#i am a woman in my mid twenties for fucks sake

[onedaughterofman]

I told myself I'd let my hair grow. Then, I cut it super short. Now I look like a teenage boy or something like that.

[officiallyashley]

Midnight Conversations (. rottmnt  .)

SUMMARY: Ashley can’t sleep a wink, so Raph decided to comfort her. 

NOTES: I hope you enjoyed reading this! This may not be my best oneshot (or drabble idk) because I’m so fucking tired from schoolwork, so sorry about that. Also, side note, but I absolutely love that icon of Raph because he’s just so fucking adorable 🥰 

WARNINGS: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of insomnia, depictions of a disrupted sleeping pattern, mentions of characters dying. If I forgot anything, then I’ll add it later. 

𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧: 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙮, 𝙬𝙖𝙮, 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢. 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙛𝙪𝙣, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙨, 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨. 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙚𝙙, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮!

{~~~}

ASHLEY WAS JOLTED AWAKE FROM THEIR SLUMBER.

The ravenette woke up in a sweat, immediately pulling the covers off of them. They were feeling hotter, and they were sweating buckets. Ash wasn’t getting a lot of adequate sleep as of late. Ash was someone who had struggled with insomnia since their early childhood, but now that they were pregnant in their mid-twenties, they really weren’t going to get any more sleep. Ash and her husband, Raph, had three kids together already, so sleeping was something that the young parents had started to treasure more after they began having children. 

The raven-haired mother began to breathe heavily. They were scared of what they had seen. Her nightmare had been truly a nightmare. The world was in shambles after the Kraang showed up. Explosions and death had become the norm in this nightmare. Ash wanted to close her eyes and go back to bed, but she just couldn’t. Every time they closed their violet eyes, all they saw were the dead bodies of her friends and family. It was terrifying to think about going back to sleep because Ash would see the awful visions. They knew that they needed to sleep, as sleep was especially important now that they were having another baby, but it was too scary to even consider trying that. To think that was reality for Casey… I can’t even imagine… Ashley thought to themself. 

Ashley pushed the covers off of her, getting up from the bed she shared with Raph. The ravenette walked over to the on-suite restroom, their breathing unsteady. They opened the door to the en-suite bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the lights. Turning on the faucet on high, Ashley gathered some water until it puddles in their hands. They splashed the water on their olive-toned face, trying to wake themself up. Their mind wandered to various things — how much more emotional they were during this pregnancy, how awful their insomnia was, and the frequent nightmares that would depict horrendous situations that they and their family were in. Unfortunately for the kunoichi, the frightening nightmares were the thing that they mainly focused on. 

Ashley grumbled to herself. She didn’t know what to do in order to get to sleep. Nothing seemed to work. The melatonin wasn’t having any effect on her, the meditation that she and Raph would do also wasn’t doing anything for her, and the various flavors of hot tea weren’t aiding Ash in her troubles when they typically did help her. Ashley felt even more irritated than she had been in a long time, and the pregnancy symptoms that she was experiencing definitely didn’t help her at all. Honestly, Ash felt helpless. All she wanted was to get some sleep for her and her baby’s sake and well-being. It would be a miracle if the raven-haired kunoichi even got 2 hours of slumber. 

Ashley buried her head in her hands, leaning forward on the counter. Suddenly, the lights above the sink turned on, which made the woman jump slightly. “Sweetheart? Why are you still up?” Ash's husband's caring and confused voice sounded from their shared restroom entrance. “You do know that it’s two am, right?” 

Ashley looked up to see a mildly concerned Raphael without his red mask on. “I do know that it’s two am,” Ash mumbled. She grumbled again afterward. 

“Come on, let’s get back to bed, honey,” Raph coaxed sweetly. 

“I can’t sleep,” Ash told him in an irritated and groggy voice. “If I could sleep, I would sleep, but I fucking can’t.”  

Raph softened his facial expression. “Is the baby keeping you up?” He asked in a soft tone of voice. 

Ash nodded tearfully. “Yeah, that’s part of it.” Ash started pitifully with a sniffle. They hated that they were so easily emotional when, normally, that’s not how they were wired. Being more emotional than usual was just one of many side effects of Ash’s pregnancy. 

Raph could sense that something was wrong. “What’s wrong, sweetpea?” Raph inquired with concern written in his features. He reached out and gently put his arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer to him in a side hug. 

Ash began to sob quietly, sniffling. “I… I keep having nightmares, Raphie. Horrible nightmares. Combined with the fact that I seemingly have every single goddamn pregnancy symptom under the Sun, I can’t get a good night's sleep!” Ash exclaimed emotionally, wiping tears from her cheeks. 

Raph could tell that his significant other was very frustrated. He felt that if Ash talked everything out, then maybe they would feel better. Sleep was important for everyone, but particularly for Ash since they were pregnant. Unluckily for them, Ash hadn’t been getting sufficient enough sleep during this pregnancy, which was a factor that Donnie had stressed about whenever Ash would get checkups by him. “Hey, how about we go sit down and talk this out, alright?” The red-masked ninja turtle suggested to his wife. 

Ash nodded. “Sure. It’s not like I can go to bed anyways.” The mother of three told her husband in irritation as she left the bathroom. Raph switched off the light in their bathroom, following his lover to where they sat down on the bed. 

“Now, babe, tell me everything that’s been troubling you,” Raphael said in a soothing tone of voice. His voice was still groggy from abruptly being woken up and because of how late it was. 

“It’s mainly my nightmares that have been troubling me the most,” Ash answered quietly. 

“Okay, okay… what were the nightmares about?” The red-masked ninja turtle inquired softly. Even though he asked about their nightmares, he already had a couple of incidents and villains in his mind. 

The ravenette went quiet. They paused for a moment, knowing that the minute they began recounting their nightmare they would lose their composure. “I… had a nightmare about the Kraang… Everything had gone wrong. We had so much hope! In the end, we… all lost. Not only did we lose our home, Raph, but we lost our baby! We lost my fathers!” Ash whispered brokenly. They drew in a sharp breath, running their fingers through their long straight black hair. 

With Ash exhaling unsteadily, Raph widened his eyes in alarm. What Ash was recalling was… incredibly intimidating, to say the least. His heart panged when he heard what Ash had said about their children. Raph didn’t even want to know the details on that matter, and it seemed like Ashley didn’t want to elaborate further, which was fine with him. Frowning, Raphael took this chance to grasp his lover’s hand in an attempt to comfort them. “A-Ash,” Raph muttered, his voice shattering as tears of sadness welled up in his abyss-black eyes, “… I’m so sorry… I’m sorry that you see these awful, terrifying things.”

“It’s every time I close my fucking eyes, Raph! Every time!” Ash voiced emotionally, trying their damn hardest not to scream. They squeezed his hand tighter, a single hot tear streaming down their cheek as small hiccups emitted from their mouth. 

“I completely understand what you mean. I still have nightmares about the Kraang and the Shredder. Hell, even Draxum, to an extent…” Raph started, admitting things that he’s held to himself for a while. The mutant snapping turtle was abruptly reminded of the time when Draxum threw Leo off of the roof of a building. Even though Leo had joked about it at the moment, that scared Raph shitless. He now had Ash’s attention, as she remained quiet so he could elaborate. With a heavy sigh, Raph continued on with what he was saying. “Among all of my nightmares and dreams that I have, there’s always, always this one particular nightmare that keeps coming back to me. In this nightmare scenario that I’m in, the Kraang still have control of me. They make me do things that I can’t even begin to fathom. I end up hurting Pops, my brothers, A-April, Casey, and your sisters…” Raph trailed off tearfully. His bottom lip quivered as tears cascaded down his cheeks. 

Ash was immediately alarmed, and with the weight of her own emotions combined with her husband’s heavy feelings, her tears started to flow, as well. The black-haired kunoichi scooted closer to Raph, hugging his arm. “Take your time, love…” Ash whispered softly in a shaky voice. 

With the gesture that she did, Raph decided to put his arm around Ash. Ash gently placed her hand on his thigh as she sniffled. “Not only that… every time I have this nightmare, it ends the exact same. In my mind-controlled state, I am always forced by the Kraang to… to k-kill you and the… the…”

“— kids…?” Ash muttered, finishing his sentence for him. She was mortified at the nightmare Raph was telling her about. Her violet eyes were wide and the tears just kept flowing. 

Raph paused for a moment, but he nodded in confirmation. “Yeah,” He said in a barely audible voice, “the kids…” 

Both of them were very silent for what seemed like the longest moment. The couple was rendered speechless by both of the stories they had told each other. After a second for the both of them to take everything in, Ash spoke up first. “R-Raphael… I’m sorry that you have to experience a horrible nightmare like that. Unfortunately, I have similar nightmares to that, as well.” Ash sighed in an attempt to regain her composure before she continued to speak. “Even though years have passed, we all are still reeling from the Kraang and the Shredder. I try not to think this way, but there are times when I feel as though they still have me trapped, even though they aren’t physically here.”

“Kinda like you haven’t fully escaped from them?” Raph offered Ash something to relate to. 

“Exactly…” Ash agreed in a delicate tone of voice. “Shredder and the Kraang… they still have me caught in an iron grip…” 

“I feel ya there, sweetheart,” Raph muttered. 

Ash looked up at him, smiling sadly as they wiped his tears away. “But that’s not our reality. Our reality is that our entire family is safe from the dangers we have faced in the past.” Ash started, her voice clearing up. Instead of despondency in her tone, there was reassurance replacing it. 

The reassurance in his wife’s voice was already lifting Raph’s mood up. “Yeah, you’re right, babe,” Raph said with a grin that showed his tooth, “we’re not alone in this because we have the others and, most importantly, each other. We have support around us.”

“Yeah, that’s correct,” Ashley agreed with a small smile. 

Even though the couple was struggling with their demons of the past, they both had a lot to look forward to. Things were looking up for Ash and Raph in life. Despite the fact that they had sleepless nights every so often, the couple tried not to let the past haunt them. Admittedly, that was challenging for both of them. However, something that always helped Ashley and Raphael focuses on the present was their children. Their adorable little children were what kept them grounded. 

“Are you feeling better now that we have discussed our troubles?” Ashley questioned their husband, looking at him. 

“I was just about to ask you that, but, uh, yeah! I think I am feeling a tad bit better.” Raphael answered his lover. Before Ash could respond, they let out a big yawn. “Let’s get you to bed, Ash. Donnie says that you really need to get more sleep for your and the baby’s health.” The red-masked turtle advised the kunoichi.  

Ash stretched as they let out a relaxed sigh. “Okay, let’s go to bed. My sleep deprivation is catching up to me.” Ash mentioned. 

Standing up, Raph pulled back the covers of their bed. He got into bed first, while Ash climbed in second. Ash laid down with her back against his plastron, and Raph’s hands remained on her baby bump, which was poking through her pajama attire. Raph’s eyes sparkled and his heart swelled up when he felt their baby kick. 

“Holy hell, I was not expecting that,” Ash commented with a lighthearted giggle. “That kicking better not keep me up for the rest of the night…”

Raph kissed their temple. “I love you so much.” The red-masked turtle told them lovingly. 

“I love you, too, Raph. Get some rest.” The ravenette woman replied sweetly.

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑. 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚. 𝐢 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐞𝐭𝐜. 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫��𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥.

[light-yaers]

All Too Well - Chapter Two

Ko-Fi | Fic Masterpost | Chapter List

Warnings: Rated M for swearing, alcohol and mild sexual content. F!Reader.

A/N: Just to be clear too, I have not given one fuck about time frames in this. I know nothing of history. I forget what kingdoms come after which. I am not here for that. I’m here for the yearning. Thank you. 

Word Count - 2.1k

Chapter Two

You spent the better half of 5,000 years trying to forget they existed. Some days were better than others. Some days you were haunted by all of their stares, and by the way Ajak so suddenly said you may all leave. 

You all went your separate ways, experiencing human life as if you were one of them, creating lives for yourselves while wondering where your Eternal counterparts were on the Earth. 

You didn’t deny that it was rough sometimes, but after so long on your own, you knew you’d changed. You’d been forced to, moving away from the nature of your power to something detached and cold. You’d realised it was because of Druig—he’d taken advantage of your softness. With one flash of his golden eyes, he’d split everyone up. 

To humans, you looked to be mid-twenties. Young, but not too young. Old, but not ancient. Maybe it was a good age, even though you knew you’d never be able to grow old with those you met. It came with challenges; you tended to move every five to ten years, not wanting anyone to know of your origin. In a world run by superheroes, you didn’t feel connected to them in the slightest. 

London was cold in November, but you’d grown to like it. Breath circled you as you walked from your flat to the pub where you worked. You kicked in the door and pulled off your coat and scarf, hanging them up on the pegs by the bar. 

“You’re late!” your manager yelled from the cellar. 

“Put it on my tab!” you yelled back, tying your hair up quickly and taking your usual spot behind the bar. This was your existence—pouring pints for Londoners, running food, mopping floors. You didn’t mind it for one reason; it was so different to what you used to do, it didn’t remind you of them in the slightest. 

A few hours into your shift, Heidi came into the pub. If Eternals could have best friends, Heidi was yours. “Why weren’t you answering your phone last night?” she said, pulling up a stool and sitting opposite you at the bar. You poured her a pint without asking. 

“It ran out of battery,” you said, sliding her the glass. 

“You know you’re supposed to charge it, right?” 

“I think I lost the... um,” you clicked your fingers, trying to remember the word for the part that went into a wall socket. “The thingy part—the one with the three sticking out bits,”

Heidi looked at you like you were an idiot. “The plug?” you slapped the bar top. 

“Yes! The plug part,” Heidi burst into laughter at you struggling. 

“I swear you’re an eighty-year-old woman in disguise,” she chuckled out. 

“Maybe I am,” you said, smiling playfully. Little did she know you were closer to 8,000 years old, instead. 

“When do you get off?” she asked, gulping down two healthy mouthfuls of her beer. 

“An hour, maybe less, but Jack’s been pestering me for overtime,” you said, and both of you looked over to Jack at a table, sharing a pint with locals. For a manager, he did fuck all. You turned back to Heidi, widening your eyes in annoyance. 

“There’s a birthday celebration for one of the guys at the museum today,” Heidi said, and immediately you recoiled. She rose from her stool slowly. “Hey, come on now—,”

“You know how I feel about the museum lot,” you said, flashing back to the time you’d first met some of Heidi’s colleagues a few years back. It had got messy. 

“That was ages ago—,”

“Not ages, Heidi. Not ages at all,” you chuckled. Suddenly, Heidi stuck out her hand and grabbed yours. She looked up at you with her brown puppy dog eyes, pouting her lip like a trained professional. You frowned at her face, but your heart was already giving in. 

“Stop that, fucking stop that,” you said sternly. Heidi only pouted more. “Fucks sake,” you whispered. “Fine,” you gave in. 

Since leaving Babylon, Heidi was the only person that could make you crumble like that so easily. You hated to admit it, but you liked it. You’d only known her a few years, but to humans, that was a long time. She was kind, witty, stylish. She’d started talking to you behind the bar one day and had simply never stopped. 

You were content. 

“Whose birthday is it again?” you asked, entering the bar alongside Heidi. 

“Dane’s,” she said. 

“Ah yes, the pretty one,” you commented. 

“The pretty not single one, anymore,” Heidi said. “He started dating someone from the education department last year,” 

“Good for him,” you said, utterly indifferent. Heidi stared at you in confusion. 

“I love having you around. You keep me in check about my gossiping,” she chuckled, you smiled at her. 

“Gossip is boring,” 

“You’re boring,” she hit back with. You shoved her slightly, before the two of you approached a group of people at a few surrounding tables. 

Heidi said her hello’s, hugging her colleagues as you stayed behind her. Thousands of years worth of interactions and you still hadn’t gained proper social skills. Heidi was helping, though. That was a start. 

“Dane—you remember—?” Heidi said, steering Dane towards you. 

“Yes,” he cut Heidi off. “I do remember. I try not to, but I do,” he said, chuckling slightly, before sticking his hand out to you. 

“It’s okay, you weren’t that drunk,” you joked back, remembering him dramatically slipping on the dancefloor of some club when you’d first met him. 

“You’re a liar, but thank you anyway,” he smiled. 

“Oh, and this,” Heidi said, taking a woman by the hand and dragging her next to Dane. “Is Sersi,” 

“Hi—,” she stopped in her tracks, frozen in place with her hand stretched out before her. You didn’t take it, but instead were glued to her eyes and face. 

A face that you’d woken up to thousands of years before. 

Her gaze skimmed you up and down, taking note of your clothes, your hair, and all the other changes that had sprouted over the last thousand years. 

Dane pushed Sersi softly with a chuckle. “You okay, hun?” he joked. Sersi snapped out of it. 

“Sorry, for a moment I thought you were someone I used to know,” she said, laughing awkwardly. You finally took her hand in yours and shook it, but said nothing. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, but you could hear the bluntness in her voice. 

Your heart had made its way to your throat when Sersi finally backed away. Heidi was the first to approach you with furrowed brows. “What the fuck was that? You look like you just saw a ghost,” 

“I feel sick,” you said, with lack of what else to come up with. 

“What?” 

“I don’t feel well all of a sudden,” you repeated, but your anxiety was starting to turn into anger. “I think I’m going to go,” you said. Heidi clutched you by the shoulder and looked into your eyes for a few seconds. 

She nodded once. “Get home safe,” she said. You managed to shoot her a small smile. “Charge your fucking phone,” 

You left as quickly as you could without looking like you were on the run from something. As you left the bar, you had the insatiable urge to run. You got into a sprint immediately, pumping your limbs until all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears, and even then you kept going.

Peering out at the Thames, you finally stopped running, but your heart was still beating incessantly beneath your ribs. 

Arishem forbid. Sersi. 

You tried to remember what she looked like when she left—hand in hand with Ikaris, flying off to some other country or settlement to start their life together. Evidently, it hadn’t worked out. It was odd; despite knowing how much you’d changed, you couldn’t fathom seeing Sersi in the same way. 

You sighed as you finally decided to walk home, intent on forgetting that meeting ever happened, but it was never going to be that easy. When you rounded the corner, you jumped out of your skin as something appeared before you.

“Fuck!” you stopped immediately, just before bombarding into the teenager before you. 

Sprite. 

“You’ve been in London all this time, huh? I had a feeling we’d find you somewhere around here. Druig always joked about how you loved large settlements so much—,”

“Don’t—,” you let out venomously, breathing heavily as you stared her down. “Don’t say that name,” you finished. Sprite’s face dropped and words failed her. You hadn’t seen her eyes in so long, but she was still the same. An Eternal with the face of a child. 

“Still a touchy subject?” she said, and you had to do everything not to erupt into flames. You rounded her then, shoving your hands in your pockets and continuing on your journey home. 

“Go home, Sprite,” was all you could manage to say. 

“When did you get this mean? You always used to be sunshine and rainbows—,”

“Why the fuck are you here?” you exploded, stopping and turning back to her. “You and Sersi, why are you even together? I thought you stayed with Ajak after Dru—,” you stopped yourself, clamping your eyes shut. 

“I was lonely,” Sprite said, shrugging her shoulders as if it was nothing big. “I found Sersi,” 

You nodded, despite wanting to punch the wall beside you. This was a reunion that you’d been trying to ignore since you’d first separated. You hadn’t realised that it would happen now—your wounds were still fresh after so many years. You didn’t know why. 

Everyone left. No one spoke up for you. Druig—

Well, what didn’t Druig do?

“Sprite!” a man’s voice spoke up, as the pitter patter of two pairs of feet rounded the corner. Sersi and Dane were holding hands, faces flushed from the winter air. 

“Oh, brilliant,” you whispered. 

“Found her,” Sprite said, smiling at Sersi. 

“No, you didn’t,” you shot an annoyed stare at Sprite, before turning around once more. 

“Wait!” Sersi yelled. “Please—wait,” she rushed forwards, until she stood behind you, back still turned to her. “I didn’t realise you lived in London,” 

“Sorry, what’s going on here?” Dane spoke up. 

“Shut up!” Sersi and you said in unison. The silence after Dane shut his mouth was almost too much. You finally turned around, taking in Sersi’s apologetic and nostalgic stare. 

“Sorry,” you said, flashing a look at Dane. He nodded curtly. 

“Can we... can we talk somewhere?” Sersi suggested, but already you were backing away. 

“You haven’t talked to me for 5,000 years, Sersi. What makes you think I’d want to talk to you now?” you said bitterly. When she stayed silent, you couldn’t stop yourself from erupting. “You let him do that to me, try to control me, as if all of you had somehow expected him to. Do you know what that felt like?” you clenched your jaw as memories and anger and sadness and pain—so much fucking pain—spiralled into your soul as Sersi stared at you, awestruck, speechless, guilty. “You had Ikaris, Gilgamesh had Thena— but none of you fucking tried to get him to stay. You said nothing!” 

“I know,” Sersi said timidly. 

“If following Arishem means doing nothing when something should be done, I stopped following him a long time ago,” you said, slower this time, articulating your words so Sersi would fully understand what you meant. 

When she didn’t reply again, you nodded once. “That’s that, then. I’ll see you in another 5,000 years,” you turned and strolled away, not stopping once to look behind you at their reactions. You didn’t have the patience nor the care for them that you once did. All you felt was red. 

You didn’t sleep. You were up all night, your mind on the verge of overloading, your heart on the brink of cracking. If Sersi and Sprite had been this close for so long, what’s to say the others weren’t, as well?

That thought was enough to send you down a spiral; one that told you to get the fuck out of London. Somewhere new, that would fix this. Another place where they couldn’t find you for another hundred years, at least. 

By the morning, you’d packed and made new arrangements. There was a part of you that didn’t want to leave; Heidi being the main factor. On the walk to the train station, you texted her, despite it taking a few tries:

I’m sorry. Have a great life. 

As you passed an alleyway, you threw your phone into one of the large bins— 

You didn’t look back. 

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Ten)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut, Domestic Violence, Angst

Words: 2,300

Please comment and interact...it's what keeps this blog going

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After your father stormed out you grabbed your stuff from the table and walked to your room. You were still shocked and somewhat perplexed about what happened and how he reacted and, whilst he had always had problems with his temper, this was more than you could handle.

You weren’t sure what to do but, in the middle of mid semester exams, you couldn’t cope with the stress and anger and started crying again while you walked around your room like a headless chicken.

Just as you did, your phone rang and when you saw that it was Denise who was calling, you picked up the phone.

Denise had just landed in Manchester and had realised that she had forgotten to call you following your exam yesterday. After she apologised, she asked what was wrong as it was obvious to her that you had been crying and, of course, you told her about the incident with your father.

She felt terrible for you and began to worry but, being you, you told her not to worry. You had it covered. You’ve been looking after yourself for a while after what your sister endured and, as she knew, you were working towards moving out which, being a student with only twenty hours of work and expenses, wasn’t exactly easy.

Nonetheless, Denise told you to keep her posted and let her know if she can help and, whilst she had offered to lend you money before, you never accepted and you knew that this wouldn’t change now.

***

Later that day, just when you thought matters had calmed down, your father had yet another one of his moods and suggested that you come to church with him the following day. He wanted you to join the local youth group but, since you didn’t believe yourself, you had no interest in it.

‘I am working and I am studying full time. I don’t have time dad’ you explained to him and, whilst you were happy to volunteer at the local church on occasion and participate in their fundraising events, the bible group he was referring to didn’t appeal you.

‘Obviously you have time for other things, things you should be ashamed off Y/N’ he said with a raised voice and, when your phone rang, you couldn’t help but walk away from the conversation with your father who, clearly, had built up his anger again and the last thing you needed was a matching bruise across your other cheek.

***

You went into your room quickly and picked up the phone.

‘Hey’ you said in a somewhat more happy voice when you realised that it was Cillian who was calling you.

‘Are you alright Y/N?’ he asked almost immediately with great concern in his voice before telling you that Denise had told him about the incident with your father.

‘I am fine Cillian. It’s nothing, just a bruise’ you explained, brushing it over.

‘Y/N, this is not nothing. He can’t just fucking hit you’ Cillian said and you could hear the anger in his voice.

‘Cillian, I am fine. You need to calm down please’ you said as you could hear the rage in his voice.

‘Fuck’ Cillian growled before taking in a deep breath. ‘Why didn’t you call me?’ he then asked worryingly and you knew that you probably should have made contact with him before you spoke to Denise about it.

‘You were filming and I didn’t want you to worry’ you explained.

‘This is not how this works Y/N, you can call me any time, alright? And, if something like this happens again, call my assistant if I am on set. I worry, alright...’ Cillian said in a calm and reassuring voice and, just as he did, you began to break out in tears yet again.

‘Y/N, listen please…you need to pack your stuff and get out of there before this happens again’ he then said in an equally calm voice after he comforted you the best he could.

‘Cillian, I can’t just pack up and leave’ you said.

‘Yes, you can. I told you, you can go to my place’ Cillian suggested.

‘I am not going to do that. I can look after myself Cillian and you really don’t need to worry. I am a grown woman and just because you are older than me doesn’t mean that I need you to look after me. It’s like Denise offering to lend me money. I can’t accept that and I won’t’ you said, still somewhat teary.

‘I know you are independent but that doesn’t mean that you can’t accept help in a situation like this and your friends offering you money is a little different to me offering you a place to stay for now, don’t you think?’ Cillian said, still calm but a little bit more demanding.

‘Not really’ you said, really not wanting to take his help as you felt that you would appear weak and dependant on him.

‘Fuck, you are stubborn, you know that?’ Cillian then huffed out, his voice filled with concern rather than anger.  

‘Please, for my sake, so that I can sleep at night, go and stay at my apartment. I am worried about you and I know that this isn’t the first time he did that’ Cillian then said and you had no idea what he was talking about.

‘What do you mean it’s not the first time?’ you asked.

‘It doesn’t matter, just please…you are in the middle of exams and I am worried and don’t want you to get hurt…please’ Cillian pleaded with you.

‘If you don’t get out of there, I will get onto the next plane and pick you up myself and, God forbid, your father is in my way when I do’ Cillian said as anger was building in his voice again.

When Cillian finished what he was saying, you took in a deep breath and chuckled.

‘What?’ Cillian asked in response.

‘Nothing. I just like how protective you are over me. I am not used to someone caring’ you admitted, causing Cillian to chuckle himself.

‘I like you Y/N, so of course I care’ Cillian said.

‘Thank you Cillian’ you said before accepting his offer reluctantly. ‘Just text me where and when I can pick up the key to your apartment’ you then said quietly.

‘I will text you, now go pack your stuff. There are some spare toiletries in the bathroom next to the kitchen, just take whatever you need, alright?’ Cillian said before telling you that he missed you.

‘I miss you too’ you said before saying goodbye. You didn’t really want to ruin his evening with Denise.  

****

Two hours later, you left your house without saying a word, but texted your mother that you would be staying with a friend for a while after you got into your car.

Within ten minutes, you arrived at Cillian’s apartment, which is where his housekeeper met you and handed you the keys before showing you how everything worked,.

The electricity, lightening, stereo and heaters were all controlled via some sort of device which looked an iPad and she handed you a note with the pin for the alarm system.

After she had left, you walked around the apartment and felt somewhat strange about being there without Cillian. You hadn’t really been seeing each other for a long time but yet he entrusted you with the keys to his apartment.

