#her taste in men soared and then dropped into the mud again

[moviehater]

ugugughghghhh BRETT stop dating these ugly ass men. please. it hurts me

[whirlybirdwhat]

flowers (still blooming)

Ace doesn’t know what his mother looks like. Makino met a woman twelve years ago. 

(There are flowers in Rouge's hair.)

Read on AO3 for better quality!

--

Makino runs a bar – this is common knowledge to anyone who has ever visited Foosha.

She’s always behind the counter or at serving drinks, all with a kind smile and a laugh at hijinks. No one misbehaves, and there’s a shiny new gun behind the counter for any unwanted visitors.

(Rumor has it a pirate taught her how to shoot.)

She a barmaid and a bar tender and a bar owner – anything really. The Party Bar is her pride and joy.

And left over from her mother, a generation previous, it is her information hub as well.

People come in from all sorts of places for the taste of beers delivered directly by Vice Admiral hands and homebrews from the other side of the island. With them they bring stories, and tales, and wanted posters, secrets about criminals Makino has never known and praise for villains she never wants to meet. Alcohol loosens lips, and it’s an easy task to ask the right questions to get the right answers.

Makino’s smart. She knows the power she holds with all the information locked tight in her brain. She sends letters to Garp, sometimes, to warn about an upcoming raid on some poor island, and smiles at the news of the Hero of the Navy saving yet another place.

(She calls Shanks sometimes, to hear his voice, and to tell him that some upstart is planning on challenging him, to tell him that the Marines are planning some ambush but its only rookies, really, to tell him that she misses him and Luffy isn’t in Foosha much now a days, so can’t he come visit?

He doesn’t. But that’s okay.)

Wanted posters find their way onto the Party Bar’s walls, for one reason or another. A nice young man who tipped well, off to becoming a pirate, or a couple of scoundrels smacked down by Garp the Fist himself. Shanks is there, serious faced over a hefty bounty, with the rest of the crew smiling alongside him.

(A spot is reserved on the other wall for the bounty of three young to-be pirates – she can’t wait to see how high their bounties soar.)

It’s not often Makino looks through them, but then she meets Ace, whose face is so similar to one she has known before – one who smiled at her and gave her a hug when her mother didn’t bother paying attention to her.

Makino visit’s Luffy’s brothers, and cries, just a little bit, when she gets home.

Luffy is so happy but someone dear is gone.

-

Garp keeps secrets when he wants to but Makino knows how to get them out of him. A drop of knowledge here, a drink there, a smile, a private place with no prying ears, and the mention of grandsons is all it takes for the tears to well up in his eyes and for the words to spill out.

Ace, his first grandson’s name is, adopted or not, Portgas D. Ace –

All the information Makino wanted, really, but Garp keeps on talking –

Gol D. Ace, son of the Pirate King –

And Makino’s heart shatters.

(Like any bar, the Party Bar receives its fair share of unruly customers, those with cruel words on their tongues and hatred for people they have never met.

The Son of the King? They say, referring to the only king that ever really mattered. Hope he doesn’t exist! Should kill 'em if he does, sins of the father, right? Drown him at birth, noose around the neck, whatever works! Kid will turn out to be just as bad as his bastard father!)

Ace has demons in his eyes. Makino knows why.

-

Ace proudly calls himself Portgas D. Ace, so Makino has hope, and she loves this boy because he is Ace, the one who Luffy calls brother and the one who makes Luffy less lonely, and because Ace is a child and deserves love no matter what she thinks.

She works past the lump in her heart, when she gets home from that conversation from Garp, and opens the chest in her room.

(Tears drip from her eyes and the Party Bar is closed for the day, but that doesn’t matter.

Whatever has, in the face of this bloodline?)

-

Makino was seven when the woman came into town. She was the most beautiful woman Makino had ever seen, gliding into port with hair the color of morning skies and a dash of freckles across her cheek. A flower rose in her hair, vibrant and beautiful, and her smile changed her face into something different, something Makino wished she had. She was pregnant but didn’t stumble under the weight of her still small belly, and instead stood tall and imposing, almost as tall as Garp.

Portgas D. Rouge came into port like a storm and exited like a whisper

“Child,” she had said to the only one at port that day, Makino, playing in the waves. “Where is everyone?”

“At the bar,” Makino told her blindly, because Foosha was small and had no need for anyone to be wary of strangers.

(The era of pirates was beginning today after all.)

“The Pirate King is being executed – everyone’s watching it.”

It was strange, how people’s faces broke at the strangest things.

“My name is Rouge,” the woman introduced herself. “Will you take me to the bar?”

“Sure.” And Makino did.

(She grabbed Makino’s outstretched hand when Makino lead her to the bar, and didn’t let go when they were inside. Makino didn’t mind (her mother never held her hand anymore). Eventually, the woman, Rouge, lifted her up and placed her on her hip, so she could see the Pirate King.

(He looked big, up on that stage. Who could ever kill him?)

They stood in the back of the bar as Roger shouted his last words – You want my treasure? You can have it! I left everything I gathered together in one place. Now you'll just have to find it! – and an era was born with the death of one man.

Rouge cried when it happened, and Makino didn’t know why. She was smiling though, still smiling that beautiful smile she gave Makino, so she figured it was alright even as tears dripped from her face onto Makino’s hair.

She clung tighter to Rouge, hoping to give her some comfort.

(Hoping she could make this woman happy again.)

It worked, as they left the bar where people were cheering, screaming, at the death of a King. Rouge smiled and her tears mixed with the salt spray from the beach, as she and Makino played in the sand.

Rouge stayed for a week, playing with Makino and giving her more attention than anyone else ever did. She left a flower in her hair when she left, whispered secrets of men and women Makino had never known, and kissed her forehead when Makino went to sleep on her shoulder.

Makino loved her, didn’t you know?

(She left, and never came back.)

-

Makino knows the path to the bandit den like the back of her hand by now. She makes journeys up there in the middle of the week, when the bar is quiet, to give boys a well-cooked meal and some bandits some booze. Its tradition, at this point.

This isn’t her usual day, so it’s a miracle the boys are even at the bandit den (she had heard from an excited Luffy that they were hiding out in a tree house now.) They cheer at her presence and the meal she brought while Dadan gives her a curious look.

They are covered in bruises, a blessing from Garp before he visited Makino, but are still running around, screeching and wrestling in the mud.

Makino doesn’t mind, and in a quiet moment, takes Ace away to talk to him.

“Ace,” She starts, kneeling down to be at his level. “Garp told me about your parents.”

Ace locks up, body freezing as his eyes go wide. There’s terror in them, and Makino feels her heart break. His mouth opens and shuts, words not coming out, but that’s okay.

Makino knows his question.

“I don’t care, Ace, I still love you.”

His eyes well up and he bites his lip, like he can’t bear to believe it. He’s trying to stay strong, and Makino can’t help but wonder at how similar he is to his mother.

(The freckles are a spitting image of Rouge, and Makino can’t help but wonder what he would look like if he had his mother’s hair.)

Ace sniffles and she draws him in. He’s too flustered to fight back, to unused to hugs to hug back, but that’s why Makino drew him away from everyone else.

Her shoulder grows wet from his tears as she gently brushes his hair back. “Shh. It’s okay, Ace. It’s okay.” When he grows quiet, eyes dried up, just a little, she says what she truly came up here to do.

“I have a present for you.”

He lifts his head up, face curious. “More clothes?”

“No, silly.” She laughs and then laughs again at the redness of his face. “Do you know what your mother looked like?”

Ace shakes his head, stilling. “No. Shitty Gramps told me stories though…”

And by the tone in his voice, it’s probably stories of his birth – not the ones Rouge told Makino on Foosha’s beaches twelve years ago.  She’s going to have to fix that.

Makino pulls the old and faded paper out of her pocket. “Here”

Ace takes one look at the poster and promptly breaks again

-

Two weeks after Rouge left Foosha, the News Coos brings another round of papers. Everyone scrambles for one, eager to hear what has happened since the Pirate King fell, but Makino is lucky enough to grab her mother’s copy.

