#if my sister is cool with it i might play some more until dawn or bg3… but my neck hurts y���all help meeee

[quietlyblooms]

i got enough sleep, but gee i feel like someone balled me up like a piece of paper

[chloe-petrichors]

seething, blooming // jace x reader

your father has always been something of an opportunist, but trying to marry you off to the blacks while he courts the greens? this is taking playing the game to a whole new level.

the rose discovers she is an instrument of war. —victor hugo.

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!tyrell!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon au (set after aegon takes the crown but before luke's death bc luke will never die in my eyes), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s), arranged marriage, mention parental death/death in childbed (reader's mother), love at first sight vibes, jace is a flirtatious little shit with his betrothed, tooth rotting fluff, love confessions. word count; 6k+ notes; one day i might write for another man. but that day is not today. jace velaryon u have my heart. i'm not majorly pleased w this fic but it's given me enough trouble and it's as good as it's gonna get! this was longer originally, and was meant to be a bit more political at first hence the blurb/quote choice, but i haaated some of the scenes so ended up scrapping 'em. she's not as long as predicted as a result but still an ok length i think. some of the scenes i scrapped were tragically the smut ones, so have this fairly pg one-shot with the promise of the smut-shot sitting in my drafts coming ur way soon. fair warning that the scrapping of scenes has fudged with the pacing a bit but honestly i can't take this fic sitting in my drafts any longer so here u go!! i have a taglist now, mostly cos eldrith keeps telling me i have to tag her in everything, so lmk if you'd like to be added to it! requests; are open !

the rising sun paints highgarden in shades of pink and gold.

you stand upon your balcony, finger curled loosely over the pale marble as you stare distantly out over the rolling green fields and blooming gardens. the faint bubbling of the river mander in the distance adds to the peaceful morning, the early wash of sunlight coaxing the sleeping world into life. a cool breeze carries the sweet smell of roses and you take a steadying breath, eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your face up to the sun.

it's a morning that starts like many others. you’ve always risen from bed early, the slow blooming of morning stirring you from slumber more often than not. birds chirp and bees buzz and the river flows and you rise with it, like part of you calls to the breaking dawn.

if not for the thick sheaf of parchment discarded on your father’s desk, it could be a morning like any other. but the parchment is there, and this day will be like no other before it.

today, a dragon is expected at highgarden.

a targaryen has not stepped foot in the reach since before you were born. you don’t think even the princess rhaenyra – queen, now, according to some – had come this far on her marriage tour years ago. but your father has taken it upon himself to invite a prince to your home.

you love your father deeply, but in this you think he must be a fool. as lord paramount of the reach he is, in theory, the power of this kingdom. but anyone with a lick of sense knows that it’s the hightowers that the people look to; oldtown is home to the starry sept, the citadel and, perhaps more importantly, the dowager queen’s family line.

the tyrells have only been in power for a few generations, and people’s memories are long. too many know the truth of how house tyrell had been only a steward when the gardener kings had ruled before the conquest. and so too many see tyrell as a house grasping for power that should be beyond their fingers, and your father is apparently determined to prove them all right.

he’s been careful about his neutrality as war threatens to break out between the targaryen kin, brother and sister both claiming their right to the throne and the realm splitting down the middle. your father has not officially allied with either side, walking a careful tightrope to appease both. up until now you had assumed he sided more with the greens, but he’d sent your assumptions crumbling with only a few sheets of parchment.

your father has always been too ambitious for his own good.

gods, how you miss your mother. when she’d been alive, she’d tempered the worst of your father’s foolishness. she’d been a stark before she’d married, steadfast and sensible in the face of your father’s folly. she’d been a woman unlike any other you’ve known; ferocious and a little wild, but with a good heart and a warm smile for any she’d met.

she’d taught you how to be a lady, but so much more than that – she’d taught you to know your own mind. to know when to mind your tongue and when to speak, how to grow your roots so deep you will always stand tall, flourishing and growing like the most determined of flowers. she’d taught you a little of that northern ice, too, reminding you oft that for as much as you were a rose of highgarden you were equally a wolf of the north, and the wolf’s blood has always run thick in your veins. 

she’d called you her little winter rose; delicate and steely and a rare bloom, indeed. she had loved you so fiercely you’d flourished with her tender care, just as the patch of winter roses she’d brought from the glass gardens of winterfell had bloomed ‘neath her careful ministrations. a piece of the north she’d brought south with her, a tiny bit of her home that she’d cradled and cared for until the day you’d lost her to the birthing bed.

your little brother is nearing six, now, and many moons have passed since the sudden grief of your mother had overwhelmed you. but, in recent days you have ached with her loss more often, wondering what she would think of your father’s plans, what she would say to soothe your storm of anxiety. with your looming marriage you find yourself missing your mother acutely, the grief a reopened wound in your chest.

because you are a betrothed woman, now, to be married to a stranger, a prince who is sure to be fighting a war against his kin in the moons to come.

the velaryon prince arrives on dragon back as the sun reaches its peak in the sky.

he dismounts his winged steed in an empty stretch of land a distance from the keep itself, and your father greets him there with a host of staff to accompany him back to the entrance courtyard.

your brother leo bounces in place beside you where you stand with the rest of the household in the courtyard, fairly vibrating with energy at the prospect of seeing a real-life dragon. since the news of the prince’s arrival was announced a sennight ago, leo has done little else but babble about dragons and magic and targaryens. you wish you could share his excitement, his sheer uncomplicated joy, but this visit comes with too many conflicting emotions for you to enjoy it at all.

you’ve always known you would not marry for love. you are the eldest child and only daughter of the lord of the reach – love has never been a factor you could afford to consider. you would do your duty and marry for your house, to seal whatever alliance your father deemed important enough. you’d resigned yourself to this fate as a young girl when your mother had told you in slow, halting words the fear she had felt coming south to marry your father.

but you’d not expected to marry a total stranger. you’d thought your father would at least do you the courtesy of allowing you to meet a suitor before betrothing you to them, but in his feverish ambition to sit his blood on the iron throne he’d promised you to a man you’ve never laid eyes upon.

you don’t want to be queen.

frankly, you think yourself a touch unsuited for it. your father has many times bemoaned your wildness, the wolfs blood that drives you to stubborn recklessness. though you’ve mellowed a little with age and experience, you think you’re still a bit too prone to chaos to be queen of the seven kingdoms one day. never mind the complexities added by the fact that queen rhaenyra’s claim is so fiercely contested, and her half-brother is the one currently physically sitting the iron throne.

thinking about the mess you’re marrying into too much makes your head ache, and the blazing noon sun does little to ease it. leo beside you continues to whisper rapidly about everything he knows about dragons, which is actually quite a lot considering his young age. you think absently you might need to have a word with the maester’s again; leo has wrapped most of the household around his finger, and the elderly maester is prone to indulging your brother when he fixates on a new topic of interest instead of sticking to his lessons.

the sound of hooves on cobble stones startles you from your meandering thoughts, and you straighten your spine as your eyes take in the unfamiliar man riding into the courtyard beside your father while your brother finally falls silent.

he’s handsome, at least; a tumble of dark curls brushing his shoulders, a sharp jaw and a strong nose. though you like to think yourself more than superficial, it eases at least some of your worries to know the prince is attractive to you. your mother had done you the courtesy of explaining what was expected of you on your wedding night after your first moons blood, and in secret since you’d perused the library for books detailing more lustful acts in an effort to satiate your unending curiosity.

you’re worried enough about completing your wifely duties without having to worry about finding the man lying with you repulsive, and so you allow yourself a few moments of relief at his pretty face.

your father dismounts first, gesturing for you to step forward as the prince gets down from his own horse. leo moves forward with you, eyes wide and shining with something akin to hero worship as he gazes at jacaerys. you have a wry thought that perhaps he should marry him since he is so clearly already enamoured, but you brush that aside as your father and the prince approach.

“i am most pleased to introduce my daughter, your grace, as well as my son and heir, leo,” your father says as they reach you, his satisfaction in his successful planning clear as he smiles smugly.

you dip into a perfect curtsey as leo bows a touch clumsily at your side. as heir it would traditionally be leo’s job to greet the prince, but when you send him a sidelong glance you see he is too busy making moon eyes at the darkhaired man to say anything, and so you take it upon yourself to speak.

“welcome to highgarden, my prince. we are honoured to host you,” you greet, finally meeting jacaerys’s eyes. they’re a warm amber shade, the noon sun turning them to liquid honey as he looks at you, and you feel your cheeks flush with the appreciation you can see in his gaze as he drinks you in. it seems he does not find you repulsive either, at least.

he sketches a quick bow, eyes never leaving yours, and you feel your heart start to race in your chest at his attention. “it is an honour to be here, my lady, and to finally make your acquaintance.” he smiles at you then, small and a little crooked but there, and your flush deepens. “i look forward to getting to know you better in the coming days.”

you swallow, hoping your budding attraction is not as obvious as you fear it is. your father is looking increasingly smug as he watches the interaction, though it seems to war with some paternal annoyance as jacaerys lightly flirts with you.

“and i you,” you return softly, a smile quirking on your lips.

“—can i meet your dragon?” leo bursts out, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, and jacaerys blinks down at him in surprise as you resist the urge to press your palm to your face.

“leo,” you scold immediately as your father chortles at his heir’s enthusiasm for dragons. “the prince has had a long journey. you should give him a chance to settle in before demanding anything of him.”

“right you are, my dear.” your father waves to the household steward before turning to the prince. “alyn will show you to your rooms, your grace, so that you might freshen up, and then we have a feast prepared for this evening to welcome you to highgarden.”

jacaerys nods easily as the greeting crowd begins to disperse, the maester corralling leo to take him for his lessons with fond exasperation even as the boy loudly protests. you mean to go walk the gardens, and so you stay standing in place as the prince trails after your father and steward alyn.

he pauses beside you, though, a slight smile on his face as you look up at him questioningly. your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his face, and it takes a moment for you to process his words. “i look forward to speaking to you further at the feast, my lady.”

you smile back at him, cheeks flushing once again as his eyes linger on your mouth for a breathless moment. “i shall save you a dance, my prince,” you return a touch coyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“only one dance?” he teases, eyebrow arching.

you hum, head tilting to the side in mock consideration as something like satisfaction gleams in jacaerys’s eyes. “i shall have to use the first dance to judge your dancing skills, your grace, before i risk promising you another.”

he laughs then, a little surprised but no doubt pleased as his eyes crinkle with his wide smile. “then i shall do my best to meet your standards, my lady.” he dips into a quick bow of farewell, then, as you finally take note of your father lingering on the steps to the keep with raised eyebrows.