“I am here now. What room did you want me to use? Xx” you texted him after you had a quick wander around and it didn’t take long for Cillian to respond.

“Is that a trick question? Because you know that you can sleep in my bed, right?” Cillian then texted back without hesitation.

“Can I borrow some of your clothes too?” you then asked cheekily.

“Not sure if my clothes fit you, but sure, knock yourself out” Cillian texted back before suggesting that you should have a glass of wine and a warn bath so that you could relax.

“I just might. Want me to send you a picture when I am in the tub?” you responded and all you received from Cillian in response was an emoji that smirked, making you laugh. Not only does this emoji look ridiculous but also did he never send you an emoji before whilst you, on the other the hand, used them frequently.

***

After you had a nice long and relaxing bath, you returned to the living room, completely naked. You didn’t bother to wear any clothes since, for the first time in a long time, you were all on your own.

Walking around naked felt natural to you and, after you found yourself an interesting novel on Cillian’s bookshelf, you lied down on his bed with it and a glass of red wine by your site.

“Feels weird lying in your bed without you. What are you doing?” you texted before you stretched out across the large king-sized bed and opened the book.

“Watching a movie, although I am curious now about what you are doing on my bed. It’s too early to go to sleep” Cillian texted back and, just as he did, Denise glanced over towards him and asked him whether the movie they were watching bored him. Just as Cillian told her that he had seen the movie before, he received yet another text message from you.

“Just settled down with a book” you responded and Cillian was quick to pick up his phone again and text back, much to the amusement of his daughter.

“What book?” Cillian texted back just before Denise asked him whether he was texting with Laura Jennings after she observed that he had been on his phone pretty much all evening, texting back and forward with someone like a teenager.

‘No, we ended it. I am just texting with a friend’ Cillian said in response to Denise’s comment.

‘A female friend by any chance?’ Denise asked as she saw the cheeky smirk on her father’s face.

‘Just a friend’ he then responded to Denise as he placed his phone back on the table, shortly after which he received yet another message.

This time, unfortunately, the message didn’t contain any text but a picture instead.

‘I think your friend just sent you a nude and, clearly, your friend is a woman…a woman who must like you if she is sending you pictures like this’ Denise then laughed out loud as she saw the preview of the text from a distance popping up on his phone.

Cillian quickly reached for it, cheeks blushing red as he hoped that she wouldn’t recognise that it was you on the picture after he went through the trouble to change your name on his contact list a few days ago to your initials only.

Luckily, when Cillian opened the message after standing up and walking away from the lounge room, he realised that the picture didn’t show your face.

In fact, it showed nothing more than your naked stomach and legs while your core was covered (barely) by the book he had been asking about.

Whilst it shocked him, Cillian decided not to tell you about the fact that Denise had seen your picture in preview on his phone. He thought that, at least this way, you would send him some more.

“Nice choice…now can I get a picture without the book?” he asked cheekily and, of course, you didn’t deny him and responded with yet another more graphic picture.

Just as the phone buzzed again, Denise yelled out from the living room of Cillian’s Manchester apartment.

‘Stop sexting dad and explain this movie to us. We are lost’ she joked and Cillian couldn’t help but roll his eyes when he returned to the living room.

Cillian was quick to change the topic as he was somewhat embarrassed following Denise’s comment and, just before he returned to the living room, he texted you to inform you that he would be in touch in an hour or so.

Of course, you knew that he was spending time with Denise and didn’t mind and, instead of pondering on about the fact that Amalie was around him, you indulged in your book while you waited for Cillian to text you back.

***

Half an hour later, after the movie was well and truly finished, Cillian excused himself in order to have a shower while Denise had already passed out on the guest bed.

She was tired after travelling since, as usual, she had to take motion sickness medication before getting onto the plane.

Amalie, on the other hand, was not tired at all and decided that it was now or never in order for her to make her move on Cillian.

‘Cillian, uhm…could you give me a hand with this please, I don’t want to wake Denise’ she said as she tried to fiddle around with the zipper of her black fabric top.

‘Sure, I can try’ Cillian said, not thinking anything about it while Amalie turned around and lifted up her long blonde hair.

‘There you go’ Cillian said somewhat uncomfortably as he unzipped the back of her shirt and noticed that she didn’t wear a bra beneath it.

As soon as her shirt came undone, she turned around and, without bothering to cover her breasts, she placed her hands on to Cillian’s chest and thanked him.

‘Amalie, you might want to put on a t-shirt or something’ Cillian said as his cheeks turned red and, just as he did, Amalie leaned forward and pressed her lips onto his.

 Tag List:

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@peaky-cillian​

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[ushidoux]

A Life Well Lived - Bokuto x Reader (Pt. 1)

Summary: An immortal meets a human she’s meant to care for temporarily. ‘Care for’ and ‘temporarily’ are not well defined. (1.7k words)

Warnings: these will change by chapter, but for this one, I guess alcohol

A/N: Hey yall, it’s your girl starting yet another mini-chapter fic, please bear with me. This popped into my head and I got excited, let me know what you think or if I should continue.

When you gaze upon your human the first time, you’re genuinely surprised. 

He is terribly young, to the point that it shocks you, although you’re not sure you’ve ever really experienced ‘shock.’

You cannot estimate exactly how old he is (from your studies, humans age extremely variably) but from the looks of it, he’s somewhere in his early to mid 20s. He looks healthy and happy too, you note, as you sit perched on a large tree, enhanced vision allowing you to pierce through the very ceiling of the large restaurant in which he’s seated and laughing boisterously while he enjoys a dinner with friends that seem to love him dearly.

You scratch your head before turning to your hovering aide called a Companion, a bouncing bright light not unlike any of the stars that hang above in the night sky. Your Companion is a semi-sentient link to the celestial realm from which you were born and is similar to what humans would call pets, albeit more intelligent and able to quickly provide you information; yours, however, tends to be on the quiet side unless you ask it questions. 

Your first question is to confirm that you are indeed looking at the right human. It would be embarrassing if your instructor found out you had been tagging along behind the wrong subject the entire time, leaving your true human defenseless, but you couldn’t say it was the first time it had happened in the history of GA training. Guardian Angel trainees weren’t always selected for promotion strictly based off of their attentiveness, even if it was a crucial requirement for the job. 

<< Companion, am I surveilling the right human? >> You ask, tentatively. Your lips don’t form words, but rather think thoughts that the Companion understands. The light seems to glow a brighter gold then retreats to its normal luminance before replying to your question.

<< Bokuto Koutaro is the one you have been bonded to. Your eyes rest on the correct subject. >>

You frown. It’s not a good thing to have a young subject as a trainee. Trainees work on stints of two to three years maximum, which means that this young man, so full of life and cheer, will not be long for this world if you truly are meant to be his keeper. The fact is a bit upsetting, but you remember that this is the nature of the role you were created to fill. Two years, ten years, twenty years of life was not very much time in the grand scheme of things, anyway. Mortals live relatively short lives regardless.

The moon above you is full, and you continue to watch him carefully in the light, still settled weightlessly on the same tree branch and humming quietly to yourself as the night progresses. He’s drunk, you realize once he finally leaves the building, and a young man whose name he mumbles intermittently - Akaashi, is it? - is all but carrying him into a cab and leading him home. You giggle as Koutaro burps loudly into Akaashi’s face while he attempts to push him into the vehicle. 

Humans are so funny.

When the car starts to leave, you stretch out your wings and glide through the dim sky, your Companion besides you, to follow your human to his home. 

It turns out to be a short trip towards a modestly sized apartment building, and Koutaro stumbles out and makes his way safely to the elevator and all the way up until his front door. He struggles to find his key card in his wallet, which he drops more than once, but eventually he makes his way in. You notice a couple of loose bills he drops on the ground and decide to pick them up for him and drop them on his kitchen counter. 

Koutaro does not take off his shoes at the door, but he kicks them off right before he collapses onto his couch instead of his bed, and they go flying in your direction, you phasing in and out of your physical form just in time so that they don’t hit you square in the chest. You think that you probably shouldn’t stay in this form, but you’re bored of floating and sit instead on his kitchen counter.

He falls asleep almost instantly, laid on his belly and snoring loudly, one arm dangling off of the couch.

You’re surprised he can slip out of consciousness that quickly, but he really is quite inebriated. Usually at this time, you can give yourself a little break and allow your Companion to monitor for any sudden changes while you find something else to do to pass the time other than stare at him, but instead you watch him sleep a little longer.

The young man is fascinating. Granted, you haven’t had experience with tons of humans before this, but he’s notable. First of all, he’s larger in frame than the average human, and his hair is an unusual color and shape. His eyes, when open, are gold like your Companion, and his smile is warm. 

His snore is really quite loud though, but suddenly it stops and for a moment you are nervous he’s stopped breathing. You go over to check and roll him onto his back, not bothering to shroud yourself in invisibility immediately thereafter because there’s absolutely no way he’ll wake up with how soundly he’s asleep.

Until he does.

Bokuto’s golden eyes shoot open in the dark, and suddenly he’s staring right at you, and those same eyes become wide like saucers.

He gasps and you gasp, and immediately out of panic, you disappear.

You jump up in the air, letting your wings flap once to create distance between you, even though his frantically searching eyes can no longer see you now that you’ve shrouded yourself from view, and you watch him sober up immediately as he tries to come to terms with what he just saw.

He flips on all the lights, looking frantically for the spirit appearing like a young woman who just hovered mere inches from his face, and his heart is pounding - you can hear it from here - while you continue to float, unsure if you should leave him alone for now and escape back to your realm.

You’ve royally fucked up. Maybe he’ll forget because he’s drunk, you hope, biting your lip.

Instead, he calls a friend.

“There’s a ghost in my room!” He yells. Your ears are tuned to the other end of the phone where you can hear a groggy, exasperated voice remind him that it’s 3am and hang up the phone promptly. It’s the same friend from earlier; it seems like his fright today is not out of the realm of his usual antics.

Bokuto looks absolutely panicked now and sits back on the couch, legs pulled into his chest. You wonder if he’ll actually die from fright, so pale he now seems as he looks around, unable to sleep.

Maybe you take a little bit of pity on him, because you turn off your Companion who helps you but also monitors your every move, and decide disaffectedly to break the rules again. It’s only meant to be for a moment, just to assuage his fears, and you drop yourself back to the ground and reveal yourself.

“Don’t be afraid,” you say in a small, gentle voice, as you stand before him. “... I’m not a ghost.”

You’re not exactly sure what more to say after that. The young man’s eyes are wide, incredibly wide again, and his mouth takes the form of an O as he takes you in.

Your wings are not very large but they’re not small either and they’re untucked, and you realize he’s staring at those rather than your face.

“... Angel?!” He exclaims.

You nod, perhaps too solemnly, and he looks like he’s about to faint.

“I’m dying, aren’t I? I’m fucking dying! I drank too much and I’m fucking dead! I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead!” He is now wailing, no longer looking at you, but burying his face in the couch cushions dramatically. 

You approach slowly, not sure what to do with a crying human, and he gets up suddenly and looks at you pitifully.

“Heaven or hell?”

“What?” You repeat, and he doesn’t seem phased by the fact that you, a stranger with wings and a halo are speaking to him, but rather that his life is coming to an end.

“Am I going to hell? I think I shoplifted once when I was a kid… Some grapes! I stole some grapes and I’m going to hell for that, aren’t I?!”

His lower lip is quivering and he’s waiting for an answer, but before you can speak, he is wailing again.

“Give me another chance!!! I didn’t know better and I was hungry!”

You’re stunned, and then a little flustered. For goodness’ sake...

“Y-you’re not dying!” You finally exclaim.

He’s back in sorts for just a moment, and blinks, looking at you with surprise.

“I’m not?”

Not yet, anyway, you think. You clear your throat.

“I-I’m your guardian angel.”

As soon as that comes out of your mouth, you wince, because you already know that you’re breaking too many rules at once, even if your Companion is turned off and can’t report you. You’re not exactly sure why you’re telling him the truth like this in the first place, but the sight of the crying human gets to you, especially since you feel bad for what is yet to come for him.

Before you know it, he’s reached out for you surprisingly fast, and to your shock, he now holds your face in his hands. His hands are large, gentle and warmer than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. You can hear his heartbeat through his palms. It pounds.

You don’t have a heart, but if you did, you think it would have stopped. There’s a split second of wonder that you detect from his golden eyes as he drinks your face in, confirming that you are indeed real and he is not dreaming. Even in the dark, you can see redness form on his cheeks anew, still from the alcohol that he consumed too freely hours earlier. Probably.

It occurs to you that something again is very wrong, this feeling of doom that seems to arise from inside you, even though you are immortal and this is a human destined to die.

He’s too bold. There’s too much intensity in his eyes.

You fade into nothingness and disappear for the night.

[criminalminds4days]

Family Matters | Chapter 8: First Time

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references, violence and murder references, public embarrassment, and very bad jokes!

Word Count: 2.8k

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tag list: @mcntsee @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @evelyncade @haylaansmi @paulaern @myfandomlife-blog​

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(This gif is not mine)

Chapter 8: First Time

It is time to reveal the first meeting between the shy doctor and his new, very clumsy girlfriend.

Why is this the time, you may ask?

Well, because,  what better way to intrigue the reader than by leaving the couple in newfound happiness without delivering the details of the said night. As well as provide a title that could reference the event and/or have it mean something completely different.

Not to worry, the awaited next morning shall be given in the next chapter.

Without any more delay, please enjoy the individual perspective of the first time they saw each other.

She took a deep breath as the elevator doors opened for the first time, leading her to what was bound to be her new workplace. She smiled politely at all the people she encountered in her short walk and as soon as she reached the glass doors she froze.

How had she made it this far? What if she wasn't good enough? What if the whole room hated her and she was just a horrible profiler and got fired on day two?

No, she was good enough otherwise she wouldn't be here. That was easier said than believed. She gathered the courage she needed and pushed the door, only to be greeted with it being stuck. She continued putting force, hoping it would decide to open before someone noticed her struggling, but it was too late for that.

"It's a pull, not a push." A deep voice said, behind her. She turned to see a dark-skinned tall man with no hair and very full eyebrows. He was wearing a black T-shirt that made his obvious muscles stand out. He wore black pants and dress shoes and a gun was holstered to his side. He was cute! Not that she had the time for dating, she didn't want a repeat of last year.

Instead of commenting on his appearance or flirting, she decided to pull the door, and would you know? It was suddenly unstuck. "I knew it wasn't stuck, I was just making sure it was strong enough."

The man chuckled, followed by a "sure," that wasn't even trying to sound convincing.

She made her way inside the bullpen, looking for her new boss, Aaron Hotchner's office. As she approached said room, a group of desks with only one person sitting caught her eye. She debated whether to approach but she could feel the man from earlier staring at her and decided not to. As soon as she met with agent Hotch, as he asked her to refer to him as, they were called for a case and she was in the meeting room for the first time, sitting as far away from everyone as possible.

"Everyone, before we start I want to introduce you to our new Agent," Hotch said, as he referred to the woman. She stood and waved. "This is our team, Derek Morgan," he said pointing at the man from earlier, he winked at her knowingly and she simply smiled, already wishing to leave. "This is Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi-"

"DAVID ROSSI?!" Her voice echoed through the room and she instantly felt embarrassment settle in. "I am so sorry, I'm such a fan. You must get that a lot, sorry."

She looked at the members she had been introduced to, Jennifer Jareau was wearing a striped dress shirt and dress pants, her blonde hair was left down and her blue eyes looked amused. Emily Prentiss wore her black hair in a low ponytail, a pink shirt, and black pants, she also seemed to be having a good time at her expense.

The man whose books she had in paperback, hardcover and audible, simply chuckled as if his only feeling was amusement. His hair was short and he had a lock beard look going on, a black suit with a matching red tie a clearly expensive watch on his wrist, he basically smelled like money.

"As I was saying," continued Hotch, adjusting the blue tie of his seemingly very expensive suit, a white dress shirt underneath. "This is Penelope Garcia, our Tech analyst, and Dr. Spencer Reid." She looked at the last two members and for the first time, she saw people like her. Although all the members introduced prior seemed like good people, they also seemed so professional, like they knew what they were doing and when to get their hands dirty. The remaining two, seemed younger, like how they presented themselves to the world was the same whether they were on the job as it was in their spare time.

Penelope had a beautiful rainbow dress, her blonde hair with a lot of volume and pins stuck all over, although she didn't like cats, she adored the woman's cat-themed glasses, and deep down she was a sucker for glitter. Spencer, the other doctor in the room, was wearing a white shirt underneath the comfiest looking red sweater she had ever seen. It was weird seeing someone wearing a sweater in the middle of the summer, but hey, who was she to judge? His hair was lazily pushed back and his curls were so pretty! How do you get curls that pretty?! Not to mention he was good looking, a defined jawline, and those brown eyes could melt her any time he wanted.

There she was, thinking things she shouldn't of yet another coworker. "It is a pleasure to meet you all." She took her seat again and Penelope began presenting the case.

As they were brainstorming, she had finally felt confident enough to suggest something, only to find herself interrupted by Spencer Reid. "Nu-uh bruh, I know you didn't just interrupt me mid-sentence." She spoke, clearly not having it. "I did not work my butt off to make it to the FBI just so that a man who wears sweaters in the middle of July cuts me off on my first day!" All eyes turned to her, perplexed. "I don't know how they do it here in the East Coast but back in the west we let a person finish their sentence." Laughs emerged in the room, and Spencer's eyebrows furrowed, slightly annoyed and very confused.

"I beg your pardon?" The man questioned.

"As you should. My pardon is granted." She turned back and finished her thoughts.

At that moment, unknowingly, she had just put into motion the seed for what would become her and Spencer Reid's relationship. And all the events that followed, her almost-death at the hands of a cult leader, her cool head when proving Morgan's innocence, and the countless times she made sure every single member of her team remained safe while providing them with immense ammunition to laugh when feeling down left an impression. Neither knew it but they were on each other's mind more than they realized. But that's not what you want to hear right now, is it?

After getting on the jet, the seat next to who she believed to be Emily Prentiss was the only one available. She took the seat and the woman gave her a kind smile.

"It wasn't that bad." She assured her.

"I may have just made a really bad first impression."

"You didn't, if anything we like you more than before." She followed this by a wink as the team reviewed the case and they took off.

"So, detective Owen is leading this investigation, you guys remember him, correct?" JJ spoke first.

"From the stalker case," Hotch noted.

"Yes." The blonde agreed, "Spence, you remember that case, right?"

"Yes Jennifer, I do." She took a chance by glancing up to find him very flustered at the mention.

"Do you ever talk to, what's her name again... Lila, right? Do you keep in contact with her?" She questioned, an amused smile forming on her face.

"I honestly think we should focus on this particular case." He answered, avoiding the question.

She turned to Emily who shrugged, just as confused as she was. Rossi seemed as lost as the two women, but Morgan and JJ seemed to be having a good time.

After landing and meeting with the local PD, they had begun their investigation, trying to understand this unsub. It had been about twenty-four hours since she had food and her growling stomach wasn't helping anyone.

"How about we go to get some food newbie?" Emily suggested, "I could use some right now."

"Sure."

As they made their way to the first food cart they saw, Emily cursed under her breath. "Fuck, I forgot my purse."

"It's okay, my treat. After all, thanks to you I'm getting food."

"I will pay you back."

"No need." With this said, the two ordered a hot dog and a soda. She should have known better than to do so, as soon after her first bite, the meal decided to find a second home in her shirt. "Oh, come on!"

"That's not good." Emily agreed, "let me run to the hotel, it's two blocks from here, and I'll get you a new shirt."

"You don't need to do that."

"I will be fast, don't worry."

Too late she realized that Emily's purse, which she assumed had her hotel key, was in the office. Nonetheless, the woman returned with a sweater to help her cover the stain. The irony wasn't lost on her, she judged Spencer's sweater-wearing and now she had to do the same.

This was definitely going to be a great day.

*************************************************

Spencer Reid was never one to be noisy, nor the first one to notice people. This often came out as rude and most people believed he thought he was better than them, which was not the case. The truth is that overcoming his addiction had left him drained, the parting of Elle Greenaway, the only woman he could safely admit he loved, and the departure of yet another father figure, Jason Gideon, had made him developed a closed-off personality that prevented him from ever creating attachments to new individuals. Emily Prentiss and David Rossi being the only exceptions.

This is important to know because as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen walked into the bullpen, he tried his hardest to avoid looking up. Granted, it was more for appearance sake than anything, because there was no way he hadn't noticed her. How could he not? She wore a white shirt that was loose enough to give her a sense of floating through the room. He had seen her struggle to open the door, and the interaction she had with Derek Morgan and knew if he made a move the Doctor would have no chance. Not that he wanted one, he didn't even know her name.

He saw her walk towards Aaron Hotchner's office and any possibility that might have crossed his mind had been completely shattered. She would be his teammate, and fraternization was not allowed within the same unit. Again, that was just stating the facts, because he wouldn't even consider entering a romantic relationship. It was true that he had kissed more girls in the last two years than he had done in the last twenty-six years of his life, but that didn't mean he was a player, or that he would try to get in the new agents' pants.

After discussing these same things with himself he was called into the bullpen and knew they would be introduced to the new girl. He fixed his sweater and rubbed his hands clearing the sweat that had accumulated.

"You okay, Spence?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You seem a little nervous."

"I haven't had enough coffee, is all."

"Well, how could you? Your drinks are basically liquid sugar."

"It's not that bad JJ." They both reached the room in which they held their round table and sat next to each other.

Slowly, the room filled with the rest of the team and lastly by their Unit Chief and the new member. She was introduced to all of them and he couldn't help but notice how her hands seemed so shaky and her cheeks were flushed. He took his view from her and attempted to concentrate on the case. When he finally found himself in the zone was when his biggest mistake occurred.

"If you look at the scar marks though it seems-" Before he could continue, the girl he had just interrupted had cut him off.

She made sure to set him straight and he looked up just in time to hear her mention his summer-sweater wearing and feel completely embarrassed.

"I beg your pardon?" He said a little annoyed. Sure, it wasn't correct to interrupt her, but bringing his sweater tendencies was not polite. She took his words as an actual apology whether he intended it that way or not (which he didn't) and continued.

The memory would forever be engraved in his brain, he knew that were the little things that made having an eidetic memory, not such a great perk. So, as they sat in the jet he avoided all eye contact.

How could never look her in the eye without remembering their first real interaction, and he was sure she would not want to actually have a conversation with a guy that had come off as dismissive on her first day.

He would have overthought the whole situation if it hadn't been for JJ reminding him of his first 'fling' as the team often referred to it. Lila had been an actress they had protected from a stalker, and Reid couldn't help but fall for her charms. They hadn't talked in a while, mostly because he knew dating someone you barely knew was hard enough, but doing it when the two of you lived on the other side of the country was even worse.

He made sure to try and forget the mentioned girl and the incident with the new agent as he fixed his bed space. Sleeping in hotel rooms made him very uncomfortable, knowing all the germs that could possibly inhabit every single inch, but he loved his job, so with a few accommodations, he got through it.

"More sweaters pretty boy?" Morgan said, taking one out of his go-bag. "How did it go, ah yes: I did not work my butt off to make it to the FBI just so that a man who wears sweaters in the middle of July cuts me off on my first day!"

"Please stop, it's bad enough I will forever have that memory seared in my brain. She probably thinks I'm a douchebag."

"She probably does." His roommate teased. "But don't worry, she'll come around, now, let's go. We have work to do."

Morgan threw the sweater onto his bed and the two made their way to the local police station. They spent about five hours trying to come up with a preliminary profile, hoping this would give them the insight they needed to determine the importance of victimology, and possible help with a geographical profile by letting them know if there had been missing person's reports or bodies of people that fit that general victimology. After that time Emily and the new girl decided to go get food. He was hungry too but decided against going with them because he didn't think he would be well received.

After about half an hour, the pair returned and the girl was wearing a sweater that very clearly resembled the one Morgan had left on his bed earlier that day. He didn't think much of it until they returned to their hotel room and said clothing item was nowhere to be found.

"How on earth does a sweater just disappear? We had a do not disturb sign up, there is no way housekeeping would come in." Morgan said as they both looked for it.

At this point, Spencer knew why he wouldn't find his sweater, but decided to remain silent. How could he ask her politely to return it? And more importantly, why was she wearing it? How did she get a hold of it?

He never really got an answer to these questions, as they were not really friends, and he didn't feel comfortable asking about it. She had worn it a couple of times, including during their kidnapping, it seemed rather odd to bring it up then. "Hey, I know we might die, but I just have to know: How did you get my sweater?" was probably not going to cut it. So he let her keep it, and eventually, while the memory was still engraved in his brain, it became less relevant. That was, until the next morning of their shared night, when he saw said sweater very visibly hanging on her closet door and decided to try it on and see if it still fit.

[cmfan3]

If I Ever Lost You Part 1

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau X Emily Prentiss

Warning: Strong Language & Violence

Words: 6K

With a shaking hand, she reached over and picked up the paper. She opened the note and when she read the three words, her world stopped.

I have her.

A few days earlier

Emily was sitting at her desk in the bullpen chatting with Derek and Spencer. Actually, it was more like picking on Spencer with Derek. The two misfits were pestering Spencer about his new haircut. “Are you sure you’re not in a boy band?” joked Derek while ruffling his hair. Spencer swatted his hand away in annoyance, “yes, I’m sure. Now can I please get back to work? You guys are distracting me.” Emily opened her mouth to respond when she was cut off by JJ rushing in. Out of breath, JJ barely managed to get the words out as she rushed to the conference room, “it’s a bad one.”

The three went up and sat around the table, each in their respective spots. Emily looked up at the screen which was covered in gruesome photos, ones she couldn’t seem to stomach. As Emily began to actually look at the victims, she couldn’t help the gut wrenching feeling that arose as she glanced at the blonde standing in front of her. They all look exactly alike. The thought sent chills down her spine.

Before JJ began presenting the case, she glanced upon the brunette to try and understand how she felt about it. JJ saw what no one else did, the dread and fear that rose in Emily’s eyes. She shook it off and began explaining the situation to her team, “four victims as of now. They’re all in their mid-twenties with blonde hair and blue eyes. They were born in different states, but ended up in Washington. They all seemed to be single, but they were still in contact with their families. They worked different jobs and lived in different areas. All the victims had a different COD-”

“-Then why are we even looking at this case,” interrupted Emily. Locking eyes with her, JJ couldn’t help but soften her gaze at the brunette as she realized just how badly this case was affecting her. Emily’s knee was bouncing and her hands seemed to play with themselves. We can’t take this case. Does nobody else in this room seem to realize just how alike JJ and the victims look. They could be siblings for fucks sake. Emily’s breath seemed labored and she didn’t even want to look at the file in front of her for another second.

Before JJ could respond, Hotch cut in, “we’re taking this case because of the signature.” He nodded to the blonde, in which she then clicked to the next set of pictures. She turned away from the screen, her face morphing into one of disgust, “each victim had a message carved into their back.” The team stared on in horror as they read what was shown. Tick tock. Her time is running out. You won’t find me. I’m just getting started.