Her reading isn’t the best now, but she likes looking at the wanted posters that come with them. There are so many new pirates now

The wanted poster that falls out is a new one, an updated one, with a face Makino hasn’t seen on a wanted poster before - but has seen in reality, cupped in her hands and counted the freckles of a stranger’s face

‘SEA STORM’ PORTGAS D. ROUGE - WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE: 1.5 BILLION BERRIES

Rouge... the pregnant woman who laughed and dance with Makino as if she was her own child. is wanted? is a pirate? Why?

Makino can’t fathom it and worries for the woman who she had known for a week.

She hopes she’s alive

She hopes she comes back

(She asks Garp about the woman, once, and some strange happenings run across his face, like worry and concern and anger all at once. He curses then interrogates Makino about everything she knows about the woman, which she tells him, trembling. Her mother scolds her for being dishonest but Garp thanks her, tells her she’s keeping her safe. That Rouge will be safe.

Makino is thankful.)

Raids start for the pirate Kings son the next week. Makino stays at home, afraid and hidden as soldiers interrogate every woman on the isle, how long they been there, if any people visited port before the capture of the king.

She hopes Rouge, regnant and tall and bold, escapes it.

Her bounty comes in again with a New Coo a year later, when raids have died down, and Makino is sure she’s alive.

1.7 billion, and she’s smiling.

Rouge survived. Makino can’t wait to see her again.

(That is the last picture she ever gets of Rouge. It’s not put up with the others when Makino takes over the bar at 16. It’s much too precious for that. instead, she hides it in her chest of precious things in her room, taking care to make sure the paper doesn’t crumble or fray. It’s a treasure she doesn’t admit to having, and dream she doesn’t say to the world but keeps close to her heart.)

Makino sees ace and knows Rouge didn’t survive for that woman, who played with her when no one else would, would never abandon her child willingly.

-

The wanted poster is faded but the picture is still clear through meticulous care.  a woman stares out from in, angled away from the camera but with her face fully visible. her hair flows in the morning light of the picture, pink against the sea in the background, and freckles dash across her face. she’s closed mouth but smiling eye amused but with one eyebrow raised. A hibiscus, pink and blooming, is nestled in her hair. Her skin is warm and glowing and she looks like an older Ace.

Its Rouge, queen of the seas.

Its Rouge, Aces mother.

In the wanted poster he takes gently from Makino, he sees his mother for the first time.

“Mom?” he croaks out, voice shaky and so, so hopeful. Makino hums, and settles in, guiding Ace to sit next to her as they stare at the wanted poster.

“Yes. When I was girl she visited this island... you look just like her, you know? I knew it was her the moment I saw you.”

“What... what was she like?” Aces voice is soft and hopeful as he traces the bounty number, so unbelievably high for someone he has never heard of.

Makino smiles. “She was kind, so unbelievably kind, to me at least. Just wandered into Foosha one day and took my hand – I think she was pregnant with you at the time, isn’t that fun?”

Ace gives a tiny smile, eyes wide and big as he stares at her. He hangs onto every word, trying to show that he isn’t lest she decides not to tell it, which she never would, but it’s endearing all the same.

“But to others,” Makino continues, “She was the storm at sea. Sea Storm Rouge, the papers called her, a legend known by the burning flower in her hair. She would appear like a maelstrom at sea, suddenly there before you could blink and taking down ships at a speed no one could rival save for a select few. She would free slaves from nobles in the same breath she took off with all their loot. She took nothing lying down.”

Sabo and Luffy sneak in to their tiny clearing and find their place next to Ace, knowing there’s a story to be told and not willing to miss it. She laughs at their curious expressions, and continues wither her tale of the woman she might have called mother as Ace pulls his brothers in close.

“She told me once of how she stared a sea king the size of an island down because he was bothering her morning meal…”

-

Rouge leaves in the quiet moments of dawn, when the sun is only barely rising and all is quiet save for the fishermen already out in the waters.

She takes Makino with her, out to the shore, taking her by the hand and leading her out as the girl rubbed sleep from her eyes.

There’s sadness in Rouge, Makino notes as they leave, passing by houses and towards the abandon beach half a mile from Foosha.

She doesn’t like the sadness there, but she senses it’s not her job to get rid of it – it’s the selfish kind of sadness, the kind that comes with loving some great.

(Makino’s young, but all the children of this world know that feeling.)

They watch the sunrise together in front of Rouge’s small ship, and lean into each other. Rouge’s hand braids Makino’s hair as she plays with the sword handle at the woman’s hip.

“Rouge,” She asks, quiet. It’s not the time for loudness. “Why are you leaving?”

Why are you leaving me?

(Makino’s mother runs the Party Bar and doesn’t leave time for anyone else. Her father isn’t around and the closest she has is Garp and Woopslap, and it should be enough, but it isn’t. Not next to this stranger who has told her of legends and let her hold her hand and dance under the stars. It’s not enough to the raging storm of Rouge’s love.)

Rouge smiles, face softening as she finishes tying off Makino’s braid. “I have to, to keep those I love safe. If I fight, I can win, but others won’t. And I won’t hurt them for their selflessness.”

“But what if its selfishness?”

What if I want you here for me?

Rouge rests a hand on her stomach and one on Makino’s head, and the world seems to still. There’s a pressure from Rouge, one that seems to make the light from the sun flicker under the force from it. It relents, after a moment, but Makino feels safe.

Secure.

Rouge loves her.

“Then you must live with that selfishness, like I do mine.” Her voice is soft. Makino takes the words and keeps them in her heart. It’s hers.

The sun is half over the horizon now. Rouge gets up, and lifts Makino from the railing where they sit to put her on the sandy ground. They are both barefoot, now, having run in the sand half an hour before, and their toes sink into sand as water runs over their toes.

It’s a peaceful kind of ending.

Rouge kneels, soaking her pants in the shore to look Makino in her eyes. She pulls the flower out of her hair, still immaculately pristine and beautiful, and places it behind Makino’s ear. “A gift,” she says, and kisses Makino on the forehead, “so you don’t forget me, alright?”

Makino nods and knows she never will.

No one but Makino knows the Maelstrom of the Grand Line was on Dawn Island, but as Rouge sails off into the raising son, one child left behind and one yet to be born, she finds that’s quite alright.

She was there, and that was enough.

(Never, her selfish heart whispers, never enough.)

-

Ace is the only one still awake by the time Makino tells the last of her few tales. He’s tired, clearly, resting heavily on Sabo as Luffy rests in his lap, but he keeps on blinking his eyes open. The sun is setting now, and Makino must really be going, but she has one last thing to show him.

“Come on,” She says, pulling Ace up and leaving his brothers to collapse on each other. “I have another gift for you.”

Ace looks at the wanted poster still held so gently in his hands, and follows into the woods.

There’s a field on the west side of the island, the cliffside above the shore half a mile from Foosha. Its filled with beautiful hibiscuses the shades of vibrant pink.

Ace had seen it before, on his ventures.

But now, Makino shows him the truth.

“Your mother gave me her flower, one of them at least, that was in that poster. It started wilting after a few days, so I found a way to replant the seeds and pressed the original… they quickly spread over the valley…”

The sun makes them burn like fire, and Makino sees the love of a mother reflected in Ace’s eyes.

Saltwater falls down her cheeks as she sees Ace take a flower like it is the most precious thing in the world (like Makino had treated the flower Rouge gave her) and place it in his hair. It’s just long enough in the step that it nestles gently in his hair, and he smiles, so happily, like she hasn’t seen him do unless he’s with his brothers.

Tears mirror hers on his cheeks and suddenly she’s staring at Rouge on the day she met her.

He gives her a flower next, and they walk under the setting sun to Dadan’s hut with Rouge’s love intertwined in their hair.

-

Makino is a bartender, which means she keeps information, and it means she inherited the place where she met a woman who changed her life.

She sees Ace off on the same shore she saw Rouge off, and cries and waves with joy in every moment. He sails into the sun, brilliant and bold, as flowers float around the waiting crowd, and she’s so, so happy.

She is a bartender so she gets the wanted posters two months later first: information is key, after all.

The poster is put up on the reserved wall, a place of pride for three two boys.

Fire Fist Ace, it declares, Captain of the Spades Pirates WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE!

The picture on it is a smiling boy on fire, freckled and smiling. His hat has two charms around it and a wreath of beads is around his neck, a gift from his bandit mother. Expected, for a runaway pirate.

Intertwined in the hat and in his hair, however, are brilliant pink hibiscuses – a tribute to a woman forgotten by the world.

