on the planet,” Y/N continued explaining why that was important.

“He wouldn’t have elements of domestic life,” JJ began. “Like children, that would only moderate or stabilize his compulsive behavior.” 

“Pathological gambling is the most common type of impulse control disorder in the world,” Spencer explained.   

“And there is no more superstitious creature on Earth than a gambler,” Rossi said pushing himself off the desk he was leaning on. “The number eight is the ritual aspect of our unsub’s signature.”

“It’s a compulsion, it could signify a birthday or an important time in his life,” Y/N explained more into the skepticism type.  

“Not only is this unsub a killer, but he’s also an addict,” Hotch added. “He’s killed twice in the last two days, and he may not be able to stop.” 

Hotch then dismissed the group in front of them and the team went back to the small conference room.  

Y/N’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket reading the text from Penelope; 

Can you tell me what it’s about now??

Y/N shook her head, knowing that the woman wasn’t going to give up till she told her or gave her a promising answer. 

I will when we get back 

The text was enough for Penelope to reply with a simple ‘okay’ and leave her alone until she got back. 

--------

“This doesn’t make sense,” Rossi exclaimed looking at the board. “Danny Savino was a bottom-feeder, handing out nickel-and-dime to small-time gamblers. But Patti Riolo was exclusively about high-rollers.” 

“The unsub wouldn’t have crossed naturally into both worlds, he would have been in one or the other,” Emily said, agreeing with Rossi that it didn’t make sense. 

“Unless his fortunes changed drastically between murdering Savino and meeting up with Patti Riolo,” Hotch shed some light onto the conversation.

“Maybe he flashed the money he stole from Savino in front of her, you know pretending to be rich,” Y/N said looking at the other three hoping she helped. 

“Or he gambled with it and won big,” Rossi said turning back towards the board. 

“Let’s say Dave is right, he was in financial trouble, and immediately after murdering Savino, his luck changed,” Hotch said giving his theory.

“In his mind, he could’ve connected the two,” Y/N connected her own thoughts as she pieced the story together.  

“Every compulsive gambler believes in a system, no matter how illogical,” Rossi added. 

“And he’d figure the past part of his system he was missing was murder,” Hotch connected the last of the dots forming the story together. 

---------

Y/N walked up to Spencer and squatted down next to him. The victim leaned up against a wall in a back alley, multiple gunshot wounds were shot in his back. 

“Eighty-eight dollars, the unsub’s getting generous,” Spencer said holding the money in his gloved covered hands.

“There’s less rage than the others,” Y/N noticed as she looked at the victim. “And undoing. There’s major evidence of remorse, shot in the back so he wouldn’t have to face his victim.”

“No robbery this time either, the wallet’s intact, except for anything to I.D. him,” Spencer said holding up the wallet to Y/N, Hotch and Agent Gossling also who had approached beside her.

“Is this even the same killer?” Agent Gossling asked looking at Spencer. 

“The ritual’s too similar to discount it,” Hotch explained looking over at the three beside him. The sound of Agent Gossling’s phone ringing pulled her away from the three and off to the side to answer it.  

“Well, the change in M.O. makes sense if the unsub is still refining his system,” Y/N said head-turning to Hotch beside her. “Maybe the killing of the gas station clerk didn’t work, so now he’s back to the drawing board.” 

“Two eights instead of one could be significant,” Spencer said diverting the attention over to him. “I know in China the number 8 symbolizes prosperity. The more eights, the better. As a matter of fact, in Chengdu, a telephone number consisting of all eights recently sold for over a quarter-million dollars.”  

“Wow,” Y/N said. “So, wait, why would he be doubling his luck out here, away from all the casinos?” She wondered while looking between the two. 

“There’s been another killing,” Agent Gossling said approaching the three after hanging up her phone. “A guest in his room at the Sapphire Lady.”

“Same ritual?” Hotch asked as he looked over at the agent.

“No, his neck was broken, and he was robbed of 50,000,” Agent Gossling explained what she was told over the phone. “The strange thing is, the killer left nearly 20,000 behind with the body.”

Hotch opened his phone, pressing Penelope’s name. 

“Garcia is there a casino in the neighborhood of Penrose and Morningside avenue?” Hotch asked after hearing the beep of Penelope answering.