“No. Please don’t tell me we have to go look for an unsub who seems to be killing exact replicas of JJ,” stated Emily. She stared at JJ, pleading to see reason and to not take the case, no matter how selfish it seemed because she was keeping a secret no one knew. I won’t let the woman I love willingly put herself in harm’s way.

Hotch responded, “Emily. I know none of us want to investigate a case like this, but we have to. If we don’t, there’s no telling how bad the spree is going to get. That said, Garcia will update us if anything happens and we’ll brainstorm on the plane. Wheels up in twenty.” David was the first to leave the room. Soon after was Derek and Spencer. As Hotch was about to leave, he glanced back at the women for a split second before going to get his things in order.

As soon as Hotch was out the door, Emily shot up out of her seat and rushed towards the blonde, who was still standing by the screen. She grasped both of her hands desperately. “JJ, please, at least tell me you’re not going. You have to see the resemblance between you and the victims. I’m not going to let you get hurt. Please don’t come with us,” pleaded Emily.

JJ squeezed her hands, “well if you’re not going to let me get hurt, then I don’t really see an issue. Emily, even if I didn’t want to come, who’s going to handle the media when things get bad. They already started calling him The Messenger. I’ll be fine, the team will protect me.” She smiled gratefully at the woman in front of her, “I’ll be ok Em, don’t worry so much.” She slid her hands from the brunette’s grasp and walked out the door, towards her office.

Emily ’s heart felt heavy as she watched her retreating form. How can I not worry about you? I love you.

On the jet, the team just ended their call with Garcia, and as soon as she cut the line by saying, “I’m like the wind: back in a flash... or is that lightning?,” the air was so tense, it could’ve been cut with a knife. Dave sat in front of Hotch, the two brainstorming ideas about the unsub. Morgan and Spencer were talking, mostly about the case, but every once in a while, Morgan would try to lighten the mood by talking about Spencer’s haircut. The two would crack a smile before they resumed talking about the horrors of the case.

Towards the back of the jet, JJ was looking through the file when she felt someone occupy the seat next to her. She glanced up and saw Emily place two cups of coffee on the table in front of them. “Oh thank god,” the blonde exhaled, “you don’t even know how much I need this,” she sighed. Pulling the steaming mug up towards her face and taking a deep breath, she exhaled, “I needed this more than I realized.” After taking a sip from the steaming dark liquid, she looked up to see Emily staring at her.

How can someone look perfect while drinking coffee? Oh who am I kidding, she always looks perfect. Realizing she was caught gawking, Emily instantly looked away, a flush creeping up her face. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Trying not to make it more awkward between the two, Emily opened up her case file, “so what are your thoughts about how the unsub kills them?”

Amused, JJ states, “I don’t think they actually know which way they prefer killing yet. Yes, while the unsub doesn’t have any hesitation marks, it seems as if this is their first time because of all the different COD’s. So I think they’re trying to figure out which way excites them the most.”

“The carving of the messages in their backs are exciting enough,” grumbled Emily. She attempted to pay more attention to the photos, but every time she looked at a victim, all she could see was JJ lying there with her eyes open, all cut up and bloody. She shook her head, as if to clear the image from her mind. She turned to see JJ staring at her quizzically. As Emily looked into the blue eyes in front of her, she saw the question are you okay? staring back at her. She nodded her head and gave a small smile, hoping to convince the woman in front of her that she shouldn’t be worried. Emily began to look at the pictures once again. She tensed up when she felt something brush along her arm, but relaxed when she realized that it was just JJ leaning her head on the brunette’s shoulder. Emily felt butterflies swarm her stomach when the smaller woman curled up into her side, seeking warmth. In a matter of seconds, JJ was out cold, leaving Emily to gaze lovingly at her, hoping and wishing that she could keep her safe from harm. Deep down though, Emily knew that not everything was in her control, and she hated it. Making sure no one was paying them any attention, she placed a loving kiss on the top of the sleeping woman’s head and when the blonde curled even more into her side, Emily wanted to capture this moment forever. She’ll be ok. I won’t let anything happen to her. Kept running through her head like a mantra. Soon after, she succumbed to exhaustion and let sleep take her.

Emily awoke to the feeling of the jet hitting the runway. Shaking off her grogginess, she looked down next to her and felt the butterflies rise up yet once again when she saw the blonde still curled up into her side. She smiled at the sleeping woman before shaking her slightly. “Come on Jayje. You need to wake up, we’re here,” whispered Emily.

In response, JJ grunted and shifted farther into Emily’s side. “Not yet,” she grumbled. Hearing a bark of laughter, she peeked her eyes open and looked up at the woman laughing at her. “It’s not funny Em. I barely slept and I’m tired. I need more coffee,” JJ complained. She reached across the table and picked up Emily’s coffee and took a long sip. Looking over the rim of the glass, she saw Emily attempting to stifle her laughter behind a smirk. She gently smacked the older woman’s arm and feigned shock. “You dare laugh at me Prentiss, well we’ll see who’s laughing when I finish your coffee,” joked JJ.

As Emily smiled at her, the blonde could see her eyes gleaming with mischief, but before she was able to act on it, Hotch’s voice boomed over the jet, “Prentiss, you’re with Morgan. You two go to the crime scenes and see if we missed anything. Reid and David, you two go to the morgue and try and find more information about the COD’s and messages. JJ and I will head to the police precinct to set up. Jennifer I need you to start handling the media and get rid of that ridiculous name. It only fuels the unsub’s desire.”

“Sir, I don’t mean any disrespect, but you can’t seriously consider putting JJ in front of all those cameras when all the victims look exactly like her,” argued Emily. She looked at the blonde next to her with worry shining in her eyes.

JJ reached for Emily’s hand and squeezed it softly, “I’ll be fine Em, like I said, I have you and the team to protect me. Hotch is right, I need to handle the media. That’s my job.”

“But-,” Emily started again, but when she looked at Hotch, she knew there was no point in arguing. She excused herself from JJ’s grasp and went towards the bathroom, pulling out her phone and dialing the only number she thought could help.

“Office of Unfettered Omniscience. Penelope Garcia is in. Speak, oh fortunate one,” rang Penelope’s voice through the line. Emily smiled to herself and reminded herself to check if Penelope was on anything. “I need you to do me a favor PG. Can you please keep an eye on JJ? Track her location, make sure she’s ok. It doesn’t matter to me as long as she isn’t in danger,” Emily requested. Garcia’s voice rang out, “of course E, you know how important she is to all of us. I know you guys won’t let anything happen to her, but if it makes you feel better, I can keep an eye on her. Just in case.” “Thank you, I’m just worried about her, and it seems like I’m the only one. It’s frustrating,” fumed Emily. “I know sweet cheeks, but it’s a part of the job,” reminded Garcia. “I know, I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier. Thanks Pen, I’ll keep you updated,” Emily responded. “Over and out,” chirped Garcia. Turning back towards the team, she let her eyes roam over each member before they settled on the blonde who was looking out the window with a look on her face that Emily couldn’t seem to decipher. I have to tell her. She has to know before something happens, because with our team’s luck, something is going to happen. Grow up Prentiss, just tell her. What’s the worst that could happen? We could stop talking completely and she could act like I don’t even exist. Fuck Prentiss, just tell her already. After boosting her confidence, Emily began walking towards JJ in hopes of finally telling her how she’s felt for so long. Emily noticed that when JJ saw that she was walking towards her, a smile lit up the blonde’s face which was immediately mirrored by the older woman. Emily slid in next to JJ and reached for her hands. Clearing her throat and staring down at their entwined hands, Emily began, “Jen, there really isn’t a good time to say this, but I have to say it. Please forgive me, but I have to tell you. Jennifer I-” “We have to hit the ground rolling. Let’s go everyone,” interrupted Hotch. “Just perfect,” Emily mumbled. She looked up into the crystal blue eyes and sighed, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you later.” Or never. The blonde simply nodded and gave Emily one of her dazzling smiles.

While on the jet, Morgan was able to witness the entire scene unfold. As he and Emily were walking onto the crime scenes, he questioned, “so princess. What was that on the jet?” Nearly choking on the water she was drinking, Emily managed to sputter out, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Derek merely laughed and nodded, “Alright princess, but just know, I’ll find out soon enough.” Emily glared at him as she walked up to the fourth victim’s body. As soon as they arrived at the body and saw the message I’m just getting started carved into her back, both put the topic at hand in the back of their heads and focused on the case.

Spencer and Rossi were chatting amongst themselves as they waited for the autopsy results. “It’s strange that the unsub hasn’t settled on a COD, especially because it seems as if carving the messages is really what gets them off. I would think that since they enjoy carving them in, they would also want the victim to die by knife,“ inquired Spencer. With a grimace, Rossi realized that the kid is right, yet once again, “well, maybe the unsub just gets off on the whole ordeal and it doesn’t matter what they use to kill the victims. Maybe they kill the victims based on whatever’s easiest in the moment.” As Spencer was thinking about it, the forensic pathologist walked in with some information. She began, “so we got the results from the autopsy and let me tell you guys, it isn’t pretty. So it seems as if the victims had the messages carved into their backs while they were alive.” Pausing so she could register the reactions of the agents in front of her, she wasn’t shocked when she saw the disgust and horror flash on their faces. She continued, “based on the laceration marks on their wrists, it seems like they were suspended from something and their feet were barely scraping the floor. They were severely dehydrated and it seems like they were kept for a span of three days, if not shorter. Here’s the crazy bit though, the COD for each victim was actually the same. They all bled out.” Shock ran across Spencer’s features before morphing into understanding, “the victims died when the message was carved into their backs. The rest of it was forensic countermeasure.” At this point, Rossi wasn’t shocked with the news, the only indication that he had even registered what had been said was how his shoulders drooped lower and the fatigue on his face became more prominent. “Alright kid, let’s get back to the team and let them know what we found out,” Rossi sighed. Both agents thanked the forensic pathologist and began their drive down to the precinct.

At the precinct, JJ was attempting to control the media as Hotch began to set up the team’s room. Bracing herself for all the questions, she took a deep breath and began, “I know you all have questions, and I’ll try to answer them as best as I can, but the first thing that needs to happen is the name, The Messenger, needs to be forgotten. Call the killer an unsub. Giving the unsub a name only fuels their desire to kill again. Now, any questions?” A flurry of hands shot up and voices seemed to ring out from all directions. One reporter managed to make his question heard by the media liaison, “should everyone be worried about being next, or does the unsub have a specific type?” “As of now, they do seem to have a specific type, but everyone should be vigilant, and if you see or hear something, say something,” JJ managed to reply before she was barraged with more questions. “What does the police know?” “Do you have any suspects?” “Is there an end goal or is it just for entertainment?” “Where is the rest of your team now?” “Have you ever seen something like this before” Before she was able to answer any of the endless questions, one question in particular made her freeze in place. “You look like them. Do you think you’re the ‘her’ that was referenced in the message ‘her time is running out’ because you look alike?” Unable to form an answer, she simply responded, “that’s all the time we have for questions,” and walked off the stage and back into the precinct. She rushed to the bathroom in hopes of calming her nerves. She leaned over the sink, gripping the edge until her knuckles turned white. After what felt like hours, her breathing finally evened out and the tears in her eyes were no longer there. She washed her face and fixed her hair before she walked out, not noticing the worried look that was sent her way by none other than the brunette.

The team gathered in the room and began debriefing each other on the new information each of them found. As Emily passed by JJ, she reached out and squeezed her shoulder, signaling to the younger agent that she wasn’t alone. JJ looked up at Emily gratefully, eyes shining with a thank you. As Emily took her seat by JJ, she was surprised when the blonde grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers together under the table.

As the room settled, Hotch was the first to speak, “Morgan and Prentiss, what did you two find out?” “Not much that we didn’t already know. We know he has a secondary location because there wasn’t any blood at the crime scene. They were all positioned where the message was clearly visible meaning it’s the most important thing to the unsub. None of the victims were placed in the same place, but all of them were placed in a location where there would be a large majority of people,” Derek informed the team. “So the unsub wants the victims to be found. He wants his message to be broadcasted,” concluded JJ. Emily spared a glance at the woman next to her, giving her hand a squeeze causing JJ to smile slightly. Emily jumped in, “we already know that the unsub’s evil, what did you two find out at the morgue?”

Before Rossi was able to debrief the team on the new information, Spencer interrupted, “evil can’t be scientifically defined. It’s an illusory moral concept that doesn’t exist in nature. Its origins and connotations have been inextricably linked to religion and mythology.” As he looked around, he saw all of the confused faces and decided to drop it, motioning to Rossi to take over. With a smile tugging at his lips, Rossi thanked Spencer for the information, “Thanks for that boy wonder, but what we found at the morgue does explain a lot. It turns out that the actual COD of all the victims was blood loss. They were all alive when they had the messages carved into their backs and that’s how they died.” Hotch intervened, “I think this means that we can believe that this unsub is experienced because their cuts are clean without any hesitation marks. That said, I believe it’s a Caucasian male in their early to mid thirties because as we saw in the crime scene photos, the unsub placed the bodies in an area where there’s nothing there. So the unsub would have to carry the bodies from their car to the drop off location which would take a large amount of strength.” Reid decided to jump in, “unsubs don’t tend to cross racial lines so he would be Caucasian because all of his victims are Caucasian. Since all his victims are in their mid twenties, he should-“

The phone ringing cut Spencer off and when the line was answered, Penelope’s voice rang out, “hello my big beautiful crime fighters. I come with bad news, like bad bad, like all the puppy photos on the internet got deleted bad.” Everyone tensed up waiting for Penelope to continue, “Anyways, back to the case. There’s been another body.” Emily turned towards JJ to see that the color drained out of her face and her jaw was clenched. With her free hand, Emily rubbed small circles on JJ’s back, attempting to comfort her. Leaning into her touch, JJ all but curled up into Emily, seeking protection from the news that was just dropped. “Unfortunately, that’s not all. The message that was carved into her back said I’m coming for her,” Penelope continued. As soon as the words left Penelope’s mouth, the reporter’s question from earlier in the day bounced around in JJ’s head. Do you think you’re the her? The contents in her stomach threatened to come out so she jumped out of her seat and rushed to the bathroom, where she then relieved her contents into the toilet. “Thanks Garcia,” Hotch replied. He turned towards the brunette who was looking where the blonde ran and nodded in her direction, causing her to run after the younger woman.

As soon as Emily opened the bathroom door, she was hit with the sound of sobbing coming from one of the stalls. She cautiously opened the stall and was broken when she looked down at the woman in front of her. JJ’s eyes were getting red from the tears and her cheeks were stained from the falling tears. Emily opened her arms and JJ practically jumped into them, seeking comfort from the only person that she knew could help. “Come here Jen, I got you,” reassured the older agent. JJ clung onto her like she was a lifeline because she essentially was. Emily kept running her hands through the blonde’s hair and rubbing small circles on her back while whispering sweet nothings into her ear in hopes of calming her down. For the two of them, it was like they were in their own little bubble where no one could hurt them. As JJ was finally able to even out her breathing, she pulled back from Emily’s grasp slightly. She looked up into Emily’s eyes, silently thanking her for everything.

As Emily looked at the woman in front of her, she felt the urge to lean in, but she couldn’t do that to her, especially after everything that just happened. So she simply glanced down, wishing that she could kiss the blonde and tell her how she feels. God I love her. When we make it out of this, I’m going to tell her. Instead, Emily pulled her back into an embrace, kissed the top of her head, and pulled her out of the restroom, where the team was waiting for them. Hotch looked at Emily, questioning whether the blonde was ok or not. She simply shrugged and focused her attention back on the younger agent.

Hotch called out, “That’s all we can do for today, everyone head back to the hotel. Everyone gets their own room. Except for Jennifer and Prentiss. I want you two sharing a room just in case something were to happen, it’s safer.” Both women were secretly overjoyed because even if Hotch didn’t give them a room together, they would’ve ended up in the same room.

After a short car ride that was filled with silence, the team arrived at their hotel. Courtesy of Penelope, the team’s rooms were all next to each other. As Derek was closing his door, he called out, “goodnight mom, dad, princesses, and pretty boy.” The women scoffed and shared a quick smile with the agent as they walked into their respective room, locking the door behind them.

“I call the left side of the bed,” Emily said almost immediately, her eyes twinkling with joy. In response, JJ pouted, “you always get the left side.” Emily let out a laugh, “because it’s my side,” and began undressing so she could change into her pajamas. JJ grumbled a reply that couldn’t be heard by the older agent, but she still put her go-bag on the right side. She unzipped it and began shuffling through its contents, looking for a big t-shirt and shorts.

Emily plopped down on the corner of the bed once she was done and watched the blonde carefully. After the blonde shifted through all of the content in the bag, and didn’t find what she was looking for, she turned and looked at Emily, who had her mouth quirked up into a smile. JJ didn’t understand why until she took a closer look and realized that the other woman was wearing the clothes she just spent ten minutes looking for. Before JJ could protest, Emily explained, “you took my coffee earlier, so I’m taking your clothes.” Not to mention, they smell like her. Unable to say no to Emily, JJ simply questioned, “well then, what am I supposed to wear to bed?” Emily reached behind her and pulled out her own pajamas, handing them to the blonde. JJ snatched the clothes from her outstretched arm and began undressing while muttering about how Emily should wear her own clothes. Unable to help herself, the older agent gawked at JJ’s body when she was undressing. Feeling eyes on her, JJ looked up and locked eyes with Emily which caused her face to redden. Emily instantly looked away, ashamed that she was caught gawking. What is wrong with me? I’ve seen her change a million times before. What’s so different about this time?

Once she was done changing, JJ set her go-bag on the floor next to the bed and jumped under the covers, wrapping herself up like a burrito. She patted the empty spot next to her, her head peeking out from under the covers to look at Emily. The brunette couldn’t stifle her laughter at the sight in front of her, so she simply turned off the lights and crawled under the covers next to the blonde, mimicking her burrito position. The smiles that were on their faces reached their ears.

Suddenly, the smile that lit up JJ’s face disappeared and she instantly turned sombre. “Em, do you think I’m the her that the unsub’s talking about? I don’t want to be. God I really hope I’m not, but I can’t come up with another idea of who she might be,” JJ whispered. Emily didn’t respond, instead, she wrapped her arms around the smaller woman and pulled her close, running her hand through the long blonde hair while tracing imaginary circles on her back. This caused JJ to rest her head in the crook of Emily’s neck, breathing in her comforting scent. The two stayed in this position for what seemed like an eternity. When Emily felt JJ’s breath even out, she kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I love you.” Hidden from the brunette, the blonde smiled to herself. I love you too.

The next morning, JJ woke up entangled in Emily’s arms. She shifted so she could gaze upon the sleeping woman next to her, taking in every feature, lingering on her lips. Suddenly, they moved, “didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not nice to stare at people Jayje?” She gave the blonde a lopsided grin as she peeked one eye open. JJ scoffed, grabbed a pillow, and smacked the older woman in the face, unable to hold in her laughter as Emily feigned hurt. “We both know I’d absolutely destroy you in a pillow fight Jen. You don’t want to start with me,” she joked. Putting the pillows back on the bed, the brunette stretched, hoping to shake off her grogginess. Sighing, she got out of the bed, pulling the younger woman up with her, “even though I don’t want to, we have to get ready and get down to the precinct.” Looking up into Emily’s eyes, JJ asked, “coffee?” The brunette simply nodded with a smile ghosting her lips and went to grab her go-bag so she could get ready for work.

After their quick coffee stop, the women walked into the precinct with a coffee for everyone, the both of them sitting next to each other once again. As they took their places around the table, Morgan called Garica. Before the first ring even ended, the line was answered and Penelope’s voice rang out, “challenge me, you beautiful behavioral analyst.” Letting out a laugh, Morgan requested, “hey baby girl, I need you to find all Caucasian males who are in their early to mid thirties.” “I need more to cut down the list crime fighters. This list is a whopper,” Penelope responded. It was Reid’s voice who cut through next, “he would have a normal job that gave him a lot of free time to be able to abduct, torture, and kill the women. He would have to own a large property because he needs a lot of space and his victims need to be isolated.” Emily jumped in, “he would be single since he doesn’t have time for a significant other because he’s spending most of his time with his victims.” “Ok my beauties, I’ll hit you back when I have more. Garcia out,” Penelope replied as she ended the call. Hotch stood up out of his seat and began assigning his team tasks, ‘’Prentiss, I want you and JJ to try and control the media. They’re having a field day with the fifth victim. Morgan and Rossi, you two try and shorten the list that Garcia has. Reid, work on the geographical profile. I’ll head over to the fifth victim’s crime scene and look over everything we have to see if we missed anything.” As the team walked out to complete their assignments, Hotch pulled Emily back, “Keep her safe Prentiss. I didn’t want her on her own, especially since that last victim.” She nodded in a silent promise that she wouldn’t let anything happen to the blonde.

In the SUV, Emily tried her best to watch over JJ while keeping her eyes on the road. JJ’s knee was bouncing up and down and her breathing seemed forced. Noticing the distress behind the movements, Emily pulled off to the side, putting the car in park. She reached over the center console and gripped both of JJ’s hands, running her thumbs along the soft knuckles. Emily looked into JJ’s eyes, seeing the fear that was shining through. “Come on Jayje, you know you can talk to me. Please let me in,” pleaded Emily. Dropping her eyes from Emily’s, because they were staring at her intensely. “I know I can Em, it’s just hard. Yes I’m scared for my safety, I mean who wouldn’t be, but I’m terrified for your safety,” JJ confessed. Emily was speechless after hearing the blonde’s confession, so JJ decided to remove herself from Emily’s grasp and turn towards the window, letting her thoughts consume her. If I know she loves me, why can’t I just tell her that I love her? Oh God, how I want to be with her. I just can’t let her get hurt because of me. Emily turned towards the steering wheel, unsure of what to do except to keep driving. The rest of the ride to the conference was silent, both women engrossed in their own minds.

Rossi and Derek were looking over the list that Penelope managed to send. Every once in a while, a name would get crossed off because the man didn’t seem to fit the profile. It took a total of roughly three hours and two coffee pots to get through all the names. When Derek finally leaned back into his chair, done looking at the final suspect on the list, he sighed from sheer exhaustion, “Damn Rossi, Penelope was right, that was one hell of a list.” Derek dialled Penelope and after a minute, they heard “He who seeks the Queen of All Knowledge, speak and be recognized.” Chuckling to himself, Derek managed to inform Garcia about the new list, “hey baby girl, we cut down the list to 7 men, we need you to dig deeper on them and let us know what you find.” “Like you even have to ask. Back in a flash,” Garcia responded and ended the call. Rossi stood, grabbing the files on the table, “let’s go see if Hotch could use any help.” The two men cleaned up the office and closed the door behind them as they left.

Reid was looking through the geographical profile that they had in place, updating it with new information from the most recent murder. He was able to map out a circle with a radius of twenty miles. As he looked at the map, he saw a few properties that would be perfect for the unsub. I should talk to Garcia and see if she can find anything out about the houses in this area. After he was satisfied with the geographical profile, Reid left the room so he could update Hotch and Penelope.

The conference took a toll on both agents. Emily spent a majority of her time making sure JJ was ok after particularly difficult questions. As soon as they left the conference, Emily felt as if she was being watched so she glanced around, but when she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, she shook off her chills and resumed walking towards the SUV with JJ. When they got to the car, the women decided to head to the precinct to see if their team had any new leads. Although music was playing in the background, both agents were silent, each sorting through the thoughts that occupied their minds. After what seemed like an eternity, JJ was the first to speak, “Emily. There’s been something on my mind and I have to tell you before it’s too late.” Emily glanced at the blonde quizzically, completely oblivious to what the younger agent was trying to say. You already started, you can’t just leave her hanging, just tell her. You know how she feels about you. Just do it already Jareau. Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, JJ continued, “the other night, when you-”

Suddenly, the car was rammed, causing Emily to hit her head on the steering wheel and lose consciousness. In desperation, JJ grabbed the wheel and attempted to keep the car from crashing, but there was no use. The car drove into a lamppost, causing the airbags to expand. The smell of gasoline that was in the air was easily recognizable. There was destruction everywhere. Pieces of metal and glass littered the ground. Smoke billowed through from under the hood of the damaged car. The last thing JJ saw before she lost consciousness was Emily slumped in her seat, blood pouring from the cut on her head. She reached out weakly, cupping Emily’s pale cheek before dropping her hand. She whispered, “I love you too Em,” and succumbed to the darkness.

[downwiththeficness]

A Need So Great-Chapter 2

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~3,600

Warnings: None

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Chapters: 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Eva had no idea why she’d been asked to come to the scene, just that Steve had called her from the office and asked her to stop by.  There had been a murder. She parked a block or so away and headed to the motel.  When she got there, it was blocked off, but there were no officers around.  With a shrug, she ducked the tape and headed for the open door of the room, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder.

She saw the arm first, blood dripping down and staining the carpet. It was a woman. Eva breathed a bit and called out to see if anyone was there.  An officer popped his head out of the bathroom, looking angry.  

“Hi,” she said with what she hoped was a friendly smile, “I’m here from the embassy.”

He barreled towards her, arms waving angrily.  Confused, Eva slipped her hand into the pocket of her jeans to show him her badge.  That...made things worse.  She was grabbed, the officer yelling, his hand tight on her arm.  Eva felt her fight or flight kick in and she tried to jerk out of his hold. She managed to get her arm free, but he caught her by her purse, yanking her further into the room.  

At the end of it, she was cuffed to the towel rack in the bathroom, her purse sitting by her feet. She’d been told to ‘sit’, and that was about the extent of her understanding of the incident.  Exasperated, Eva waited for him to leave.  Thankfully, he closed the door behind him, giving her the opportunity act unobserved.

“Fuck this,” she sneered, one leg kicking out to snag the strap of her bag.

 Carefully, she tugged it towards her, aware of the sound she might be making. One ear trained to the sounds outside, she made as little noise a possible to get at her goal.  It took some serious finagling, but she managed to get inside. From its depths, she pulled a paperclip that had been holding together a pack of reports, bending it between shaking fingers.  The cuffs were standard—she knew how they worked.  One pin, serrated edges caught on a single lip. They used these in America, too, and she’d become pretty good at getting out of them over the years.

As she unlocked the first cuff, Eva caught sounds of movement outside, voices talking in agitated tones.  She bent to the second cuff, fingers shaking. The door opened and she tucked her hands into her side, hiding the loosened binds from whoever might come at her. Eva knew her expression looked pretty damn guilty, though she hadn’t done anything.  She didn’t have the time to school her features into something more innocent.

The door swung open and Colonel Carrillo—Horacio, as she’d learned—stood in the doorway, looking surprised. He took up the entire space, filling the room even though he hadn’t yet stepped inside. Eva could not help the little spike of...something...that fired up at the sight of him. It was as if her body would scream ‘yes, please’ every...single...time.  Habit had her holding her breath at first, just to get her bearings. If she breathed too deeply of him in the first few seconds, it was harder to maintain any sense of control.

When he didn’t speak, she offered him a trembling smile, “Hi.”

Her wrist turned as slowly as she could, lifting the pin and loosening the cuff soundlessly.

“Hi,” he echoed, before blinking rapidly, as if to refocus. “How…?”

“Steve called, asked me to stop by. I think I scared your officer.”

He looked behind him, she slipped the cuff from her wrist, keeping her hands next to the towel rack, hidden by her body.