(The rumors Makino hears tell of a boy who doesn’t care what you do to him, but if you harm his crew or the flowers on his ship and hat, there will be hell to pay from a boy made of fire.)

Makino thinks Rouge would be proud.

-

“Rouge? What are you going to name your baby?”

“Ann if it’s a girl. I would name her Makino, but I think the one I know is great enough!”

“Sesesese! And if it’s a boy?”

“Then Ace! That’s the name his father loved – it’s a good name, don’t you think? I love him already.”

“Can I be his big sister?”

“Of course.”

-

(Makino is a bartender, and that mean Makino has connections.

She asks Shanks to fill Ace’s grave with pink hibiscuses, and for Rayleigh to give Luffy a bouquet of them to give to the cracks in the Earth at Marineford.

It’s not nearly enough, but she will be selfish, just this once, and will cry about it.)

-

She names her child Ann and calls her my little sea storm, my little flower. 

She knows Rouge would be proud.

[inforapound]

Bloodmoon Chapter 7

A/N -  Sorry about the delay. I wrote it last night and decided to post it to keep up my momentum. Thanks so much for reading. 

Warnings - Violence

Pairing - Ivar and Lofn

Previous chapter - Chapter 6

The thundering of his heart and ragged breath rang in his ears like a macabre chorus. The sharp clashes of weapons cut through the daze that swamped his mind after his body was slammed to the ground. He sunk his sharp front teeth into his tongue looking for a focus as he fought the lulling desire to succumb to darkness. It would be so easy to exhale and give in to the peace of sleep or death, offering him a chance at rest. The metallic taste in his mouth helped steady his senses, coating his teeth red like the blood in his eyes, making his bright blues look wild.

Lifting his head, he cried out as he saw his chariot tipped over on its side. His white horse, now smeared with mud, thrashed on the ground with an unnaturally angled leg. Somewhere in the distance, his brothers were fighting on the far side of the clearing. They now had an advantage and were overpowering the dwindling army.

Adrenaline coursed through Ivar's veins as he rolled from his side onto his back and stared up at the pale blue sky. Blinking, his thoughts connected as the sound of Lofn's voice speared through his mind,

Ivar! Move!

Sucking in air, he withdrew the picks from his belt and twisted his torso, driving them into the ground and began crawling back to his overturned cart. Dragging himself, and deaf to the screams coming from his own mouth, he moved in the opposite direction of a line of Saxon soldiers stocking up the hill toward him. Green tunics covered by chain mail armour, swords and bows pointing, they marched determined to deliver retribution to the crippled heathen who had unleashed such violence against their king and country.

Pulling himself to sit, Ivar slammed his back against the wooden cart, snarling as the iron helmets appeared over the crest of the hill. Licking his lips with flared nostrils, he clanged his picks together.

They cannot hurt you Ivar! Lofn's voice floated again through his mind.

Tipping his head to the sky, he screamed into the air causing the line of green to hesitate. They eyed him tentatively as he continued to shriek and threaten, goading them in a language they could not understand.

The first of their arrows were released, flying toward the heavens, curving gently back toward the earth; Ivar, their target, watched from below. All at once, the arrows stopped, halted frozen, mid-flight, in perfect formation as if the points had sunk deep into some imperceivable wall, they hung suspended in the sky. A flicker in the air, felt more than seen, pulsed above them like a silent flare of flash-less lightening. The arrows instantly dropped, point down and plunged into the soft ground just feet from the soldiers standing arm to arm.

The mocking, maniacal laughter of Ivar snapped the wide-eyed Saxons back from their confusion. Both fear and shock skewed their expressions as they stared at Ivar's jeering face. More than half of the men stepped backward; some turning fully to retreat but all were startled, snapping to look up to the sky as a shadow flashed overhead. The sun's ray flickered as a dark-winged woman soared above the overturned chariot and the youngest son of Ragnar. Horror struck the soldiers as their minds fought to identify a sight their brains could not understand.

Lofn's ear-splitting shriek ripped through the air and their gloved hands flew up to the cover their ears, the high pitch sound tearing through their senses. Weapons were dropped as most fell to their knees, still clutching their heads, trying to block out the noise. With her mouth wide in a scream, her powerful wings beat in short bursts lowering her to hover just above Ivar. Veering forward, her dark feathered wings, snapped the air, driving her straight toward the Saxons.

Like a breaking wave, a spray of blood misted the air, as her dagger sliced straight through the line of stunned soldiers. Those, who had stepped back were spared and turned to run, others stumbled, falling frantically to the ground.

Circling the top of the hill, Lofn's nearly black eyes focussed on her fleeing targets and she dove toward the ground, hitting one straight on, knocking him backward and crashing into the ground. With a sharp hiss from her snarled lips, she grabbed the point on the soldiers' helmet, tipping his head back and sunk her teeth into the man's windpipe. Growling, she thrashed side to side, like a lion stripping a bone.

The hollers of rushed voices broke her frenzy and she tore her teeth free. Releasing the lifeless body, she stood and turned to face a stunned Ubbe and Bjorn, their eyes scanning her berserk, unhinged appearance. Not caring about the bloody gore coating her mouth and dripping down her throat, she barked orders for them to take Ivar to safety. Confounded, they silently nodded running passed her to Ivar, who sat mesmerized against the chariot. As if spellbound, his blue eyes shon, staying focused on her as he was loaded over the shoulder of his eldest brother. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she could no longer hold her emotions, and tears filled her ebony eyes, streaking down her blood-smeared face.

"Lofn!" he screamed still slung over Bjorn's shoulder. "Come with...!" his voice fell silent as he watched her turn and run away from them.

Leaping into the air, her wings caught lift and she coasted just above the ground until she slammed into the back of another retreating soldier. The faint cry of the struggling man was snuffed as Ivar watched her rip the man's head free from his body. Moving into the trees on his brother's back, Ivar lost sight of her as she dropped the head and turned toward another soldier who was screaming and running for his life.

MASTERLIST

 @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @tephi101​ @naaladareia​ @medievalfangirl​ @yanii-the-hippie​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @lol-haha-joke​ @geekandbooknerd​ @whenimaunicorn​ @fangirl-nonsense​ @thelastemzy​ @captstefanbrandt​ @readsalot73​

[delicrieux]

amortentia [young!tom riddle x reader] pt.6

premise: two students start developing feelings for one another despite having too many secrets to count.

tagging:  @cheshirecatbyul @junieyes​ @whaledenwtf​ @xoxomioxoxo @cherryvblossom​( if anyone else wants to be tagged, please let me know!)

warnings: angst, disturbing themes, fluff, blood

words: 2749

a/n: i always go overboard with harry potter stuff...’s because i love it so much <3

amortentia masterpost | MASTERLIST.  7K GIFT!

6. amortentia

“Oi, Tom…” The boys’ dormitories flooded with sixth years, Tom lagging behind his group of friends that so very insisted on always having him close by even if he was not taking part in conversation. The said boy’s thoughts drift in and out reality; most revolve around you and your hasty exit with barely a mumble of ‘I’ll catch you later’ before you trotted down the empty hallway and disappeared; you skipped all of your remaining classes and he did not catch you at dinner either. To say he is worried would be a lie – he is not. Curiosity is a better dub for this emotion, and so he thinks and thinks on what you might be doing at this hour as he trails whatever scenery is present. The Chavarone kid calls him; Tom is a bit ticked off for being so rudely interrupted admits doing absolutely nothing. As the boys slowly float to their beds, he notes Chavarone stand by his with a goofy smile on his lips. Their eyes meet and the kid snorts, “Have a secret lover you’re not tellin’ us about?”

“What?” Tom spits.

Chavarone points at the dark green sheets, “Look at this, yea? I see a box of chocolates with your name on it.”

~*~

A lonely cottage stands vacant of any live beings on the outside and seems so set in stone that not even magical might may move it. A tall, luscious and luminous forest with leaves the size of palms and branches as thick as sturdy legs sway to the gentle crisp breeze of northern wind. No town is in near sight, yet far away, if one was to listen closely he could hear the church bells ring from Diu Derar and catch the occasional whiff of baked goods from the one and only bakery in hundreds of miles. The cottage is thick with moss; the stones are glossy and shine like emeralds once sunlight bounces off of them. Wild flowers and orchids grow in pairs and mix and blend into a mass of colours that are hardly distinguishable. The grass nearly reaches ankles, yet it is so lush and green that it wold be a shame to cut it. A wooden shed with paint buckets inside lazily flaps its door open once the wind demands in a harsher tone.