“we shall see,” you return as you curtsey.

you allow yourself a moment to watch his retreating back, eyes dragging over the strong line of his shoulders before you internally shake yourself and head to the gardens, thoughts swimming with honey brown eyes and tanned, freckled skin and a slow dawning certainty that while this betrothal may be unexpected, you doubt it will leave you unsatisfied.

the feast is in full swing by the time the prince arrives at the hall.

the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune as couples twirl on the dance floor. you sit at the head table with leo and your father, watching with a careful eye as your brother cuts up his food. he’s only just mastered the art of eating his food without spilling half if it down his doublet, but as distracted as he is by the festivities and the prospect of seeing a dragon close up, you worry he’s at risk of making a mess of himself regardless.

so absorbed in your task you are, it takes a long moment for you to realise jacaerys has arrived. it’s only when your skin prickles with awareness that you look up from leo and catch sight of the prince winding his way across the floor to the head table, eyes fixed on you. your head tilts to the side slightly as you watch him move, graceful and controlled, through the crowd.

he’s in black and red again, just as he had been when he’d arrived. it seems your father had been right when he’d stated that jacaerys favours his mother’s house colours. you smooth your hand over the skirts of your dress, the deep wine-red of the material feeling less out of place now, before standing with your father to greet the prince.

you all exchange pleasantries quickly as the noise in the hall dims, people realising the prince has arrived. your father ushers jacaerys into the empty seat between you and your father as he raises his goblet to the hall before speaking in his booming voice.

you don’t pay attention to your father’s speech, too aware of the warmth radiating from jacaerys who stands only inches from you to focus. you risk a glance at him from the corner of your eyes only to find his dark honey eyes fixed on you, and you cannot help but smile to yourself even as you flush, turning your eyes back to the crowd.

rousing applause and cheers draw you back to the moment, and you catch yourself in time to raise your wine in toast with your father. you go to sit back down as the crowd returns to its revelries, but the soft brush of a hand on your arm halts your movement. you turn expectingly to the prince, a soft smile on your lips.

“yes, your grace?”

“would you do me the honour of a dance, my lady?”

your lips quirk into a sly smile even as you bob your head in a nod. “i suppose i did promise you one, did i not?”

“that you did, my lady, and i have thought of nothing else since.” dark honey eyes sparkle with mirth as he offers you his hand, and with a quiet giggle you take it and allow him to lead you to the dance floor.

you feel the heat of his hand on your waist like a brand even through the layers of your dress, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. you inhale deeply in an effort to steady yourself as you rest your palm on his strong shoulder, and are immediately overwhelmed by the woodsy scent of him as he claps your hand in his and begins to dance.

you start the dance in comfortable silence, both of you taking a few moments to get a feel for the other and settle into the steps, and when you feel comfortable enough you speak.

“how are you finding highgarden, prince jacaerys?”

“jace, please,” he entreats, and elaborates only when you blink at him in confusion. “my friends and family call me jace, not jacaerys. we are to be married, my lady. it would please me a great deal for my future wife to refer to me as such.”

you nod in acceptance, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his eager expression. “jace it is, then,” you say, and try not to feel the way your heart flutters at his radiant smile in response. “although you have not answered my question. how are you finding highgarden?”

he hums, twirling you as the dance requires and then pulling you closer before responding. “your father has been very hospitable, and it is certainly beautiful here. the grounds especially, though i’m afraid i’ve not had the opportunity to see much of them as yet.”

“a shame we shall have to rectify, i think.” you offer him a small smile as you press just an inch closer, finding yourself wanting to be nearer him. “perhaps i could show you the gardens on the morrow?”

“yes,” he agrees a touch too quickly, and you giggle as his cheeks turn pink. “that is to say— i should like that very much, my lady. very much indeed.”

you lapse into silence once more as the dance reaches its crescendo, and you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of his hands as the music pauses while the minstrels ready their next song.

jace seems to share the sentiment, it seems, as his eyes linger on your entwined hands for a long moment before returning to your face. “have i met your standards enough for another dance, then?”

you take a moment to pretend to consider it, eyes narrowing slightly as you hum. he shuffles on his feet as he waits for your response, and you find the nervous motion far too endearing.

“i suppose so,” you concede after a moment, grinning at his smugly pleased smile as he tugs you closer.

“and what about the dance after that?” he asks lightly, something cheeky in his eyes as the music starts up again and he sweeps you along the floor.

“you should not press your luck, jace,” you say imperiously, although the effect is rather ruined by the silly smile on your face as he laughs with you.

jacaerys smirks. “my lady, since meeting you, i have felt nothing but a lucky man.”

you smother a snort, shaking your head at his unrepentant expression. “you are incorrigible.” it comes out a touch exasperated and yet far too fond.

“yes,” the prince agrees readily, a sly twinkle in his eyes. “but i think you rather enjoy it.”

your startled laugh is loud, though thankfully not so loud as to be heard over the minstrels. “perhaps.”

after that, the night is lost to flirtatious banter and dance after dance in your betrothed’s arms as a seed of affection is planted deep in your heart. and when you wake in the morning after dreaming of nothing but jace’s lips and eyes and words, you can think only one thought;

gods, i am in so much trouble.

time passes in a slow trickle of syrupy summer heat.

as the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in jace’s company. you’re always chaperoned, of course, a household guard following at a respectful distance wherever the two of you choose to roam. you find the whole thing a touch ridiculous; jace is to be your husband. it’s hardly like spending time together alone would be a significant scandal in light of your impending marriage, but your father insists there will be no doubts about your honour before the marriage actually takes place and so ser dickon is assigned as your reluctant shadow.

the date of the wedding itself remains unset as you and jace start to know one another. your father wishes for the marriage to wait until the war is done – a last-ditch chance to keep his options open, perhaps. Or, if you are feeling generous, a way to try and keep you safe from the greens when war inevitably rages. jace’s mother wishes the marriage to happen as soon as can be arranged – a way to try and ensure further heirs with the uncertainty of war looming, you assume.

you find yourself hoping the queen’s will wins the day as time creeps on. jace becomes ever dearer to you the more you learn about him, and soon you think of your impending marriage with nothing but hope and warm desire.

because oh, how you want him. from the first moment you’d laid eyes upon him you’d been attracted to him, but the more you get to know him, the more your heart opens to him – the more you ache for him. for his mouth on yours, his fingertips on your skin, his voice in your ear. if you were a less reckless woman, a little less shameless, you’d be embarrassed of how easily you think of him in your moments apart.

but late at night when the candles burn low and you are alone in your bed, there is no shame to be found, only the wildness of your wolfs blood and liquid heat as your hand drifts between your legs and you find completion with your betrothed’s name on your lips.

beyond the desire, though, is a slow blooming affection. it feels like every time you learn something new about him or share a new experience together, another petal of tenderness unfurls in your chest. when your father had first told you about your betrothal, you’d not dared to hope for more than civility with your husband-to-be, but now you find yourself harbouring deep fondness on top of steadily burning desire, and you look to your future as his wife with little else but excitement.

you’re not sure if jace feels the same. you don’t doubt he desires you; his flirtation and the weight of his gaze on your form is too frequent a thing for you to think otherwise. but desire is not the same as affection, and though you hope desperately that the way he always seeks your presence whenever he steps into a room means what you want it to mean, you can’t be sure.

after a week passes, you both start to chafe at the relentless presence of ser dickon. it feels like every time you so much as think about inching closer to jacaerys, ser dickon is there with his stern glare of disapproval. and so, when one morning jace suggests taking you to meet his dragon, alone, you are quick to agree.

you leave your guard long behind at jace’s instruction; he doesn’t want vermax crowded with strangers, he explains, but you personally think he seems a little too gleeful at the idea of being alone with you for that to be sole reason behind his insistence ser dickon stays far away. you don’t say anything since you’re equally pleased to finally be spending some time with your betrothed without feeling others curious eyes on you.

your excitement starts to waver, however, as you and jace get closer to his dragon. you’ve only seen vermax from a distance before this, and though it perhaps shouldn’t the size of him startles you. he’s just so large and fierce looking, the sharp spines on his back catching your eye. the beast yawns as you slow to a stop, jace sending you a quick smile before he continues on to greet his dragon with fondness, and the glimpse into vermax’s open maw – gods, there as so many teeth – has your palms starting to sweat.

jace stands beside his dragon, murmuring soothing words in high valyrian that you don’t understand as his hand smooths along his snout. your heart races in your chest, nerves making your hands shake when faced with this great beast. you curse your reckless curiosity, your northern stubbornness that makes it impossible for you to refuse a challenge. you have no idea how jace can look so at ease, the line of his shoulders relaxed and the slightest smile on his face as he talks to his winged steed, but there he stands.

“you can come closer now.” he turns to you, brown eyes shining with excitement and, yes, a hint of challenge.

he expects you to back out, you think, and that realisation has you straightening your spine and pressing your lips together. you twist your fingers in your skirts to hide the way they tremble as you step cautiously forward, eyes darting from jace to vermax and back. when you’re within touching distance of the velaryon prince, he reaches for your hand. the shock of his bare skin against yours arrests you for a moment, the slide of calloused fingers around your wrist startling in how easily it sparks desire in you.

you’re so distracted by the feel of him that you don’t realise until it’s too late that jace has tugged you closer, guiding your hand until it’s pressed to vermax’s scales, and then you’re too busy being surprised by how soft they feel to be annoyed that he’s so easily coaxed you into this position.

you still as the dragon rumbles, swallowing thickly as your fingers twitch against green scales. he blinks lazily at you, an alien intellect gleaming there as he seems to consider you for a long moment, and as you blink back at him some of the fear in your chest shakes loose.

because this is not just some beast, you realise. this is fire and blood and magic made flesh. there is life and intelligence in vermax’s eyes, not one you recognise but one you immediately respect. being this close to the dragon is a heady rush of awe and adrenaline; the knowledge that vermax could so easily harm you at any moment but is choosing not to because he trusts his rider. it’s staggering and wonderful and beside you jace is beaming, eyes shining with happiness at seeing you greet his draconic companion, and you are helplessly, hopelessly, wholly overwhelmed by your affection, your desire, by jace.

you kiss him.

it’s barely a kiss, more a breathless press of your mouth against his, and he startles at the sensation even as his arm loops around your waist. you break apart for the barest moment, nose sliding against his as you tilt your head, and jacaerys sighs out your name with heavy relief before he captures your mouth once more.

you’ve been kissed before, so you know the mechanics of it, but it’s never been like this. his lips move smoothly against yours as his hand flexes on your waist, drawing you closer until your chest is pressed against his. your hand tangles in his hair, fingers twisting in the soft curls and he moans with it, hand dragging up your back to cradle the back of your head tenderly as his tongue sweeps over your lips.

the gentle pressure of it has you gasping and he takes the opportunity immediately, tongue sliding against yours as heat pools in your core. your thoughts tumble wildly, incoherent as you can think of nothing but of how desperately you want more. the taste – the smell – the feel of him is drowning everything out that isn’t jace and you cannot resist it, do not even want to.

you want to kiss him forever, want his hand in your hair and his tongue in your mouth for always. you think he might even let you with how relentless he is, barely giving you a moments pause to catch your breath before consuming you in another desperate kiss.

you finally part only when vermax grumbles, cheeks blazing with heat as you step out of jace’s arms. jace murmurs lowly to his dragon in valyrian, and he nudges his great snout against jace’s shoulder in response before stepping away and curling down into the long grass to sleep. you take the moment to properly catch your breath again, hand pressing to your heaving chest in an effort to soothe your racing heart.

when you peek up at jace from beneath your lashes, you flush deeply at the sight of him. his curls are a mess, his lips swollen and cheeks pink beneath his tan. he looks almost debauched, and it sends a rush of desire through you. you suddenly can think of nothing other than him looking like this only flusher and skin glistening with sweat and in your bed.

the thought startles you into dropping your gaze to your feet, and you shuffle uncertainly. you feel – unsettled. you don’t think there’s anything wrong with sharing a kiss with your betrothed, and yet something like guilt curdles in your stomach as you worry at your bottom lip. you had kissed him. for all that he’d kissed you back, you worry that now he will think differently of you. think worse of you.

a knuckle tucks under your chin, then, lifting your face so that you meet jace’s eyes. you feel small and strangely vulnerable in the aftermath of your kiss, like you have somehow shown him something you never intended to, and the urge to shy away remains. but you are not a winter rose for nothing and so you tuck the doubt away as jace runs his thumb soothingly along the line of your jaw.