When he returned his gaze to her, he put one hand up in a ‘stay’ motion, “I’ll get the key.”

Eva laughed, a short, curt thing, “Don’t bother.”

Turning her shoulders, she lifted both hands, the cuffs dangling from her forefinger. Wordlessly, she offered them to him. His eyes dropped to her outstretched hand, and she could see his jaw clench. She kept her breathing shallow, though there was little she could do about the way her mind analyzed his scent, cataloged his body language. Surprise. Soft amusement. Pride, perhaps. An undercurrent of something dark that she recognized, but refused to name for the sake of her sanity.

He stepped deliberately out of the doorway, gave her a wide berth to exit. Eva was grateful.  Though she rejoiced in the hormones that flooded her in his presence, she didn’t like the thought of making a fool of herself—which, she knew would happen if he got too close. It was enough to enjoy the excited feeling she got when they were in a room together.

It occurred to Eva that it might not be a positive reflection of herself that she was more worried about the alpha in the room than the dead body.  She was aware of him at all times, a wave of heat that fanned out from him to lay heavily on her skin. It was too fucking distracting, but she liked it so much that she gave herself a pass.

Javier walked in with another officer, who took one look at his superior and high tailed it out of the room. She folded her hands in front of her, annoyed that Steve hadn’t even bothered to show up when she wasn’t even supposed to be at a crime scene.

“What am I doing here?”

“You’re here,” Javier explained, “To help us figure out who did this.”

Eva rolled her eyes, “I’m not a crime scene investigator.  I’m a data analyst.”

Behind her, Carrillo shifted on his feet.  The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she clocked an exhalation of frustration. Her hands tightened as she resisted the urge to run a palm down his arm, to soothe him.

“You’re told us you were here to ‘see what you can see’.  Well—what do you see?” Javier had both hands in his pockets, she could see the butt of his pistol peeking from a holster from underneath.

She stared at him, anxious about what he was trying to prove, or get at. Javier was grumpy, prone to bouts of pettiness and self hatred.  He wasn’t cruel.  She knew cruelty. It was unlikely that he was trying to make fun of her, or trick her.

Looking down at the body, Eva took her in.  She was pretty, mid-thirties, dark hair that was gray at the temples. Naked, splayed on her side, hand tucked into her chin. Her clothes were...nowhere to be seen.  But, the killer had left a scarf, possibly hers.  It was laid across her like a sash, melding in with the curls of her hair.

“This was deliberate.”

Javier scoffed, “Yeah, a murder is pretty deliberate.”

Eva shot him a baleful glare, saying, “Look at her.”

He did.

“Look at how pretty she looks, look at her pose, her face.  Its...art.  She’s like a fucking Botticelli.”

Carrillo moved again and Eva lost focus. She closed her eyes, feeling him edge around her.  When she opened them, both men in the room were looking down at the poor woman.  

“If this guy thinks he’s an artist,” she began, then started over, “With any artist, there is a signature.  Its probably in the room somewhere. Maybe on her body.”

She looked over the limbs and she felt sympathy for her.  Someone killed her to make a statement.

“Why is the DEA involved in this?”

Javier wouldn’t meet her eyes, “She was one of my informants.”

Eva made a sound of understanding, a soft, sad thing.  She’d been killed as an example, not a statement. That made it worse.

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Eva said, “I wish I saw more.”

Carrillo spoke, he was closer than she anticipated, she jumped a little, “You don’t have to tell us anything else.”

She looked at him, and saw that he was looking at Javier, a silent conversation occurring between them.   It frustrated her more than when they deliberately had conversations in Spanish, keeping her out of the loop.  Eva had picked up words here or there, a byproduct of living in the country, but she couldn’t even get close to following along.

“Yeah,” Javier agreed, eyes dropping to the floor briefly.  “Look, Steve and me are going to get a drink.  Day’s over, anyways.  Why don’t you come with?” When Eva hesitated, he continued, “Connie’ll be there.  She wants to meet you.”

He was inviting her in, Eva realized.  Giving her a little more access to the pair of them than was strictly called for in their professional working relationship. It was an invitation that she very rarely got, and had never accepted.  It surprised her how much she wanted to, now.

“You’re invited, too,” Javier added, gesturing to Carrillo.

Javier lifted his brows in question, looking to Eva for a response. She nodded, turning towards the bathroom to get her purse.

“Where is this place?” She asked, lifting the bag over her shoulder.

Javier gave her the address—it wasn’t far from where she lived, she could walk there, if she wanted.

“Okay,” she breathed, “I’ll meet you there in, like, twenty minutes? I’m parked a bit away—missed the sign the first time.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Carrillo said, already heading outside.

Eva gave Javier a little nod and followed him, eyeing his broad form as he walked ahead.  His legs were longer than hers.  At five foot nothing, she had to do a little skip to catch up. They ducked under the caution tape wrapped around little posts, Carrillo holding the tape up and away from her.

“How do you like Colombia?”

The question took her off guard a little.  He’d been extremely polite to her during their interactions, but never veered from discussing the work.  

Eva considered it, “Its pretty, here. I like how green it is. My last assignment was in a literal desert in Nevada, so this is a nice change.” She added, “I haven’t seen much, though, outside of what’s on the road to work. My handlers like to tell me that I’m a consultant, not a tourist.”

Why was she talking so fast? Eva pressed her lips together and gripped the strap of her bag to keep from rambling.

He gave a low chuckle, “If you do decide to become a tourist, take someone with you. It can be dangerous, here.”

She looked up at him, expecting to see a look of condescension on his face.  Poor little omega, protect them at all costs, keep them locked up and safe.  Instead, Eva could only see a kind of hesitant concern. She liked him even more for it.

When they reached her car, Eva unlocked it, throwing her purse in the passenger’s seat before turning to look at him.

“Thank you, for walking me.”

He regarded her with curiosity, and it hit her that this was the first time they’d really been alone together. Their brief encounters always had the buffer of another person, another scent in the air to muddy the waters. Right now, all she could smell was the clean earthy smell of the country, and him.

“Why aren’t you afraid?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

She let out a soft, amused breath, “Of what?”

“Me.”

The way he said it was so...matter of fact.  As if it would be a given that she should look at him and feel fear.

“Why would I be afraid of you?” she asked, her head tilting to the side.

He ran a hand through his hair, “A lot of omegas are.”

Eva could see why they would be. He had about a hundred pounds on her, could take her down easily, if she ran. She tried not to think about how that thought excited her.

Her jaw unhinged as she tried to respond.  A couple quick quips filtered in and she dismissed them. This was an honest question.  She should give an honest answer.

“You’re not a threat to me.”

He wasn’t.  Not in the way that other alphas had been.  They both knew that he could have pressed his advantage already, could have used her hormones against her to get at something he wanted. She’d heard how he closed his cases, that he was ruthless, calculating, violent. His unfailing courtesy, the space he continually gave her, was noted and welcome.

His head dipped down and to the side and he took a step forward, “I’m not?”

“No,” she confirmed.

Although, she could feel a tense kind of anxiety rise up as he approached. Heat rose to her cheeks, and for once she was glad for the fucking unrelenting sunlight of the country. Eva was always a little pink when she went outside.

“How do you know that?”

She swallowed, watching him advance another step, the movement smooth and unhurried. He was maybe five feet away, now three, “If you wanted something from me, you would have taken it by now.”

Carrillo stepped into the last little bit of her space, hand resting on the open door beside her. Again, he asked, “How do you know that?”

Eva lifted a shoulder, his eyes followed the movement, “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who waits to have it handed to him.”

He smiled, a little sarcasm in his voice, “You’ve gathered all that in, what, five interactions?”

Six, she correctly mentally. Each one burned into her memory as solidly as his scent. It swirled around her and she found herself squeezing her keys into her palm in an effort to keep her body from leaning further forward, from pressing her nose to the sensitive gland just below his ear where it was most fragrant.  She could mark herself with it, with just a little bit of pressure and friction. She could take it with her for the rest of the day.

“I know what man looks like when he wants to hurt me,” she offered by way of explanation. “You don’t look like that.”

His mouth thinned in displeasure, or maybe annoyance.  He tapped his thumb once on the door, stepping away, but not far.

“Its unwise to confuse restraint for,” he searched for the words, “Lack of...want.” Followed by, “See you at the bar.”

Eva watched him go for a few seconds.  He didn’t look back. With a shake of her head, she got in the car and started it.

The bar was dark, despite the daylight still filtering in. Dark, and smoky. Eva caught sight of her coworkers at a table not far off from the entrance. She gave a little wave, making her way towards them.

As she sat, a blonde woman approached, a couple beer bottles in her hand. Eva clocked her as an alpha immediately. She smelled like cinnamon and citrus.

“Hi,” she said warmly, “I’m Connie.”

Eva shook her hand and accepted the beer, “Eva.”

“I didn’t know what you drank, so I guessed,” she gestured to the beer as she sat next to Eva.

Touched by the consideration, Eva simply said, “This is fine, thank you.”

“So, Steve tells me you’re a consultant.  Must be exciting.”

Eva shook her head, sipping, “Its really not.  I just deal with the paperwork. And, apparently, the occasional crime scene.”

Javier had the good grace to look away. Connie smiled and leaned into her husband.  He wrapped an arm around her, kissing her at the hairline. Eva could see that they were very much in love, she hoped it could survive his occupation. Not many relationships did.

“I mostly sit at a desk,” Eva said, to keep the conversation going.

Connie smiled, “So you’re bored out of your mind, reading Steve’s reports?”

Eva returned the smile, “Pretty much.  I’ll take bored any day, though. Beats the hell out of getting shot at.”

Her expression faltered, but Connie recovered quickly, “Where are you from?”

“Louisiana, for the most part.”

“How’d you end up here?”

Eva shrugged, unphased by the rapid questions Connie lobbed at her, “Probably the same way you did. I went where they told me to go.”

“They,” Connie said with emphasis, “Can suck a lemon.”

Clearly, there were some unresolved issues with regard to Connie and the DEA.  Eva thought it might be nice to hear a few stories from her, just to see if she saw the same things that Eva did.

The door to the bar swung open and Carrillo walked through.  Eva kept her expression as neutral as possible, but had to suppress a curse when she realized that the only open seat at their table was to her right. She rolled the bottle between her thumb and first three fingers, offering a small smile of acknowledgment when he sat.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, flagging down a waitress, “Had to reprimand an officer.”

Eva wanted to ask if it was the same officer who’d detained her. She didn’t.

While the men conversed around them, Connie leaned over, “Are you like them?”

Eva hummed in question.

“Living and breathing the job?” This was said in a conspiratorial tone.  Connie’s expression was both secretive and open, a strange combination of the two.

Shaking her head, Eva eyed the rest of the table, consciously measuring half a second for each so as to not linger where her eyes kept wanting to look, “No. This is just where I ended up.”

“Oh, thank God,” Connie breathed as she grasped Eva’s shoulder, “Finally, I’m going to have someone normal to talk to.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Eva responded, tipping back her beer and setting it on the table, empty. “I could be completely insane.”

“I’ll take it,” she tipped a bottle at her.

Eva huffed, noting that Connie was a little low, “Sure, okay. You bought me a beer, let me return the favor.”

And that was how it went for a while.  Steve telling a story, Javier chain smoking, Connie rolling her eyes, and Eva...Eva did her best to keep her blood at a low simmer. He’d admitted to her that he wanted her, and she didn’t know what to do with that information. Though he looked relaxed, Carrillo had returned to the overly polite manner that had colored their previous interactions.  It made her want to poke at him, just to get a reaction. She resisted, just barely.

“I looked you up, you know.”

Eva was startled out of her thoughts by Javier, “Really?”

“Yeah, found your last boss.” He was looking at her sidelong, gauging her expression.

Forcing her body to relax, Eva gave him a placid smile, “How is Vanessa?”

He lit a cigarette, “She’s good. I asked her what you were like?”

“Oh no,” Eva shot back, rolling her eyes with a little laugh.  

“She said you’re quote-unquote ‘willful’.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Eva could be pretty stubborn when she wanted something, a trait that not even her husband had been able to beat out of her.  A trait that had survived prison and working for the government.  Stubborn trait.

“She also said you get results.”

Eva made tipped her beer at him,“Again, not wrong.”

He waited a beat, his mouth twisting just a bit, “She said we shouldn’t be friendly with you.”

A cold hand ran down her spine. God, it was the same old song and dance with his job, wasn’t it? She swallowed down the disappointment with her next swig of beer.

“You want to tell us why she said that?”

Eva put a hand to her forehead, rubbing at the space between her brows, “The short answer is that its classified.  The long answer is that you already know why.”

He stubbed out the cigarette, blowing out the last of the smoke from his lungs, “If you get results, I guess I don’t care much about the things you’ve done.”

Unable to keep the sneer from her voice, she said, “I’m so glad I have your approval, then.”

“Alright,” Carrillo cut in, hands rising between the two of them, “We’ve been over this. Can we move on?”

Eva glanced at him and made a noncommittal sound, lifting her beer to salute Javier. He returned the gesture.

“You’re going to have to explain all of this to me,” Connie said lowly as the conversation resumed.

Eva laughed a little, “Absolutely.”

“Good, you can do that in aerobics class.”

Eva frowned, “What?”

“I need a partner and you look athletic.”

Eva was athletic, had been her whole life, “Um…”

“Great, there is a class tomorrow night.  Local gym, not hard at all.”

“Um…”

“You’re free tomorrow, right?”

She was, technically, free, “I mean, yeah…”

“Okay, you’re coming with me.”

As Connie pushed away from the table to get another round, Eva looked at the group, “What just happened?”

Steve’s smile was sympathetic, “Sorry, she does that.”

“Is there a way around it?”

“Nope.”

Eva looked back at Connie, then shrugged, “Okay.”

The sun had sunk by the time they left. She’d traded numbers with Connie, agreeing to drive over together after work. When Eva looked through the windshield, before pulling out of the parking spot, she noticed that Carrillo had watched her go to her car. He was standing near the curb, finishing a cigarette, keys hanging from a curled finger.  She gave him a little wave from over the steering wheel, turning the ignition.

[just-my-sickly-pride]

Swansong || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

summary || sequel to ‘debut’. it’s sixteen years after you and roger first started dating. fourteen years since you graduated university. eight years since you married someone else. three weeks since you realised your husband was cheating on you. what are the chances that you run into roger, after all this time?

rating || family friendly, folks, apart from a few swear words here and there. just angst. pure angst, basically. with a christmassy, festive vibe.

word count || 5.8k (somehow, for fuck’s sake)

author’s notes || so, i’ve had quite a few people ask about a ‘debut’ sequel. surprise! here’s the sequel that i’m sure none of you were after. the idea just popped into my head and, despite the fact that i do not like reading angst (or writing, generally), here i am. also, this is a much older roger than i normally write for (he’s 52 in this), but i still wouldn’t call it pd roger by any means. this video is what i pictured when i was writing him - he was actually 52 years old in 1999, so it works perfectly. roger talks about his kids in this fic, but bc this is an alternate universe, of course, i’ve not used the names of his real kids. (sidenote: there’s an oc in here whose name is naoise - it’s pronounced ‘neesha’!)

masterlist

     “I can’t do this anymore. I have to break up with him right now. I have to.”

    Justine grabs your wrist, snatching your phone from your hand. “No, are you serious? What are you going to do, break up with him over the phone? Text him?”

    Your bottom lip trembles, and you feel tears well in your eyes. “I can’t deal with this anymore, Juss. He hates me.”

    “He doesn’t hate you.” Justine sets your phone down on the table, and cups your cheeks in her hands, brushing the tears away with her thumbs. “Hey. Hey. It’s okay. Deep breath. In and out. With me.”

    You follow her lead – a shaky breath in, a shaky breath out.

    “I’m sorry you’re going through this,” she murmurs. “I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, especially not my best friend. But you have to hold it together until after Christmas, okay? Just two more weeks. For April.”

    You nod, and take another steady breath. “For April.” April, your daughter, the love of your life.

    “Let’s just go to this stupid party, all right?” Justine said. “Go fix your make-up, I’ll call an Uber.”

    You nod, she gives you a warm, sad smile, and you head to the bathroom.

    You take a drink of water and sigh heavily, then dig out your make-up to fix your foundation and mascara. Fuck him, you think to yourself. Fuck him for ruining everything. Eight years of marriage. Hope that side piece was worth it.

    You’re not sure if he knows that you know about… all of that. But you have your suspicions. He’s not exactly trying to hide it. Coming home late, smelling of another woman’s perfume, having no other excuse other than he’s ‘working late’. He’s been telling you for weeks that he’s just been ‘too tired’ for sex.

    But he’s with April tonight, while you and Justine are heading to the Christmas party of an old friend from uni.

    You tell yourself it’ll be a fun night. It’ll be nice to get away from home for a few hours, anyway.

    The host, Naoise, welcomes the both of you with a glamorous smile and kisses on the cheek, and waves you over with a manicured hand to the drinks table. You recognise a few familiar faces in the room, but you and Justine stick mostly together. Christmas music – mostly Michael Bublé, from what you can hear – croons in the background, just underneath the hum of conversation.

    “She was always good at throwing these things, wasn’t she?” Justine murmurs into her glass of champagne.

    You nod and hum in agreement, trying to surreptitiously cram an appetiser into your mouth and eat it as quickly as possible. “Nice of her to invite us,” you manage to mumble around the mouthful.

    “Yeah,” Justine says. “Naoise was always lovely.”

    “Have you met her kids?”

    “Yeah. She had them young, didn’t she? Right out of uni? They’re, what, ten and twelve now?”

    You finally swallow the food. “Christ.” You pick up your wine and take a gulp to wash it down. “Uh, yeah, I think so. She and Chin got married, like, a month after we graduated or something. Can you imagine April being that old?”

    Justine snorts. “I thought I had my kids young. But she seems happy, so I’m happy for her.”

    “Mm, yeah.” You take another sip of wine. “Wow. Getting married at, like, twenty-one, twenty-two. Oof.”

    “Right?” Justine says lowly. “Like, I would’ve been terrified. I was dating Amanda.”

    Your eyes widen. “Holy shit, Amanda. I forgot all about her.”

    “I know! I can’t believe we dated for almost three years. Even I forget about her sometimes. Can’t imagine being married to her. Eugh. Plus, if Amanda hadn’t dumped me six months after graduation, then I never would’ve met Jules. I wouldn’t have the kids I have now.”

    “Weird.”

    “Yeah. Weird.” Justine’s eyes idly meander over the mingling crowd, and then she looks to you. “Out of everyone you dated at uni, who would you have married? If you had to choose.”

    You sigh. “Juss, I don’t know if I wanna talk about marriage and stuff right now. Not marriage when it’s got anything to do with me, anyway.”

    “Right, of course. Sorry.”

    “It’s fine.” You give her a reassuring smile.

    The two of you drink in silence. You know you should be mingling with everyone else, making small talk, but it’s been a rough couple of weeks, to put it lightly. And everyone will be asking how’s Will? and all of those casual questions and you’ll feel overwhelmingly uncomfortable and bitter that everyone is prying into your personal life, even if they aren’t, they’re just being polite, and that’s just too much to think about.

    So staying by the snacks table it is.

    “Roger,” you say softly.

    “Hm?”

    You chew on the inside of your cheek, and glance at Justine. “I, um– I would’ve married Roger. You remember him? Second year? The older guy?”

    Justine gives you a look. “Uh, do I remember him? The guy who was, like, twenty years older than you and you lost your virginity to? He paid you for it? Yes, I remember him.”

    “Sixteen years, thanks,” you correct her. “And he didn’t mean to pay me for it, it was a mix-up, his friends set him up, and– oh, whatever, you know the story, I don’t know why I’m telling you again.”

    “I’m just saying, hard to forget something like that,” Justine says. “You would’ve married him?”

    You nod. “Given time, yeah, I think so. There was just something about him, y’know? I mean, it makes sense why we didn’t work out. He was older, and I had uni, and I’d never really dated before, all of that. I think it was just a matter of wrong place, wrong time. But he’s – well, everyone has their ‘one that got away’, don’t they?”

    “I guess,” Justine says. She thinks for a moment, and then says, “I used to think mine was the girl I dated all through high school, Kayla. Then I met Jules.”

    “Really?” you say. “You don’t have anyone who you think would have been your perfect match, had things just been a little different?”

    Justine shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe at the time. But not now.”

    You look away, and finish the rest of your wine. “I’m getting another glass,” you mutter.

    “Hey, hey, [Y/N],” Justine says, taking your wrist. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

    You shake your head. “It’s not your fault.” You hesitate, and then say, “Am I a bad wife for– for thinking that? Even after Will and I got married, I– I mean, I never wished I had Roger instead of Will, but I just always knew that, if things had been different, then I know I would’ve ended up with Roger.”

    “No,” Justine says firmly. “No. You were never a bad wife. You’re still not. Don’t ever think that.”

    You take a moment to drink this in, and then say, “You know, I’m the same age now that Roger was when I first started dating him?” You let out a laugh. “Oh my God, I’m thirty-six. When the fuck did that happen?”

    Justine chuckles. “I know. I still feel twenty.”

    “I still feel seventeen, sometimes.”

    “I don’t think that ever changes.”

    “No, maybe not.” You twirl the empty wine glass in your fingers. “I was head-over-heels for that guy.”

    “For Roger?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Yeah, I could tell,” Justine says with a grin. “I always thought it was just because the sex was really good. And he had the money to buy you nice stuff.”

    “All of that helped,” you say lightly, and Justine laughs. “But he was just such a good guy as well. He was such a good listener, and he was so thoughtful and patient and understanding, and, I don’t know if you remember, but he used to do this thing where he’d invite me over if I’d had a hard day at uni, and when I arrived, he’d have a bubble bath all ready for me, and some snacks, and he just…” You trail away. No point in getting too caught up in the memories.

    “I always liked him,” Justine says. “After I got over the age gap. For what it’s worth, I think he really liked you, too.”

    You nod. “Yeah, I think he did.” You sigh. “Well. No use thinking it over, is there? Doubt I’ll ever see him again.”

    Justine freezes, her eyes like dinner plates.

    “Juss?” you say. “What, what is it?”

    “No fucking way,” she murmurs. Her eyes flick to yours, and she grabs your wrist again, her grip tight. “You’re not going to believe this. I cannot believe this is happening. Turn around.”

    “What?” You turn around, and your jaw drops to the floor.

    Talk about speak of the Devil.

    He’s older, definitely. How old would he be now? Fifty-two.

    You wouldn’t have picked it. You would’ve guessed maybe mid-forties. But he always did have a bit of a younger face.

    “Am I dreaming?” you say. “Am I actually dreaming?”

    “What are the goddamn chances,” Justine says incredulously.

    You watch as Roger greets Naoise, and then her husband Chin. By the way Chin beams, you guess Roger was his invite.

    “Go say hello,” Justine hisses, nudging you.

    You whirl around to look at her. “Are you out of your mind?” you hiss back. “I haven’t seen him for, like, sixteen years!”

    “Then you’ll have so much to catch up on.”

    “He wouldn’t even remember me. We only dated for less than a year.”

    “Don’t be like that. You’re as hard to forget as he is. I’m sure he’ll remember forking over three months’ wages to sleep with y–”

    “Jesus Christ, Justine, can you give it a rest already?”

    Justine tries to smother a smile. “Sorry.”

    You shake your head. “No, it’s too weird. Especially in light of everything, and this whole conversation, it’s… No. Maybe later, but not now.”

    “Maybe it’s fate, or something.”

    “Don’t,” you say, your voice hard. “I’m gonna get another drink.”

    You leave Justine at the snack table.

    You’re just deciding whether to stick to wine or to switch to champagne when a shocking familiar voice says behind you, “Good God, [Y/N]?”

    Hearing him say your name again really is like something out of a dream – like a memory come to life. You turn to him, and, inexplicably, feel a blush heat your cheeks. You have no idea what to say, so you just say, “Roger?” as if you hadn’t already known he was here.

    Up close, you can tell more easily that he’s aged. But he still smells good – different, but good – and he’s dressed nicely.

    Still not wearing glasses, though. He never did. You used to pester him all the time about it when you dated.

    There’s a moment of awkwardness, but both of you go in for a brief hug. It’s weird. You shouldn’t have gone for the hug.

    “My God, it’s been how long?” Roger says with a laugh. “Fifteen years or something?”

    “Something like that, yeah,” you say.

    “You look great.”

    “Thanks. So do you.” 

    “Oh, don’t,” Roger says, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m actually old now, I know.”

    “No, you do,” you insist. “Look good, I mean. Genuinely.”

    His outfit is simple, black-and-white, which almost surprises you. He used to dress a little more eclectically; there was always something patterned or brightly coloured in just about every outfit he wore, especially to parties. Maybe it’s something he’s outgrown. The thought makes you quietly sad.

    He does have a little reindeer pin on his lapel, though. It looks handmade, like something he would have bought at a market, made out of mini pom-poms and tufts of tinsel. So maybe he hasn’t outgrown that part of him entirely.

    He seems a little flustered by your compliment, and, yep, that’s the Roger you remember. “Well, er, thank you. And I meant it too, of course.”

    “Thank you.” An unmistakably awkward moment passes, and you blurt out, “You– How are you? What brings you here?”

    “Funny story, actually.” Roger ducks forward and grabs a glass of red, and you take the opportunity to take some champagne. “I, uh, decided I hated dentistry, so I went back to uni and studied biology instead. Wanted to become a professor, but I was already thirty-seven when I started, and I would’ve had to retire by the time I got my PhD. I’m a teacher these days, high school teacher. Chin just started working with me earlier this year, and we hit it off, I suppose.”

    You blink in surprise. “A biology teacher?”

    Roger chuckles. “Yes, I know. My friends were all shocked and appalled when I told them. The salary’s miserable in comparison, but I don’t hate my life when I wake up in the mornings, so I see that as a positive.”

    You hesitate, unsure whether to ask, but go for it anyway. “Did you always hate being a dentist? I don’t…” Is this too far? Is this out of line? “I mean, well, I don’t remember you hating it that much.”

    Roger drinks this in, and then nods to himself. “Right, yeah,” he says, sounding almost surprised. “I, um, never really told you, actually. I didn’t want to, uh, force you to listen to me whine about a job I hated while you were studying and all of that.”

    “Oh,” you say. You look at your champagne. You should’ve stuck to wine.“Well, for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have minded. At all. As I remember, I used to whine about university all the time.”

    “University’s for whining,” Roger says with a shrug. “I’d done my fair share of that already, all through dentistry school. And I got to do it again, as it turned out.”

    “Is there, ah, anything else you didn’t tell me while we were dating?” you joke half-heartedly.

    Roger’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, I–”

    “No, sorry, I was kidding,” you jump in. “Obviously, I don’t expect you to…” You inwardly curse yourself, and pour some champagne down your throat.

    Roger opens his mouth, as if to say something, and, in the back of your mind, you recognise that look, but you can’t quite place what it is.

    Then someone calls Roger’s name, and the look is gone, and Roger politely excuses himself from the conversation to be swept up in another.

    You bolt back to the snack table, as subtly as you can, but Justine is nowhere to be found. You quietly vow to throttle her next time you see her for disappearing on you, and shovel one more appetiser into your mouth, washing it down with champagne, then turn to face the crowd you’ve been immaturely avoiding all night.