It is a terribly hot day, one that rains with light and the wind does not dare to whisper. All windows are open, the glass reflects the insides of the house and all its small trinkets to prying eyes, yet frankly there are none in sight. Bees buzz near flowers. From the hose a few drops of water leak down into a messy puddle of mud. A bee falls astray when it’s coated in pollen, slipping inside rather than back into the forest to find its hive. She is met with many dazing scents, ones she can only hope to name and a sight that would remind her of a kitchen if she knew any better. Her attention is drawn to the sickeningly sweet melting chocolate on the side of a cluttered table and she forgets about her task completely and immediately, darting straight into the counter and getting stuck in the sugar. She buzzes and buzzes, but the only two people hardly bat an eyelash.

Pots brew and emit smoke. It is hard to breath enough already from the blasted heat and the boiling liquids do not help. They fill the room with white fumes that stick to the throat and collect dew on the cheeks. The older of the two – the mother, no doubt, with a knot of black hair on her head – holds a slick wooden spoon so tightly that her knuckles turn as white as her teeth. There is no smile on her face as she tries to catch the gaze of a child, her child, she so profoundly had asked to do the simplest of tasks yet the child has failed time and time again. A soft sob, one that grows in volume quicker than birds chirping in the morning, echoes in the kitchen and pierces the heart of whoever hears it. The child is crying. Big opalescent tears roll down chubby cheeks followed along by hiccups and raspy apologies. The mother doesn’t ease however, only yields the spoon higher in a threatening manner as the child claws at its fingers with delicate yet desperate care. The chair scrapes on the floor and the child straightens his back, just like mother had asked, feeling his bones settle and ache as he is not used to sitting this proper. Yet mother insists. Mother knows best, after all, and whilst Father is away there is little freedom to be had.

(Name) has a hard time making out her bloody and bruised fingers, clouded by the curtain of tears she can hardly make out anything at all. Emotions seem to mix and match and nothing is comprehensible.  Except fear. Fear of the monsters lurking in the very depths of the forest, under the mattress of her bed and…the one monster that is starting right at her with unreadable (colour) eyes.

~*~

Cold. Finger numbing, brain freezing, breath seizing cold. And why, now of all times, do you recall your childhood of all things?

There is a small section in the dungeons that not many know of: if one walked straight ahead to the very end there is a secret passage way that leads to the baths, both men and women separated of course, and both having a specific password to enter. Mostly Slytherin students visit it, and any other house that dared to venture in this part of the castle would be met with their clothes set on fire and emerald sculptures of mermaids mocking their appearance until they cried. You have seen it happen a couple of times over the years, though as you grew older those rare occasions became so scares that they were nearly non-existent all together. The tiles here are a brilliant polished deep green that seep and glow from the lake water; here, just like in the Common Room, a big window opens up the depths of the Black Lake for girls to see.  How…chilly and wet these tiles are, you realize so only when the white cloth of your socks soaked and your knees started to hurt from kneeling for so long.

At the very back - somewhat a walk from the actual baths filled with bubbles and cheerful laughter and even songs of some more talented girls - are the bathroom stalls and you hide in the very last one. You are unsure for how long have you sat here. Time seemed to either go fast or terribly slow; the toilet faded in and out your vision, your stomach churned and lips pressed tightly into a line. Pain, soaring pain up your throat and you threw up everything you had numerous times, until you had nothing.

Blood. Dark red blood glistering in the deep glow of the bathroom, sticking to the tip of your nose, coated all over your lips and teeth. The iron smell is sickening. The taste is even worse. Your knuckles ache as if they had been beaten again by your mother, as if that memory had caused them such pain that tears sprung in the corners of your eyes. Your head hurts. The shrieking laugher and splashes heard from seemingly so far away appear sharp and only agitate you more.

You have a colourful dictionary of words you would like to use to describe this never-ending day. First the crow, then the potion, then Katherine accidentally hexing your quill in Charms, then Dolly Sue spilling her ink all over your skirt in DADA, then the Great Hall fiasco, lastly you running away from Tom Riddle himself because you just felt so ill you could hardly take it. And the two of you were getting along so lovely, too. What a shame, what a shame… A spike of worry grows in your chest and pinches and pokes you from within. What is happening to me? You wonder, staring at the red dots on the back of your hand. This school year has been nothing but one bad accident after the other. Could this perhaps be early signs of a deadly sickness, or…is someone doing this to you on purpose?

You can hardly focus on any of those thoughts before a new wave of sickness crashes onto you and you spill more mouthfuls of blood. But magically, after that you feel better. So much better in fact that you stop hunching over the toilet, straighten your back, even blink a few times to make sure it’s no illusion. After another moment you pull the lever and your insides go down into the sewers, never to be seen again. Shakily you stand up, your knees wobble and losing balance you lean onto the stall. A bit dizzy. The world jumps too quick at places, but over all you feel much better. More minutes of composition and cleaning and you are free to go.

The mermaids wink at you as you pass them. The girls in the baths don’t bat an eyelash at the sway in your step, merely wave at you as you turn to leave. Before you can make it out, however, a harsh call of your name and a silent yelp echoes; you stop near the exit and tilt your head to the side, whatever happiness you held onto of your quick recovery crumbling once you recognize the hair, the figure, the eyes… Katherine rushes to you with a joyous grin that is completely oblivious to your suffering. Perhaps she simply does not care. She is fully clothed, yet her dark hair drips with warm water and you realize she has just changed.

You give her a weak smile and nod, “Hey…Kat.” She greets you with enthusiasm and the two of you finally leave the humidity. The dungeons are cold and quiet, fresh, you can’t even smell the mould you did this morning. Katherine jitters, talks about one thing or another but you don’t mind it. She looks eager, eager to say something and for a minute you wonder should you pry or not. Manners, you recall, and with another polite smile you cut her off, “-Sorry, but…We’ve been friends for long enough for me to know when you want to spill. So…spill.” Her face lights up with a beautiful smile.

“(Name), I…” She takes in a deep breath, “-did something.” She finishes with a sigh.

“What did you do?”

“Well, Velma and Dolly suggested this plan, they said it is perfect, but…You” Her smile falls, “might think different.”

Your face twists in confusion – you won’t like it? You don’t particularly mind anything Katherine does, sure she is a bully, but for the most part completely harmless. Did she hex someone? Did some forbidden magic in a closet or an abandoned classroom? You hardly care about that and she knows it. So this must be big, something big and bad and it makes your stomach churn again and a twinge of fear spike that you might throw up again. Katherine stops walking; already feeling a bit anxious, you do too. She looks at you with her chocolate irises that seem even darker in the dim dungeon lights. You note a dusty blush bloom on her cheeks.

“Listen, I—“Her voice cuts off as harsh footsteps start to echo in the hallway. The both of you snap your heads to the direction of the noise. For a moment the tension and curiosity is lost as you focus on the left turn from which someone will emerge at any given moment. You glance at Katherine, standing beside you and shivering, but you are sure not from the cold. She looks happy. Ecstatic, even. Her face lights up as the footsteps stop, “Tom!” She exclaims and your heart tumbles to the pit of your stomach.

Had you missed a clue? Have they always been friends, or worse, lovers in secret? Had she always danced behind your back?...You almost want to shake your head at such intrusive and impure thoughts. You and Riddle are nothing but friends, after all, and you should not feel entitled to his attention. But you do. So along with hurt anger mixes and mashes and you frown softly as you watch her, finally gathering the courage to look at him.

Once you do your heart stops. He does not look happy as he looks at Katherine, in fact he looks enraged but only the forest green of his eyes shows it – his face remains stone cold, like a marble statue. A sudden drop in temperature and you are unsure whether the cause is him or your bad health. Katherine seems oblivious to this, she takes a step to him and you hurriedly grasp her sleeve and softly tug her back. She snaps at you, “This! This is what I’ve been trying to tell you!” She grasps your hand, glancing at Tom before her attention falls onto you again, “(Name), we are in lo—“

“Don’t say it.” You are surprised when Tom speaks, no, spits venomously as if Katherine’s statement has been a personal attack on him. His brows knit together and eyes gleam dangerously; Katherine’s smile falls into confusion, “I figured it was the likes of you doing this. Slipping love potions into chocolates.” He explains, his gaze not once breaking with hers, “Pathetic.”