“i have been thinking of doing that since the moment you first smiled at me,” he confesses, a hint of shyness in the quirk of his lips even as he stares steadily into your eyes.

“oh.” you blink at him once in surprise, the uneasiness in you finally settling at the fondness in his gaze. “oh. that’s— good.” you curse yourself for your lack of wit in this moment as jace snickers.  “i-i mean, i’m glad that it was not… unwelcome.”

your betrothed looks at you with deep affection, then, cupping your cheek and ducking down to press a fleeting, butterfly-soft kiss to your mouth before reluctantly parting from you. “it was most welcome, my lady. most welcome, indeed.” his eyes sparkle with mirth. “i find myself looking forward to the next time you greet vermax, if this is the kind of response such a thing garners.”

“jace!” you narrow your eyes at him in pretend annoyance, even as you smother a giggle with your fingers. “you should not expect me to indulge in such desires again, then, if you persist in being so smug about it.”

his laugh warms you as the two of you fall into easy banter, leaving vermax to his rest and returning to the ever-watchful ser dickon, and all the while all you can think of is how much you cannot wait to kiss him again.

as the air cools with the dying light of day, you lead jace to the gardens.

in the week since your first kiss, jace has oft tugged you into shadowy corners for more kisses any chance he’s had. his desire for you is matched only by your own for him, and as your confidence in your mutual attraction has grown, you have been equally as likely to pull him into a dark alcove to trade sweet words and sweet kisses in secret.

it’s thrilling and exciting and wonderful, but as the week passes you find a growing doubt whispering in the back of your mind.

while you cannot doubt jace desires you, not when he is so relentless in chasing after your smiling mouth, neither of you breathe a word of any feeling between you beyond attraction. perhaps it is reckless of you, foolhardy to fall for him so quickly – but then you are your parent’s daughter, all wolfs blood and deep roots, and you know no other way of being than this.

so you take him to the gardens as the moon rises in the sky, sneak past the night guards and out into the fresh air. you guide him through the blooming flowers and swaying trees, stopping along the while when the fancy takes one of you to stop and examine an interesting bloom or inhale a sweet scent. at least three times he stops you to slot his mouth against yours, to swallow your breathless giggling with feverish kisses, and each time he does it takes longer and longer for you to disentangle yourselves from each other.

eventually, with swollen lips and mussed hair, the two of you reach the winter roses. your effervescent mood becomes sombre as the moon shines on the blue flowers, turning the petals almost silver, and jace seems to recognise the change in atmosphere, a seriousness overtaking him as he watches you approach the flowers.

“my mother planted the first of these roses,” you tell jace as you kneel at the edge of the flowerbed, uncaring of the risk of dirt on your dress as you brush fingers over the pale blue petals tenderly. “winter roses, they are, from the north. from winterfell. she was born a stark, you see, and when she was betrothed to my father the only thing she asked was to be able to bring a few blooms from the glass gardens. she used to call me her little winter rose when i was a child, and she would bring me here and show me how to tend to them.”

jace kneels beside you, glancing at the side of your face before turning to look curiously at the blue flowers. “they’re beautiful,” he tells you sincerely.

“i’ve always thought so, too,” you agree almost absently, stroking the petals in an effort to calm your racing heart. “everyone told my mother she’d never be able to get them to grow so far south. they’re very rare, you see, and need very particular conditions.” your lips quirk up into a fond smile. “but my mother, for all that she became a tyrell, was always a stark at heart. stubborn, you know. and now look at them, thriving.”

you gesture out at the carefully tended rows of roses. “nobody else comes here, now, other than the gardeners and me. i think… i think my father finds it too hard, being here. it makes him miss her too much. so i come here when i need to be alone. or when i wish to be reminded of her. it's the one place in the world where i feel i can be wholly myself, without any pretence or worry.”

jace’s gaze is fixed on you, now, eyes almost black in the faint moonlight as understanding dawns on him. “thank you for bringing me here.”

you nod once, climbing back to your feet, and jace follows you. he watches you so intently, like he’s afraid that you might disappear if he dares to look away. you feel a little like you might, feel tenuous and vulnerable and a breath away from cracking your chest open.

“i’ve never brought anyone else here,” you confess quietly, flexing your fingers with nerves as jace’s lips part in surprise. “i wished… i wished to share this with you. to share who i am, myself, with you, i suppose.” you laugh a little self-deprecatingly. “however pretentious that sounds.”

“it doesn’t,” jace denies immediately. you sense he wants to say more, but he seems to understand that you’re building to saying something yourself, and so he stays quiet, expression earnest and open and fond as he gazes down at you.

“i know it’s perhaps too soon – we have only known each other a few weeks. but i… when i first found out we were betrothed, i was so scared. i worried you would be some arrogant princeling, and i dared not hope for anything more than civility between us. i’ve always known i would not marry for love, but i did not ever consider i would marry a man i had never met.”

you pause for long enough to suck in a breath, feeling a little like the floodgates have opened and you simply can’t stop speaking, can’t stop the feeling pouring freely from you. “and then i met you, and you were so unlike anything i’d expected. i know we still have so much more to learn about each other, and i know that things are— complicated, with the war, and that our marriage may be a ways off yet, but still— i find myself feeling for you, and i cannot hide it anymore. i don’t wish to hide it from you anymore.”

you let the open affection in his face buoy you as you steel yourself, pressing your shoulders back in a mimicry of confidence. “i wanted to show you this part of me, this place, because i….” you hesitate for a breathless moment, biting your lip, before gathering every scrap of courage you possess and diving in headfirst. “i am falling in love with you, jacaerys.”

you inhale the sweet scent of the pale blue petals deeply, let the familiar scent soothe you as jace stares at you with wide eyes. the winter roses are something that, until now, have been so uniquely yours. as you’d told jace, none other than you and the gardeners comes to this corner of the gardens now. the staff that tend so carefully to the flowers know to leave you well enough alone if they stumble across you, skirts splayed on the ground and fingers diligently caring for the roses. you’ve never even brought your sweet little brother, though you can admit that’s for practicality as much as anything else – his childish energy is a bit too boisterous for these delicate blooms.

bringing jace here, bringing him here to confess the deepening affection you harbour for him, feels raw. feels like you’re tearing your heart out of your chest and offering it up to him for perusal, hands bloody and soul bare. feels like saying ‘this is all that i am and all that i have been and all i will ever be and i hope, i hope, i hope it’s enough.’

jace finally, finally speaks, sighs your name, soft and sweet and tender, and hope blooms in your chest.

“oh, my sweet lady,” he murmurs, crowding into your space as he cups your cheek, and the smell of woodsmoke and dragon and jace floods your senses. “i am falling so unbelievably in love with you. only, it does not feel so much like falling as it is like choosing it, like walking into love with you with my eyes wide open and seeing nothing but you.”

it's almost unbearable, the blazing heat of his gaze as he presses his forehead against yours, and it makes you tremble as your hands clutch as his elbows in an effort to ground yourself to this moment, to him. “our betrothal was decided for us without care or consideration for our own desires,” he says, lips brushing against your own with every whispered word. “i know that as well as you, but i need you to know that if i had the choice i would choose this. i would choose you, your stubborn heart, your fierce spirit, your gracious soul.”

his hand slides from your cheek to your hair, holds you so tenderly like you are something precious, and it steals your breath from your lungs as you revel in his unbridled affection. “i care not when we marry, if we marry, in truth, because in my heart you are already mine just as i am already yours.”

he kisses you, then, a desperate and greedy thing, as if he can no longer restrain himself from devouring you whole. and you are just as needy, hands fisting in his doublet as you press yourself against him and somehow finding yourself wishing to be closer still. the world narrows down to him and him only; his mouth, his hands, his hair. you can think of nothing else, and do not wish to, because in this moment you are wholly yourself and he is wholly himself and it’s enough, it’s wonderful and delicate and it’s enough.

and, there beneath the moonlight and amongst the winter roses, deep and enduring affection, the kind of love the bards sing songs about, takes root.

taglist; @eldrith

[agroteraa]

The Wrath of the Stag

Chapter two (the finale)

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Part 3.2.

Part 1: Actaeon

Part 2: Artemis

Part 3.1: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.1)

Warnings: smut, dubcon, fingering, choking, penetration sex, mentions of drugs, almost?onesided!Felix, dark!Oliver, character death, angst.

Word Count: 4K

So, you and Felix had reached the labyrinth.

Lush and blooming in daylight, it seemed hazy and darksome at night. But still, it was the same maze in which you used to love playing hide-and-seek and catch-up with Felix. You could never catch up with him, no matter how much you wanted to, which made you childishly angry, and he laughed and teased you all the time. Now it seemed somewhat symbolic to you.

"So, what did you want, can you finally say, please?" he wondered with a smile. He was already drunk enough, too, but you started sobering up a little from this long walk.

"You were right. Oliver can be weird. I thought we would talk, but he brushed me off and started dancing with one girl, then another... and then he and Venetia..."

You couldn't hold back your tears. Felix hugged you, comforting you. His warm embrace protected you from the cool air and sense of desperation. It seems as if he was covering you not only with safe arms, but also with his angelic wings.

"Hush, sweetie, hush," he said, quietly asking after a while, "...is it getting better?"

You nodded, looking up at him with tear-stained eyes.

Felix smiled slightly, gently wiping the tears from your cheek. Raising his eyebrows, he looked at you expressively, there was a pause in the air. Felix bent down and reached for your lips. You started answering without fully understanding what you were doing. All this alcohol, torn feelings, Oliver's behavior and, of course, the unrequited love for Felix buried deep inside you for several years, made you try to experience this feeling at least once. You enjoyed his warm, soft lips, hugging his shoulders, until it completely dawned on you. No, you couldn’t do that. Feelings for Felix were long in the past, and Oliver was in the present. The situation might be terrible and confusing, but at least you need to talk, and only then make such decisions as how to respond to someone's feelings or not. Especially since your feelings and thoughts now actually belonged to Oliver.