    It feels like an hour, but must be no more than twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes, before you find a reasonable excuse to slip away again. You’re not having a bad time, per se, and you’re enjoying getting to catch up with old acquaintances, but it’s damn exhausting. You still haven’t seen Justine.

    You wish it wasn’t so freezing outside. You could do with some fresh air.

    Maybe another drink will help keep you warm. Even though you know you shouldn’t. You’re already tipsy.

    You take another flute of champagne and slip outside onto the balcony. The automatic light switches on.

    Your fingers and toes immediately feel like they’re about to fall off. “Eugh, this was a mistake,” you mutter to yourself, and bob up and down on the spot. The balcony is dotted with snow, but it’s hardly been the coldest winter you’ve ever lived through. It’s not snowing right now, at least. And it is nice to have some time to yourself.

    The back door slides open, and you turn to see who’s joining you, hoping it’s Justine.

    It’s Roger. He gives you a smile – a little nervous, a little shy, almost – and holds out your jacket. “You looked cold.”

    The first thing that comes out of your mouth is: “How’d you know it was mine?”

    “I asked Naoise. Here, let me hold your drink.”

    You pass him your champagne, and slip on your jacket, then take the flute back. “Thanks.”

    “No worries.” Roger moves closer to you, standing beside you, and squints up at the dark sky. “Not much snow this winter.”

    You follow his gaze. The moon is half-full. “No,” you agree.

    The sounds of the party are muffled behind you. Beyond the balcony, you can see through the bright yellow windows of Naoise’s neighbours – the silhouettes of family dinners, of other parties, the white light of TVs.

    “Sorry,” Roger says, breaking the silence. “You probably came out here to have some alone time. I shouldn’t have intruded. I can go back inside.”

    “No, it’s all right,” you say. This is nice, you want to add. But you don’t know if that’s appropriate, and you can’t think of anything to say instead, so you just leave the sentiment hanging in the icy air.

    “I realised I never asked what you’re doing with yourself these days,” Roger says.

    “Ah, just working,” you reply. “I’m a market research analyst.”

    “Oh, right. How long have you been doing that for?”

    “Since I finished uni, really. Well, I worked my way up. Started as an intern in web content writing, realised I preferred data analysis, so I wormed my way into market research. But I’ve been an analyst for almost ten years now.”

    Roger ponders this. “Do you enjoy it?”

     “Yeah,” you say with a nod. “I know it sounds boring. Most people think I’m mad for not only wanting to do my job, but actually enjoying it, but I do.”

    Roger smiles, and it’s a fond smile, a smile that you used to see all the time, and you feel a stab in your chest. A voice in the back of your mind whispers, Do you remember what it feels like to be loved like that? When was the last time Will smiled at you like that? When was the last time he smiled at you at all?

    You push that voice aside. You’re just lonely, and hurt, and sad. You’re reading far too much into a simple smile.

    “I think it’s great that you love it,” Roger says. “How lucky you found something you enjoy doing so early in your career.”

    You’re taken a little off-guard, and you duck your head to hide your smile. “Yeah, I guess I am lucky.”

    You take a sip of champagne.

    “Speaking of lucky – who’s the lucky man?”

    You try not to cringe. “Oh. Uh.” You glance down at the wedding ring that caught Roger’s eye. “Yes. Um, his name is Will. We met at a work do, actually. Been married eight years.”

    “He couldn’t make it tonight?”

    “No.” You don’t elaborate.

    Roger says nothing to that, and you wonder if he’s picked up on the bitterness in your tone, as much as you tried to hide it.

    “Right,” Roger says eventually. He clears his throat. “Any kids?”

    “Yes,” you say, and there’s no pretending now – the love in your voice is real. “April. She’s three.”

    “April,” Roger muses. “Lovely name.”

    “Thank you.” You grin at him. “Actually, this is going to sound so strange, but I always thought to myself that I wanted to be as good of a parent to my kids as you were to yours.”

    Roger blinks at you – his eyes are still big and blue, but you doubted even God himself could change that – and, if you’re not mistaken, you can see his face start to colour in the beam of the balcony light. “Oh,” he says. “That’s… one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

    You chuckle. “Well, it’s true. You were such an amazing dad. I’m sure you still are.”

    “I try to be.”

    “How old are they now? Gosh, they’d all be finished high school now, wouldn’t they?”

    “Yeah,” Roger says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yes, um, my youngest, Sam, she graduated last year. She’s taking a year off this year, working and travelling. Daphne’s the oldest, if you remember, and she’s moving in with her girlfriend soon. She still lives at her mum’s, but her and Asha have been looking for a place for a few months now. She’s an industrial designer. Then there’s Fox, he’s a musician, he’s a bassist, and Sophie’s still at uni, she’s studying theatre, and she wants to do a master’s in artistic directing.”

    “Wow,” you say. You never got to know his kids personally too well – you met them a handful of times, but you were far too nervous to spend too much time with them back in the day. The last time you saw them, Daphne hadn’t even started high school. Sam was still learning to talk. “Wow, that’s– they’re so grown-up now.”

    “God, you don’t have to tell me,” Roger says with a chuckle.

    You shake your head, sighing, and drink some more champagne. “Do you have a lucky lady, then?”

    Roger’s face tightens, and he looks down at his left hand, splaying his fingers, but you don’t see a ring. He tucks his hand into his pocket. “I’ve been seeing someone for two months now, almost three,” he says. “Jean. I teach one of her kids. She’s lovely.”

    “Jean,” you repeat. “She couldn’t make it tonight?”

    Roger shakes his head. “No. She’s a nurse, so she often works nights.” He pauses, and then says quickly, “She’s fifty.”

    You can’t help but laugh. “Right.”

    “I didn’t want you to think that I always go for younger women,” Roger explains hastily. “You were an outlier. A wonderful outlier, but an outlier nonetheless.”

    “‘A wonderful outlier’,” you muse, a touch playfully. “Could be the name of my memoir.”

    “It could very well be,” Roger says.

    Something doesn’t sit quite right. It seems impossible that someone wouldn’t have married Roger in sixteen years. Surely he’s not just been dating on and off that whole time. Not a guy like him.

    Don’t pry, you tell yourself. Don’t pry, don’t pry, don’t pry– “I don’t mean to pry,” you say, and hate yourself for it, “but – did you ever get remarried, or…?”

    Roger looks a little taken aback.

    “Sorry,” you say. “That’s so rude, I’m sorry.”

    “What gave it away?” Roger says.

    You bite your lip. “You, um, looked at your left hand. No ring.”

    Roger nods. “Hm. Well. Got it in one.” He shoots you a wry smile, but you can see that he’s uncomfortable. “You seem to keep appearing in my life after I’ve gone through a divorce.”

    “I’m so sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

    “It’s all right,” Roger says. “It was a year ago now, just about.”

    “Were you married long?”

    “Twelve years.”

    “Christ, Roger, I’m sorry.”

    Roger just shrugs, and sniffs, staring out at the apartments and houses beyond the balcony. But you can see the tension in his shoulders.

    “I’m divorcing my husband,” you blurt out.

    Roger looks to you. “I thought so,” he says carefully. “I could see it in your face when I asked about him.”

    You chew on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah.”

    “I’m sorry.”

    You shake your head. “Don’t be. He deserves it.”

    Roger grimaces. “Oh.”

    “He’s been cheating. But I want to wait until after Christmas to– to do all of that. To tell him I’m leaving him, the lawyers, the paperwork. So April doesn’t have to go through it during Christmas. I don’t want to ruin it for her.”

    Roger nods in understanding. He looks for a moment like he wants to reach out and touch you, comfort you, maybe, but he doesn’t. He just nods again and says, “You’re a good mum.”

    Your throat tightens, and you have to look away. You don’t dare to try to thank him for the compliment. The last thing you need is to break down at a Christmas party in front of your ex.

    “I’m sorry,” Roger says.

    You manage a forced laugh, turning to him. “For what?”

    “I don’t know,” he says. “I just… felt like I needed to say it.”

    You drink him in. The moment feels familiar somehow, and simultaneously foreign altogether.

    You sniff, but, luckily, no tears have fallen, and you take a breath to compose yourself.

    “Can I get you another drink?” Roger offers, holding out his hand to take your empty flute.

    “No, I shouldn’t,” you say. “I’ve had more than enough.” You chuckle. “I don’t remember ever saying that when we dated.”

    You expect Roger to laugh along with you, but instead he blinks in shock at you. “Oh, er, I– I also never– I’m glad you…”

    “You’re glad what, I enjoyed getting shitfaced?” you tease, not quite understanding his confusion.

    His eyes go wide. “Oh, drinking. Yes, well, everyone’s like that at uni a bit, aren’t they?” He chuckles uncomfortably, and then rushes out, “Just getting a drink,” and disappears inside.

    You frown to yourself. ‘Oh, drinking’? What else could you have possibly meant?

    Unless Roger thought you were referring to–

    Surely not.

    Referring to the sex?

    Your stomach drops to your feet. “Oh, God,” you groan softly, hiding your face behind your hand. You hope Roger doesn’t think you’re flirting with him.

    That’d be a story to tell the kids, wouldn’t it? Or to tell Jean. Hey, love, guess what happened last night? Ran into an ex, I dated her almost twenty years ago for a couple months, and we weren’t even chatting for more than half an hour before she was cracking onto me. Even though she’s married. Turns out I still got it!

    A shiver rocks through you, and you realise you can’t feel your fingers, but you’re loathe to head back inside. It’s nice out here, in the snow and ice, in a stiff, numb sort of way.

    Roger reappears not long after, wine in hand. “Thought you’d have headed back inside by now.”

    “I probably should,” you say, and cross your arms to warm up your hands. “But no, I don’t think I will.”

     “Do you mind if I stay out here with you?”

     You smile. “Not at all.”

     You don’t know for how long the two of you stand out there. With each passing minute, more of the awkwardness and discomfort slips away. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but soon the two of you are chatting away like no time has passed at all, laughing and bickering.

     He tells you more about the kids, and you tell him about April. He tells you about his second ex-wife – a title that he despises, and, for a while, you let him bemoan the notion that maybe he’s just a terrible husband  before you tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself.

    Mostly, you both reminisce about the past. About the good times and the bad.

    “It was mostly good, though,” you say. “I like to think it was mostly good.”

    Roger nods thoughtfully. “I think it was, yeah,” he says.

    “I can’t even remember how we broke up.”

    Roger snorts. “Are you joking?”

    You shake your head, shrugging. “No. I remember going through the break-up period, which took me far longer to get over than I’m willing to admit to you.”

    Roger grins. “Oh, yeah?” he teases.

    “No, don’t,” you warn him with a laugh. “You’re not getting an ego boost from me.”

    “Did you cry every night? Have a photo of me under your pillow? Eat lots of ice cream and watch rom-coms?”

    “Shut up, I’m not saying a word.”

    Roger laughs, and the sound of it makes your heart sing. “You’re not saying no.”

    You roll your eyes. “I was in a lot of pain for a long time,” you say. “There, are you happy?”

    Roger’s smile fades, and he looks down at his feet. “No, of course that doesn’t make me happy,” he says. He looks back to you. “For what it’s worth, I probably took even longer to get over you.”

    You study his face. It’s a little more weathered, a little more lined, but it’s a face you missed for a very long time. “What happened?” you ask, so softly it’s almost a whisper, like you wouldn’t dare to speak the question any louder. “I… I really liked you, Rog. A lot. Loved you, even, although I– I didn’t know what love felt like at the time. Where did we go wrong?”

    Roger swallows, and shakes his head minutely, his eyes drinking in yours. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “Wrong place, wrong time. But I…” He cuts himself off, and takes a deep breath, looking away.

    “But what?”

    “Nothing.” Roger gives you a small smile. “I’ve never met Will, but he sounds like the stupidest man alive to hurt you like that.”

    You snort a laugh. “Well. I’m sure he doesn’t think so.”

    “It’ll be too late by the time he figures it out. Stupid men are like that.”

    You don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything at all. All you can think is that Roger really hasn’t changed much at all, and that Jean is a very fortunate woman.

    Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out of your pocket to check it. “Ah, shit,” you mutter. It’s Will. April’s come down with a fever, the text says. Need you home.

    “Is everything all right?” Roger asks.

    You pocket your phone again. “April’s sick,” you say. “Duty calls.”

    “Right, of course. Let me walk you inside.”

    He opens the sliding door for you, and waves you in. “Age and beauty,” he says, and it catches you unaware, makes you laugh.

    “I forgot you say that,” you say. It’s a play on age before beauty – Roger used to say that you bested in him both age and beauty, so the original phrase didn’t fit, and he insisted on saying his version of it every time he opened a door for you. Which was often. He liked that his silly little phrase made you giggle and give him a gentle slap on the arm.

    “I haven’t said it in a long time, actually,” Roger says with a grin, closing the door behind him, trapping you both in the warmth, along with the music and conversation. “Not since you.”

    You both stand there for a moment, grinning at each other, unsure how to proceed, and you feel a familiar squeeze of your heart. “I need to go,” you say, almost apologetically.

    “Yes,” Roger says.

    “I…” You hesitate. “Wait for me at the door, I just want to make the rounds, say quick goodbyes to everyone.”

    “Sure,” Roger says, and you give his arm a quick squeeze, then track down Naoise and Chin to say your thank-yous and farewells, then Justine, then a couple of other people.

    You grab your purse, and meet Roger at the front door. “I had a really nice time tonight,” you tell him. “Thank you.”

    “I was just about to say the same thing,” he says.

    You’re unsure what to say, but then an idea strikes you. “Do you want my number? It’d be nice to keep in touch.”

    “Oh, yes, of course,” Roger says. “That’d be lovely.”

    He hands over his phone, and you save your number. “Give me a call whenever,” he says, as you hand his phone back. “If you need someone to talk to, y’know. Or just for a chat. Divorces are�� really not fun.”

    You chuckle wryly. “Well, I suppose you’re the expert, aren’t you?”

    “God, you’re just as rude as I remember,” Roger says with a roll of his eyes, laughing alongside you.

    He stops in his tracks, his gaze towards the ceiling.

    You tilt your head up. A decorative sprig of mistletoe hangs above the door.

    You and Roger look at each other, your faces both pink.

    Your heart clenches. Yes, Jean is a very fortunate woman indeed. “Funny,” you say with a nervous chuckle.

    “Yeah, weird,” Roger says. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen mistletoe in real life before.”

    “Me, either.”

     Another moment passes. “In another lifetime,” you say with a smile.

    Roger takes a breath, and there’s something in his eyes, something you haven’t seen for a long time, and he nods, smiling back. “Yeah,” he says. “Right time, right place.”

    You nod again, drinking this in, and sigh. “Okay, well, I really do need to go. I’m sure Will is on the verge of panic without me there.”

    “Of course,” Roger says. “I hope April’s all right.”

    “Thanks, Rog.” On a spur of the moment, you give him a peck on the cheek, and then let yourself out. “Merry Christmas.”

    “Merry Christmas,” he says. “I might see you soon?”

    “You will,” you say. Your ride is almost here, so you give one final wave, and head to the lift.

    The door closes.

    You take the lift down and climb into the car.

    You go home, say hello to your husband, and take care of your daughter.

    That night, you sit in the dining room, nursing a hot chocolate, listening to the silence of the house.

    Then, and only then, do you allow yourself to cry.

     Your wallowing was short-lived, though - swiftly interrupted by a phone call from an unknown number.

     You wipe your nose on your sleeve, grimacing, and answer. “Hello?”

    “[Y/N]?”

     You’re gobsmacked. “Roger?”

     “I- I wasn’t expecting you to answer. I was just... going to leave a voice message to say this was my number.”

     You let out a pitiful bubble of laughter. “Why didn’t you just text?”

     There’s a pause, and then an embarrassed, “Oh, yes. I could’ve done that.”

     You sniff. “It’s fine, no harm done. I’ll let you get to bed, it’s late.”

    “Right,” Roger says. “Um, how’s- how’s April?”

    “She’s good, yeah, thanks for asking. Gave her some painkillers and she went right to sleep.”

    “Good, that’s good.”

    “Yes.” You sniff again, wetly, and quickly wipe at your nose a second time. “Ah, well, I, um... should probably...”

    “Go, yes,” Roger says. “Sorry. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

    “No, no, not at all,” you reassure him. “I was just, um, having a hot chocolate.”

    “Right, sounds important.”

     You laugh. “It’s very important.”

    “I’m sure it is. I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

    “I appreciate it.”

     You realise you’re smiling to yourself like a loon. “Thanks for calling,” you say.

     Roger chuckles. “No worries at all. And, um, seriously. If you need someone to talk to, at any time, please just call me. I couldn’t bear the thought of you, I don’t know, sitting alone and crying, or something like that.”

     You almost laugh out loud. “Thank you, Rog. I’ll make sure to save your number.”

    “Please do, so I don’t have to call you in the middle of the night again.”

     You smile. “G’night.”

    “Night, [Y/N].”

     You hang up.

     Your hot chocolate tastes a little sweeter than it did before.

[deathvalleyqueen]

42 for MJ and John! 😘💖

Okay so I loved this prompt... but maybe changed it just a tad... it’s probably more a kiss given...mid distraction... lol also...wholesome fluff.... and shoebox wine because really the real love story is MJ and her stash of shoebox wine... lets be real. 

42. Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

John is a workaholic. To no one’s surprise he was one when he was working a lawyer full-time. Nothing changed when he changed his focus from becoming the most successful lawyer he could, to ‘the best and most devoted brother’ he could be to Joseph. Which often meant John going over plans, legal paperwork and whatever else Joseph needed him to do till the early hours of the morning. It was the technicality that Joseph had found to John’s desire to be home more with the twins and I, give John things that would keep him busy for hours and still not…here. 

I had just settled Lily for the night but Sam, like my little night owl he always was, still was wide awake. He was balanced on my hip as I walked to the doorway into John’s office. He was sat behind his desk, hunched over a pile of papers. His hands running through his messy hair before he let out a frustrated sigh. I could tell whatever he was working on was not going as he had expected it to. I glanced down at Sam cuddled against my chest. “Daddy works too much.” I muttered before kissing the top of his head. I decided to say enough was enough and he needed to be done with his work for the Project that night and he needed to just be John. 

Pushing open the door the rest of the way I stepped in, unnoticed at first as John was still wrapped up in his thoughts and work. Part of me hated to disturb him when he like this but it was also after eleven and he need to stop for the night. For my sanity and his. “Someone wanted to come say goodnight…” John peered up from his work and caught view of me standing on the other side of his desk in my bathrobe and Sam in his footy pajamas. 

Letting out a heavy sigh John glanced at the clock on the wall seeing it was twenty after eleven. “Oh, darling..I…” He was about to start apologizing but he stopped. Looking up at me he could see I wasn’t upset but I did look exhausted. He reached out for Sam. “Come here, little man.” Sam only glanced at him before turning back to me his chubby little hands gripping my robe as he buried his face in my shoulder. “Well then…” John muttered as he learned back in his chair obviously a little defeated. 

“Well if you saw him for more than five minutes in the course of the day, maybe he would want to go to you.” I pointed out as I patted Sam’s bottom and rounded the desk. John pushed his chair back from the desk. I smirked down at him for a moment. “Just being home physically doesn’t mean you are home mentally.” John said nothing only went to reach for the paper work on his desk. “Seriously, John..” I warned as I shifted Sam in my arms. 

Rather unceremoniously I plopped the eight month old in his lap before cupping his cheeks with my hands. Leaning in a gave him a quick kiss before leaning back and muttering to a slightly stunned John. “Spend time with your son…” John said nothing, only looked down at Sam who was looking at him skeptically as he stuck his fingers into his mouth. I pulled his pacifier out of the pocket of my robe and handed it to John. “Here is his binkie, guard it with your life if you want to get him to sleep before three am.”

John blinked up at me with a blank expression on his face. “And where are you going?” 

“Me?” I asked softly, placing one of my hands on my chest. “I have a date with a bottle of Rosé and a bathtub…”

“You shouldn’t drink so much,” John chided trying to gain some manner of moral high ground but I would not give him an inch. 

“You, shouldn’t work so much and actually be present in your children’s childhoods… which I think is slightly more important than the amount of shoe box wine I consume…” I smirked back at him as I started to make my way to the door. 

Calling out to me as I walked out John added. “You are the only woman I have even known of that keeps a small fortune worth of shoes in a heap on the floor for the sake of hiding wine!” 

“Have you met our family, John?” I stop mid step and turn around. “I have fucking priorities…Thank you very much” 

As I exited I could hear John chuckling as he said “Your Mama, Sam… She is your Mama…” 

[twohearts-hs]

‘Unfair Love’ - Harry Styles Imagine

Words: 4.7k

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: She loved him so much, yet he whispered the words she never wanted to hear, “I don’t love you anymore”. She later learns out he loved someone else and she decides to be selfish and take something from him, just like how she took him from her and how he took everything from Y/N. So, she didn’t tell him about the child in her stomach. Years later, he finds out and he begins to question who he really wants...his wife or her.

|| Masterlist in bio ||

-

In her mind, she chose to think of the good times, the cuddles, the kisses in the rain, the secret hand holding, type of good times. Though beneath that truth there laid more that went under the category of “the bad times”. They were opposites, and as they say, “opposites attract”. That saying is true, they were attracted to one another, more than that, they loved each other. But, they weren’t meant to be together.

So, they fought and yelled and screamed at one another. Tears fell on both Harry and Y/N’s face as they terrified one another with their actions and words. He had enough after a while and called it quits, walked out as if nothing just happened and left his fiancé on the floor in her own pool of tears.

He said that he didn’t love her anymore, she wanted to believe, but she couldn’t. He was her Harry, the boy that she spent six years of her life with. Y/N believed he still loved her but used that excuse to get out and to run, and he was damn good at running away. Yet, he didn’t even say goodbye.

-

“Tell me,” she screamed, tear flooding her eyes in the dark kitchen lit by a dim light, “tell me what I can do for you to stay with me.”

Harry looked at her, running his hands in his hair as he bit his lip, “I have to go, Y/N. I have to put food on the fucking table, I have to pay the bills and to do what I do. You aren’t first, Y/N. I am first, my needs are first,” Harry yelled back.

She shook her head, “I know that. You think I am so fucking selfish to think I come first above you. I just expected to not have a distant relationship. I expected you to be home more with me. I expected you to love me-”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,”

“Stop, let me finish for once. But, then you phone me high or drunk, you get pictured with girls, you tell me its PR and that it's for show. But, I have been hurt too many times too-”

“I don’t love you anymore,” he muttered, stopping her mid-argument.

The room fell slight, as the tears stop and now two strangers stood staring at each other.

“What?” she broke the silence, putting her hand down on the counter to steady herself for what she heard.

He said it again, one word after the other at a slow pace, “I don’t love you. I met someone else.”

“You told me,” she began, looking at the floor, “that I was the one. You placed a ring on my finger to match your words and now you mumble that you love me and you found someone else,” she screamed, not believing him.

“You’re not...you’re not the one,” he muttered back, pivoting and heading to the door. Y/N watched him, grab his coat.

“Who is she?”

“You better be out by tomorrow,” is all he muttered before closing the door.

-

She listened calling her friend and asking if she could crash on his couch and which he obliged and said: “of course”. Austin was devastated by Harry’s words and actions to his fiancé but left it to their business.

It didn’t take long for Harry to move on, a little interview he explained that he has a new girlfriend and he already believed that she is the love of his life. Y/N turned off the interview with hatred for the man, as she stared in the distance. He was an ass, a complete ass and she came to peace with it.

But, she had to let Harry go. She found out she was expecting not long afterwards and she knew that’ll be best that she let him go, it’ll be better for both of them, including their child.

Y/N wouldn’t lie when she’d say it was a tough process of going through the pregnancy with only her best friend as her support. She remembered telling Austin what happened and he was so happy and begged to call the child after Cher. Of course, Y/N declined his begging as she had no right of mind to do that, but she was glad to have her best friend on her side throughout this.

She remembers the time when she first told Austin about Harry, how he laughed and didn’t believe her. But she showed pictures and Austin, being himself, called Harry “absolutely dripping hot” and “I bet he’s good in bed” and he was right. She remembers the time that Austin tried to get with Harry’s best mate, and she was placed in the freight of laughter for the rest of the evening, as Alex had no idea what was happening. He was a good friend, Austin, someone she could trust with her life and a perfect model to help raise her baby.

Austin was amazing, being a little older than her, he was more mature when it came to the process. He was all over the clothes and decorations; he designed the whole bedroom in their little three bedroom flat. They decided to be partners in raising this child and it was a success. He was a little over thirty and she was twenty-six, both mature adults with wide-eyed views and beliefs. If he wasn’t gay, they’d be the perfect couple. He was there for every step, bump and success and when she held her baby boy, she knew she couldn’t love anything more.

Y/N remembers the days after she found out. She knew she had to tell Harry, it was only fair, but the response that she got wasn’t good.

-

She thumbed her hands as she stood up on the familiar steps of a home she called hers for many years. Her hands graced the doorbell as she repeated the words in her head. How do you tell your ex-fiancé you’re pregnant? The doorbell echoed in the townhouse as she turned around, hearing footsteps.

“Hello?” she heard an unfamiliar voice, she turned around and saw someone she has never seen, a female.

“Hi, is Harry there?” she asked, the lady looked at her and bit her lip.

“You’re Y/N aren’t you?” she asked sceptically, looking at the girl.

That’s when someone else entered the picture, “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Harry appeared from behind the thin, blonde woman. Y/N stumbled her words, as Harry put on a t-shirt.

“You cut your hair,” she mumbled, “I liked it longer,” Harry gave an awkward smile.

“I like is shorter,” he mumbled back and stared at her, leaning against the doorframe, hands crossed at his chest, tattoos on display.

“Well, I am Aubrey, Harry’s girlfriend,” the girl said, beginning to close the door, but Harry stopped her.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he hissed.

Now or never, she looked at him, and pulled something out of her pocket, “My engagement ring, because as you said, I am not the one.”

She chose to be selfish in this scenario, she was going to raise the baby alone.

-

The birthing was hard, but of course, it would be. Austin held her hand as she pushed, and their baby boy was born. He took on Y/N’s last name and a strong name of Otis. Otis Atticus Y/L/N was born in August to Y/N and she has never felt that kind of love before when she looked into the green-eyed, dark-haired baby boy and she knew she was never going to tell Harry her little secret.

-

A few years later, Harry visited his mum in Chesire with his wife, Aubrey. It was a little family get together in the summer to have a barbeque and to have small talk and catch up. He didn’t expect what the information he’d find out.

Aubrey was out somewhere, sipping her gin and tonic with his sister when Harry was helping his mum out in the kitchen. He was talking about the new album and Aubrey’s job as a teacher and it was just catch up.

Anne looked at her son cutting up vegetables when she said something, “Do you still talk to Y/N?” Harry hasn’t heard that name in ages and it took him a moment to figure out who this was...his ex-fiancé.

“No, haven’t talked to her in ages...since we broke up,” he replied, Anne took a sip of her wine and looked at her son, not really thinking of the chances.