“Uh...no casino per se, but there’s a private gambling establishment right around the corner,” Penelope explained. 

“Is it legal?” Spencer asked, his voice speaking louder so he could be heard over the phone.

 “Yeah, but it’s ultra-exclusive, they have a monthly high-stakes poker tournament-” she paused, “today being that day for that day of the month, coincidentally enough.”

“Or no coincidence at all,” Y/N said with a huff. 

“What’s the buy-in?” Hotch asked.

“Yikies, 50,000 dollars,” Penelope said confirming what everyone was thinking. “But it’s a million-dollar guarantee if you win,” she continued.  

“What time does it start?” Hotch asked her.

“Later this afternoon,” she replied.

“Thanks,” Hotch said hanging up his phone before turning and walking to the cars. 

---------

   “Forensics got a match on the last victim,” Agent Gossling said as she walked into the small conference room, taking a seat next to Rossi. “Eddie Langdon, we’re looking into him now.” 

“Hey, any luck?” JJ said turning to Hotch as he stepped into the room. 

“No, they don’t want to allocate emergency funds for the buy-in,” Hotch replied looking at his phone. They were trying to find a way to get into the tournament so that they could hopefully catch the unsub. “I’m still working on it.” 

“Well, I can’t imagine why not, we’re only asking for 50,000 bucks of taxpayer money, so that FBI agents can play Texas Hold ‘em,” Rossi said with humor. 

Y/N paused for a second,“Hey, what about you?” She asked looking at Rossi across from her. 

“What about me what?” He retorted back with eyebrows raised. 

“You could stake us the buy-in?” Y/N proposed. 

“Yeah, you’re a best-selling author,” Spencer said as he sat down next to Y/N. 

“No,” Rossi said, he had that tone that said why would you even say such a thing. 

“Why not?” Emily asked him. 

“One, it’s against regulations, and I’d like to hold on to this job for a little while longer,” Rossi said looking at the four in front of him. 

“It’s a minor administrative violation,” JJ said, a smirk on her face.

“And two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things. Like single-malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork-” 

“Poker chips are things!” Emily interrupted quickly. 

“They are,” Y/N agreed, nodding her head while she looked at Rossi.

“Maybe just think of it as like a new experience,” Spencer began. “I mean at your age how often does that happen.” 

“Oh no,” Y/N whispered after Spencer’s statement. 

“At my what?” Rossi questioned with daggers as he looked at Spencer. Spencer than looked away, avoiding eye contact. 

“Rossi, this may be our only chance to get this guy,” JJ explained, voice coming off as slightly pleading.  

“Alright fine,” Rossi said finally caving. “I’m a decent poker player, but I can’t promise that I can stay in the game long enough to-”

“You know what, I bet you’re a great poker player,” Y/N said cutting Rossi off. “But what if we send in Spencer?” She posed the idea of the boy wonder going in. 

“I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Pahrump for my card counting ability,” Spencer said as he looked at those around the table. 

Y/N held her hand up as if saying, my point exactly.  

“Look, I know I’m not a genius like the boy wonder here,” he said hand gesturing to Spencer next to him. “But poker is not blackjack, it’s about bluffing, reading human nature, head games, Y/N would be a better bet because she’s really good at hiding stuff and playing mind games.”

“I slightly resent that statement,” Y/N said, humor clearly evident in her voice. 

“All I am saying is, It’s not math,” Rossi finished. 

“That’s not entirely accurate,” Spencer said standing up, grabbing a marker and walking towards the board. “There actually is a mathematical equation for knowing when to raise and when to fold. If P represents the size of the pot at the time of play, then P times N minus one, with N representing the estimated number of players, in the final round of betting--” 

 “Okay, fine, I surrender,” Rossi cut Spencer off not wanting to hear any more of the math lesson he was giving. “Just try not to lose all of my money.” 

Spencer snapped his fingers giving Rossi a thumbs up with a tight-lipped smile. 

“Dear God, I hope this works,” Y/N said while she placed her head on her folded arms that rested on the table. 

“You know, maybe we should send Y/N in also, you know like as a call girl or something, have two sets of eyes to cover all the tables,” Rossi said looking at Y/N. 

“Ha, that’s a good one Rossi,” She said laughing while looking up at his serious face. “Oh, you’re serious.” 