You gently pushed the guy away from you, "I'm sorry, Felix. I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I'm... thinking about Oliver now."

"What?" he couldn't believe his ears, "Are you really ready to forgive this freak, even after everything I've told you?"

"We should at least listen to his side... and besides, I have... feelings for him," you finally admitted.

"Y/N, what should we listen to? He's a liar and a creep, that's all! What feelings? Oh, don't make me upset, please. I wouldn't want you to choose anyone over me, but if it's Oliver, then it's some kind of insult even!"

He grimaced, and you got angry, "Well, then don't be offended and better choose your own friends next time. Or, as your sister says, "toys"! But it's not for you to tell me who I should or shouldn't be with!"

"Fine. Have fun then! But I assure you, Oliver is unlikely to stay here for long..." Felix threw up his arms, and in a fit of anger turned around and left the maze.

* * *

Not far from the house, he plopped down on a bench, where Farleigh approached him with some two girls. Felix moodily lit a cigarette.

"Hey, buddy, what’s with the face?"

Catton Jr. said nothing and only frowned more, rolling the cig in his lips. Farleigh gave him a drink from his bottle, and then, turning around, quietly suggested, "Coke?"

* * *

You were wiping away the remnants of tears, leaning on the statue of the Minotaur and inhaling the sobering cool air. Looking up, you met the gaze of a horned monster. Despite the intimidating appearance, his eyes were plaintive, like a gentle cow's. You always paid attention to this detail, ever since you had noticed it once as a child, it helped you stop being afraid of the statue when you were running with Felix and Venetia in the maze. Any thing or person, if you look at them closer, does not seem as intimidating as at first glance. Perhaps even worthy of pity.

A familiar horned silhouette appeared in the maze.

"Oliver? How did you..."

"How did you like the party, Y/N? It seems that you completely abandoned your birthday boy tonight," he was slowly approaching you from the darkness. Up close, Oliver looked even more amazing in this suit. You involuntarily looked him up and down, lingering with your gaze on the naked torso peeking out from under the jacket, on which again hung only one chain reflecting the light of the moon. His summer-tanned skin contrasted so well with the glaringly white suit. The pebbles creaked softly under his feet as he came up to you and gently stroked your neck. Your skin covered with goosebumps. You swallowed, pushing those thoughts aside.

"Are you kidding me now? I didn't leave you for the whole evening. And it wasn't me dancing with some random girls and Venetia."

"Oh yeah? But it wasn't me who kissed one of the Cattons this evening!" his fingers closed palpably around your throat.

"Oliver... what are you doing..." he let the grip, and you continued, "Are you crazy? Why the hell were you following us? You're really doing this, gods… Just like Felix said... "

"Said what?"

"That you were watching Venetia and me and that you... did obscene things and told him that you... liked both of us."

He narrowed his eyes, "What else did Felix tell you today?"

You frowned, "That's all," he continued to look at you silently, "That’s enough for me, isn’t it for you?"

He pinned you at the pedestal of the monument, enclosing you between his strong arms. He looked at you with unblinking, darkening eyes and asked, "So, why the hell did you kiss Felix Catton?"

"He kissed me! I've been wanting to talk to you all evening, and you brushed me off... and then you started dancing with some girl.… And then with Venetia… And that's after everything Felix told me.… He tried to comfort me, but I... refused him. I wanted to talk to you first," hot tears rolled down your cheeks again. His face seemed to soften a little.

"First of all," Oliver said, "calm down, my dear. Secondly, you don't know anything. Thirdly," he runs his thumb over your left cheek, wiping away tears," This is still not a reason to kiss someone else. I'll explain everything clearly to you now."

Without warning, he got under the hem of your dress and inserted one finger into you. You exhaled sharply.

"About the window case... yes. I was looking at you, just at you, unable to look away. I will not apologize for this, although it is a pity that Felix and, in the end, you misunderstood me because of him. But these are his problems. Are you going to be mad at me for not being able to resist your beauty? Don't be silly, Y/N. Did you see yourself lying in a swimsuit under the hot summer sun? I did. I'll tell you, it's a sight that you can't handle yourself. Or rather, it was only my hand that could somehow handle it."

He added a second finger and slightly accelerated the pace.

"What about the party… I was in a bad mood, I needed to talk to Felix and explain about this situation so that he wouldn't upset you, but I couldn't find him anywhere. So, I asked his friend first, and then his sister. The fact that they were both drunk, high and desperate for any male attention is not my problem either. I don't know what you’ve imagined..."

The pace of his fingers became ruthless, Oliver also added a third finger, and it almost caused you real pain from the suddenness of everything that was happening. Another tear involuntarily rolled down your cheek.

"...but I've been hoping all evening that after talking to Felix that I'll finally get, as you said, my main gift..."

He licked your hot tear off your face with his even hotter tongue.

"You."

You almost came from a mixture of fear, excitement and arousal.

"I saw you walk past me, holding his hand and not saying a word to me. Of course, I followed you, especially since I needed to talk to him. And what do I see? How he. Kisses. My. Girlfriend."

It was the first time he had said "girlfriend". In a different environment, you'd been absolutely happy, but now a feeling of unknown anxiety had been added to this feeling. Oliver himself would prefer announcing it in different circumstances, but there we go. He pulled out your fingers, which glistened in the dark. You were panting a little. He ran his digits lightly over his lower lip.

"Tell me, is my name Felix Catton?"

You were silent. He couldn't be serious, could he?.. But Oliver leaned over to you and almost whispered his question into your lips, "Is. My. Name. Felix. Catton?"

"No..."

"So, what is my name?" he asked, staring intently into your eyes so that you wanted to sink through the ground. His hands squeezed your forearms painfully enough.

"O-Oliver..." you answered almost soundlessly.

"I can't hear you, Y/N. Say it a little bit louder, please."

You were silent, shaking slightly. It was like the air has left your lungs. Oliver sighed.

He took you by the hips and pulled you to him, turning you over with your chest and stomach on the pedestal of the monument, your front parts of your body were not used to the cold of the stone and immediately became covered with goosebumps, just like your palms and elbows, which you had to lean on now. He bent you and spread your legs wide apart, lifting the hem of your dress.

"You have a very beautiful outfit today, darling. I'm sorry I was out of sorts and didn't say it sooner – you look amazing tonight. Of course, I noticed it right away," you heard the sound of a belt slowly unbuckling, and then the sound of a fabric coming down, "So, who is this? Helena? Or Hermia? Oh, it must be Hermia, isn’t it? How ironic. I hope in this version of the story she won't have to choose between Lysander and Demetrius?"

Oliver, holding your hips, bent down and left a few kisses on your neck, going down to your shoulder blades.

"She won't have to."

With those words, he entered you, abruptly and without warning. You exhaled in a little shock. Oliver entered and fill you up completely at once and, almost without giving you time to get used to it, began unhurried, but nevertheless impatient movements with his hips. You started to sigh and whine, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second. He smiled, feeling it, "I didn't expect anything else. So, tell me, dear, what's my name? Only louder this time."

You let out a moan in response, and Oliver picked up the pace, "I'm going to bang those words out of you."

Your eyes were watering, but he watched the way you were twisting and panting. You liked this. He could see it in your face, which was slightly tilted to the side, could feel it within his core. He continued thrusting, his hips meeting your ass with each movement. He reached up, wrapping a hand around your neck and pulling you closer, the sensation restricting your breathing ever-so-slightly turned you on even more.

"So... what's my name?"

"Oli...ver..." you moaned, stumbling because of his strong grip and the rhythm he had set.

He practically went in and out of you completely with every move, the stone of the pedestal seemed to melt under you. The feeling of a little fear and anxiety completely turned into a pleasure that overshadowed everything else. Oliver took his hand off your throat and moved it to your hair, burrowing into it slightly.

"Oliver… Oliver!" you said louder, breathing heavily, the words turning into moans again.

"Good girl, that's exactly my name. And all the other names, and even more so lips, hands, and so on, you must forget. This is my wish for my birthday."

You looked back and your eyes finally met. His eyes were completely dark with lust, and his lips crooked into a satisfied smile when he caught your gaze. He was horned and you were incredibly horny. Heck, he was horny too, of course, not to say more.

You gasped every time as he was pushing inside you. You were so fucking tight, still so tight, you were need to be fucked more like that sometimes, he kept thinking to himself as he gritted his teeth, feeling your body pulsating around him.

"Fuck, girl, making such a mess over me," he groaned. His head fell back and his grip on you was tightening.

The moon casted a shadow of the two of you on the ground. Oliver's horned silhouette was crashing into you, and a horned monster was looking at it all from above. You were close to the end.

You were mewling, bucking your hips, wanting to take him deeper, the tip of his cock brushing against your most pleasurable spot with every thrust. He drove into you harder, holding you tighter, clenching his jaw. His pace was absolutely merciless and was already just abruptly knocking the air out of you instead of any screams.

"Oliver!.." you came around his cock, and a minute later he followed you, piling on top of you. He was breathing heavily, and then he kissed you on the shoulder, then on the neck, after that he turned you over and sat you on the pedestal of the statue, straightening your dress.

Buttoning up his white pants, he knelt down, gently wrapping his arms around your leg, kissing your knee and looking deep into your eyes. The feel of his warm fingertips against the slightly cold skin on your calf gave your chills. Then he took your hand, kissed it and pressed his face against it. Closing his eyes, he began to rub his cheek against your hand, burrowing his face into your palm. It was an act of adoration after the act of forcibly asserting his authority.

He was again just a mere stag by his Artemis’s side.

You stroked his dark soft hair, and then you began to grope his antlers. Sharp and hard, now you were stroking them securely, although it seemed that a moment earlier Oliver could stab someone with them out of rage. Maybe even you. Any thing or person, if you look at them closer, does not seem as intimidating as at first glance. Yet maybe not quite any.

He rose from his knees to the level of your face, and leaning on his hands next to your hands, he asked softly and hoarsely, "Are you mine, Y/N?"

His piercingly blue eyes were glowing in the dark along with his suit, which seemed almost luminescent white in the night.

"Yes, Oliver, I am yours," you replied, sealing your promise with a kiss.

* * *

You walked silently back to the house, out of the maze, through the garden, past the pond. The small pebbles crunched under your feet. The fresh air, all these wild experiences and emotions today and their passionate resolution made your legs feel wobblier with every step, and your eyes began to feel weary.

Upon entering the hall where the party was going on, you were greeted by loud music again:

One, two, three, four

Let me hear you scream if you want some more

Like ah, push it, push it

Watch me work it

I'm perfect

Oliver kissed you on the stairs. Few people paid attention, but he knew that Felix would most likely notice if he was here. And he was here, and he noticed. You turned around and saw that Felix was already dancing with some girl and was clearly having a good time with her. You were upset. It didn't last long, you thought bitterly. Even though he probably had a lot to drink, it was no excuse to forget his intentions so quickly. But you didn't know that he had been high for a long time on top of everything else.