“I…” Katherine starts, “Don’t…understand…”

“Don’t understand what? That your idiotic attempts failed? That I’m not stupid enough to not recognize poisoned sweets when I see them?”

You jerk your hand away from her, “You tried to feed him a mock love potion?” You ask appalled, “Katherine, that can kill him—“

“Not mock.” Tom interrupts. “Amortentia. She put Amortentia.” He takes a step forward, “What did you think would happen? That I would not smell it? Taste it? That you had an unlimited supply of it?” His eyes narrow dangerously; he takes leisure steps, ones that echo and bounce off of the enclosed walls and make Katherine squirm, “To think…That I would ever be interested in someone like you—“

“Well why not?!” Katherine fires up, “How am I worse from the likes of others?” She turns to you, “From the likes of her?”

“Don’t even dare to compare yourself to (Name).”

“Just because I don’t have (colour) hair, and squinty (colour) eyes, and a mother that beat me senseless—“

“ENOUGH.”

It happened quickly. One moment Katherine was standing next to you and the next she was thrown to the wall and laid on the floor, unconscious, and not one spell word had escaped either you or Tom. Not even a wand was drawn, just a hand, in a swift motion directed straight at your best friend.

Tom releases a short breath; the dungeons are deadly quiet. You stand frozen, unable to put two and two together, feeling like the puzzle pieces had scattered themselves all over the castle and you can only hope to find them. He approaches you in hast steps, his cold hands cup your cheeks and the space you have been staring into fills with his familiar handsome features, “Are you hurt?” He asks, and if one was desperate enough one could even find a tint of worry in his voice.

“I…” A voiceless sound leaves your lips; your fingers come to wrap around his and you abruptly jerk his hand away from your face, with such immense fear and panic that you hurriedly turn on your heel and fall to check for Katherine’s well-being. Yes, the two of you have your major differences, and yes, you don’t fancy her all that much, but she is the only real friend you have and the horror of losing her too is just too much. Your shaky fingers touch her neck; a slow beat gradually reaches your fingertips and you release a pent up breath. Tom continues to watch you, once you look at him he seems almost alarmed, “What…how…?” Words fail to form.

“She is alive.” He reassures, not sounding all that caring.

“Was…” You rasp, “Was there a possibility she might not be?...” He doesn’t answer your question. He doesn’t have to. His power is enough of an answer for you. “Tom.” He perks up when you call his name, “Just…who are you?”

tbc

[fandom-imagines-stories]

He Can’t Hurt You Now

Dr. Lance Sweets x Reader

Words: 3884

Parts: 1 Promise, 2 Don’t You Dare Let Her Die

Summary: Although you’ve been released from the hospital, your recovery is just starting. Scars are a constant reminder of what you’ve been through and cause you to be very self conscious. Memories of Marty and the repair shop haunt your dreams, making it nearly impossible to sleep. Lance begins to notice your unease and does his best to help you.

Note: I know I said there would only be two parts, but I simply couldn’t resist. I really want to showcase Lance and the reader’s relationship and how they are as a couple so I hope that shows through. (Also I threw in a little reference to a later plot in the show, let me know if you catch it. This is the time period when this character is in the show, but I thought it would be cool to incorporate them as an almost introduction.)

Your over stuffed duffle bag fell to the floor with a loud thud. Lance’s apartment was dark and quiet. You were having trouble deciding if it was comforting or eery. Lance flipped the light on as he entered behind you.

“Home sweet home, right?” He said, but it wasn’t hard to see that he was uncomfortable with the situation. He kissed your cheek as he shuffled passed you, turning on the lights in the kitchen and hallway. He turned around to face you, noticing that you hadn’t moved at all. “You okay?” You blinked, fixing your gaze on him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lied. As you had climbed up the stairs to his apartment, you thought about the last time you were here. The feeling of the gun pressed into your neck, the sound of Booth’s shouts, the thought of never seeing Lance again. You looked down at the glittering ring on your finger to remind yourself that you were okay. You were more than okay. You were engaged to the most wonderful person you knew and you were completely in love with him. That, for now, was enough to keep yourself sane.

“Hey, are you hungry?” Your fiance called from behind to open fridge door. “I think I have some leftover pizza in here.” He pulled out a box and opened it, sniffing it’s contents before recoiling away. “Oh god nevermind!” He threw the box into the garbage and you giggled quietly.

“It’s fine. I think I just want some coffee.” You shrugged. “The hospital didn’t have the best.” He nodded in agreement.

“I know what you mean. It tasted kind of like mud didn’t it?” He started making the coffee as you walked slowly into the living room, sitting down on the sofa and checking your phone for messages. There were plenty from Booth asking if you had made it to the apartment safe, one from Dr. Brennan asking if you felt any aches and if she should come over to make sure you were alright, and one from Angela telling you to not go overboard on celebrating the engagement. You laughed and typed back. No promises.

You picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. The first station you landed on was the news.

“It is confirmed that the notorious serial killer Martin Keller was killed in a face off with FBI Agent Seeley Booth after capturing Booth’s partner on the case newcomer Agent Y/F/N Y/L/N. Agent Y/N is in stable condition and will be returning to the bureau soon. The public can rest safely knowing that this monstrous killer is dead.” The remote left your hand and Lance turned the TV off, handing you a mug of coffee.

“Thanks.” You muttered, gripping the ceramic cup, letting it warm your hands. “I guess everyone knows what happened now.” Lance sighed, wrapping his arm around you.

“They all know that you survived a serial killer. That you have been through something awful and some may say that logically, you shouldn’t have survived. But you pulled through it.” His hand rested against your cheek, caressing your face lightly. “You are the toughest person I have ever met. You aren’t going down without a fight.”

“Have I told you how happy I am that we’re getting married?” You sighed happily, hoping to drop the subject.

“Actually, you did more than just tell me when you were really high on hospital drugs.” He snickered.

“You’re never going to let me live that down are you?” You groaned. You accidentally flash one doctor and you were marked for life.

“Nope.” He leaned towards you, but you put a finger firmly on his lips.

“I am not that easy, Dr. Sweets.”

“You didn’t say that at the hospital.” He smirked. “You were begging me to-”

“I was also in a lot of pain from being carved open like an operation game.” You sassed. “So I don’t think you should be making fun of me.” He held up his hands.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” This time you leaned in towards him until your lips locked, slipping his jacket off his shoulders. “Are you sure this is okay? Aren’t you a little, oh, I don’t know, fragile?”

“What happened to being the toughest person you know?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Just shut up.”

The room was dark except for a single light shining down on a wide table. Blood pooled around the metal legs. The body lying pale on the table was nearly unrecognizable, but somehow, you still knew who it was.

“Angela!” You screamed, as the light above her flickered off. You rushed towards it, but stumbled upon nothing but the cold air. A familiar laugh rattled through your bones, filling every corner of your mind with undeniable fear.

“Where are you, you sick son of a bitch!” You called out and to your horror another light turned on. His hands were cuffed to a chain that suspended him in the air, blood dripping down from his feet. Words were carved into his chest.

“What have you done?” Marty’s voice read and you jumped away from the feeling of hot breath on your neck. You rushed towards Booth, trying desperately to free him of the binding. He flinched away from you.

“What are you doing here, kid?” He asked, shaking his head in panic. “Run!” The chain jerked him backwards, soaring away from you.

“Booth!” You called but your voice was drowned out by someone screaming. Your heart stopped. “No…” Your heart started pounding with every running step you took. “Not him. Anyone but him.” The pained cries clawed your senses as you searched desperately for their source.

One final spotlight turned on, revealing Marty standing above Lance, who was strapped down to a table while Marty twisted a knife into his arm.

“Get away from him!” You shouted, sprinting towards them, but your ankle caught on something, yanking you to the ground. Lance continued to scream in agony. Chains slithered up your body, pulling you further away from the two men. “Lance!” You clawed at the ground, but found no hold. The chains pulled you to your feet and Marty waltzed towards you, a proud smile on his face.