“It would work well, two eyes being able to see everything,” Emily said looking at Y/N. 

She looked at her friend in disbelief that she was agreeing to this, but she let out a huff and said, “Fine, but if I’m going to do this you better get me some makeup and a outfit because I don’t think this attire will pull off what you want me to do,” Y/N caved knowing there would be no way of getting out of this. 

“I think we can get that worked out,” Agent Gossling said standing up and getting what they needed. 

----------

Y/N looked around the large room full of tables from the bar, not really sure what to do. “Guys, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be doing here, I also feel very exposed,” she whispered into her wire that was placed on her, tugging on the top of the low-cut black jumpsuit she was wearing. She was given a wire to be safe in case something happened while Spencer was given an alert pen. 

“Go over to some tables and flirt with someone, come on Pretty girl, you got this,” Derek spoke to her through the clear ear-piece in her ear. So that’s what she did, wandering from table to table flirting lightly with men, and looking to see if they had any items of eight tat would link them as the unsub. She watched as some men made the worst decisions in poker and others who took it way to seriously. 

While she was paying attention to what she was doing, she couldn’t help but notice Spencer’s glances as he looked at her to make sure she was okay. The reason she knew that was why he was looking at her was that it was the same reason she would glance at him.

“Get anything yet, Y/N?” Emily asked in her ear-piece. 

Y/N pulled herself away from the table she was just at so she could answer. “Negative,” she answered switching the clutch from her left hand to her right. She looked up for a second and saw Spencer make eye contact with her, then eyes diverting to the man sitting beside him. “Hold on, Reid might have something, wait for his signal though.”  

“I am in, and I raise,” Y/N caught the end of Spencer’s call as she made her way over to the table. 

“That’s too rich for my blood,” the man beside the one glaring at Spencer spoke. The two sat there, eyeing each other, no wards exchange. 

She began lightly flirting with some of the men at the table, pretending to be dumb about poker. She carefully watched Spencer and then man eyeing each other.

“Are you in, sir?” The dealer asked the man eyeing Spencer. 

“I’ll call,” He said placing some chips in front of him.

“Call,” the dealer spoke. 

“Straight,” Spencer said as he flipped his cards over, eyes never leaving the man. 

The man scoffed in defeat. 

“A gutshot straight draw? Are you kidding me?” The man that Y/N was flirting with said looking at Spencer in disbelief.  “That is just-- that is just nuts.” 

“No kidding,” Y/N whispered to herself at the hand Spencer had. He looked up at her making eye contact signaling her that he believed the one he had been eyeing was the unsub. Y/N nodded and waited for his move. 

“Do you mind if I take a look at this?” Spencer asked reaching for the eight ball key-chain that sat in front of the man. 

The man’s hand gripped Spencer’s wrist as he had a hold on his lucky item. Spencer’s theory confirmed that this was the unsub. 

“Hey, what’s the problem, sir?” A guard asked walking over to Spencer and the unsub. 

“He-He’s reaching for my chips!” The unsub proclaimed to the guard. 

“I was simply admiring--” Spencer was cut off by the guard yanking him out of his seat.

“Shit,” Y/N whispered as she calmly approached, but stopped realizing that wasn’t smart and kept her distance. 

“Sir you need to come with me,” The guard said yanking Spencer again. Y/N becoming slightly angry at how the guard was treating Spencer. 

“Y/N what is it?” Hotch asked through her earpiece, she didn’t respond. 

“I’ll cooperate, don’t manhandle me,” Spencer said shoving the guard off of him slightly. “Thanks.” He looked at Y/N nodding towards the man before sounding the alarm in his hand. 

Y/N watched Spencer get pulled away and when she turned back the unsub, who was now taking poker chips and shoving them in his pockets. She knew she couldn’t go after him, she didn’t have her gun or a vest so she waited for backup.  

“Y/N did you see where he went?” Hotch asked as he approached her, Emily tossing her a vest. 

“Yeah, he went this way come on,” She said placing the vest over her head and grabbing her gun from Emily. 

“Morgan, he’s a white male baseball cap, he’s headed for the back door,” Emily spoke into her watch as she, Hotch, and Y/N continued to move forward towards the back. 

They entered a room and saw the head of a man lying on the ground, “He’s on the move.” Y/N said to her wire as her and the other two ran out the back. 