“Well, I follow her on Facebook still and her son just turned five. Niall, Louis and some of your friends were there and I just thought you’d know, but it seems you don’t,” Harry turned around from the counter and stared at his mum, knife in hand, apron saying “kiss the chef” and gave a wide-eyed look.

“Y/N has a kid? Wait...she’s married? That doesn’t make sense,” Harry questioned.

“Well, it looks like this guy named Austin is-”

“Austin is gay. Who’s the father?” He spat out, Anne laughed shaking her head.

“You are so not over her,” she rolled her eyes, teasing him. “The first thing you thought is who the hell the father is. Who is in your ex’s life, who replaced you? It doesn’t matter, Harry. She is happy, you are happy,” Anne glared at him.

Harry couldn’t believe her, he looked up, “I am fucking married, mum. I am over my ex.”

“It doesn’t sound like it. You sound like it is your child...you are worried about who is the father because you sound like you think it is yours,” she told him.

“Because it probably is, mum. Y/N and I broke up like five years ago and the kid is five,” he requited, glaring at his mum with attitude.

“If it is, you better bloody find out, Harry. You wife is outside, thinking that everything is all picking daisies and you two are trying for a child. You should find out if your future baby might have a half-sibling. Y/N doesn’t muck around...I knew that girl for a long time. Shit, Harry, you bloody hell grew up with her.”

-

Y/N walked up to the next step in her life. A bright red brick building laid in front of her as she tried to cover her tears.

“Well, O, this is it. You are truly going to a big boy school now,” she said, turning to her little boy with curly brown hair and bright green eyes. He smiled, holding his backpack.

“Mummy, it is going to be ok,” Y/N leant down, looking at him as she took his tiny hands and rubbing the tears.

“Save the tears for when I finish school...that’ll be like hundreds of years from now,” she laughed at her little one.

“Well, I hope so. I am not ready to see you go to year one, let alone finishing year thirteen, meister. Now go before I kidnap you and take you home,” she laughed, tickling him.

She grabbed his hands as they went up to the “big” steps into the building. They made small chatter as they walked the halls of the school.

“What’s my teacher’s name?” he asked, she shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know, bub, I was just given the instructions to sign you in and they’ll tell me,” she told him, heading to the desk. 

“Otis Y/L/N,” she told the lady as she looked at the list.

“Looks like your teacher is,” she led on while looking at the list, “Mrs Styles.”

Y/N froze for a second and shrugged it off, heading to the room she was told. It wasn’t possible, but it still was; her past was still haunting her.

She walked into the room and saw the woman she really didn’t want to see. Other kids were in the room and Otis was making comments about the “cool trucks” in the corner. Y/N agreed with her son and continued to stand in the line to meet the bitch who stole her fiancé, who is now her son’s teacher.

The blonde waved to her student and looked up, making eyes with Y/N. She smiled and gave a wave to her son.

“Aubrey,” Y/N smiled, walking towards her.

“Y/N…it’s nice seeing you again,” she smiled - so fake - to her.

Y/N decided to not make it awkward, “This is Otis.”

-

Harry opened the door to his home; a new one that he purchased before he got married. A heavy sigh left his lips as he dropped his keys to his Range Rover on the counter and entered to see his wife sitting on the couch.

“Hey, love,” he muttered, but all he heard is silence. He turned on his feet and looked at his wife cuddled in the couch, holding a very large glass of red wine. Which was odd of her as the calories are higher in that than a vodka soda or white wine.

She turned to him and raised an eyebrow, “I saw Y/N today...your ex-fiancé,” she told him. Harry took a breath and bit his lip. “Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked, looking at him and keeping her distance.

He took a minute and looked at his wife, not knowing how to form the words.

“She has a fucking child, Harry and if I did my math correctly, it’s probably yours,” she snapped, Harry looked down. She rolled her eyes, “You fucking knew. I am sitting here trying to get pregnant, where you accidentally knocked her up a few years ago. We’ve been trying for years, Harry and you put your cock in-”

“She was my fiancé, Aubrey. It wasn’t a fucking one night stand. I don’t even know if it's my child, she may have been cheating or she hooked up with someone right after we broke up, or maybe it is on purpose and she picked some random sperm. I don’t know!” he told her, anger rushing through his veins. “Don’t accuse me of something before you know the facts,” he mumbled, heading to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

“I am teaching her child,” she told him, still holding that glare, “and I look at him and all I can see is you.”

“Again, I don’t know the details, so be nice,” he mumbled sitting next to her. Silence arose before he broke it again, “What’s his name? What does he look it?” he began, still not meeting his wife’s look.

“For fucks sakes, Harry. His name is Otis and he is the spitting image of you,” she grumbled. “If you want her fucking address or something, I can’t due to privacy laws.”

-

Y/N walked up to the steps to the school. Its been two weeks since Otis started school and he was adjusting really well. He was a really tough boy, as he says. He didn’t cry or scream to go home or to never go again. In all ways, he really enjoys year one and Y/N is really happy for that. He has made friends, playdates already have happened and she is going out to coffee with some of the mums.

She messaged the school explaining that she’ll be a little late due to her work, which they were happy to take him for the small half hour.

Y/N entered the classroom with a smile on her face, “So sorry, I had a surgery that went over time and I couldn’t get out of it,” she said, looking at Aubrey, but also seeing someone she really didn’t want to see.

“Hey,” Harry said, sitting at the carpet with her son playing cars with him.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N snapped, moving quickly to her son and grabbing him.

“Y/n, kitten—” she interrupted him.

“No, you don’t have the right to come to my son’s school to get to me and to have the decency to call me a nickname that was between us in front of your wife, Harry. Get away from me,” she remarked, telling Otis it is time to go.

“Mummy, I want to stay with ‘Arry,” Y/N rolled her eyes and looked at him.

“Let’s get this over and done with. Your wife is here, so let’s keep no secrets,” she began, as Harry was still watching Otis play while listening. She had no idea why so much anger was coming out now, but she’s been holding this since he left. “You broke my heart. I had to cancel a whole wedding, I had to call my mother and tell her my fiancé has left me, and I had to explain to your mother because you were too embarrassed. I was so in love with you, Harry and you just left. You simply backed out. I didn’t know whether it was from you cheating on me or you simply just fell out of love. You hurt me and it doesn’t help that your wife is my son’s teacher and I come here to you,” she kept her ground and let it all out. “Now, ask away.”

“Is he mine?” Harry looked up, begging with his eyes.

“You are such an asshole,” she began but got interrupted by her son telling her that she used a bad word. “I just poured my heart out and the first thing you ask is if your sperm found my egg,” she shook her head and began to get up.

Harry reached out, grabbing her arm and looked at her, “I loved you so much, but I fell in love with another woman and I couldn’t hurt you,” he told her. Aubrey watched next to him, hand on his thigh.

“I can’t believe you,” Y/N muttered, sitting back down. “Congrats Harry Styles, not only have you won asshole of the decade but you’re also a father to my son,” she told him, glaring. “Now don’t get your lawyers involved, because I am not a broke little college student anymore, I am a surgeon, so if you want to pick a fight, I’ll bark and bite back,” she told him, getting up and grabbing her son’s hand and heading to the door.

“Y/N!” she stopped in her tracks and looked ahead, not turning around to her ex, “When you came over that one time, it wasn’t to drop off a ring, it was to tell me. What made you change your mind?” He asked, standing metres apart, him in a suit and her in her scrubs.

She turned around slowly, “Your selfishness and I faced that fact that you’re not a good person,” she whispered and darted her eyes to his wife, “you moved on so quick. You took everything from me, so I decided to reciprocate and take something from you,” she replied and walked out.

It took a while for Harry to move from his position in the room. He felt so much weight on him, the news of his son and the heavy glare from his wife, but she walked in front of him and looked at him.

“What are you going to do, Harry?” she asked, hands on her small hips as she looked at him. Harry swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing and he looked ahead.

“I want to get to know my son,” he whispered.

-

Y/N sat in front of her TV, watching the same old telly that her son watches as she hugged a nice cup of tea. She already had a few glasses of wine, so now it was time to slow it down and to spend time with her baby.

Harry hasn’t said anything and it has been a few days. She told Austin what happened and he said to brace for lawyers, as Harry loves having to have them involved. She remembers when they were together that Harry always threatened with the law, the law was always involved. It seemed that he was almost scared of fighting without help. But, she laughed it off and continued to watch Paw Patrol.

A little past seven, she heard a knock on her door. She wasn’t expecting anyone so she braced herself for human interaction. Austin was in America with his company and none of her friends dropped her a text that they’d be over. So, she reckoned that it was a survey or a package for Austin.

“Harry?” she questioned, he turned around and looked. He just stared, fumbling over words.

“Aubrey kicked me out. I called Austin and he gave me your address,” he finally managed to get out. Y/N opened the door and he walked in, placing his jacket on the stairs. “You must hate me,” he mumbled, turning around.

“Want a whiskey?” she ignored the accusation and changed the topic and heading to the kitchen. Harry mumbled his answer as he nursed the glass that was given.

“I want to be present in Otis’ life,” he mumbled, sitting at the counter as Y/N packed the dishwasher. “I won’t get lawyers involved, I just want to be present and to be there—”

“What happened with Aubrey?” Y/N asked.

Harry huffed, “She thinks I lied a lot about some things and I didn’t. Aubrey is extremely self-conscious when it comes to shit,” he told her, running his hands through his hair, “like she questions every woman, everything I do, always doubting herself. Fuck, kitten, she’s a living breathing jealousy monster,” he told her, as he chugged the rest of the whiskey in his cup.

“I felt the same,” she began, drying the dishes in the sink, “I felt like I was never good enough for you–”

“But, kitten, you didn’t question everything, you gave me space, you let me do what I wanted, you never controlled me,” he told her, looking up. She doesn’t know why she wasn’t angry at him, it could be the alcohol running through her veins or she got all her feelings off her chest during those few weeks ago. 

“She’s being a wife,” Y/N stated, handing him a cup of tea and trading his empty glass.

Footsteps entered the room and little tired boy came in clutching his blanket and rubbing his eyes. Harry looked at him with so much love and Y/N just broke. The emotions began to enter, the guilt; she should’ve told Harry.

“She’s a stalker, kitten,” he told her, as Y/N went to pick up her son, held him at the hip and carefully bounced him to the kitchen.

Harry looked at him and Y/N watched. She went over to him, placed him on Harry’s lap and told him, “Hold him, I’ll get his cup of milk before bed.”

Harry looked at Otis, watching as his tiny head fell onto his chest and his eyes fluttered closed. He did something so pure, in Y/N’s eyes, he rocked him while whispering lyrics to his songs.

“His delivery was long. I was in labour for twenty hours. Austin held my hand and I named him–”

“I always wanted to call my boy Otis or Alfie,” he told her, a light chuckle left his lips, “you wanted to call your first Atticus. You named him after what I desired,” he told her.

Y/N smiled, handing him the milk as Harry gently placed it between the little one’s lips, “It was the least I could do, plus I loved the name. He looks more of an Otis than an Atticus,” she told him from across the counter. Harry looked back down, the little one grabbed the sippy cup and gently drank his milk. “He has Atticus as his middle name though. He was a tiny baby, six pounds, one ounce, but I fell in love the moment he was placed in my arms. A mother’s love is so pure and so mysterious. I’d never love anyone else the way I love him,” she told him, Harry looked up and smiled.

“Where’s his bedroom, he’s asleep, kitten?” Y/N walked towards the staircase as Harry followed.

A nice townhouse she lived in, not too big, but perfect, it screamed Y/N to him. His bedroom was cute, little rockets on the walls, space on the ceiling. Y/N loved the stars, he remembers. She named their first cat Leo after the constellation and she swore that her kids middle names should be based off the stars, but she named her son different and that’s ok.

Harry placed the bundle of joy gently on the bed, he kissed his son’s head and tucked him in. Y/N watched from afar, leaning against the door frame as Harry mumbled words into his tiny curls. Her mother was right, his mother was right, they were still in love.

She whispered her sweet words, telling Otis “I love you and sweet dreams.” They exited the room, closing the door behind them as they made their way back to the kitchen.

They settled down, nursing cups of tea and shared stories together for the rest of the night, but a topic came up.

“Aubrey and I have been trying for kids for years,” he told her, eyes still interconnected. “She was so pissed off when she found out about Otis. I understand, but I bursted the hope bubble between us for the chance of a child. She can’t have them and now I realise that this is a sign, that we can’t be together anymore.”

A sigh left Y/N’s lips as she connected the words in her head, “Harry, don’t let our past come between us. You don’t love me, you love the idea of a family and you think this is a better option. It is not. You love Aubrey, there are other options. I am a doctor and I can help you two. I am a mother to our son, not your lover or your wife. She’s the one you’re supposed to go home to, not me,” she told him, placing a hand on his cheek.

“I don’t know if I love her anymore, kitten,” he told her, kissing the hand on his cheek and she shook her head.

He called her kitten, she called him peaches. That was something between them, a past so far buried. But, he had to bring it up. He called her kitten as she hated cats, but that changed a few years into their relationship as she bought them a cat. As she said, “Your kitten, now has a kitten,” and laughter was shared between them.

“Who do you love then?” she asked, pulling her hand away. ‘Boundaries,’ she whispered to herself. At that moment, his wedding band shone brighter than ever.

“You,” he whispered, leaning in, but she couldn’t.

Y/N placed a finger on his lips, “No you don’t. You love the idea of us. You stopped loving me the moment you set your eyes on Aubrey in the little café on Baker Street. You stopped loving me the moment you woke up next to her. You stopped loving me when you destroyed our relationship by cheating on me. You don’t love me, you love her. You love Otis, you love the future children you’ll have with her. You’ll never love me again and that’s ok,” she told him, getting up and placing her mug on the counter.

“If you want to stay the night, the guest room is on the second right upstairs. I am going to bed, Harry, goodnight,” she told him, heading upstairs to her room.

And indeed, he did stay the night, but he was gone the next morning and she woke up with a requested appointment from Aubrey to help succeed in her getting pregnant.

-

Tag list - DM, inbox or comment to be added/removed :)

@alinashawn @mendesnecessary @i-am-bisexual-and-a-girl @notunlimited @purple-cream-cheese @iimagineloves @ashwarren32 @claredolphinbear24 @shawns-mendess @lilya-petrichor @laggyphone @surfpitaya @winchesterwife27

[angelaiswriting]

Listen to Me | Tommy Shelby x reader

[original picture from pinterest]

✏️ Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

✏️ Requested by Anonymous: I love that you're doing the Peaky Blinders boys now! I'd very much enjoy some possible fluff and/or smut with an over-protective Tommy?? Or anyone else?? I'm a sucker for a protective boi haha! Love your blog!! 💞

✏️ A/N: thank you sooo much for this request (and the compliment, I’m sobbing)! It made me so excited I was literally trembling and unable to write for a while haha hopefully you’ll enjoy this! It’s not smut yet, but it could be one day. Also, if you want to be added to my brand-new Peaky Blinders tag list, hit me up! Meanwhile, I’m just tagging peeps that could be interested. Also, many thanks to my MB @sweetvengeancee for being my new beta, apparently haha ily 💞 

✏️ Warnings: implied illegal activities I guess ? + pre smut, and yet not NSFW ? so at the discretion of the reader

✏️ Word-count: 2,650

PART ONE: LISTEN TO ME  |  >> part two: kiss me >>

The Garrison was packed, buzzing with life as men, both drunk and sober, chatted and joked the night away.

It was the ordered chaos Thomas Shelby enjoyed, a nice distraction from the upcoming race he was planning on fixing and from that nagging thought that followed him from a distance any time his plan popped up unsolicited in his mind. He was a good horse, Monaghan Boy – black and strong and magnificent, a born winner. But if Tommy wanted to go far, if he wanted to take Kimber’s place, he had to play all his cards and he had to play them right.

Y/N was the only one who knew – she had torn the truth out of him with that sinful mouth of hers, a few days before, in that very private room he had just got out of. She had always had her own way of doing things, ever since John had brought her home one day after school, and it had been her bluntness and utter lack of fear – probably her madness, too – that had never managed to tear her away from her Shelby friends first and the Peaky Blinders later, when they had all outgrown their childhood.

It was exactly her he didn’t expect to see that night at the bar. He had told her many a time he didn’t want her at the Garrison, didn’t want her around the men he so frequently had to deal with – he knew how they were, the things they did and how, exactly, they did them.

And yet, there she was, sitting at a table opposite Polly and with Finn cuddled up in her lap. They were laughing at something his youngest brother was saying, probably one of the crazy stories he made up with his friends, both women sipping on freshly-poured booze.

“For fuck’s sake.” The words punched their way out of his mouth without him being able to stop them as he leaned against the counter. The more he told her what to do, the more she did the opposite. Whether it was her wicked way to wrap him even tighter around her pinkie finger or something she did out of habit, Tommy truly didn’t know.

What he did know, though, was that he didn’t want her here. And as he gestured for the bartender to come, all he wished for, was for her to fucking listen for once.

Harry, ever zealous as he was, was in front of him in a second, a bottle of Irish whiskey raised in mid-air as the silent question lingered in the space between them. It was an almost automatic choice by now, but when the Blinders were involved, he’d rather not make a mistake.

Tommy gave a curt nod of his head as his left hand came up to massage his forehead. It had been a longer day than usual and while he did his best not to pay them too much attention, the worries that floated around Sunday’s race and his plan for success bubbled up in his mind like the bubbles in a glass of champagne.

“Leave the bottle,” he groaned the second before downing the contents of his glass. He was going to need all the whiskey he could get his hands on if he wanted to keep sane. “When did they arrive?”

Even without saying the names, the bartender knew who the question was about. Polly Shelby had put him back to his place when she had marched into his bar with her kid nephew and Y/N by her side and had demanded he gave her and her guests a table. It hadn’t sounded like such a bad idea when he had cleaned a table for those women, and even less when they had ordered their drinks, but as he met Tommy’s gaze now, he found himself wishing he hadn’t given in to their request.

“Don’t know,” he tried to shrug it off. “Must be twenty minutes at most.” It had been double that time, almost as long as the private Shelby meeting in the back room had lasted. There was nothing else he could do, though, as the very Polly Shelby that turned his bones into a quivering mess sent him a glare that could have been translated as behave! at best and I’m going to fucking kill you at worst.

“Fuck.”

Tommy poured himself some more whiskey. He turned around for a moment, met Y/N’s playful gaze as she looked up at him from above Finn’s ruffled hair and wondered, why her. It probably hadn’t been a conscious choice – she hadn’t been a conscious choice.

She had just been there, at the station, when he and his brothers had come back battered and broken from France. She had been there before that, too, and he knew she was still going to be in his family’s life years from now.

She had also been there when the idea of laying eyes on a woman repulsed him, his mind still struggling in the mud of the recently-won war. A friend of John ever since their school days, Tommy had ended up growing attached to her more than he cared to admit. When opium was the only remedy to the gurgling void he carried inside, she was there, her hand on his, shooing the bombings away. He had ended up taking more than she had initially offered and she had ended up taking all he had to give – skin, wounds, Romani words whispered in the semi-darkness of his room as the ricocheting echoes of the nightmares he had found himself living in for four years tumbled down those four walls that always seemed to close in on him, turning everything into a never-ending tunnel.

“Fuck,” he groaned again, unable to help himself.

Her stubbornness had been one of the things that had helped his business stand on its feet while he, Arthur and John had been away, he was sure of that, but now he needed her alive. Needed her safe. Safe from what he knew his life could cause her.

“Have you seen who’s come?” John sounded both happy and tired as he called him from behind before moving to stand by his side. He took a glance at the bottle of whiskey on the counter before pouring himself some into his brother’s tumbler.

Tommy’s answer was a groan.

“Polly will go bonkers when she finds out we had a meeting without her.”

“Oh, she already knows,” Tommy sighed, daring another glance behind his shoulder. “That’s why she’s here. And that’s why she’s brought Y/N.”

“To cause a bigger scene?” John joked, but his chuckle faded into silence when he met nothing but steel in his brother’s eyes.

“You come with me now,” the oldest said, taking a swig from the bottle and relishing in the burning that scratched down his throat. “And you take both Finn and Poll home. Make sure Finn’s in bed before you update her.”

“She won’t listen, you know that, don’t you?” John smirked, turning to glance at his childhood friend. There was no need to specify it was her he was talking about because he was more than sure that his brother knew. “She never does. That’s why I like her: she just doesn’t give a fuck about who we are.” And with a chuckle, he shook his head.

*

“There was no need to send Finn back home, it’s still early,” Y/N half-heartedly complained when Tommy pushed her into the tranquillity of the Shelbys’ private back room. “He just wanted to hang out around his brothers. You know he admires you.”

He didn’t turn to look at her: he simply walked past her and, unhurried, closed the small window that gave on the counter of the bar, providing them with much-needed privacy in a place like the Garrison. He didn’t need to see those loose hair that had escaped her hairdo and that he found stupidly… cute. Nor did he need to put two and two together and focus on the fact that she was wearing the dress he – he – had given her on her birthday.

Instead, he focused on the table in front of him: he walked up to it, put the bottle of whiskey he had left the counter with down on it and moved the glass ashtray closer to where he was going to sit. “It’s not Finn’s presence that bothers me,” he said eventually.

“Polly’s always-”

“What do I always tell you? This place-”

“If you’re implying that it’s my presence here that bothers you, Tommy Shelby, you can stick it up your-”

“Those are strong words for a lady.” He stared at her as he fixed a cigarette between his lips, lit it and took a first drag. He was trying to keep the ice in his eyes, but it never lasted, not with her. Not when she was the light next to him in the tunnel, not when she was the burning day that dug the French darkness away.

She shrugged, taking a step forward to rest her hands on the seatback of one of the chairs. Freshly manicured nails, painted red, for once – a clear sign that she had spent the day with his sister Ada. “Foolish of you to think, after all the years we’ve known each other, that I am a lady.”

Tommy smirked. “You like to pretend you are one, though.”

For a moment, her only answer was a chuckle as she bent forward to steal the cigarette from his lips. He watched as she took a drag, mere centimetres from his face, her twinkling eyes set on his, before she exhaled the smoke when she moved ever closer and her cheek brushed against his.

She was warm against him, with that perfume of jasmines wrapping her like a bridal veil. “Only with you, Mr. Shelby.”

She straightened her back, then, stood as tall and proud as only she could be in that blue dress of hers. Before he could stop her, she put out the unfinished cigarette in the ashtray.

He sat back, unbothered, and lit himself another cigarette and in the process, he never took his eyes off of her. He looked at her, he truly did, maybe for the first time that night.

She was a dream. A dream and a nightmare all in one, for she was stubborn and headstrong and probably had more balls than many of the men at his service. She never cowered – not under his gaze, not under Arthur’s, and even less under John’s. His men didn’t scare her, his business didn’t scare her, the dark corners of Small Heath didn’t scare her. That was probably the reason why he had taken it upon himself to protect her – from bullets, from secrets, from any bad dream-inducing aspect of his life.

Not that she needed it, but a man could still dream.

“How many times have I told you not to come here at night?” he asked her, puffing out smoke in her direction, twirling the cigarette between his fingers.

The right corner of her lips rose up into a half-smirk as she exhaled from the nose, loudly, trying to keep in the chuckle. “I don’t know,” she answered, drawing her shoulders back a little. “I seldom listen when you talk.”

Tommy resisted the impulse of pinching the bridge of his nose, but not the one that pushed him to close his eyes for a couple of seconds before grunting. “Do you at least know why I ask you the things I do?”

“Tommy Shelby never wants me to have fun, officer!” she drawled out, reminding him more of John than of the serious young woman she knew how to be.

“Stop being foolish and come here.”

She grabbed onto his outstretched hand and let him gently pull her forward until she was standing next to him. A more demanding tug on her arm forced her between his legs before he hoisted her up on the table. “Stop being so serious, Tommy.” She rested her hands on his, still on her hips, and dragged a foot along his thigh. “What’s the answer to that question?”

God, the things he couldn’t tell her!

“The men could get the wrong idea.” It was true, it was a possibility, one very near and always looming over any nice lady that walked through the doors of the Garrison.

She nodded. “I’m not scared of these men.”

“You should be.”

He couldn’t tell her he was doing anything in his power to protect her because she wouldn’t listen and in her haste to prove him wrong, he was sure she would end up proving him right.

“Half of them is too drunk to piss outside their pants and the other half of them is not drunk enough to fight a Shelby. And the ones that don’t know who you are, who this place,” and she gestured vaguely at the walls of the room, “belongs to, don’t scare me because I always have a knife in my boot.”

He wasn’t shocked to hear that revelation. And if he had to be honest, finding out that she walked around unarmed would have left him speechless.

“I still need you to listen to me when I talk to you.” He was slowly pushing the gown of her dress up her legs, exposing the silk of her tights. Hands rough and calloused against her clothed skin, he felt her boot until he found her knife. And smirked.

Tommy Shelby rarely smiled but his smirks were still enough to make Y/N’s heart stop beating for a second before starting to race like a racehorse.

“I’m listening now,” she breathed as he stood between her legs, his hands coming up her shins and pushing the dress over her knees.

“I want you to do the things I tell you to,” he continued.

“I take no orders.”

He leant forward, his lips as light as the touch of a feather against the base of her neck. “If I tell you not to come to the Garrison alone at night, you don’t come.”

“I wasn’t alone.” She was panting, her hands now supporting her weight on the table as he made her lean backwards a little. “I was with Polly. And Finn.”

He didn’t say anything, he let his touches speak for him. His lips kissed up the side of her neck, the tip of his tongue coming out to swipe along her skin every now and then as his hands moved from her knees to her inner thighs and inched closer to her core.

“Tommy…”

“If I say, listen to me, you do,” he whispered in her ear, lips brushing against the lobe before moving to kiss just below it. Her breath shivered against the skin of his cheek as she tilted her head back slightly. “If I want to keep you safe, you better let me.”

“You worry too much.” Her voice was a breath against his lips when he cradled her face in his hands. Lips brushing against lips, she could barely keep her gaze focused on his.

“And you worry too little.”

He kissed her, then. Slow and tender at first, almost innocently, before he let his tongue swipe along her lower lip, tasting the wax of her lipstick, and the kiss deepened. She tasted like whiskey and there was a hint of cigarette from when she had taken a drag from his.

“I’ll make sure you listen this time,” he murmured against the skin of her neck as his hands slid down her sides and back between her legs, fingertips gently tracing a line on her covered core.

“I won’t.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he chuckled, pushing the table back and kneeling down in front of her.

Please, please, please, let me know how this story was. I’m new in this fandom and I’m both excited and terrified haha

Again, if you want to be tagged in my PB stuff, just let me know somehow :)

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ask)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi

People that might be interested: @sweetvengeancee @kind-wolf @flowers-in-your-hayr

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Unforgettable-Chapter Seven

Also on AO3               A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Chapter Seven

Geneva looked over the high sign-in counter and round blue eyes in a gorgeous face stared back.

“May I help you?”

“I need to see Jamie right away.”

“Let’s get you scheduled for next week sometime. What is a good day for you?”

“You idiot, he’s my fiancé for Christ’s sake. Is there a patient with him now?”

The office manager cut Geneva off as she came through to the back office and would not let her pass. I’m sorry miss, doctor Fraser has never mentioned your name and I am not in the mood to waste time with your pushy attitude. Either you leave on your own or I throw you out. Your choice.