“Come to admire my handywork, Agent Y/L/N?” He grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze down at Lance’s cut and trembling body. Marty’s hand wrapped around your throat, closing tightly. You gasped for breath. He sneered. “You will never be rid of me. I will always be with you, no matter where you go. You can never get rid of me.”

The warmth was such a contrast to the icy memory of your dream it was searing. Your eyes shot open, your body jerking upwards, Lance’s arm falling from around your waist to your lap. Your breathing was rapid and heavy, sweat coating your forehead. You searched the floor for the nearest piece of clothing and grabbed Lance’s shirt, buttoning it as you slowly moved his arm from around you and stood up, walking towards the kitchen.

But as you passed the mirror on the bathroom door, you paused. His dress shirt covered less than half of your thigh, leaving your abundance of new scars out in the open. The pale lines ranged from thin to thick, running up the length of your legs, separating your skin like pieces of a puzzle. You ran your hand over them, feeling every bump and crevice they created. You can never be rid of me.

You flinched, pulling your hands away from you legs and continuing to the kitchen, grabbing a coffee mug and pouring scotch in instead. You’re hands were shaking so much that the glass slipped out of your fingers, shattering on the floor.

Lance woke holding nothing but a bundle of blankets. Much like he had two weeks ago the morning you were taken. This can’t be happening. He sat up quickly, the apartment’s darkness unnerving.

“Y/N!” He called out in panic. He clawed at the blankets, crying out. “Y/N!” You rushed back to the living room, careful not to step on the broken shards. His eyes were frantically looking around the room. You put your hands on either side of his face to focus his gaze on you.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay.” He threw his arms around you, hugging you so tightly it was hard to breathe.

“When I woke up, you were gone and my mind automatically-”

“I know.” You interrupted. You ran your hand up and down his back in attempts to sooth his panic as his heart rate returned to normal. “I’m sorry. I got up to get a drink and I dropped a glass. That’s what woke you up.”

“Oh.” He looked down at your shirt. “Is- isn’t that mine?” You played with the sleeves.

“It’ was the first thing I grabbed. Why, do you want it back?” He shook his head and smirked.

“Actually it’s kind of hot.” You smirked and leaned in for a kiss but he stopped you. “But it is really late and I have to get up in the morning.” He pouted. The FBI was giving you four more days to adjust to coming home before making you come back, but Lance started working again the next day.

“I forgot about that.” You sighed, laying back down on the couch next to him, his arm returning to it’s previous spot. “Should I go pick up the glass?” You could feel him shake his head.

“I’ll get in the morning.” He whispered, holding you tightly to him, as if to keep you from ever leaving his side again. “Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

And so you did. For the rest of the night, neither of you said a word and you fell asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing. The moment’s peacefulness was a stark comparison to your lives for the past few days. Plus is was nice to get some sleep that wasn’t drug-induced.

Of course the moment had to end come morning, when Lance got dressed, cleaned up the glass in the kitchen, and kissed your forehead when he said goodbye. It took you nearly two more hours to finally make yourself get up and make yourself a cup of coffee. Afraid to turn on the TV again, you grabbed one of Lance’s books off of the shelves. Psychology; Book One of Thirteen. It was going to be a long day.

“Sweets!” Booth called after him before Sweets could close his office door. Booth gave him a pat on the back and followed him into the office. “So how is she feeling?”

“Better.” He replied with a nod. “A lot better. I think she’s glad to finally be able to come home.”

“Well tell her that it’s just chaos here without her.” Booth chuckled. He plopped down on the couch and Sweets sifted through the papers on his desk, noticing a new email on his computer. It was an audio file.

“Huh.” He hummed, hitting play.

“I am going to enjoy this…” The voice on the file started. “Nice and slow.” His words were followed by the most gut-wrenching screams Lance had ever heard. Y/N’s screams of pain completely took over his senses, becoming the only thing he could hear. She called out his name, apologizing and saying how much she loved him. The sound of a knife slicing skin added to the cries.

“Sweets!” Booth reached over him and slammed the laptop shut, silencing the sounds of Y/N’s torture. “How the hell did that get on your computer?” Lance just stared blankly at his desk, the screams still ringing through his mind. Booth waved his hand in front of Sweets’ blank eyes, welling with tears. “Hey.” Booth spun his chair around, leaning over the younger man, forcing him to look at him.

“I should have found her sooner.” Sweets whispered, his voice cracking. Booth knelt down in front of him.

“Hey, what happened wasn’t your fault.” He assured him. “And if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have found Y/N at all. You saved her, Sweets. Don’t you dare start telling yourself differently.” He started to unplug Sweets’ laptop. “I’m going to take this down to tech to figure out how that got to you, okay?” Sweets just nodded wordlessly. Booth sighed. “I’m serious Sweets. We’re lucky that you noticed those wound patterns. You saved your fiance’s life. You saved my partner and you helped catch a man who killed four innocent woman. You’re a hero, Sweets.” With that, he left to go find the tech guys.

Lance ran his hand over his face, wiping away the tears that had fallen. He couldn’t get the haunting sounds of the tape out of his head, no matter how much he tried to focus on Booth’s words. He may have gotten to Y/N before Marty killed her, but she had still been tortured for at least a few hours. She had nearly bled out in his arms for god’s sake. How was he supposed to just forget that?

You had spent most of the day reading, avoiding anything that might bring up the news of your kidnapping or Marty’s demise. Your whole body was itching to do something, but the doctor said that you should get plenty of rest. That, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to enter back into the world just yet.

It seemed like every time you walked past your reflection, you felt the need to tug down the sleeves of your sweatshirt, or you could see the scars through your pajama pants- which you never bothered to change out of. Every time you took a shower, or wore a dress, you would be reminded of what he did to you. Part of you feared what Lance thought. Your once smooth skin was ridden with jagged, harsh lines. Would he look at you the same way?

You leaped from your spot on the sofa as the door clicked open. Lance stepped inside.

“It’s okay, it’s just me.” His exhausted expression brightened when he saw you. He crossed the room to place a firm kiss on your lips before moving to his room, taking off his suit jacket and tie. “How was your day?”

“Nothing interesting.” You shrugged. “You?”

“Nothing interesting.” He lied, memorizing the sound of your voice to replace your screams in his head. He came back into the living room and plopped down on the couch next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You laid your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart, focusing on it, making it the only thing in the world that mattered.

For a long time, neither of you said a word. You just sat there as the sun slowly drifted behind the horizon, the sky painting itself a symphony of oranges and pinks. After everything that had happened, you had feared that there was no beauty left in the world. But you felt the emotions stir in your chest as you longingly watched the sunset, wishing that it would remain like this forever.

“I’m scared.” You blurted, breaking the quiet. Lance pulled away to look at you. “Even though he’s dead and it’s over, I’m still scared.” You could feel the sobs slowly creeping up your throat as you spoke. You expected him to say something shrinky- to tell you that it was just the trauma and that it was going to take a while to get over. But he didn’t. Instead, with a shaking voice, he whispered.

“Me too.” He leaned back against the couch, his eyes distant and quickly filling with tears. “I lied. Something happened today.” You furrowed your brows in concern and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What are you talking about?”

“Someone sent me…” He took a deep breath. “Someone sent me your tape.” You closed your eyes, remembering how you screamed until your throat was sore.

“Lance…” You started, unable to think of what to say.

“Y/N, I couldn’t breathe.” He cried. “It felt like I was losing you all over again.”

“It was like I couldn’t escape.” You whispered. “He was everywhere I looked. Every time I looked in the mirror, he was in these scars. I could hear his voice every time I turned on the TV and saw the news. He’s always going to be here, Lance.” You tapped your finger against your temple. “I’ll always be trying to get away from him. My own skin is just a reminder of what happened to me. ”

“Hey,” He wrapped his arms around you as you started to sob. “He can’t hurt you anymore. No one is ever going to hurt you again so long as I’m here.” He rubbed circles on your back trying to sooth you. He wanted so desperately to make everything go away. He ran his hands over your legs, pointing out every line. “These are a reminder that you survived, Y/N. You survived and Marty’s dead. He can’t hurt you now.” You breathed deeply to calm yourself down and turned the attention back to what happened to him.

“Do you know who sent you the email?” You asked and he shook his head.

“Booth thinks it’s probably a hacker, but I don’t understand how they knew about the tapes.” He had been thinking about it all day, cancelling all of his appointments so he could focus on the hacker. Whoever it was, had to have known about the tapes before hand, and had some sort of vendetta against him or the FBI.