The three came to a halt as they were met with the cold air, realizing the unsub had gotten away.

----------

The cool air ran over Y/N’s bare arms as the stood outside of the building. They had started to discuss victimology again before Hotch called Penelope to find out if Eddie Langdon had a partner in his plumbing business. His partner was Curtiss Banks whose father was also a compulsive gambler.    

“Do you have an address?” Hotch asked Penelope over the phone. She responded with his home address and than Hotch hung up.

“Y/L/N, go with Reid and Morgan and head to Banks’ house, he may head back there,” Hotch ordered to Y/N who began to walk towards where Spencer and Derek were. 

“Hey, Hotch wants us to go to Banks’ house, Garcia just sent the address,” Y/N said as she approached the two men by the stakeout van. 

“Alright, let’s go,” Derek said pushing himself off of the van and heading towards the SUV in the parking lot. 

“Here, I grabbed this out of the van,” Spencer said, handing Y/N an FBI bomber jacket. 

“Thank you, I’m freezing,” she said taking the jacket from Spencer, hand slightly brushing his. 

While Y/N put the jacket on her body, Derek looked at Spencer as they approached the vehicle and wiggled his eyebrows. Spencer responded with an exaggerated eye roll and hopped into the passenger seat. 

The three arrived at the house and looked around to see if anyone was there, but the house was quiet and dark. Derek pulled his phone out and dialed Hotch’s number. 

“Yeah Hotch,” Derek said when Hotch answered the phone. “There’s nobody here. There’s a foreclosure sign on the front lawn.”

The three got back into the car as Hotch told them to stay in case he came back. Y/N let out a sigh as she placed her head on her hand on the armrest. 

“You okay back there Y/N?” Derek asked turning in his chair to look at the young woman. 

“Yep,” she said popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word. “I don’t like sitting and waiting.” 

“Me neither,” Derek agreed. “What about you pretty boy?”

Spencer turned to look at Derek beside him, his eye previously trained on the house outside the window. “I don’t mind it, it gives me some time to relax and think.”

The three sat in silence and waited for some instruction. Y/N closed her eyes for a second and began to drift off. She was quickly brought back to reality as Derek’s phone ringing woke her up. 

“Hey, Hotch,” he said answering the phone. Y/N and Spencer looked over as he talked on the phone. “Alright, we’ll head back now, that was Hotch they got him at his sister-in-law’s house.” 

“Oh good, does this mean we get to go home now and sleep?” Y/N asked, hope in her voice. 

“Yes, sleepyhead, we do,” Derek said, starting the car and driving back towards the office. Y/N laughed and shook her head before just leaning back in her chair. 

The next morning the team made their way home and returned back to the office and began their day there. 

Y/N sat at her desk looking over a report in her hand. She looked up at the post-it note on her desk, the sketch of a bird taunting her as she looked at it. Ripping it off her desk she crumpled it and threw it away and went back to the report.

“Hey Y/N,” Spencer said walking up to Y/N at her desk. 

She looked up from her report and looked at Spencer, “Hey Spence, what’s up?” She asked him. 

“Um, I was wondering, if you know you wanted to maybe, possibly, wanted to,” He stumbled over his words out of nervousness.  

She raised an eyebrow at him waiting for the climax of the question. “Spencer, take a breath.” 

He did just that, taking in a deep breath, letting his shoulders drop in the process. 

“Sometime, would you maybe want to, get some coffee?” His voice was quiet at the end and if it wasn’t for Y/N’s hyper-aware hearing she may have not caught it. 

“Spencer Reid, are you asking me out?” She said, a smile forming on her face.

“Only-only if you want me to be, if not then it can just be as friends, or we could-”

“Spence,” she cut him off. “I would really like that.” 

“Really?” He asked smiling at the woman in front of him. “How-how about tomorrow?” He asked her. 

“That sounds great,” she said and smiled. He went back to his desk with a pep in his step and sat down with a smile. 

“He did it,” Emily said to Penelope as she walked up beside her. 

“Who did it?” Penelope asked the dark-headed woman. 

“Spencer, he asked Y/N out, only took him a year and a half,” she laughed. 

“Oh my god, the day has finally happened!” 