Geneva sneered at the woman who was at least six inches shorter and hadn’t more than one hundred pounds on her.

“Jamie!”

Geneva tried to walk passed feeling no more than a brush of the manager’s foot between her ankles and within seconds she was laying on the floor and the manager had the heel of her shoe millimeters from her eyeball.

“You crazy fucking bitch, back off me or pay the consequences.”

“Ok, not heavy in the brain department since I am ready to take your eye out and you are giving me orders. I pity people like you. Here is a favor, you get your flat ass off the floor and I hand you back your shoe outside. If doctor Fraser needs to speak to you, I’m sure he will call.”

An hour later the manager placed a stack of files on Jamie’s desk and stared at the haunting picture that hung directly across on the other wall. The girl leaning against the scrub sink was beautiful, lost in her thoughts. It looked like a black and white picture at first, but a band of light illuminated her face showing her porcelain skin and extraordinary golden eyes.

Jamie laid prone behind the rifle and swept the night scope across the land in front of the barn. He was laying out a map in his head to get them across the border, but it was a very long way on foot. He was so lost in thought he didn’t hear Claire crawl across the wood floor until she leaned into him putting her head on his upper arm. He wrapped it around her and kissed her. She rolled to her back and squeezed into his side before falling back to sleep.

Despite the trouble they were in, low water supply, dwindling food, and the expected raid on the barn, Jamie watched the sun push up into a purple and pink sky. It took his breath away.

“That’s a beauty,” John whispered into his yawn. “Give me Lucy. I get nervous with you touching her everywhere and I ‘d be scared shitless if you had to shoot her.”

Jamie rolled his eyes and slid the rifle and stand toward John. Jamie was boots on the ground, hand to hand combat and never found much value in a gun. Especially since he was a terrible shot. It was Jamie’s hands that grabbed the target and yanked him or her out of hundreds of near-death scenarios. He never quit. If he couldn’t get to the target, he would create a way in. His most important mission, until this one, was pulling his commander out from under the noses of his Arab captors just hours before his execution. Jamie had been directly under the floor of his cell for three days chipping away at the floor surrounding the drain, but leaving the tiles intact. It was risky and he had to listen to Dougal get the shit beat out of him night after night, but he kept at it.

When it was time, he shattered the tiles and pulled Dougal into the hole dropping him into the river of piss and feces that ran under the prison. Dougal ran as best he could and collapsed when they emerged behind the prison. Jamie hoisted the man across his shoulder and ran with him for two solid hours to rendezvous with the chopper. He dove into the craft pulling the commander into a seat and buckling the harness. Jamie assessed the injuries mid-flight and when Dougal opened his eyes, he saw the man that wouldn’t quit, his savior.

John looked at Jamie, “we’ve run out of time friend, we need to go and you know it, do you have a plan?”

“I know only that the enemy has laid low waiting for reinforcement to arrive. By the time they hit us they will have all the best technology and weapons to make short work of it. And yes, it’s time to go.”

Jamie looked down at his communication device and punched in the code he had tried several times a day for the past five days. When the response came back, he jumped almost a foot in the air and rubbed his bleary eyes.

“Jesus! They’re comin in hot, hold position, one hour! Thank Christ.”

Claire rubbed her eyes and squinted at the sun coming into the upper window. Jamie repeated the news to Claire and she scrambled away to tell the others. Three happy men shared the last of the food with Claire. Jamie watched them together and was happy she had these friendships in this hell hole.

When the shooting started, they were well out of range. Why announce you’re here and waste the bullets John wondered. Jamie was next to John with his field glasses sweeping the vegetation.

“Two o’clock! Where the hell did they get that?”

John looked through the scope and saw the grenade launcher. He had one shot before the barn would blow up with them in it. In the last fraction of a second, he changed targets and sent a bullet into the grenade blowing up the men and the gun.

Jamie watched the ground in front of the barn and shook his head. “It looks like the ground is movin. They’re comin! Take cover!” Jamie scooped up Claire and set her behind the bales of hay. The bullets would be coming through the walls when they got a little closer. John was getting as many as possible but there were too many. Within minutes the walls of the barn were splintering as bullets came through. It was deafening and absolutely terrifying. Jamie pulled on John’s sleeve yelling for him to take cover. When he didn’t move, Jamie used his strength to pull him behind the hay.

Jamie pulled Claire into his chest and turned his back on the bullets. The walls, hay, and his dense body would shield her, in the beginning. She will still die when they come up the ladder, guns blazing. Jamie would have a surprise for them, he thought, squeezing the grenade in his hand.

The first shells launched by the Blackhawk helicopters blew a large divet in the ground and sent bodies flying into the air. Large bullets from both helicopters pushed back on the rebels until there was enough room to land the military transport helicopter between the barn and the Rebels. With the Blackhawks pointed nose down, they kept the bullets raining on the rebels giving cover to the bird on the ground.

Jamie shouted to the men to run and they piled into the open side door. Jamie held Claire and she pushed him away.

“I can run Jamie,” and she bolted toward the chopper. The Blackhawks above continued their assault until the transport was off the ground and a safe distance away, then they sped off leaving over one hundred men on the ground staring after them.

Jamie looked up at Dougal with a huge smile on his face. They nodded to each other.

“Thank Christ.”

Jamie put a headset on to talk to the commander. “Blackhawks?”

“This turned into a combined military rescue and you and John were never there. The doctor and two of the nurses are American, hence, the Blackhawks. It was leaked to the American press that the surviving medical personnel were pinned down by rebels that took the hospital. Christ, after that it was a stampede to see who could get down here the fastest.”

Dougal reached for a side pocket and handed papers to Jamie.

“We prepared a statement for each of them. Make sure they memorize them in the next thirty minutes.”

Everyone was reading the statement they would have to make in the military debriefing and then the press, but first they would be swept into a private room in the airport, where Dougal would join others and put the fear of God into the four of them about exposing the real heroes that saved them.

John was in the corner cradling Lucy as he slept. When the transport landed, Dougal told them to follow the escorts. Their worried families had been flown to Mexico to rendezvous with them.

Claire suddenly understood, she was expected to go with the others, but she had no family or friends here and she wanted to stay with Jamie.

“Jamie!”

Cutter leaned down to her ear and said, “there is no Jamie on the helicopter sweetheart. It won’t be long sweet pea and you can fly to Scotland.”

Dougal flew Jamie and John to a remote section of the airport, shook their hands, and they walked away. A suitcase was provided to carry John’s rifle back to the safe house. Jamie turned around and looked directly in the commander's eyes and nodded his thanks.

Twenty minutes later a taxi rolled up on the safe house and two filthy, starving, exhausted men went inside. Dougal had dropped off supplies. There were porterhouse steaks two inches thick, a bowl of salad, garlic bread and a casserole with microwave instructions. A bottle of good whisky was opened and poured into two glasses.

John had Lucy broken down and was cleaning each piece meticulously. Not a word was spoken between the two men because no words were necessary. They saved four people, killed at least fifty, and narrowly escaped with their lives, just like so many times before.

Jamie stepped off the plane in Scotland and tried Claire again, it went straight to voice mail which was now full because he had left so many messages. When he dropped into bed and stared into the darkness, he remembered holding her in the bushes with gunfire all around them. Where are you Sassenach?

“Welcome home Doctor Fraser. I trust you had a pleasant trip?”

“Yes, thank you. Will ye let the staff know to come back tomorrow? Thank ye.”

Jamie stared into Claire’s eyes in the picture feeling his chest tighten, hearing his own words, “I expect her to wave goodbye at the Mexican airport and follow him again.”

When he was ready to leave in the evening he stopped in the front office and measured his words carefully.

“How did ye know where I was? How did ye know to tip the American’s off about the nurses?”

The manager turned a murderous look at Jamie but something in his face made her stop.

“Your kitchen table had the whole story. The Honduras map, your code notes, your laptop with search history. It was all very sloppy doctor, a terrible breach of protocol. I imagine you will be retired from the reserves and your military career will end. I have been reassigned, I leave in two weeks.

Jamie nodded his head and walked toward the door. “Well, thanks for gettin me out of there, good night.”

Jamie walked into his kitchen and was stunned to see Geneva sitting at the table. He saw his key next to her purse and dropped it in his pocket. He poured two whisky’s and sat across from her with questioning eyes.

“What are ye doin here lass?”

She looked at him sharply, “what do you think I’m doing here?”

Jamie was not in the mood for this game. He had made his intentions clear on two occasions and she seemed not to listen and continued to act like his girlfriend.

“We tried to find our way to one another but we dinna have a foundation of mutual interest, trust, support, and tolerance. It wasna there and that makes a long- term commitment impossible. I wish you the best and hope ye have a happy life, truly. But it wilna be with me.”

He stood and pulled gently on her elbow, guiding her to the door. Drive safely, Geneva. The door closed and he sighed deeply, hoping it was finally over with her. He poured another whisky.

The next two weeks went by in a blur and Jamie just powered through it, knowing his emptiness would fade in time and he would feel normal, young, strong, and invincible, again. Claire’s picture in his office tormented him but he refused to take it down. One day he would, but not today.

“Excuse me! I am so sorry about this, but I am here to see Jamie and I don’t have any money for the Taxi.”

The manager looked up into golden eyes and black curls falling in every direction. She gasped as her wicked fast brain connected the dots.

“Yes of course.” She pulled a twenty out of her lab coat and handed it to her. “Will this due?”

“Right this way dear.”

She led Claire into an examination room and looked at her lovely bare legs, high heels, tiny shirt, and jeans jacket. Her excitement was palpable and the manager smiled to herself as she closed the door.

“Doctor you have a lady in room three, she asked for taxi money when she got here, and she is very anxious. You better hurry before she starts kicking the door. I’ll be right in with her chart.”

Jamie tapped on the door and walked in feeling her body ‘s impact and her arm come around his neck. She kissed him hard, melting into his arms.

“Sassenach. What happened to ye?”

“Our phones were taken and replaced with new numbers within twenty-four hours but there was no trace of you in my phone or Joe’s. Surgery on my shoulder, ten days in-patient, four of those in ICU from reaction to anesthesia. Released at noon yesterday and went to a dress shop and straight to the airport.”

His mouth closed on hers and they kissed, repeatedly as Claire cried and Jamie smiled. He pulled her into his office and heard her gasp behind him. She was staring at the picture and pulling out a Wired magazine from her purse. The same picture was on the cover and it was named “The Little Nurse in Honduras.”

“I’ve never felt so famous and no one knows my name,” she laughed.

They sat on the couch knee to knee and Jamie feasted on her bright face and happiness. He didn’t want to spoil the mood, but he would lose his mind if he didn’t ask her.

“What are yer plans Sassenach. Can ye stay for a little while.”

“I’m applying for a job actually and I don’t know where in the world it will take me, but it starts here in Edinburgh.” She pulled an add page from her purse and read the add to him.

“Wanted: girlfriend and professional fan, must like hor de oeuvres and whisky, dancing at the club, romantic dinners, and camping. Must….”

Claire was pulled to her feet and kissed so sweetly, touched so lightly she was ready to lose her mind. She looked up with smoldering eyes that were telling him what she needed.

“I’m asking for the night off tonight, pizza or something easy.”

“Done.”

She was moving toward the door, “If I say uncle, I will never ask again.”

Jamie lunged for her once he understood and she slipped out his door giggling.

Jamie grabbed the pizza and broke land speed records getting home. Since hearing the word uncle, he imagined Claire on his bed, naked, reaching for him. Instead, he saw her across the street handing tools to the neighbor while he worked on his car. Oh God he thought, she had no way of gettin in the house! Claire ran across the street smiling wide, so happy he was home.

“I’m sorry for the oversight Sasse”.

Claire stopped his words with a hard kiss on her tiptoes as she pushed him backwards toward the door.

“Lucky bastard,” was mumbled by the neighbor as he dropped back into his engine.

When the door was closed, pizza dropped on the kitchen counter he turned on her and kissed her to the bedroom where frantic stripping led to frantic licking and sucking from each of them. When Jamie sent her into her first orgasm, she pulled on his shoulders making it clear she wanted him to pound into her. Jamie gratefully shed his restraint and pushed into her soft wet pulsing pussy. He felt her body stiffen and a painful gasp followed.

“Sassenach, what is it, what’s wrong?”

“Oh my God, that fuckin hurt!”

She pushed her fingers into her sloppy wetness and looked horrified. Then her eyes got bright like she remembered something important.

“You’re a pussy doctor! What’s wrong with it?”

Jamie had a feeling the pain was due to lack of use, but he didn’t know how to ask her without prying.

He smiled wickedly, “this problem will resolve quickly if ye let me help ye, but first, I need to take a look.”

He pushed her legs open and pulled her into a gasping, needy, trembling state and then pulled her down for a come fuck me kiss that almost finished her off. He rolled to his side, face to face with her pulling her leg over his hip and entered her slowly, an inch at a time. He kept up the intense kissing and felt her lower leg push against his back sending him deeper into her. When he pinched her nipple, her leg slammed him to her cervix and Jamie growled into her face. He let her take him as she wanted and when he finally let himself go his climax shook him to the core.

After a renewing shower, they sat down to eat and talk about the fourteen days they were apart.

“Did Cutter ever tell ye how he escaped?”

“They sent three teenagers into the hospital to count the bodies and make sure they were dead. The boys were only interested in the narcotics they could steal so while they stuffed their pockets Cutter got up and ran. He was never shot, he just went down in a pool of blood.”

She told Jamie about meeting Cutter’s wife and the mothers of Joe and Kevin. She stayed with Joe’s family when she wasn’t in the hospital and cried herself to sleep each night.

“I need to find a home. Get brave and put down roots but I’m afraid of putting pressure on both of us to find a comfort zone with each other. Edinburgh is where my friends are, where you are, where I feel most comfortable right now. I want to find my own place to live, work at the hospital, and go out with you. That is what I want.”

Jamie was reminded of her honesty and ability to ask for what she wanted. Every word made sense to him and he would be so happy to have that place to start from.

“How is it that God gave ye such a rockin body and a brilliant mind Sassenach? You must have gone through the line twice which means yer a smart lass, aye?”

Later, with all the lights in the house turned off and two bodies in his bed he waited for her to say or show how she wanted to sleep. When she pressed her back into his chest he smiled and wrapped her in his warmth to last the whole night through.

The next week was the most delightful Jamie could remember. Claire was so easy to live with and surprised him with delicious meals at night and a spunky attitude in the mornings. When the weekend approached he had a surprise for her too.

“Sassenach, it’s Friday, I can get home early and take ye shoppin for clothes and shoes. If ye want, we can have dinner and play pool for a while.”

Claire was over the moon and jumped into his truck when he came by to pick her up, bursting with happiness. Jamie pulled her from one store to another and her bags and boxes mounted between them in the truck.

“What is yer favorite outfit Sassenach. Put it on, please? Yes, right here in the truck, I promise I wilna look.”

When they got back in the truck after dinner Jamie wanted to stay out for a while and teased her into a game of pool. On the way into the club, his stomach was churning, hoping her friends came through for this spontaneous welcome home party. Claire heard shouts and whistles as they came through the door and she looked up at a table full of her friends. Geillis and Laoghaire ran to her, arms wide, and the hug-fest was on.

Jamie loved seeing Claire so happy and did his best to get to know the people in her life. He watched her turn down offers to dance all night and was thrilled she stayed in his lap like she was staking her territory. At midnight, she was saying goodbye and thanking everyone. Jamie had been in a deep conversation with Rupert and Angus popping his head up when he heard they were leaving. He let her lead and when they waved goodbye she was in a happy mood covering him with kisses all the way home.

Claire was still into tender lovemaking but said the pain was getting better. They made love every night and he waited for her to want more but she seemed content for now. He waited for her to push away from him afterward, but she hadn’t done so yet. He was happy in the moment. Knowing she would have her own life and home soon, he enjoyed every minute while he had it.

Claire made a huge breakfast on Sunday morning. She had important questions to ask Jamie and thought a full stomach would help. She watched him sip coffee and read parts of the paper to her. He glanced up at her and dropped the paper.

“What is it Sassenach?”

She looked at him like she was trying to talk herself out of asking, then launched into the tough discussion.

“How long have you been a secret soldier?”

Jamie looked at her and knew instantly he would tell her whatever she wanted to know.

“I was eighteen when I joined. I had been to the recruiting office because I heard some branches of the military pay for medical school, and that’s all I wanted to do with my life. I was invited to join a black ops group and I was promised undergraduate and medical training after five years. I accepted and never doubted my decision, it was the only way for a farm boy to become a doctor.”

“Why would they pay for college after five years?”

“The lower the chance of survival the higher the pay Sassenach. We had the best shooters, the best fighters, the best recon, infiltrators, code breakers, pilots, and hand combat soldiers. They all became rich if they lived. I was released from duty five years later and shed the soldier's skin like I was molting. I dinna think about the military the whole time I was in school, but I had agreed to two missions a year after my residency. So I knew that was comin.

“For how long?”

“Until I no longer had medical clearance. Lost my vision, or chronic injury, something that made me unfit.”

Claire couldn’t help the tears because she was so afraid for him. How could she attach herself to someone that had such a low chance of surviving his commitment? She was in love with him and the thought of living without him was no longer an option. She would lose her mind when he left, two times per year.

Jamie gave her a moment to consider what he said and his heart broke when she gave in to her tears.

“Sassenach, I am going to be booted for going to Honduras. I lose my pension, bonus, and mission pay which equals more money than I can make as a doctor.” He waited, “it’s over Sassenach. My military career is over.”

Claire’s head popped up and her glassy eyes stared at him, wondering if she heard right.

“What?”

“I’m not a soldier anymore. Being released from my unit would have killed me before Honduras. Now, it doesna pain me much because I see other things in my life that are more important. Things that I never thought I would have because of my soldiering.”

Claire stood up and dropped herself on his lap, face to face. “Do things have a name soldier?”

He brought his warm hand up her leg and cupped her butt, smiling at the sensation he felt.

‘It’s still a covert mission and I canna speak of it, sorry.”

He grabbed her hair, forcing her head to drop back and bringing his lips to a millimeter of hers.

“That’s enough talk of a life in the past Sassenach. I am in need of yer body and yer wee noises.”

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed where he bent her in the most erotic positions, making her wait for release until she tried to take control. Her wrists were above her head before she knew what was happening and he held her this way for a torturous seduction that made her forget time and space. When he released her hands, she brought them down to hold him and kiss his face as she opened her legs and pressed him to her. Jamie had given her an express pass to the wild side and here she was holding him, pressing her face into his, and kissing like an angel instead of a wanton she-devil. He pressed his forehead to hers and every stroke said I love you, I want you, and we belong together.

Claire opened her eyes and looked at the empty bed. Pulling Jamie’s robe on she wandered into the living room where Jamie was reading.

“Will you take me to get a paper today?”

Jamie pulled his keys out and offered his truck for her to use. Claire held the keys with a worried look on her face.

“Do ye have a license Sassenach. Do ye drive?

“Probably.”

“I have a better idea lass, let’s go drive so ye can get a license, when yer ready, and have more independence. Wouldn’t that make ye happy Sassenach?”

With the housing ads folded on the seat and forgotten, Claire drove the truck around the stadium parking lot with the biggest smile Jamie had ever seen. It was a delightful way to spend Sunday afternoon and it would forestall her finding her own place to live for another day. Jamie smiled and decided that was just fine.

[opheliasbrokenmind]

too eager to learn - tommy shelby

heyy! you know i'm on vacation but i wrote this before coming here so i thought why wouldn't i post it?? i really like this one, i hope you enjoy reading it. i want to write for john, finn and alfie but here i am, always a sucker for tommy.. please don't forget to send me a message/anon/prompt/request, i love you and your feedbacks 💛

(and lol yes finn knows how to read here)

��How the fuck am I supposed to know all of these, Tommy? Look at that.’ Finn whined to his brother as he pushed the paper to him. Tommy took it and started to read, ‘Read this quotes and write who said them. What? School stuff has changed a lot since I went there, ey? I don’t know, find someone to help you.’ He spoke but his little brother’s attention was somewhere else. Finn was looking at the woman who sat at the table next to them. She was a natural beauty at her mid-twenties and she was there since they came to the pub. She was with her friend but that very called ‘friend’ was snogging with a man in front of her. 

Tommy didn’t see what was Finn doing so he continued to read as Finn’s eyes met with the woman. She looked at him and held the gaze as Tommy read out, ‘Never close your lips to those whom you have already opened your heart.’ Finn heard him this time as a genuine smile spread over her face, she heard him, too. She turned her eyes to older Shelby, ‘You like Dickens?’ Tommy’s gaze left the paper and turned to her, ‘Excuse me, what?’ He said after a long silence, Finn was excited to see what happens next. ‘Forgive me for listening, I didn’t intend to do that. I asked because you just quoted from Charles Dickens.’

She waited for him to speak. ‘It’s okay. I didn’t know it belonged to him, it’s my little brother’s homework.’ Tommy explained and Finn smiled to her, she smiled back. ‘I’ll be so glad if you help me do it.’ He said as Tommy finished his whiskey, ‘What is it exactly?’ She asked curiously, tapping to table with her fingers. ‘I need to find who wrote those quotes.’ She listened to Finn and nodded, ‘Okay then.’ She turned to Tommy, ‘Would you mind reading them aloud?’ He was a bit shocked with her request but didn’t say anything and started to read as Finn wrote down the answers to his notebook.

‘To be able to forget means sanity.’ His voice was sharp and clear. ‘Jack London.’ She answered and waited for the next one. ‘Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.’ She thought for a minute before answering, ‘Jane Austen. What’s now?’ Finn wrote the name, he was impressed with this young woman’s knowledge. ‘Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them.’

‘Oh, Tolstoy.’ She smiled kindly as Tommy cocked an eyebrow at her, ‘If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, will answer you: I am here to live out loud.’ He looked at her with expectation, not believing that she’ll know the answer. ‘Émile Zola.’ He squinted and read the next one, ‘Sometimes I don't understand how another can love her, is allowed to love her, since I love her so completely myself, so intensely, so fully, grasp nothing, know nothing, have nothing but her.’ She smiled kindly, ‘I’d love to know that teacher. Goethe, by the way.’ 

‘How can you know all of these?’ Finn said with wide eyes and slightly parted mouth. She chuckled, ‘Interest and curiosity? I wanted to be a writer once, not that I can be one though.’ Her smile faded with the mention of her dream and of course, Tommy noticed. ‘Why aren’t you?’ A little small covered her lips as she stared at the floor, ‘My parents didn’t want.’ He frowned, ‘And you agreed?’ She looked at him for a moment before turning her eyes to her feet, ‘Whatever, it was a stupid idea.’ Thomas wanted to tell her that it’s not a stupid idea and she should do something to make it happen but he stayed silent. ‘Well, is it done?’

He looked at the paper, hesitated but then spoke, ‘Who are you really, and what were you before? What did you do and what did you think?’ She frowned and started to think. Finn was surprised, Tommy saw his face and shot him a look. ‘I... can’t remember. Is it due to tomorrow? I can try to find if you want.’ Finn turned to his brother and saw him nodding slowly, ‘No, it’s not. But I have to go somewhere, how about telling Tommy?’ She nodded, ‘It’s okay for me. Where can I find you?’ Tommy lit a cigar and took a puff before answering, ‘You can come ‘ere, whenever you want.’

‘Okay, then. I should go home now.’ Finn smiled, ‘Thanks, really.’ She returned the smile, ‘It’s my pleasure, I had fun.’ Tommy continued to smoke, ‘Are you leaving alone? It’s pretty late and the streets are not the safest places for pretty ladies.’ She looked at her friend, who is now sitting on the stranger’s lap. ‘She always does that, I’m used to walking alone.’ Finn frowned, ‘Yes but it’s really late and this is Small Heath. Let one of us walk you home.’ Tommy put off the cigarette, she couldn’t help but watch his hand, it was beautiful. ‘Go home and finish your homework Finn, will ya?’

Finn didn’t say anything and left the table, sending another smile to her. She took her little bag and coat, said something to her drunk friend. The drunk woman looked at her and Tommy, ‘Good choice, y/n!’ She shook her head and her cheeks flushed. When they got outside he looked at her and her dress. It was cute, he wanted to smile when he saw the floral patterns. But instead of this, he said ‘Better button up your coat, it’s cold.’ She didn’t say anything and did what he said. Tommy offered an arm to her, which she gladly accepted. ‘You know.. You didn’t need to do that, really. Thanks.’

‘So it’s y/n then, beautiful name.’ She looked at his heavenly deep blue eyes, ‘Thank you.’ He spoke again, ‘Why you didn’t be a writer?’ That wasn’t a good subject to talk about for her, but she gave breath and answered, ‘I spoke to my parents but... they weren’t the wealthiest family and told me that it was nonsense. They couldn’t send me to college even if they wanted to. I gave up, didn’t want them to feel bad for that.’ Her eyes hung on the walkway as he watched her. It was the first time she opened up to a stranger and she was the most honest girl he spoke to. ‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a secretary at the bank, I know it’s not the best but I earn enough.’ He nodded and they continued to walk, it was a beautiful silence. ‘We’re here.’ She said and they stopped in front of a small apartment. ‘Are you alone here?’ Tommy asked as she took off her keys and opened the door. ‘I’m living with Daisy, looks like she won’t come tonight.’ He cracked a smile, ‘Probably..’ She smiled at him, ‘Then tomorrow I’m coming to the pub?’ The man thought for a second, ‘Don’t want a girl like you to go there, eh? I can come round in the morning if that’s okay.’

‘Okay then. I’d like to offer you some tea but it’s pretty late, isn’t it?’ She smiled softly and found herself again looking at that lovely deep blue eyes. ‘It is. Thank you for helping Finn tonight.’ His voice was cold but she knew he meant it, ‘I had fun, really. Thank you for walking me here, I hope I can find the answer. Goodnight, Thomas.’ She said and stepped in the house, without knowing he was staring at her beautiful face. ‘Goodnight, y/n.’ Was all he said before pulling his blunt and placing a cigarette between his lips. 

***

‘Someone’s knocking the door y/n!’ Daisy shouted as she took a sip from her tea. ‘I’m not deaf Daisy.’ She said and went to open the door, only to face with a pair of baby blue eyes and a charming Tommy who dressed to the nines. ‘Hey.’ She said, her cheeks flushed as she realised that she was still wearing a satin nightgown. His eyes lingered on her body and he cleared his throat, ‘Good morning.’ She flushed even more, ‘Oh, good morning. Would you mind coming in? I have to do something.’ He stepped in after tossing out the cigarette butt. ‘Give me a sec.’ Then she hurried to her room and put on a dressing gown.

‘Hmm, you are naughtier than me y/n.’ Daisy said happily as she eyed Tommy. ‘It’s not what it looks like Daisy.’ She turned to Tommy and whispered, ‘’m sorry. Hangover.’ He nodded and she went to give her friend some bread. ‘You suck at preparing breakfast.’ Daisy said and earned a glance from her, ‘Then go eat outside, eh? That’s what I do.’ Daisy laughed loudly, ‘And that’s what your latest meal looks like? I need to be fair, looks delicious.’ With her friend’s words y/n’s face became red, ‘Thomas, can you wait for me in my room, please? The second one from the left.’