"Can you get me something to drink?" you moaned.

"Baby, haven't you had enough for today?" Oliver began mockingly, and then, seeing your frown, added, "The wishes of the birthday boy’s girlfriend are the law," and left for cocktails.

That's right, I'm a superstar

Everybody wanna come up when I'm at the bar

All the people wanna try

It's like, give me some more

Try a little harder, honey

Give me some more

You were looking at Felix and the girl in the fairy costume again. He could not take his hands off her, then bent down and began to whisper something to her, or maybe not only whisper, which made her giggle.

Perfection… ha-ha!

The female singer's voice seemed to mockingly comment on the situation.

Your heart has almost broken once again this night. When you saw a drink nearby on a nearby table, you knocked it over without looking at the contents. Damn, it seemed like it was something very strong. Oliver returned with two cocktails, blocking you in every sense from this view. Smiling, you downed another cocktail in almost one sitting. Your head began to spin pleasantly again, pushing out unnecessary thoughts. You and Oliver danced a little. How fabulous he was in that outfit, your birthday boy. The music seemed to disappear for a while when you enjoyed this moment of dancing, without taking your eyes off each other.

Then, the music almost abruptly hit you with a throbbing headache and a heaviness in your eyelids and legs. It seems that fatigue and a sense of stress have returned, multiplied by repeated alcohol intoxication. Oliver led you through the entire crowd and all the rooms, almost every one of which had its own mini-party, until you found yourself on your floor. He carefully helped you undress and put you to bed. Your body ached pleasantly, feeling the soft mattress underneath and the duvet above.

"Good night, Ollie."

"Good night, Y/N," he said softly, "And... Sorry for everything."

"We sort of settled everything," you assured him, being sure that he was only talking about the events of the evening, and not about anything else, "Everything will be fine."

"Everything will be fine, that is for sure."

* * *

Oliver returned to the hall, a bottle of wine in his hand. Felix never let talk to him, literally sent him away, and Quick wanted to give him another chance. Or maybe he didn't want to anymore after Felix laid his eyes and not only the eyes on Y/N.

Catton Jr. danced merrily with his fairy, and then at some point took her by the hand and led her across the hall, outside. Oliver watched all this closely, gloomily drinking from a bottle, leaning against the wall.

Felix's clouded mind told him to finish the job, his regrets almost completely blocked by drugs, alcohol and the desire to lick his wounded ego. Therefore, his almost mindless brain led him down the road that he already knew well. Into the maze.

Oliver followed, his wrath building with each slow but firm step as he was running through all the events that had happened. Going to his parents without warning, ignoring his requests and pleas to stop, turn around, or at least not go with him. The discovery of the truth, the way Felix pushed him away, calling him a fucking liar, yet he had nosed into Oliver's life himself. The way fear and contempt were read in his eyes, mixed with an inner struggle whether to tell it all to everyone or not. To tell it to Y/N or not. The way he started turning Y/N against him. The way he started hitting on Y/N, especially now, knowing it all. And how he immediately traded you for some random girl. And all this was on the date of his birthday celebration.

No, there won't be a second chance, Oliver thought to himself as he poured a huge dose of the drug into the bottle.

It was tempting to say that Felix flew too close to the sun, but he was actually the sun himself. So dazzlingly bright and inviting. It was all the others who were too close to him in the rays of his destructive splendor and the hopes of living the same incredible life as his that endlessly flew up and burned. Besides, it was the middle of the night in Saltburn, so the allegory would be completely missed. However, in addition to those infamous wings, Daedalus created something else - the labyrinth of Knossos, where the Minotaur dwelled and suggested a horror, devouring beautiful young men.

Which meant that Icarus was destined to die anyway from the creation of Daedalus.

The dark antlered silhouette followed the winged youth with the confidence of a predator.

By stepping into this labyrinth, carefree Icarus himself signed the verdict of his fate.

* * *

It still seemed to you that all this was a terrible foggy ill dream from which you still could not wake up from. The scream that Felix had been found with was still ringing in your ears sometimes.

It had been a few days now, and you still couldn't believe that he was gone. No matter what, he was an angel. Childishly selfish, but still generous, open-hearted and always ready to help and support. You remembered his costume at the party and smiled bitterly. Really an angel. And even more so now.

You were so regretful that you didn't speak to him again that night. Were so sorry that you went to bed early and didn't see much. That you never knew that Felix and Farleigh were taking some drugs that night, to the point it was too much and too late, and Farleigh was anyhow to blame for it and he couldn’t save him. That you couldn’t save him.

You went into Oliver's room, but he hadn’t come yet. While waiting, you began to walk around the room, and suddenly saw a book by his bedside table, your birthday present. You sat down on the bed, picked up the book and began to look at it again. Icarus with golden wings, falling away from the sun. You ran your finger over the gold embossed cover. Tears welled up your eyes. Gods. You started crying uncontrollably, hot tears dripping right onto the cover of the book. Gently throwing the book on the bed, you buried your face in your hands and bent over in sobs.

"Y/N, what are you..." Oliver came into the room and rushed to hug you.

"Ollie... the book... I..." you spoke barely legibly through sobs. He began to calm you gently, squeezing you tightly in his arms, "I'm here, my darling, everything is fine."

He wish he could take away this pain that you were experiencing right now, but it was impossible to take away what he had caused himself. Yet he was sincerely comforting you, hugging and kissing you in the most caring way possible, "I'm here and I'll always be there, no matter what happens, you'll be safe and sound with me," his whispering was hot and assuring.

Oliver used to think that there was nothing better than the feeling when you comforted him. However, the way you looked at him with your eyes full of tears, trustfully snuggling closer, searching for his support and his consolation, it turned out to be a feeling on a completely different level. The way you needed him, him and no one else. And only he could grant you any relief. At that moment, he felt that he was close to the deity. Your personal deity.

And Oliver was ready to arrange a hundred more accidents to experience this feeling again.

A hundred? This was, of course, too much. But it was in his power to do a couple more.

He took a deep breath of your scent, burying his nose deeper into your hair and holding you closer. Besides, Saltburn looked like a lovely place for your future shared happily ever after.

[madsipie]

my personal until dawn pronoun/sexuality headcanons but they accidentally turn into normal headcanons too (coming from a bisexual she/they user please don't burn me)

Ashley: she/her, biromantic asexual | just doesn't feel sexual attraction like everyone else. thought she was weird for it then her friends reassured her once she came out (mike joked around with her a lot because he's like the total opposite)

Chris: he/they, bisexual | this man has definitely experimented with Josh before, you cannot tell me otherwise. also maybe possibly transgender and his friends got together and made him a little care package after his top surgery (he cried. he totally cried.)

Emily: she/her, says she's straight but... mm, idk.... | has drunkenly made out with Jess more than once before but she acts like it never happened (they've all seen it happen at least once)

Jess: she/her, unlabeled because she doesn't need a label to tell her what she is (real) | has also kissed Josh once because he's Just That Kissable (also real) but that's all that happened, he still teases her about it sometimes though

Josh: he/him, pansexual | doesn't rlly have a type, as long as they're nice to him and kinda hot then he might develop a crush. jokingly flirts with everyone and they're all pretty used to it, he and Chris go back and forth for hours sometimes just coming up with the stupidest pet names for each other and everyone else is just like "ohh my god shut up already please shut up.."

Matt: he/him, pansexual | literally does not care if someone uses they/them on him though. also, enjoys giving his friends platonic kisses (mostly Ash on her forehead because they're silly friends) and he also kissed Jess on the forehead as a comforting gesture after the whole incident in the mines. fight me, he's love-shaped

Mike: he/him, bisexual | will jokingly respond to she/her and pretends to be one of the girls when Emily and Jess are gossiping. playfully flirts with everyone in their friend group (like josh) but Matt was tired of it and casually flirted back once (surprising bc he always is like "dude, we both have gfs...") and Mike stuttered so hard he almost choked and then tried to play it cool like nothing happened (everyone saw it happen, michael)

Sam: she/her, also unlabeled | doesn't really like labels that much, just wants to like who she likes. doesn't give a shit about they/them being used on her either. she fr just does not care. definitely used to have a small crush on Josh before everything. she, like Matt, loves giving her friends affection though like a small side hug or bumping shoulders or straight up squishing her cheek against theirs bc it makes them laugh

BONUS because i almost forgot about them..

Hannah: she/her, straight | super loud ally when it comes to pride month, rainbows everywhere. Josh and Beth get embarrassed but they love their sister <3 also she definitely crushed on Matt at one point

Beth: she/they, lesbian | tried to date a guy once, never again. does not understand when Hannah gushes over Mike. may or may not have liked Sam at some point but stayed away because she thought Josh and Sam liked each other and she didn't want to get in the middle of it because she wanted Josh to be happy

note: ignore the fact that they're almost all bisexual, it's because they're really fucking fruity, shhh

[mercy-burning]

Honeybee

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: While attending Seraphina's wedding, Y/N discovers that her crush on her best friend’s older brother hasn’t gone away after all these years. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, alcohol consumption, fingering, penetrative/protected sex Word Count: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know I promised a oneshot over the weekend, but I’m a messy, inconsistent bitch, so you get it a day late 😅🥰

———

Looking back, I was starting to wonder if Seraphina only got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor just to witness my slow descent into a heaping puddle of lovesick mush.

Truly, it was pathetic.

Yeah, yeah, she was getting married because she loved her fiancé and whatever, obviously, but she was also using it as an excuse to try and get me to admit my feelings for her older brother. Feelings, I might add, that only surfaced when I was a middle schooler and went away once he went off to college.

Sure, I'd thought about him on occasion when he was inevitably brought up around Sera's house throughout the years, but that was it. I'd hardly say I was hard-core in love with him. And I was totally prepared to see him for the first time since our high school graduation.

At least, I thought I was.

And Seraphina—the little shit—knew it, too. The smirk on her face the moment we were all in the same room for the first time in ten years made me want to run and hide more than her brother's figure, right in front of me and hotter than ever.

I was mad. Not at Sera as much, because really there was nothing she could do about the fact that he was her brother, but I was mad at myself. Because how in the hell had it stood to reason that a man I actively didn't think about for a whole decade had this much of an effect on me after all this time?

Honestly? I blame the FBI.

If he'd done literally anything else with his life I probably could have made it. Well, not by much if we're being honest, but come on...

Where he'd been a bit nerdy and reserved as I knew him, the man in front of me had clearly changed. Not just physically, though that was also a pleasant surprise. He looked like he'd been through some shit... And he carried himself taller. There was a new air of confidence that perched on his shoulder and helped him along as he talked with old friends and family members at his sister's rehearsal dinner.

Spencer Reid was older and more experienced this time around, and somehow even more goddamn delicious...

I was a total wreck. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.

He was coming this way. Right for me. He'd noticed me staring at him all night, because I couldn't keep my shit together, and now I was absolutely doomed.