---------

Y/N walked into her apartment, sighing happily as she took her shoes off of her aching feet. She looked down and saw an envelope on the ground. Cautiously she picked it up and flipped it over, the flap being tapped down by wax. The imprint of a bird on it. 

She opened it carefully, pulling out a note similar to the ones she had gotten weeks prior. 

Remember those nights you would sit scared in your room? I do, I remember and I miss them, start feeling that again. ~ C.R.  

Y/N dropped the letter on the ground, she turned in locked her door shut before she slide down it. Grabbing her phone, she quickly went to Penelope’s contact and called her. 

“Hey Pen, I think I’m ready to tell you who Caroline Roberts is.”

tag list (let me know if you want to be added!!):

@throughparisallthroughrome​

[klarolinelibrary]

Hi KC Readers, 

We have reached the end of the week which means we have new weekly releases for you! The stories below were updated during the week of April 24th - April 30th. 

Happy Reading!

FFN

A View to Stop a Murder

Author: Marcia rogerts

Rating: K+

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Bonnie realizes killing Kol would be a huge mistake, Caroline has enough of Elena's selfishness and Klaus makes it in time to save his brother. 4x12 AU.

Date of update: April 24 2021

Collateral Damage

Author: stardancer10

Rating: M

Length: Drabble

Summary: Caroline Forbes had finally reached her breaking point. She was done being the expendable casualty in their plots and schemes and decides to do something for herself, something selfish. Warning: Not for fans of Elena or Damon.

Date of update: April 24 2021

Klaus POV - The Trouble with Spells (Chapter 22)

Author: ilovetf

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: I think the title is self explanatory. The Trouble with Spells as seen through Klaus's eyes and his POV. Over the years, people kept liking this story and some even asked for Klaus POV, so I decided to give it a try.

Date of update: April 25 2021

The Wolf II (Chapter 10)

Author: yokan87

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: The Guerreras' threat still looms over the Mikaelson house as Caroline tries to adapt to life as a vampire, away from her daughter. But an unexpected family reunion makes everything worse, taking away the little peace Klaus, Caroline and Elijah managed to find after the war that nearly broke them. [It's TO S2, but Caroline was a witch, had Klaus' baby and now she's a vampire]

Date of update: April 27 2021

Nothing Suspicious Here At All

Author: Writingnerd291

Rating: T

Length: Drabble

Summary: There's something just not right about the French Quarter, and Caroline as a rule avoids it. But Caroline has never been good about following her instincts, especially when said instincts might actually keep her out of trouble.

Date of update: April 28 2021

A Failed Sacrifice (Chapter 6)

Author: CookieDuo

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: She ruined the sacrifice to save her own life, and in order to survive she turned to the only other vampire who'd been able to survive the wrath of Klaus Mikaelson. She gets away, and learns from the master, but when Klaus eventually catches up to her, her life will never be the same again.

Date of update: April 29 2021

AO3

Our Time Now

Author: perfectpro

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Returning to campus for the start of her senior year, Caroline is determined to lead the cheerleading squad to victory, get into the law school of her choice, and to stop sleeping with Klaus. All the while ensuring that her sorority is left in good hands after she graduates, keeping her perfect 4.0, and enjoying her remaining time in undergrad. Senior year is going to be different. Caroline is going to make it different, okay? She isn’t going to sleep with Klaus.

Date of update: April 24 2021

Echoes of Sorrow (Chapter 6)

Author: BelleMorte180

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: It was meant to the the vacation of her dreams. Something new and the beginning of a fresh start for her, but when an unthinkable tragedy strikes, Caroline is left with the aching pit of grief that she finds impossible to let go of. However, sometimes the greatest love stories are born out of the greatest tragedies.

Date of update: April 24 2021

No Goodbyes (Chapter 10)

Author: deadofwrite (dead_of_write)

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: “Last night shouldn’t have happened,” Caroline whispered. Guilt. Shame. Regret. It was all the emotions he feared. And it was written all over her face. aka. a college/cheating au

Date of update: April 24 2021

You Should See Me In A Crown

Author: misssophiachase

Rating: T

Length: Drabble

Summary: Two famous strangers, both trying to avoid paparazzi for different reasons, find themselves in a bar one night during the Summer Olympics.