“I can’t think of who would be sick enough to do that.” You muttered, placing a tender kiss to the side of his head. You started to feel the silence creeping up and decided to change the subject to something light as opposed to the seriousness of the one before. “Do you know what my favorite part of going back to work is going to be?” You twisted one of his curls around your finger.

“What would that be?” He hummed, glad to be able to talk about something else. You pressed your lips to his passionately, the tension of the last conversation fading away, but not disappearing completely.

“Telling everyone that I am going to become Agent Y/F/N Sweets.” You grinned, earning a bright smile from him.

“It’s so weird to think about us getting married. But somehow, it doesn’t feel weird.” He looked at you intensely. “It feels right.”

“Did you get that from one of your shrink books.” You snorted and he laughed.

“That was all me.” He shot you a goofy grin and you threw a pillow at his face. In response, he tackled you against the couch cushions trapping your body underneath his. “We’re going to get through this.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to yours, moving them together with small smile. When you pulled away, the smile remained and you nodded.

“I know. And I couldn’t think of better person to go through hell and back with.” Your heart filled with love towards him and it took over your mouth before your mind had time to react. “Let’s get married.”

“I thought we were.” He snickered.

“That’s not what I mean.” You explained and his face morphed with understanding as he realized what you were suggesting. “I mean let’s get married now, Lance.”

“Y/N…” He began, trying to think of how to respond. He wanted more than anything to marry you, but he wasn’t sure if you were thinking clearly.

“Don’t think. Let’s just get in the car and go, Lance. I want this. You want this. Why wait? After everything that has happened, I don’t want to wait another minute to be together.” You stood up and tugged on his sleeves, urging him to come with you. He watched you, his eyes showing the thoughts going through his mind. But then, he smiled and nodded.

“Okay.” His smiled grew, filling you with a wonderful sense of just pure happiness. “Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

You had both decided that you wanted your friends to be there. It was getting late, but you knew that Angela would have your head if she didn’t get to go the wedding, so she was the one you called first. You hoped that she would bring Hodgins with her.  Lance invited Booth and Dr. Brennan and you called Cam as well. Within an hour, you were all standing in front of the courthouse. Lance gave your hand a squeeze and Angela wrapped you in her arms for one of her famous bear hugs.

“I can’t believe this is happening!” She squealed, jumping up and down like a schoolgirl. From the corner of your eye you noticed Hodgins, lovingly smile at her antics. You made sure she wasn’t looking before you caught his attention.

“You’re next.” You mouthed, pointing your finger between him and Angela. His eyes went wide and you gave him a wink.

“I mean, I would have expected this from Miss Spontaneous over here,” Booth started, jutting his thumb towards you before patting Lance on the back. “But I must say, I’m surprised you agreed, Sweets.”

“Once she has her mind set to something, how am I supposed to say no?” He shrugged, leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek. “I can’t thank you guys enough for being here.”

“Are you kidding? We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Cam gave the two of you a bright grin and you all walked up the steps of the courthouse. Your heart pounded as Booth opened the door and the crowd entered.

Lance explained everything to the woman at the desk and she was more than happy to help. She called to the justice and ushered you into the courtroom, checking both of your documents and placing them on the table. The justice entered and you took a deep breath. This was really happening.

“Oh, wait!” Angela exclaimed digging around in her purse. “I got you guys these.” She handed you a small plastic bag with two rings inside. One had the face of a penguin on it and the other had a bright, bubblegum pink unicorn. You and Lance couldn’t help but laugh.

The process wasn’t really anything elaborate. You both signed a wedding contract after the judge reviewed your papers. But you felt a childlike giddiness every time Lance looked at you. Electric sparks shot up his arm whenever your hands touched. You had requested that you have traditional vows, and the judge was more than happy to oblige. The two simple words sprung to your lips before he even had time to finish.

“I do.” Your heart lept as Lance said the same.

“I do.” You watched each other for what felt like hours when the judge said.

“I believe this is the part where you kiss the bride.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

Just another note: I have no idea what happens at an elopement, so I just wrote it in kinda vague. Sorry! (In case you didn’t catch it, the hacker was Pelant.)

[hellagaymccree]

Catch and Release

mcreyes week day three - f i r e f l ie s

Gabriel kept rewinding the footage, not believing what he was seeing. His heart ached inside of him each time he heard the bang! and saw his agent fall to the ground.

He rewinds the video again.

This time he won’t pull the trigger.

But Jesse McCree still stands behind Taylor while he’s in front of the bathroom sink. Jesse McCree still pulls the trigger. The mirror in front of them covers with blood and Taylor’s hollowed head bounces on the sink before his body stumbles to the ground. McCree sheathes Peacekeeper, washes the drops of blood that stain his face and walks away, hat hiding the devil’s eyes.

“Gabriel,” Jack’s soar voice gets him to stop pushing the button. “That’s enough. We need to act now.”

Gabriel frowns at Jack, tired old Jack who let a criminal in between his agents. Who let his own guard down and allowed McCree to sit at his table during lunch. The same McCree he has asked on a few Overwatch missions because he was fitting for a spot they needed to fill.

The same Jesse McCree Gabriel held hands during their winter walks. The ex-gang member Gabriel kissed when the sun woke up on the first day of summer. Jesse McCree, who kissed, caressed and bit every inch and secret spot on Gabriel’s body, who cured his aching bones after battles and sang lullabies to get Reyes to fall asleep during restless nights.

Gabriel gazes over the coffee table of his office, where a nice case is set. Inside, his two shotguns lay comfortable, like a brand new present every time he opens it.

“I’ll take care of it.”

--

Gabriel makes his way to Jesse’s room and plans to not stay long. He won’t linger on the memories they’ve shared between those walls, nor how his own scent is kept between the threats of Jesse’s sheets. When Gabriel slides his card and enters, he feels something is wrong before the lights turn on.

Jesse’s sand colored covers are gone, along with his smell. The drawers of his dresser are opened, what’s left are the dark pieces from Blackwatch uniforms, even his black cowboy hat Gabe gave him for missions remains on top of the dresser. There’s nothing Jesse about this room anymore, but the small chip on top of the nightstand with smeared blood and Jesse’s ID.

--

Gabriel searches night and day for McCree. He starts on base, asking Blackwatch agents to look under every rock and through every air bent. He checks the security cameras and there’s very little sight of McCree. The clearest image of him is walking away from the main entrance. Gabriel believes this is a direct message to him. The cowboy wears his own cowboy hat and bright red serape, he can even hear the spurs from his brown boots fading the further Jesse walks.

It was a clear sign to Gabriel, I’m leaving and taking your damn heart with me.

--

Weeks turn to months when Gabriel gets a clear sighting of McCree. He finds him away from the city life in Texas. Running from a gang after his head. Gabriel doesn’t intervene, he just watches Jesse outrun the older man, dodging every bullet that flies towards his head. He uses his prosthetic arm as cover before shooting, killing two men as he runs.

Rain pours down when Jesse loses the gang, but not Gabriel. The commander follows him through the trees and meadow. He runs even through puddles of mud and jumps over logs. Jesse takes shelter in a barn, looks to be abandoned. When Gabriel enters, the cowboy has taken off his hat and serape. He faces Reyes and his eyes widen.

“Gabriel?” Jesse smiles.

The smile ignites Gabriel’s anger, causing him to attack. He grabs Jesse by the throat and pins him against one of the planks holding the barn together. One of his shotguns points at Jesse’s head, but it trembles.

“Sweetheart,” Jesse says, still smiling. “I can explain.”

“Now you want to talk?” Gabriel growls through clenched teeth. “Seems walking away is more your thing. No—running.”

Gabriel can feel Jesse swallowing under his grip. “I had to run, darlin’. They were onto me. I thought of goin’ to you, didn’t think I had time.”

“Who was onto you? Taylor? Your teammate? Your friend?” Gabriel can’t help tightening his hold on the cowboy’s throat.

Jesse chokes, “He was no friend. He was a traitor.”

“He wasn’t the one who shot you, McCree,” Gabriel hisses.

“No, but he killed Ana.”

Gabriel’s hand loosens for a second as his eyes widen, but his guard snaps back sharp. “What do you mean?”