Guess it was a good thing I'd practically grown up with him and knew how to act outwardly.

Still, the moment he was up close and flashing me that little smile of his, I felt the pit of my stomach scream out loud, sending shockwaves through my bloodstream.

"Hey, Honeybee. It's been a while."

Fuck. That fucking nickname...

"Spencer... It has."

When we hugged briefly, I tried as hard as I could not to inhale his scent, knowing that not only was that pathetic and embarrassing, but also I'd never stop smelling it otherwise. I did take note, though, of how strong he was now. He wasn't a bodybuilder of any kind, but he was certainly less bony and more defined.

I had to hold back a whine as I felt him let go of me, because I didn't want to leave his warm embrace but also because I didn't think I could stand to look at his face anymore without losing any and all semblance of my cool.

Still, I let him release me, and even then he didn't go far. We only stood inches apart, and my whole body was practically numb at the proximity. It also didn't help that I had to tilt my head up to see his face— It made me feel extremely submissive, and I could already feel myself starting to shrink.

Whether he was amused at that or just at me in general, the feeling I got was the same.

"Sera tells me you've been busy..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word, though I could tell he already had it on the tip of his tongue. "Modeling?"

I closed my eyes with a sigh. "It was one job for some obscure European magazine, no one in the country's probably ever heard of it... It's not that big of a deal."

Spencer huffed a laugh. "You sound embarrassed..."

How was I supposed to respond to that? If I lied and told him I wasn't embarrassed, he'd figure it out, and if I told him the truth? I'd still be screwed. Honestly, my best bet was changing the subject.

Though, maybe it wasn't— When I asked him about his travels for work, he ignored it and responded with, "Ah, so you are embarrassed."

"N— I am not!"

"You changed the subject so fast I barely had time to blink... There's nothing to be ashamed of, Honeybee, I don't know why you'd—"

"Look, dude, I'm not ashamed, and I'm certainly not changing the subject. We were on the subject of jobs. So there."

I was aware of how childish I sounded, but I stood my ground nonetheless. And thankfully Spencer seemed to let it go, though not without amplifying that amused sparkle in his eye.

"Okay... Well, I've got some more people to see, but, uh... I'll see you around. Maybe you can show me some of your work."

He didn't even give me time to protest. Though if he had, I was sure I wouldn't have been able to get any words out what with that goddamned face he had, twisted and sculpted into all these beautiful ways that were designed specifically to make me a blubbering hot mess.

I could only gather the courage to nod in response, though he'd turned his back and walked away by the time I got it out.

———

All things considered, I'd managed to avoid him for the majority of the wedding festivities. I focused all my energy on being happy to see my best friend get married, and likewise it seemed that Spencer was inclined to do the same.

He walked his sister down the aisle, and seeing them both so happy truly made my heart sing. To think I'd known them since we were all kids more or less, and now they were both successful, beautiful human beings... It warmed me to my core, and despite the other flames that stung my insides at seeing Spencer in his tux, thing were going swimmingly.

That being said, we were just about two hours into the reception, and there was absolutely nothing stopping me from begging Seraphina to put me out of my misery.

Except maybe pints upon pints of alcohol.

In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea, though. Because as much as the open bar had it benefits, it also hated me. It was mostly my fault, because I was stupid enough to forget that I get frisky when I'm drunk, but that didn't stop me from blaming the bartender for continuing to serve me.

I wasn't quite at the point of all-out inebriation, but I was definitely toeing the line between tipsy flirting and total disaster.

And when Spencer came over to ask me to dance, I knew I was doomed.

I didn't find myself caring about what he was saying, only the fact that he was there, in front of me, putting his hands on me and breathing in the same air that I was putting out. My entire body buzzed, and while I would have panicked otherwise, my tipsy brain welcomed the tingle and made me a bit bolder.

"You enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked, like he couldn't already tell that I was having the time of my life.

"No way. You suck at dancing." The joke rolled off my tongue with ease, a product of years spent teasing him for countless things.

And just like all those times before, he rolled his eyes and then immediately flashed an affectionate smile all the same.

I should have stopped there, maybe tried to do something a bit more romantic like teach him how to dance... Placing his hands and fixing his posture, taking the time to gracefully have an excuse for exploring his body with my hands...

But romance took a backseat when I pressed myself in even closer to him and hummed just under his jawline. "Mmm, but I bet you're good at other things..."

I felt his hands grip my waist just a little tighter, and his throat visibly twitched. "How much have you had to drink, Honeybee?"

"Spencer," I whined, pressing my face into his neck. "Don't tell me you're turning me down, please..."

I could tell by the way he was touching me, his hands wavering and undecided, and the way his heartbeat thrummed loudly and quickly against my own that he wanted nothing more than to entertain my desires.

The thought made me quiver and press further into him. I kissed his jawline tenderly, silently begging him to whisk me away and finally make me his, but it broke my heart a little to feel him peel away from me.

When he looked into my eyes though, I swore the gleam in his own is what put me back together. It could have been the liquor swimming around in my body that made me feel lightheaded, but when Spencer lifted my chin with his fingers and looked me over, I knew that wasn't it. It was wholeheartedly, without a doubt, him.

"Tell you what... You get sobered up by the end of the night, and maybe I'll come find you."

I wanted to nod, but his gentle grip on my chin held me steady—At least until he glided his fingertips down my throat and over my shoulder. Then I downright slumped forward with a whine and a weak nod that seemed to make him smile.

"Thank you for the dance," he said earnestly, leaning forward to press the lightest of kisses to my temple.

Just like that he was gone, and I wanted him back almost immediately.

———

And so the night dragged on, and the longer I sobered up the more it dawned on me what the fuck just happened— What the fuck was going to happen, too, if I played my cards right.

It didn't help that I could practically feel Spencer's eyes on me the whole time. Probably to make sure I really wasn't drinking anymore, a fact that only made this feel more real.

On top of it all, I was starting to lose count of the amount of men here who were trying to buy me drinks. Even if the one man I really wanted tonight hadn't given me a deal, I still wouldn't have accepted them, if only for the pathetic fact that I would have been trying to catch his attention instead.

So much for trying to convince myself I wasn't in love with him...

Was that really what it was? It had to be, right?

Either way, I was determined to find out, and that meant declining every flirtatious offer to drink and dance.

Unfortunately, Seraphina seemed to notice, even on the one day in her entire life she shouldn't have been thinking about anyone but herself. "You're not having fun," she pouted, plopping down next to me and handing me a shot. "Have fun."

I laughed and set the tiny glass down on the table. "I am having fun, I'm just... tired. And being hungover tomorrow does not sound fun."

"Mmm," she responded, visibly suspicious.

I didn't really know what to say to her to convince her not to be though, so I grabbed her hand and smiled. "You're having fun though, right? 'Cause I will not hesitate to kick someone's ass if you're not."

With a bellowing laugh mildly tainted with the smell of champagne, Seraphina squeezed my hand and leaned in close. "I'm having the best time. I couldn't be happier."

"Well, good. You deserve it."

After a small moment of silent shared smiles, my best friend glanced over elsewhere and then back to me with that look in her eye that kind of scared me.

And her words were even scarier... "So, you talk to Spencer at all tonight?"

"Uh— Yeah... Briefly."

"Mhmm... Y'know, I saw you two dancing together earlier. You seemed reeeally close..."

There I was, getting defensive in front of a Reid sibling for the second time that night. And just like before, I was awful at being subtle. "Sera, stop it! It was just a dance..."

"Bullshit! He had his hands all over you, and he had that gross-ass, dreamy-ass look in his eye! He so wants to sleep with you!"

"Sera!" I gently shoved her and tried not to smile at the goofy smile she had plastered on her face.

"Am I wrong?"

"I... I don't..."

"Ha! I'm not wrong!"

The defeated look in my eye did nothing to disconfirm her story.

"So, what's stopping you from letting him?"

I went wide-eyed. "Se—You... You seriously would... You're okay with this? It doesn't... gross you out?"

There were a lot of things I could have seen Seraphina do in that moment, but pinching and yelling at me were not any of them. "Y/N! You idiot! I've been trying to get you two together for years! If I knew all it took was me getting married, I would have accepted Theo Decker's proposal..."

"Wa— In fifth grade? Sera, that wasn't—"

"I know, but you get what I mean! You two are so painfully attracted to each other, it physically hurts me. It's actually disgusting, but if it means there's a chance that you might get to be my sister? I say go for it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You... You really mean that?"

"What, you think I'd joke about that?"

Everything that she conveyed to me within the look in her eyes, her words, and the squeezing of her hand over mine told me she was sincere.

"I love you, you know," I told her just as sincerely.

Her smile was as radiant as ever, but the teasing tone in her voice was enough to make me scowl again. "Right back at'cha, Honeybee. Just do me a favor and don't tell me any details. I don't wanna know."

I stuck my tongue out at her, followed by a short shove. "Oh, and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon? I'm kicking your ass for telling him about that nude shoot I did for that magazine..."

She only grinned. "Why? I think I did you a favor..."

I rolled my eyes at her, but in the end, I guess she was right.

———

I shouldn't have been pacing. Really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing the way I walked in circles around my hotel room, waiting for a knock at the door or a text message on my phone, or something to let me know that Spencer had really meant what he said and was on his way to come find me.

I didn't have a single drink after we danced, and I swear to God, if he made me go through this entire night all nervous without the liquor to calm me down, for nothing? I was going to kill him tomorrow.

Later today... Whatever.

The point? I was well and truly ready to feel him taking up my personal space, and I was going to feel like a real idiot if I waited around and prepped and everything, only for him not to show. The funny thing was, it was almost two in the morning, and I would have stayed up until the sun rose for him.

Thank God he had the decency to save me the trouble.

A short two-rap knock on the door made me jump, but I ran at it full-speed, flinging the large wooden panel open and letting its momentum blow cool wind over my body. And I needed it, too.

Because standing right in front of me was Spencer Reid in all his semi-exhausted glory. His outfit was loosened, buttons undone and bowtie untied, hanging limp around his neck. His hair sat wild atop his head and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Maybe that last part sounded gross, but looking at him? It was anything but.

Especially when he flashed me that damned smirk. "Someone's eager..."

I tried not to sound as dumbfounded by his presence as I felt. "Well, you made me a good offer I couldn't refuse. Excuse me for being excited."

"And here I thought all this time you hated me, Honeybee..."

"That would be easier, wouldn't it?"

His grin transformed into a full-on beaming smile then, and it only made my skin feel warmer and my heart beat faster. I returned his smile with my own, so genuinely happy to see him again after all this time, and with the brightest show of happiness I'd ever seen.

Turns out, smiling like a lovesick idiot was all I was capable of.

"Are you... gonna let me in?"

The low suggestive tone in his voice had me springing into action, stepping back and allowing him the space to come in. And though he had plenty of room, Spencer still decided to brush his body over mine as he passed. His eyes bore into my own as he gently kicked the door shut and enveloped us in a dimness that came from cheap hotel lighting.

Still, I was unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, with each passing second.