Date of update: April 25 2021

A Million Reasons to Stay (Chapter 18)

Author: Books4eva180

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Caroline Forbes is an ordinary 21 year old girl. She lives in NYC in a crappy apartment with her 3 best friends while trying to get her degree in journalism at Columbia with a virtually non existent love life. Well that is until she is diagnosed with Stage 2 Stomach Cancer. Caroline is devastated and till the cancer is for sure gone she swears off romance. Those plans go out the window when she falls for Klaus. Literally he runs into her and she falls onto the sidewalk. So she goes on a date with him. At first Caroline resolves to go on a few dates with him just wanting to spend time with someone who doesn't know she has cancer and treats her like she is going to drop dead any second. Though the more time she spends with him the harder it gets for Caroline to leave. How long will it be till Klaus figures out about her big secret and when he does will it tear them apart forever or bring them closer than ever?

Date of update: April 25 2021

I Don’t Want You To Die (Chapter 2)

Author: klarolinexluv

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: This is set after Season 5 Episode 12 (The Originals) when Klaus comes to Mystic Falls and takes the dark magic out of Hope, then he returns home to die. Caroline has a guilty conscience and she travels to New Orleans after him. Will she finally tell him what she wants? Will she stop him from dying? Read to find out!

Date of update: April 25 2021

Darkness Becomes Thee (Chapter 2)

Author: BelleMorte180

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Austria 1300s. When Klaus met a young girl on a riverbank, he knew that he would one day come back for her. When he looked into her bright blue eyes, he could see a reflection of his own soul, a darkness that lingered inside both of them. When the young girl turned into a beautiful woman with a thirst for blood, his fascination with her turns into obsession. He wants not only her loyalty but her eternity, a possessiveness that is equally returned. Or my "Caroline is the serial killer Elizabeth Bathory" au.

Date of update: April 25 2021

Speak Now

Author: klarrolines

Rating: T

Length: Drabble

Summary: Caroline scoffed loudly, fists clenched to her sides and her face contorting angrily. "What would you know of what I want?" "Love, if getting married to Stefan is truly what you want why are you here listening to me instead of telling me off? If this is truly what you want why do you look like you're going to be sick on your own bloody wedding?"

Date of update: April 25 2021

A Smutty Anniversary (Chapter 7)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Caroline and Klaus celebrate 3 months together with a day full of smut.

Date of update: April 25 2021

Our Rebirth (Chapter 7)

Author: MissMackasaurus

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Caroline is tired of being unappreciated, forgotten and mistreated. Klaus is frustrated with watching her be disappointed by her friends. When she decides to run from Mystic Falls he drops everything to keep her safe. friendship isnt forbidden when no one knows you are together. What will happen when Caroline takes Klaus up on his offer to show her the world?

Date of update: April 25 2021

Roulette

Author: malignance

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Summary: Apparently with Mikaelsons, one meant all.

Date of update: April 25 2021

Kill Them With Kindness

Author: sekretny

Rating: T

Length: Drabble

Summary: “Caroline, pray tell… what is this little-,” Klaus directs his steps towards the sink where his girlfriend is doing the dishes, “project that you have undertaken.” Upon closer inspection of the state of the kitchen, he decides to tread carefully to avoid setting his feet on any of the small specks of some kind of treacly substance scattered all around the floor. “I was making cookies,” she answers with a voice full of fake cheer and a shrugs of her shoulders. He recognized her answer as being oddly evasive, while she continued to scrub a spatula. Klaus finds it adorable how she tried and failed at feigning innocence.

Date of update: April 26 2021

Destination Wedding (Chapter 4)

Author: PumpkinDoodles

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: The first rule of going to your ex's wedding is 'make sure you look good,' but Caroline's seriously worried that this British Guy is going to make her late. And she cannot be late to Rebekah Mikaelson and Matt Donovan's wedding at a Virginia winery.

Date of update: April 26 2021

Just Another Fairytale (Chapter 15)

Author: BelleMorte180

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a young prince who roamed the Forrest of Abattoir and a young maiden who lived by the Mystic Sea. The maiden felt the alone and useless while the prince longed for a connection to his mother. Just like any fairytale, the story of the prince and the maiden is one of true love, adventure and magic.

Date of update: April 26 2021

We are Young (Chapter 13)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Basically, Klaroline flirt in front of their kids who they are barely older than, and Landon is appropriately confused.