“He’s one of the agents that left her there. They were in on it. They left her alone to get shot, they said she had vanished on them, they left her to die, Gabriel. They’re Talon.”

“Now you’re just rambling.” Gabriel’s shotgun pokes the side of Jesse’s head and his heart clenches. It thumps harder inside his ribcage.

“Hear me out, please,” Jesse’s eyes turn glossy, pleading for life. “I know I broke your trust, I know I hurt you—damn it, I hurt myself too by leaving you, but I had to. Please, hear me out!” Jesse almost wheezes.

Gabriel realizes his grip has gone too strong and he releases Jesse, who falls to the ground coughing. When Jesse looks up, Gabriel’s shotgun still aims at him.

“Two minutes. Talk.”

“I was suspicious about double agents since Ana’s death, Gabe. I’ve seen some things that ain’t right. Other deaths that don’t make sense.” Jesse stands up, the end of Gabriel’s shotgun following his movement. “A week before I left, you left me in your room one morning.” A smile creeps up on Jesse’s face, as if he were remembering one of their many mornings after Jesse crawled into Gabriel’s bed during the night. “I heard someone breaking in; I heard them working on the panel from outside, so I hid. It was Taylor, he hid something in your dresser and left. But I found it, it was the poison they discovered in Lauren when they ran the autopsy on her.”

Gabriel’s eyebrow raises. He remembers finding Lauren late in the gym, asleep. Or so he thought when she looked so peaceful and laid nicely on her side on one of the benches. When Gabriel approached her, she was cold and numb.

“Taylor wanted to frame you, but he did it. And look.” Drops fell quickly from Jesse’s hair as he moved towards a hay stack. Gabriel followed him closely, but lowered his gun. Jesse pulled a backpack from the hay and took out a tablet, not his Blackwatch one, but a cheap one. “I kept some footages to go over after. I got this.”

He tapped on the screen a few times and then handed it to Gabriel. Reyes eyed him, but he found himself still trusting his ex-agent. He sheathed his shotgun and grabbed the tablet to play the video. He sees one of his former agents, Shannon, entering the incineration room with clothes and evidence from past missions Blackwatch is better off destroying. Another agent, Stones, enters five minutes later. Gabriel watches the clock on the corner; ten minutes pass and only Stones comes out. Gabriel remembers Shannon’s tracker going off line. They had checked the room when it checked in as his last location and dared to examine the ashes in the incinerator. As Gabriel had feared then, Shannon’s DNA was amongst them.

“This footage was seen,” Gabriel recalls, handing the tablet back to Jesse.

“They tampered with it. I got someone to find the real ones.”

“Someone? Ones?” Gabriel repeats.

“A lot of the security cameras were rigged in base, to hide agents that were leaving base and coming after hours.”

“And you and this someone managed to find it?” Gabriel asks.

Jesse tilts his head and grins, “No need to worry ‘bout her. Point is, Gabe, I couldn’t let Taylor get away. Do you remember the UN searching Jack’s and your room a few days later?”

Gabriel nods, they had asked for a random check-up and came out negative.

“Taylor send an anonymous tip, saying one of them had something to hide. Once they didn’t find the poison in your room, I knew Taylor’s job wouldn’t be done until you were out.”

“Jesse, you could’ve gone to me.”

Jesse shakes his head. “I couldn’t. You were always being watched, so was Jack. I’m guessing Ana as well. I’m kinda glad we kept our thing a secret, if they would’ve found out we were something, I might not be here.”

Gabriel doesn’t say anything. He takes it all in, even dares to turn around and pace a few steps away from Jesse. He knows Jesse won’t run nor shot him, which irks him at the moment. He saw Jesse shot one of his agents, but he also was a traitor.

“Look, maybe there was another way, but the thought of Taylor, or anyone else, getting their hands on you got me mad.” Jesse steps closer to Gabriel until the older man can feel his breath tickling the back of his neck. “You’ve burn in me something fierce for years, amor, I couldn’t let that fire cease.”

Jesse leans closer until his lips press just above the neck of Gabriel’s tactical gear. He takes in the scent of rain on Gabriel and the taste of sweet water.

“You killed mine, Jesse.”

Jesse stiffens and sighs through his nose, causing Reyes’ skin to tingle.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m real sorry.” Jesse’s cold lips move against Gabriel’s skin. He trails small kisses up his neck to his hair line. The path is short, but it’s enough to make Gabriel turn around and kiss the younger man.

Jesse answers, wrapping his arms around Gabriel’s neck to pull him closer. Gabriel’s hands wrap around Jesse, not having him close enough. They kiss with passion, with that fire in Jesse spreading through his veins and passing it on to Gabriel. The commander can feel his heart thumping faster than it has in months. He recognizes the beats, they are different from when he goes on missions. The way his heart beats around Jesse is more exhilarating, stronger and he can feel the pulse on his wrist.

“Come with me, darlin’,” Jesse murmurs between their mouths. “We can finish them from the outside. Clear them out, save the lives of those who have fought by your side.”

Gabriel looks at Jesse’s eyes and its suddenly hard to breath. They beg him take Jesse’s hand and never let it go as they run through the world, as they crumble buildings and burn Talon to the ground.

--

Gabriel returns to base alone, but with a heavy brain full of thoughts. He knows everyone’s down for diner, but he acts quick. As soon as Jack hears Gabriel returned, he will be up in seconds to ask about his hunt for Jesse. To ask if he did something or let him go. Gabriel packs his clothes, leaves Blackwatch uniforms behind. He even leaves the nice case for his shotguns and hides his weapons on an old guitar case he has kept. The guitar rests nicely in his closet, forgotten to collect dust.

He asks Athena to erase any minutes of the security footage he appears in after he leaves his room. Athena hesitates, but obeys like she’s programmed to do to his voice. He leaves behind his ID and his tracker with wet drops of blood. Before he leaves his tablet, he sends Jack a message.

Watch your front, blondie. I still got your back.

--

Gabriel and Jesse are situated on the worn out watch tower hidden between trees, across from an old army base. They listen to Jack and his agents talk below them about the activities they’ve caught on tape from the supposedly abandoned base. They believe Talon is using it to do executions or experiment on people. They had heard of this from Kimura, one of the loyal agents now working for Overwatch since Gabriel left. Once they heard Jack would be joining the team, Gabriel didn’t hesitate to move.

They waited as they listen to the conversation. Gabriel was leaning his head on the moist wooden wall and wrinkled his nose when a firefly stood on it.

“Stop fighting them,” Jesse says by his side, as fireflies decorate his hat and light his face, making him look younger. “You’ll blow our cover.”

“These things will, it’s brighter in here than the fourth of July.”

Jesse chuckles, “Yer exaggerating. They’re pretty. Reminds me of childhood.”

“You used to catch them?”

“No, but aren’t they bright? Pure light.” Jesse follows one with his eyes and Gabriel’s annoyance with the insects ceases. He felt sad for Jesse suddenly, knowing full well Jesse didn’t have much of a childhood or youth. He wanted to pull his lover closer, let him admire the flying lights until dawn, but the comm Kimura gave them buzzed.

“I’ll check this building with Evans and Ford, the rest of you spread out.” Jack’s voice comes through. “If you find anything, call me.”

“Yes, sir,” the agents respond.

Gabriel and Jesse situate themselves behind the snipper riffles set on the ground, aiming through the gaps of the wood. They both see Jack through the focus and the two agents following him. They follow him through the windows of the office they entered. They watch carefully as one of the men stays behind while Jack does most of the inspecting.

They wait until the agent behind Jack pulls out his gun. In a blink, Gabriel fires and the agent falls. Jack turns even faster, before the body hits the ground, his riffle aiming. Jesse watches over the second agent as he pulls his gun at Jack’s head. Jesse fires and the agent drops dead.

Jack faces the man and looks around, but he doesn’t say a word. Jack slowly looks at the holes in the window, follows the path. He squints and Gabriel can clearly see his gaze through the focus of the snipper riffle. Jack found them and nods in a thank you.

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

Added that fireflies scene at the end so it would make more sense for the prompt. But when i first saw it the ‘catch and release’ idea, it caught my attention more and this came to mind. Originally, Gabe was meant to let Jesse go alone, but the idea of them destroying Talon in Overwatch from the outside as vigilantes spoke to me.