And then, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him with a softness that matched the whisper in his throat as he said, "C'mere..." Looking up at him then, his fingers burning holes through the thin fabric of my dress while he looked back down me, eyes swimming in tender desire... It almost didn't even feel real.

And it certainly didn't feel real when he leaned in, one of his hands coming up to touch my face while the other pressed me firmly against him.

The moment his lips touched mine, I was gone. I positively melted into him, so much so that it felt like I was just becoming a part of him entirely, losing myself in the moment and unwilling to let it go.

Even when he sighed against my lips and parted his own to kiss me deeper, I just followed suit and let him take the lead. We moved together as one, fluidly and with as much eagerness was possible. I'd wanted to get a taste of him for so long, and he obviously felt the same way, what with the thorough and precise exploring his tongue did with my own. It shot warmth throughout my whole being, and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me from how weak they felt.

Spencer seemed to understand what was happening to me, because as soon as I'd thought it, he was just as quick to literally sweep me off my feet, scooping me up bridal style and carrying me over to the large bed in the middle of the room.

"I know we're at a wedding and all, but geez," I laughed, watching as he laid me down gently and crawled over my body. "A little much?"

He only rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be romantic..."

"Mmm, I think you're just being an overachiever. As per usual."

That remark earned me a pinning of my wrists above my head, and the fire that erupted in my very core at my current position only cemented that this was very real.

Spencer grinned, his hips coming down to roll over mine teasingly. He spoke nice and slowly, his voice slicing through my soul like smooth butter. "Oh, Honeybee, I'll show you an overachiever..."

Once again I was rendered speechless. Not like I expected to be talking his ear off or anything, but words genuinely escaped me.

Luckily, Spencer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he knew exactly what to do next, and it made me even hungrier for him than ever before.

He captured my lips in another dizzying kiss, his hands still flexing over my wrists to keep them steady. I moaned softly and writhed against him, and though I would have liked to say that it was a conscious choice to coax him to give me more, really it was just me being unable to handle the fact that this was actually happening.

Actually, if not for the overwhelming and familiar scent of him, I would have thought I was only imagining it.

But alas, here he was in all his floral peppermint glory, grinding his hips down into mine and kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, driving me mad with each adept movement.

Thankfully he seemed to get as lost in the moment as I was, because he loosened my wrists in his grip, and I broke free, flying my hands in between us and down to his belt.

His lips pulled away from mine with a soft smack, a smile forming smugly upon them. "Have you no patience?"

As my fingers fumbled with the metal and leather, I pressed my nose to his and quickly pecked his mouth. "I thought we already established that I have no patience the moment I opened the door..."

"Fair... But still..."

Spencer grabbed my hands again, moving them to my sides and then hiking my dress up slowly. His skin was hot against my own, and it took everything I had not to break down begging for him.

And then he spoke again, his lips barely grazing mine as he did. "Teasing you is so much fun..."

I couldn't really explain what sound escaped me then, but it reminded me of a disgruntled animal, erupting from my throat and getting muffled the moment I took my hands and brought his face to mine. I kissed him fervently as his hands matched the intense nature of my affections— With every soft groan I gave him, he returned it with an inch higher up my leg, until eventually he was toying with the hem of my underwear.

Unable to take it anymore, I gave in and mumbled the most desperate plea I could think of. (Like I had to think that hard...)

"Spencer, please..."

I half expected him to tease me again, but this time I felt him tremble over my body. His fingers slipped under the satin of my underwear and he sighed into my mouth. "God, how could I ever say no to you..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he spread me apart with his fingertips, getting a feel for me and a broken sigh falling from his tongue and onto my own. I captured it and kissed him with as much precision as I could while under the influence of his hands working wonders.

Truly, his hands hand a magic of their own that should have been considered as an eighth Wonder of the World. They flexed in all the right places, splitting me open and caressing the most sensitive parts of me, simultaneously breaking me apart and putting me back together...

God, and those was only his hands...

The thought of what else he had waiting for me made me cry out into his mouth, though I'm sure it also had to do with the fact that his fingers were curling expertly inside me and summoning an orgasm that I knew would satisfy us both.

I almost cried out again when his lips left mine, but then they travelled to my neck and paid it the most glorious attention. The alternation of his fingers and his tongue on different spots of my body had me in shambles, and it took no longer than a few seconds to snap.

"Fuck, that's my girl," Spencer grumbled into my neck, helping me through my orgasm. "That's it, honey..."

What I wouldn't have given to hear him talk to me like that until the end of time... His words, their tone and praise seeping into my skin and bringing my soul to life... Coupled with his soft hands and his even softer breath fanning over my neck, I was just about ready to ask him to keep talking to me, to say my name and never stop.

He pulled away though, removing his hand from my lower half and bringing it up to his mouth, and I had the feeling my request wouldn't be a problem.

Spencer's eyes rolled back and his tongue gathered my arousal off his long, well-endowed fingers. And though I could hear his groan well and clear, I felt it more than anything. It reverberated through my body and brought me more to life in a way I never thought imaginable.

No one had ever made me feel that way with one single sound, and that's how I knew.

I thought I knew it from the start—from when we were growing up—that I wanted to be near him forever. But It was always just a silly dream, something I was never quite able to reach, and as I got older and we rarely saw each other, it got harder to even imagine anymore.

Now I didn't have to imagine.

Spencer Reid was right in front of me, touching me, tasting me, verbally praising me with sounds I'd only ever dreamed of...

I wanted him to have his moment, because I was positive he'd wanted this just as much as I did, but this sappy sort of revelation I was having made it nearly impossible to not be utterly wrapped up in him, and I wanted more.

So I wiggled and adjusted myself underneath him before grabbing his hand and placing it over my heart. His eyes widened softly at the sight of me, and I knew then that he was taking the time to memorize my face, and the image of his hand resting at my chest, right where my heart was encased beneath bones, flesh, and fabric.

"I could look at you forever," he whispered then.

I would have been ashamed to admit that I whimpered when he said it, but the way he looked at me afterwards made me feel the exact opposite.

He smiled, using his other hand to come up and touch my face. "You want it bad, don't you, Honeybee?"

I didn't even argue with him this time. My head nodded and my hands reached out to pull him closer. "I want you... More than I've ever wanted anything."

Before he leaned down to kiss me, I could have swore he looked like he was going to shed a tear. The duality of him, his ability to be all teasing and cocky one second and then reduced to a lovesick mess at just a few words from me the next, made my heart sing.

And it kept singing, a sweet, steady melody as Spencer kissed me and touched me like he meant it.

Only this time, he didn't pause or tease me with theatrics. He went straight for the kill, fetching a condom from his pants pocket and then sliding the material down, all while keeping me trapped under his embrace. I welcomed it naturally, humming happily into his neck and jawline and anywhere I could reach as he got us both fully undressed and situated, until finally he had the condom on and his hands rested nicely on either side of my head.

"Promise not to sting me?"

I laughed, draping my arms over his shoulders and flashing him a wink. "Mmm, only if you promise to give it to me good..."

"Deal."

He slowly pushed into me then, and the stretch was far more satisfying than his fingers, though I was in no position to complain either way. If he was even half as skilled with his hips as he was with his hands (which I had no doubts about whatsoever), then neither of us had anything to worry about.

It didn't take long for us to find our rhythm, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was so consumed with just the feeling of him being everywhere that technicalities didn't matter.

That being said, the technicalities were really fucking good.

His hips snapped into mine with sharp precision, and I felt it deep within my bones. My cunt clung around him willingly and accordingly, as did my legs, which hooked over his waist as I dug my heels into his ass.

Meanwhile Spencer grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head again, this time interlocking our fingers and then leaning down to kiss me deeply. It was met with my undying welcome, of course, but with the way he was fucking me, deep and with a devotion that nearly exploded my heart, I couldn't help but whine out for more.

His name was all I could manage.

"What do you want, Honeybee?" he cooed, holding himself deep inside me and grinding his hips in small circles that made it harder to breathe.

"M—More... I..."

"Can you be more specific?"

How he could be such a cocky little shit in this moment I wasn't sure, and it frustrated me to no end. He knew damn well what I wanted, and I knew just the thing that would make him give it to me.

I have him the biggest pout I could, also whining out the most pathetic, "More," in my arsenal. And with a roll of my hips up into his, I gasped out at how deep he got, and whined out again.

"Spoiled brat," Spencer grunted in defeat, retreating only to slam into me at full force.

My small gasps and cries turned into full-blown howls of searing pleasure as he fucked me then. My head tipped back and my back arched slightly, exposing my neck and chest to him, and he took it as an invitation to lean down and put his mouth anywhere he could reach. I was sure there would be small nicks and bruises littered over my skin the next morning, and just thinking of everyone seeing them, seeing Spencer's mark on me, made it harder to prolong the inevitable.

I came with a shout, flexing my hands into his as my body tensed then relaxed, over and over while he whispered praises into my skin. He followed soon after, shoving his face into my neck and muffling the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard as he came.

By then his hands had loosened, so I snuck my own away from his and brought them over to hug him close. One hand knotted into his hair while the other grazed over his back. The thin sheen of sweat forming over his skin once again was more enticing than it probably sounded, but I loved it all the same. I felt him relax and bring his arms down to rest at my sides, his fingertips dancing lightly over my skin and giving me goosebumps.

Then out of nowhere, he said something that confused and mildly panicked me. "I thought you said you wouldn't sting me..."

I pulled away to try and look at his face, loosening my grip on his body. "A—Am I hurting you? I'm sorry..."

He laughed though, peppering tiny kisses up my neck until he got to my jaw. "You're not hurting me, Honeybee... You've just... stung my heart, that's all."

"I... Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a strange thing..."

He looked at me like I was the one thing on the planet he adored, but his words sounded different.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're not helping me understand..."

With another laugh, Spencer Kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, settling for laying on his side and turning me to face him. "Do you remember how I gave you your nickname?"

Despite my confusion about all of this, I entertained him with a huffed laugh. "Yeah, I spilled honey all over my shorts without realizing it, and I had ants all over me in a matter of minutes. I was terrified."

"I was highly amused."

I shoved him. "Yeah, dork, I know you were! You and Seraphina both thought it was the funniest thing on the planet, and then your mom had to come out and spray me down with a hose before I came back in the house."

Spencer barked a laugh, and I wanted to punch it right out of his mouth.

"Tell me again why this is relevant to our current situation?" I reminded him with and sigh, already over his antics.

Thankfully he seemed to take pity on me; He reached a hand out and played with a strand of my hair, smiling even brighter than when I opened the door for him. "That's when I started to feel it. You were just... so cute all angry at me and Sera for laughing, and it... It changed everything."

"You know, that would be more romantic if I hadn't been covered in bugs," I responded with a laugh.

"It's true! And it confused the hell out of me, because how was I supposed to cope with the fact that I actually had a crush on my little sister's best friend like some stupid cliché? You were always so feisty after that, too, and it certainly didn't help... And when I graduated and went off to college, I thought... I thought there was no chance you would ever be able to break the heart you'd managed to steal."