Date of update: April 26 2021

Magics Miracle (Chapter 6)

Author: 1Jemmagirl22

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Caroline is in Paris with out her humanity after the death of her mother. It seems her friends aren't happy with her new state so they inform the one person capable of turning her emotions back on. Klaus. When a prophecy about a second Tribrid comes about in New Orleans, shock to sweeps through the city. It seems nature doesn't consider Hope such an abomination after all as an even greater one is about to be created. The hands of power are changing and when they're done even the worlds most powerful witches won't be able to stop it.

Date of update: April 26 2021

Sibling Rivalry (Chapter 10)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: In which Klaus and Rebekah are both bi, their taste in men and women overlaps infuriatingly often, and they argue over their newest shared interest.

Date of update: April 27 2021

Kiss Me Quick (Spin Me Slow)

Author: malignance

Rating: T

Length: Drabble

Summary: It was infuriating, the effect they all had on her.

Date of update: April 27 2021

Secret Spells (Chapter 2)

Author: 1Jemmagirl22

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Alexandria Le Fay brings old magic back to the Salvatore school just as things start to calm down. But magic isn’t all she brings. Darkness follows her everywhere she goes. As does her family’s secrets. Takes place after Legacies 3x04.

Date of update: April 27 2021

LITTLE TENSE (Chapter 2)

Author: wincefish16

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: PROMPT- HUMAN MARRIED KLAROLINE. THINGS ARE NOT LOOKING GOOD IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP. DAMON IS CAROLINE'S BROTHER AND KLAUS'S BEST FRIEND. HE TRIES TO FIX THINGS BETWEEN THEM.

Date of update: April 28 2021

Soulmate visions (Chapter 5)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: On your soulmate's eighteenth birthday, you see through their eyes for an hour, but they don’t know. And if your soulmate turns eighteen before you are even born, you never get a vision. Klaus gets his soulmate vision right after he orders Tyler to bite Caroline on her birthday.

Date of update: April 28 2021

Caroline in Wonderland

Author: BelleMorte180

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: London, 1903. On the day of her wedding, a young boy collides into Caroline's legs, all but knocking her to the ground. Seeing that she is dreading walking down the aisle, any moment stalling her from heading to the church is welcome. However, when she follows the young boy down a London street, something impossible happens and Caroline finds herself in a magical world that she had been told about as a young child- Wonderland. She embarks on a journey through Wonderland to find out who she really is, where she belongs and towards a man who she had thought was nothing more than an imaginary friend.

Date of update: April 28 2021

The Big Bad Wolf (Chapter 7)

Author: MorningStarGirl666

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: He was the Big, Bad Wolf of this story, there was no doubt about that. But Caroline? She was the light to his darkness, the moon that shone brighter than even the stars in a sky of endless void. Like every wolf, he fell in love with the moon, and every month, he was destined to cry for a love he would never touch.

Date of update: April 28 2021

Resilience (Chapter 26)

Author: BMINA

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Set from 7x12 of TVD and somewhere between 3x13-3x14 of TO. When the gang of Mystic Falls try to get rid of Julian using a dangerous spell, they employ the help of Freya Mikaelson. But things go awfully wrong, resulting in a huge loss and lots of heartbreak. Julian vows to kill them all, making the group leave Mystic Falls and start running in different directions of the world. Five years later, Caroline and Alaric have a life in Chicago - free from the supernatural drama and all the grievances that come with it. But when Damon and Enzo show up to tell them that Bonnie has been taken, they pack their bags and head to the only place they can go to find help in getting her back; New Orleans. However, that brings about a new magnitude of problems instead, with a war looming ahead as old enemies of the Mikaelson's resurface and new dangerous weapons are discovered, threatening the sirelines once more. Forcing Caroline to make a decision between her new life and one where she must leave her human notions behind.

Date of update: April 28 2021

Battle Plans Gone Wrong

Author: Helpfulfairy92

Rating: Not rated

Length: Drabble

Summary: While Klaus knew he wasn't the smartest man on the planet, he liked to think that he had at least learnt to pay attention to his wife's many moods over the years. And this mood? This was one he had learnt to pay attention to. This was not a good mood. Or Caroline finds out about Klaus' plan and says No.