He cracked a smile and walked away, opening the door as he heard Daisy’s voice once again, ‘Nice butt by the way!’ Then he heard y/n’s shouting, ‘Could you please shut your mouth for god’s sake?’ He closed the door and glanced around, the room was big enough. One of the walls were covered with bookcases and they were full of books. Tommy guessed she’d have books but he wasn’t expecting that much. There were a wardrobe and a dresser with a mirror. The bed was large and looking so comfortable, Tommy wouldn’t say no to getting inside these clean sheets. There was a nightstand beside the bed, with a large book on it. 

A huge armchair was near to the bookshelves, it was probably for reading. Then he saw a wooden desk with books and some other things on it, it was in front of the windows. The curtains were wide open and the room was light-well. He walked to the table and saw the notebooks and pens. One of the notebooks was open on the table, with a pen next to it. Tommy knew it wasn’t right but he couldn’t help but be curious and listened to the voices in the house, guaranteeing she’s not coming yet. Then he started to read the last page, today’s date was written on it.

‘Who are you really, and what were you before? What did you do and what did you think?’ I can’t find them anywhere, I searched all night. But I can’t stop thinking about him. Who is he, what has he done? I’d be more than happier if I knew the answers. I know he did something, I can feel. I see it in his eyes, that eyes... They look ironically innocent and I think I’m losing myself in that ocean eyes. The ocean could be a nice definition for him, a deep ocean full of mysteries and secrets. Who is he?  

I like the fact that he isn’t like the rest. Not that I’m attractive or something, I can tell that he’s not a ‘ladies’ man’ by his looks. He’s like a book that I can’t read even how much I want. He looks mean, why? What he had been through, what did he deal with? His face is beautiful, but he looks like he is lost in memories. He looks but doesn’t see, his mind is somewhere else. Maybe I’m imagining all of these...Always trying to attribute more meaning to things, bad habit. 

Thomas was quite shocked by the sentences and he wanted to continue but he heard the footsteps. He started to look at the books, she found him in front of them when she opened the door. ‘Sorry for making you wait and... for Daisy’s words.’ Her voice sounded even softer to him this time. ‘I’m the one who came too early, and it’s normal she thinks like that.’ She came closer as he spoke, and looked at the books as Thomas looked at her. ‘I’m impressed. A young lady with all of these books.’

‘I’m almost twenty-seven. I don’t smoke, not a big fan of alcohol so this is where I spend my money.’ She smiled lightly and turned to him, finding the soft blues already looking at her. ‘Did you find our writer?’ Thomas asked, already knowing the answer. She glanced away, ‘No... But I didn’t have the time to search properly.’ He smiled, ‘It’s okay, you can inform me later.’ Of course, she wanted that. ‘I’ll start to look at some books, where can I find you and when?’ Thomas gave her the betting shop’s address and said seven o’clock.

‘Want to stay for a cup of tea?’ She offered as they go back to the kitchen. ‘I would love to, but have some business.’ She nodded and he walked to the door. ‘Goodbye, Thomas.’ A small smile curved his lips, ‘I’ll wait for you.’ Then she closed the door and saw Daisy’s smile, ‘He likes you!’ She screamed and y/n frowned, ‘Are you still drunk or what? Of course he doesn’t, the only reason we see each other is his brother’s homework.’ Daisy rolled her eyes, ‘You’re a fool but I’m not, y/n. It’s a stupid homework, who fucking cares? He was here because he wanted to see you again.’ Then she left the room, leaving y/n alone with her thoughts and a racing heart.

***

She spent all morning in her room, looking for the sentences but couldn’t find them anywhere. When the clock stroked two in the afternoon, she gave up, decided to get ready. She was going to see him and couldn’t help but feel excited. There was something about him that made her feel like she should be with him, in a romantic way or not. She didn’t want to get all dolled up for him so, she chose a simple, linen white dress. It wasn’t short or long, ended up on her knees. She had a snack and after brushing her teeth, she wore a cardigan and left the house.

It didn’t take her much time to find the place, she knocked on the door. A woman in her mid-forties opened the door, with a burning cigarette between her lips, ‘Who are you?’ It sounded a bit rude but she didn’t mind and tried to smile a little, ‘Afternoon, ma’am. I’m here for Thomas, I don’t know his surname actually.’ She listened to her and spoke after stopping for a minute, ‘Get in dear, you can find him in his office.’ y/n thanked her and stepped inside the house, searching for the office.

‘Wowow, who do we have ‘ere? Who are you beautiful?’ A man stopped her by holding her wrist, he was younger than Thomas but his eyes looked similar. ‘Let me go, I’m here for Thomas.’ He cracked a smile, ‘Why the fuck Tommy gets the prettiest ones, eh?’ Another man -he was clearly older than this man and Thomas- appeared, ‘Wanna hang out with me sometime, darling?’ He smiled and she gulped down, realizing he was drunk. The older man stepped closer to her as the other one still held her wrist until a harsh voice interrupted, ‘Get your fucking hands off of her, ay?’

The men stepped back and Thomas saw her, she was shaking a little. ‘She’s not who you thought she was. Now, fuck off, both of you.’ They seemed a little hurt but left the place, then he asked, ‘Are you alright? Come to my office, looks like you need a drink.’ She didn’t say anything and followed him, Thomas poured two glasses once they came in. She let the liquor burn her throat as she sat to the armchair. ‘Forgive me for my brothers’ behaviours. It’s being an awful day at work, I forgot you’ll come.’ He apologized again as she read the name on his table.

‘Oh, you are Thomas Shelby... Aren’t you?’ She was shocked and look at his face, waiting for an answer. ‘I couldn’t hide who I am forever, right? By the way, you heard of me?’ She laughed sarcastically, ‘Is it even possible to not hear of you? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’ Thomas arched an eyebrow, ‘For what? To make you run away and never talk to me again? I know you heard the loose talk, y/n and I’m not gonna deny it. But I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to get to know me. I wanted you to know who is real Thomas Shelby, not believe in what other people say.’

‘Of course, you can leave now if you do-’ She cut him, ‘I wouldn’t run away, you know. If you were honest to me, I wouldn’t judge you. I still don’t.’ She glanced away and Thomas watched her, trying to understand if she was telling the truth. ‘I came here to say I couldn't find the sentences anywhere.’ He smiled at that, ‘I think now we both know that I don’t care, so is Finn. I just wanted to see you more.’ y/n blushed a little, ‘Good try, Mr Shelby. Good try.’ They both laughed this time as she stood up. ‘But you should try better for a date, right? I’ll be waiting for your call.’ Thomas’ face brightened, ‘I’ll ask you for a date you won’t be able to refuse, Miss Collins.’

Thomas called her the other day. It’s been a very long time since he went to a proper date, he was extremely nervous but she was there to comfort him. They enjoyed their time and the dates went on. She realised Tommy was the one for her when he came into her house two in the morning, just give her a book she was talking about previously. He wasn’t a fan of reading, especially novels, but he took it as his duty to read her favourites, so they could talk about them. The Shelby family loved her, especially Ada and Polly. Ada was happy she finally found someone to talk with, about everything.

It was a normal evening when Tommy took her out to dinner, the two of them were smiling happily. He looked at her and took a breath, finally ready to speak. ‘I need to tell you something.’ She left the fork and looked at him directly, losing herself in that piercing blue eyes. ‘I’m listening.’ She waited for him to continue. ‘Remember that sentences I read that night? The ones you searched up for.’ Of course she remembered, he smiled a little when she nodded. ‘The truth is, they weren’t written there.’ Her brows arched with curiosity, ‘What?’

‘I made up them.’ He stopped and looked at y/n, knowing she’ll ask the reason. ‘Why would you do that?’ His smile appeared again as his heart melted, ‘Because I didn’t want you to leave and they were my questions for you.’ Her lips parted and she blinked, he knew she wouldn’t be angry. ‘So... You’ve got your answers now?’ y/n asked and smiled, he wanted to leave there and kiss her all night. ‘Oh, I got my answers. But the thing is... I have new questions for you.’ She laughed at that and he felt comfortable with the sound she made while laughing. ‘Then ask.’

She was expecting him to ask questions about work or her past, not that. Thomas stood up and walked to her, taking a red velvet box from his pocket and kneeled down in front of her. ‘Well, I found and memorized enough quotes to impress you but I won’t do that. I’m probably the most fucked up man you’ve seen in your life and you deserve much better than me. But I have to confess, y/n. You’re the only one who brightens my life, your presence is the only reason I woke up in the mornings. So you, y/n Collins, will you do that? Will you help me to live my life like I’m in a book? Will you marry me?’

y/n was speechless, shedding tears of joy. She looked at baby blues, knowing they'll be the first things she’s going to see every morning. ‘Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you!’ She said happily and let him put the ring on her finger, then kissed him like there was no tomorrow. The rest followed; engagement, marriage and all... She started to work for the Shelby company but he made her promise to write also. One morning in the bed, Thomas asked how was it going. ‘Oh, I have an idea.’ Thomas asked what was it. ‘I’ll write about you, Tommy.’

He smiled but saw his wife was serious, ‘Don’t do that.’ She frowned and turned to him, ‘Why’s that?’ Thomas thought for a while and spoke, ‘Write about us, not me.’ The new idea gained her appreciation, ‘Why not?’ She was going to tell him her thoughts but Thomas prevented this with leaving soft kisses to her neck, she was starving for his touch now. y/n made herself a cup of coffee when her husband left for work, she had a day-off. She went to her snuggery, taking the pen and opening her new notebook. She looked at the photo on her desk, the one from their wedding. She started to write from the beginning.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 39

Chapter Summary -   Ben tries to eavesdrop on the women before Tom admits to his worries and concerns for his relationship.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog  @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @lys-syl @youcantcatchafallingstar

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

“They seem to get on well.” Ben beamed, eavesdropping from the kitchen.

“Seriously, I hope they open that door and it hits you in the head. Stop listening.”

“No, I want to know what they are saying, why are they talking in the hall.”

“I neither know or care why ” Tom stated. “I am just glad they are getting on well.”

“Sophie feels like she needs to take her under her wing, she feels sorry for her that she was thrown to the wolves like she was that time at your dinner out, but she took it well.”

“She’s not the kind to say anything if she isn’t.” Tom sighed, causing Ben to frown. “I think she thinks she is overweight.”

“What? She is about a size ten at most.”

“Eight to ten, pending the make. But she is starting to look at food as though not certain if she should eat it, and she commented earlier about being called ‘wholesome’ by some papers.”

“Wholesome doesn’t imply fat, though, does it?”

“To us no, to women; I don’t know, I mean, they are all being told they are fat all the time.” Tom sighed.

“But it means down to earth, the whole package, the girl next door sort of thing. So you think she’s starving herself?”

“She said it is her new work schedule, I just…I love her, and I want to be with her, but if she is becoming unhappy in herself because of me, it is doing more harm than good throwing all of this at her, I cannot expect her to be okay with my life if she is not happy with herself because of it.”

“You need to talk about this with her, she needs to hear this from you, and for you to see what is going on with her,” Ben stated clearly.

“I’m scared it means losing her, I just got her.”

“I cannot believe it took you this long to get your shit together.” Ben shook his head.

“Me neither, she admitted today she has felt this way for years, years Ben, we could be like you and Sophie now if I took my head out of my ass.”

“You think she’s ‘it’ for you, the one you want it all with?” Ben asked curiously.

“I think she is the closest I have been to it. I am not saying that as though I am settling, or like it is the only viable option, but I always wanted a family of my own, I wanted a happy home, but never thought of who with, but now, all I think about is how long is it appropriate to wait for everything with her, I see it all with her, I never did with anyone else, they were all just a bit of fun, mutually understood, well since Susannah, but I mean, we were naive then.”

“Does she know you feel like this?”

“Are you kidding me, I can’t say anything like this to her yet, she would swim back to Ireland if I said I wanted to have with her what you have with Sophie this early.” Tom scoffed.

“You’ll need to have that talk someday.”

“Someday I can handle.”

“But for now, the whole other thing needs to be discussed,” Ben ordered. “Though she seemed to eat well at dinner.”

“Yeah, she did. Am I coming across as being paranoid and am I going to scare her off by mentioning it?”

“You are nowhere near as confident as you imply you are in public, you know that?” Ben shook his head.

“When it comes to her, no. I am scared of losing her to something stupid, I mean, if we cannot make this work, if there are too many things between us on a personal level, I would have to get over that, I would be gutted, but I would not want to see her compromise herself for this, but if I was to lose her for something stupid, some simple miscommunication, that would kill me.” Tom explained.

“Good, now tell her that,” Ben stated.

Tom nodded. “I will.”

“Before you leave.”

“What if she decides while I’m gone that I am a controlling jerk.”

“Her loss then, because you’re just concerned, not controlling, you are not forcing her to eat, just asking if she is alright if she is feeling pressurised. But she won’t go, she is smarter than that.”

“What if I’m the reason she is like that, that Paul guy seemed to like how she looked and she did not seem to think to change herself, but I…”

“Your last fling was with a woman that only feeds by sucking the life out of people through terrible music and singing.” Tom gave him a glare. “We went to dinner and she ate a starter salad as a main course, and don’t say it’s because she’s a vegetarian, I know vegetarians, and they eat a hell of a lot more than that, so it’s not that she’s a vegetarian.”

“I am sure it is some sort of diet.” Tom dismissed. “But Elle doesn’t need any of that.”

“Yes, I can see by the look on your face you think that,” Ben grinned knowingly. “I thought you dealt with that before we came?”

“I may need to deal with it again when we go to bed.” He winked.

“Fuck sake man, you’re in your mid-thirties, and you’re like a teenager.” Ben shook his head. “What are you taking?”

“I don’t need to take anything; I have a gorgeous girlfriend in her late twenties.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and your twenty-something-year-olds.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Not really, I have a gorgeous wife that I adore, who is smart and makes me happy, a great son, and another baby on the way. I rather it to emotionless thrills if I’m honest, it’s everything I have always wanted.”

“How did you know you’re ready for all of that?” Tom asked seriously.

“Fuck I wasn’t ready, I thought I was, but when the test told us we were going to be parents, that all went out the window, but I could never want it any other way.”

“I am so envious of you.” Ben scoffed. “No, seriously, I am. I spent so long chasing everything, terrified of missing anything, what if I am after missing the most important thing?”

“It’s not too late, I am four years older than you, you have time.”

“But is Elle ready for that, she is just starting out in her job.”

“I can tell you here and now Tom, she is not ready for kids today, but that does not mean she won’t be in the future, like I said, talk to her.” Tom sighed in resignation. “Has your mum said anymore?”

“No, I haven’t had the balls to face her.”

“How was she, after the initial shock?”

“Good, I mean, she seems happy with it, or at least, I think she is. I have no idea if I’m honest.”

“You look happier this time Tom, more yourself, she is a far better option for you.” Ben smiled fondly. “She is amazing, fun, smart, understanding, hardworking…”

“Give Taylor her due, she was hardworking too.”

“Yes, it takes considerable work to be that spiteful and hateful to people.” Ben nodded. “I have nothing nice to say about her Tom, and to expect me to be nice is bollix, she tried to pin her shit on Sophie and was nothing but rude to her.”

“I really fucked up there.”

“You still have your friends and you are out of it now, glass half full, mate.”

“But it could have cost me everything, for a while, I thought it did; there were a few weeks there where I swear, I thought I was relegated to shitty Rom-Coms.”

“Well, your actions…you looked like you were having a crisis.” Ben shrugged.

Mac rose and stretched before going to Tom, who scratched his ear as the dog lay his head on his lap. “I did, I just…felt so alone, it seemed the right idea at the time.”

“Understandable, but you’re doing fine now, work is going okay, your fans are as mad about you as ever and you have Danielle.”

“Will they like her?”

“You know there are some that won’t, they will hate her no matter what she does or is, but overall, honestly I think they will. She will be adored for being normal, everything but the tabloids will obsess with how she is the ‘girl next door’.”

“And the tabloids?” Tom asked though he knew the response already.

“They will do everything from saying she is brainwashing you to calling you gay and her being your cover.” Ben shrugged. “What did Luke say?”

“To ready her, to get her to block certain websites and he will do everything he can to help look after her, but to say nothing.”

“She seems to do that as is.”

“Except for when she met Taylor, if that was caught on camera, you know…”

“She would manipulate it around.” Ben nodded. “It’s her MO.”

Tom sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “Why did I…”

“Don’t, you will get nowhere beating yourself up. Come on, I think the women will be wondering where we are.” He encouraged. “Danielle is strong enough for all this, you can usually tell who is and who isn’t.”

*

Elle and Sophie had made their way upstairs and were busy talking about the latter’s ideas for the logistics of Christopher and the new baby and having two little nurseries.

“If it’s another boy they probably can share for a while, but if it is waking at three am for a feed, I doubt you want to have himself up as well,�� Danielle commented.

“No, separate rooms,” Benedict stated as he and Tom walked in. “I am not having Kit dictating nappy changings in the middle of the night and being as cranky as hell the next day.”

“Because of course, you will be the one that did all the hard work.” Sophie scoffed.

Elle edged towards the door, “I am not getting in the way for this.”

“I think I’ll join you.” Tom gently made his way out also. “See you two in the morning, don’t kill each other.” He joked as he did so. When he made his way into the hallway, to the sound of Sophie threatening Ben’s manhood, there was no sign of Danielle, assuming she had gone to her room, he went to the door and knocked.

She came out, thinking it was Sophie asking for something, possibly even how to drag dead weight, so when she saw Tom on the other side, she frowned. “What…?”

“Would it possible for me to stay over also?” he asked, giving her his best puppy dog eyes.

“You knocked?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to assume…” he began, but she pulled him in and closed the door behind him, causing him to chuckle. “Elle,” there was a fondness in his voice, not born of lust or want, but of true feelings. “I…” he kissed her chastely. “I love you.” He smiled timidly, knowing that it was very early to say it, but her sleepy grumbles that morning had made her think he was not as serious as her regarding everything. “I adore you.”

She kissed him back, smiling widely at the declaration, “What a coincidence, Mr Hiddleston, for the feeling is mutual.”

“The food was great, the evening was great, I…I am so glad we could do this.”

“It’s all so very grown-up and serious,” Elle joked. “But I loved it, I loved being able to talk to people who actually understand all of this, who…” her hands moved around as she talked. “I can’t even think of the best way to say it.”

“I understand, and I am so happy you got to speak with Sophie.”

“She was able to understand stuff I can’t explain.” She stated.

Tom frowned. “You can always talk to me.”

Danielle nodded. “I know, but you cannot understand the perspective as well as she can. You can understand the scrutiny, the limelight, but not the exact feeling being the ‘plus one’ in that situation, you are the star, not the tagalong.”

“You’re not a…” Tom stopped himself, seeing she wanted to continue to explain herself.

“I am, and I understand that, so does Sophie, you and Ben are great, you make sure we feel secure, but you can’t really get it,” Tom’s brows furrowed. “I love you, Tom; but there is a lot involved in loving you too. It includes a lot of other people involving themselves, and I need to thicken my skin, I know that but I need to have a person that understands that too; so thank you.” Tom cocked his head slightly. “Having Ben and Sophie come here, I don’t feel so scared or stressed about it now, I feel like it’s nowhere near as difficult as my mind was telling me it was.” As she leant up to kiss him, Tom pressed his lips down to hers, pulling her to the bed. “But what about our guests,” she whispered.

“I don’t give a fuck, I love you, I hate being away from you, and I want you to remember me for the next few weeks.”

She giggled at his words. “It is three weeks, Tom. Not six months, we will be fine.”

“Don’t care, still going to fuck you.” He commented back, his lips still pressed to hers.

“You are insatiable.”

“You love it.” He grinned, starting to unbutton and unzip her jeans.

[thedistantstorm]

Phoenix Protocol 12

Zavala x Awoken Female Warlock | Mid/Post Forsaken | Slowburn | Gratuitous Descriptions of Light | Self-Confidence/Self-Worth Issues | Redemption

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Sunsinger.

Previously

-/

Miyu slashes swift and hard into the meat of a Hunter’s chest piece, the force of the blow throwing them back into the crumbling concrete wall behind them.  She flicks the sword and shoves it back into its sheath quickly, reaching for the scout rifle on her back.

A Titan surprises her, whipping around the corner in a blur of sparking blue arc energy. He throws her back a good ten meters, but it isn’t enough to put her down. She slams her fists to the ground, feeling the burn of her Light at her fingertips. She breathes hard, and suddenly the Titan is pinning her, a knee heavy in her abdomen, gauntlet-covered hands wrapped around her neck.

She burns.

The Striker yelps, but she holds his wrists with blazing fingers, and rolls them with knowledge that comes from beyond the edges of her memory. They both burn in the strange Solar fire that’s half grenade, half Lightburn.

Shaxx pulls her from the match. She rezzes mid-transmat, both Guardian and Ghost caught by surprise. Miyu lands hard on her rear, glaring up at the emotionless helmet of the one-horned Crucible Handler.

“For fuck’s sake, Mimi,” He says, looking at her charred gauntlets. “What the hell was that about?”

She dips her head, but her chin juts out. In others it would be proud, but on her it’s an indicator that she’s furious. “Not dying?”

“You just died. Try again.”

“He was killing me.”

“You could have rolled him, then reached your blade.”

“You’ve done nothing but damage yourself today. Usually you are far more careful.” He motions to a crate beside where Arcite oversees the matches Shaxx is too busy to tend to. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You came from the Bazaar,” He tells her, not that it’s a secret. “What did Ikora say to you?”

Miyu rolls her eyes, and Shaxx - while irritated with her - is happy she’s not behaving like a wet kitten, at least. “Nothing. I have to get going, anyway. I have plans for lunch.”

At that, the Titan freezes, caught off guard. “What?”

She slinks away, more like a broody Nightstalker than a Warlock. He wants to think on it some more - that’s a shift in events - but Arcite points out a ten-kill streak on one of the monitors. The Crucible waits for no one.

-/

He can see the intensity of her rage without her saying a word. She’s practically vibrating, contents under pressure. He dips his head to regard her, blinking pointedly in her direction. She looks at him and closes the door to his office behind her.

“What’s on your mind,” He asks by way of greeting.

She sighs. “I don’t want to ruin our lunch.” She sighs. “We’ll talk about it afterward.”

“You won’t ruin our lunch.” He slips an arm around her, guides her to the table upon which their lunch is waiting, cutlery, take out containers lined up with effort. Her stomach rumbles, as if to prove his point. “I invited you so that we could catch up.”

The Warlock nods reluctantly, and he pulls out her chair for her. It wins him a smile, puts a heavy crack in her anger, and helps set her to rights. “How have you been?”

“More or less the same,” He tells her. “The Consensus is still asking me who the Hunter Vanguard is, and the Hunters are still saying it’s Colonel.”

She chuckles, though he gives her an exasperated look. “She’d look great in a cloak, I’m sure.”

“Don’t help their cause,” He teases gently. They dig into their meal - she’s infinitely grateful for the lean meat and noodles, Crucible always does a number on her. The silence is comfortable until Zavala hedges, “So, what happened?”

She sets down her chopsticks, folding her hands under her chin and resting her elbows on the table. “I spoke with Ikora today.”

His eyes darken. “That bad?”

“She’s upset that I withheld my vision from her.”

“But you-”

“‘If you wish to be heard, speak louder,’” Miyu says in a scathing mock of her Vanguard mentor. “‘Perhaps if you were to assert yourself, I would be less inclined to push you away.’”

Zavala deadpans. “You went to her multiple times.”

“Twenty three, to be exact.”

Zavala frowns, chewing thoughtfully. “Did she have any input?”

Miyu nods, levelling him with a deadpan stare. “Kind of. She’s contacting Osiris.”

“What?”

“Yup,” Miyu huffs at the Commander’s reaction to his predecessor. “Apparently her visions were similar to mine, but she wants an expert opinion. Don’t be surprised when she tries to send me to Mercury.”

“Miyu, even though I dislike-”

“If you tell me I should go see him, I’m leaving,” Miyu tells him, eyes hard. “I know you want to help me, but we’re of similar opinion when it comes to him. Don’t pretend for my sake that you’re alright with me seeing him.”

The Commander exhales, leaning against the back of his chair. “I’m not, but you come before my reservations.”

She reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. It’s bold for her, but she’s become more comfortable with him lately. “I appreciate that. But I remember when he was our Vanguard Commander.” Blue eyes blink at her in surprise. She smirks at him, “Told you I’m not that young. Anyway, the only lessons I’ve learned from him are how not to be - both as a Warlock, and as a person.”

He sighs. “Miyu, it’s your call.” He looks away. “My personal opinion, or with those you come into contact with should have no bearing on yours.”

“I know, but I value your opinion, Zavala.” She squeezes the hand she’s still holding on the other side of the table before releasing it.

“If Ikora - even if I - do not repeat this -” She nods, eyes serious, “Am not on the best of terms with her, she is a skilled Warlock.” He levels her with a firm gaze. “She would not consider Osiris if she herself were not stumped. You are a Sunsinger and he is one of the best to ever exist.”

“He is a heretic and a piss-poor defender of humanity.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Zavala concedes. “He is egoistic and selfish, and personally, I do not condone his behavior. However, neither did Ikora. It is not an easy task to contact him. She would not go out of her way for his input unless she felt there was no other choice.”

Miyu sighs. “If he’ll speak to her, I’ll listen. But I have no interest in going to see him.”

“If that’s the only way?”

“It’s not.” White eyes burn. “We both know it’s not.”

“We both hope it’s not,” Zavala corrects. “Think carefully, Miyu. Dealing with someone you dislike is a small price to pay. Do not discount anything that might help you.”

The Warlock sighs harder than before and looks down into her lunch. “I’ll try.”

“So,” He muses, lighter, “You’re far older than I gave you credit for.”

“Old,” She scoffs, without any malice behind it. “I will throw this piece of broccoli at you, Commander,” She quips back, lightly. “You’re old too, you know.” She flushes at the playfulness of her comment, but his lip pulls to the right to signal he finds the humor in it, which allows her to relax.

“I would prefer if you did not,” He deadpans. “I have a feeling you would not prefer to be assaulted by this carrot.”

She laughs so hard she snorts, and Zavala follows suit. By the time she leaves his office, she doesn’t feel nearly as angry.

“Thank you,” Miyu calls in her airy voice, lingering in the doorway before she goes. “I feel better now.”

“It was my pleasure,” The Commander says, warmly. “We’ll talk soon.

Golden brown eyes watch as the docile Awoken hovers in the doorway for an extra second before flitting away, a spring in her step that was not present hours before. The pale-skinned Warlock might have feel better, but Ikora is absolutely furious.

“What is he angling at,” She wonders aloud. Ophiuchus, her ghost, the only being around, does not answer her. She follows the Sunsinger until she leaves the Courtyard - which is not what Ikora had told her to do, but she has bigger issues, so it’s actually a help - and heads to the only other person who might know what in the Traveler’s name is happening here.

He’s barking into the comms that feed directly into the arena - Legion’s Gulch, at the moment. She steps in front of him, imposing for a woman who barely reaches his shoulder.

“Shaxx,” She demands, eyes sparking, nostrils flaring. “I need a moment.”