Date of update: April 29 2021

KC Drabbles 2021

Author: CandyCane1287

Rating: T

Length: Drabbles

Summary: C1: Hybrid Klaus meets human Caroline earlier and they fall in love. But there’s more. Ps, Katherine didn’t turn Caroline and she’s still human. He used Elena for the sacrifice but Elijah revived her. He got Tyler to bite Caroline but Klaus healed her. Tyler and Caroline broke up cause he cheated on her and they weren’t that in love.Matt and Caroline never happened. A bit of talk of Damon, but doesn’t go into too much detail.

Date of update: April 29 2021

The Long Ride Home (Chapter 4)

Author: BelleMorte180

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Seventy-three years is a long time to love someone; but sometimes, a lifetime is just not long enough when it is time to say goodbye.

Date of update: April 29 2021

Mikaelson Family Values

Author: perfectpro

Rating: G

Length: One Shot

Summary: Klaus and Caroline Mikaelson moved to Mystic Falls to put down roots for their family, but the town doesn't prove to be as perfect of a fit as they might have thought.

Date of update: April 29 2021

Louder Than Thunder (Chapter 16)

Author: khaleesiofthewolves

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: All Hell was about to break loose. After dying while protecting a grieving Klaus, Caroline finds herself sent back in time, and she's not who she once was. She's more. Back in Mystic Falls, something else is stirring. After the arrival of a mysterious figure from Klaus' past, it all comes to a head. It really is louder than thunder.

Date of update: April 30 2021

Reasons Not to Date a Mikaelson (Chapter 4)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Bonnie and Caroline gain a new roommate for their freshman dorm when a vision leads them to tracking down a pregnant Hayley in the Rockies. Also, Bonnie may or may not have raised a certain dead Original instead of Jeremy and Klaus takes a job at Whitmore teaching, to be annoying. He’s very good at it. This is a season 5 rewrite where the Originals never leave for New Orleans. But you know, with comedy.

Date of update: April 30 2021

Rewrite Of American Dream Prom Queen

Author: alyssa_chloe25

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: This is my version of american dream prom queen by trashcanbarbie. The beginning is the same as the original but with a twist in the end. More violence and hybrid klaus comes out to play.

Date of update: April 30 2021

AO3: Last Love (Chapter 2)

FFN: Last Love (Chapter 2)

Author: kirti_01

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Klaus had promised to be her last love, was sure that Caroline, will come to him. Maybe in a year, or a 100, perhaps. But Caroline decides not to wait for that long. After graduation, Caroline moves in with Klaus to give her feelings for him a chance. And Elijah finally lets go of his obsession with Katherine and finds himself attracted to a university student, his student, a human named Samara.

Date of update: April 24 2021

AO3: She Deserves Better (Chapter 43)

FFN: She Deserves Better (Chapter 43)

Author: CrazyGirl92

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Everyone Caroline has ever known is gone, her life has not gone the way she expected at all. What happens when she is attacked on the full moon? What happens if she finds herself back into her past. What will she do with this unexpected chance? How did it happen? Will she make the same choices? Were those even the right ones? Will Caroline wake up and realize just how much better she deserved. And just what will happen when she does?

Date of update: April 24 2021

AO3: The Domino Effect (Chapter 3)

FFN: The Domino Effect (Chapter 3)

Author: CrazyGirl92

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Would the death of three of the five original vampires really not affect the entire world? What happens when the witches at peace decide something must be done about it. How is the story changed if Caroline meets Klaus Mikaelson earlier?

Date of update: April 24 2021

AO3: Corks and Claws (Chapter 21)

FFN: Corks and Claws (Chapter 21)

Author: UppityBitch

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: As alpha pack leader of the Crescent Clan, Caroline has enough to deal with in keeping her wolves in line, but then a familiar sexy hybrid returns with his own set of problems and she can’t help but get involved...

Date of update: April 25 2021

AO3: Judgment Call (Chapter 9)

FFN: Judgment Call (Chapter 9)

Author: Eliliyah

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Summary: As a Federal Agent, Caroline Forbes has always lived by a strict moral code. But when new evidence comes to light that Klaus Mikaelson, the first man she helped send to death row, may not be guilty hours before his execution, she begins to question everything she’s ever known. As the investigation leads to the heartbreaking truth, she’s forced to choose between what is right and what is just.

Date of update: April 27 2021