He swiped his thumb gently over my bottom lip and smiled, his eyes going all tear-y again. It sent butterflies through my whole body.

"I would never even dream of breaking your heart, Spencer..."

Our foreheads pressed together then, and the unwavering adoration in his voice when he spoke made me forget all prior confusion and minor embarrassment over re-living our origins.

All that mattered was that he was here, holding me in his arms and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

"I know you won't, Honeybee."

———

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[jaycewrites-192000]

You're Grounded Pt. 2

Summery: Smiley and Angry's little sister is still grounded, only this time...things go differently.

Part One Here

Rating: SFW

Pairing(s): Platonic!Nahoya Kawata x Platonic!Little Sister Reader x Platonic!Souya Kawata

(Still no incest my dudes)

Also spoilers for episode 20-21!!

One week had passed, and ever since you were stuck in your room, only allowed to come out to go to school, to eat, and bathroom breaks. Other than that, no luck getting out from your little prison. And you were warned to not sneak out again, or another week would be added. You didn't bother trying, as much as you hate to admit it, your brothers were smarter than they looked. They knew every move you would make and would do everything in their power to stop you.

However, you were allowed to have your phone back. They were s confident that if you were to try and call for backup, they would stop it from happening. You made the best of it though, at least you had someone to talk to now. Emma wanted an explanation as to where you had disappeared to lately and you told her you were grounded, well, double grounded now. When she asked why, you hesitated to tell her. But you did, after she promised not to tell Smiley and Angry of course. She did say that you should tell them why you started that fight in the first place, but...it was a bit more complicated than that.

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

So, here you were, in your room looking blankly at your door. Every now and then Smiley or Angry, or both of them, would come and check to see if you were still there. Speaking of, your door opened, Angry walked in this time. "Right on time, big brother." You mutter, not bothering to look at him. "Smiley had to run out somewhere real quick. So, I'm gonna stay here until he gets back." He leans against the door after he shut it.

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes. The silence between you two was heavy with tension and awkwardness.

"...Sorry about before. But you really shouldn't have tricked us like that." You didn't respond. "Come on. You're acting childish."

"I am a child dummy. And so are you, so stop acting like your our mother." You glared at him. "Oh, and you wanna talk being childish? You two get into fights every fucking day, and you two rarely ever get punished for it! So how come I get double grounded!?"

"You get double grounded for sneaking out. And you shouldn't be getting into fights at all. As for us, it's different." Angry explained as calmly as he could. "That's bullshit and you know it!" You snapped. "You wouldn't be saying any of this if I were in the same gang as you two!"

"You won't be joining any gangs of any kind!" Angry finally snapped back. It was rare that he would ever raise his voice at you, so you were at a loss for words. Once he saw your shocked face he toned it down. "Just...don't do it again. Please Y/n, you shouldn't be fighting."

And then came more silence. You and Angry never liked whenever there would be a fight between all three of you. But tension had build up ever since you got into that stupid fight. And honestly, you knew that it didn't need to happen but after what happened...after what those jackasses said...What choice did you have?

"Why did you do it anyway?" Angry asks, making you look up from your bed. You opened your mouth to answer, but shut it before looking away again. "Does it really matter?" You asked. "It's done. Nothing I can do about it now."

Before Angry could respond, Smiley walked in. "Heeey, she try to get out again?" He asked. "No..." Angry shook his head. "But she's hiding something." You shot him a glare. "Oh, so we're telling lies now?"

"I don't know, are we?" Angry turned to his brother. "When has Y/n ever started a fight? She rarely gets into fights, and normally she isn't the one to start some shit." Smiley nods his head at his brother's words. "That's a good point. So, wanna talk to us like a big girl?"

"No. Get out." You tell them sternly. "Too bad!" Smiley hopped on your bed and sat beside you. "Better start talking sis."

"Or what?" You challenged. Smiley's grin deepened. "Or else your double grounding will turn into a triple grounding." He tells you. "What!? How's that fair!?" Smiley shrugs. "Just is. Now spill." You resisted the urge to slug your annoying peach hair older brother in the jaw before sighing heavily. "You really wanna know? Fine. I started that fight because some asshole was talking shit about you two! Happy?"

Smiley and Angry looked at each other before turning back to you. "You started a fight because of that?" Angry asks. You furrow your brow in frustration. "It's more than that...they called you guys a smiling freak and a whinny crybaby. They also talked shit about Toman. And when I confronted them about it...they said I couldn't do a thing without my brothers there to protect me...that I was just a weak little girl who needed to stay out of other's way...So, I punched their lights out." You didn't notice you were crying until the end of it.

"I wouldn't have hit them if they would have just apologized and kept their mouths shut." You say with a sniffle. It was quiet until Smiley started laughing. "Man! You went and defended ours and Toman's honor? You really are the best little sister." He pets your head. "Huh?" You look up at him confused. "That was nice of you Y/n, but you didn't need to get hurt over us." Angry made his way over to you.

"W-well they were hurt way more than me." You told him. "I handled it didn't I?"

"Yes but, still. You're safety matters to us way more than a few insults thrown at us. Next time that happens, tell us."

"Yeah! We'll beat the fuck out of them so you don't get in trouble like you did." Smiley added. "Don't be like your dumbass older brothers Y/n. You're going places you know? Don't waste it on fighting like a gangster."

"But you guys are in a gang..." You mutter. "Don't get any ideas Y/n." Said Smiley, despite his smile, he was serious. "We wouldn't know what to do if you were hurt or worse. Just be our tough little sis outside of a gang ok?" You pout slightly but nod anyway. You did consider joining Toman, somehow. Your brothers inspired you in more than one way, and being in a gang was one of them. Not just any gang, a real gang. "The new age of delinquents" as Mikey put it.

It sounded so cool when you heard about it, and you wanted so desperately to be by your brothers side when it finally happens. But it wasn't always cool and badass, after Darken nearly dying and Baji's death, it dawned on you just how dangerous joining a gang could be. And Smiley and Angry be damned if they let their little sister be murdered and they couldn't prevent it.

You didn't know Draken and Baji on a personal level like everyone else in Touman did, but they were so kind to you whenever you were around. Baji even joked that you were like Toman's little sister. His death left a hole in the hearts of Toman, including yours...

"I won't get into anymore fights, but you guys have to promise me something too." Smiley and Angry waited for your word. "Promise me...that you'll be careful and promise me, you guys won't leave us like Baji did..."

The next thing you knew, your brothers were enveloping you in their embrace. "And leave you all alone? No way in hell." Smiley said softly. "We're not going anywhere." Said Angry. You sniffled but managed to smile. "Good. I might say I don't want you around, but you guys are all I got. So ignore me whenever I might say it again, ok?"

"Sure thing." Smiley chuckled. "Oh by the way, you're ungrounded."

You perk up. "Double ungrounded?"

"Yep. Double ungrounded. But you better not go start shit with anyone again, got it?"

"Got it." You giggle.

"Good. Now let's get out of here. I bet you're bored right?" Smiley asked as the three of you left your room. "Bored as fuck."

"There's a new arcade that just opened up. Should we go there?" Angry asked. " Hell yeah!" You and Smiley say in unison.

You still have no idea how you got so lucky as to get ungrounded like you did, but you had a feeling your brothers were never going to punish you as harshly as they did before.

Maybe...

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

(So I was thinking of making like a little kawata sister series? Idk how well that would play out or how it will be done/written but yeah, stay tuned if that interests you)

[libraryofloveletters]

The Covid Crush

Evan Buckley x Reader 

Warnings: mentions of covid, injures and fires, a lil steamy make out session, mentions of babies and pregnancy, chim being disgusted by y’all (jokingly)

Category: fluff 

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: based on Buck’s “covid crush” 

---

The line rang a few times before he picked up. “Buck’s phone, you’ve reached.. Buck” he laughed making you smile. Even though he couldn’t see you, he always brought a smile to your face. 

“Hey you” you said, pushing the door shut with your foot. 

“Hey! Aren’t you at work ?” he asked, you could hear the voices on his end getting quieter with each step he took. 

“I’m on a break, I thought I'd call and check up on you. How are things at the station ? Is everyone okay ?” 

“Yeah, everyone’s alright for now. I’m good too, thanks for asking” you could practically hear him roll his eyes over the phone. “Oh, forgive me. How are you doing today, Evan ?” you laughed, “I'm good, I'm off at-” the bell went off. 

“That’s my cue, talk later?” he asked, the sound of his heavy footsteps jogging down what you could assume was the stairs. 

“Of course, be safe Buck” you said, “always.” he replied, ending the call.

Although you and Buck weren’t together, you still worried about him, especially with everything that was going on now. It was like your heart was out of your body and running aimlessly into fires everyday. You originally met Buck though his sister, Maddie because you worked with her at the call centre. Buck had come by to see her or pick her up, ending with the two of you bumping into each other. Over time, you became friends and hung out a few times, seeing each other at Maddie’s for game night too. You weren't sure when it turned into something more but you wouldn’t want it any other way. 

Maddie walked into the break room, “hey” she smiled at you, “hey” you took a sip of the coffee in front of you. 

“Is that coffee ?” she stopped in her tracks. 

“Yes it is, there’s a fresh pot” 

She made her way over to the coffee pot, “one cup Maddie, you know the rules” you mumbled, she shot you a glare. “not you too” she groaned, pouring the hot liquid into a mug. “Hey! I'm doing baby Buckley a favour here” you raised your hands playfully. “yea- wait, what did you just call my baby ?” she looked over at you once more, “baby Buckley ?” your brows furrowed, it wasn’t anything strange. 

“Y/n, have you been hanging out with Buck ?” 

“Your brother ? No, why ?” you lied to her, you didn't want to but the two of you made a promise to each other to keep your little conversations a secret. 

“He calls the baby, baby Buckley” she laughed

“Well it is a baby and you are a Buckley, so that makes sense” you smiled at her and got up, “gotta get back to work, see you out there?” you asked, she nodded. 

“Enjoy your coffee, one cup remember!” you hear her groan at your reminder as you walk back out. 

--

The phone rang, you were driving home from the call centre. Tumbling through the console in the middle, you find your phone. Buck’s cheesy contact picture popped up. It was some selfie he had sent you during the holidays of him dressed as Santa to help Eddie surprise Christopher. 

“Hello Evan” you answered his call, he groaned rather loudly. “Everything okay there, big guy ?” 

“y/n, what did I tell you about calling me Evan ?” he asked you, you laughed, “nothing worth mentioning my darling, how was your call ?” 

“It was fine, the regular day for me, pulling people out of burning buildings” he sighed. 

“Any injuries?” 

“Just a few bumps and bruises on the family but they’ll be fine” he replied made you smile, he could be so oblivious. You truly wondered how he was a firefighter sometimes. “That’s good but I was asking about you” you turned into your building parking lot. 

“Oh,” he laughed, “I'm fine, also a few bruises but nothing too bad” 

“Heading home for the day ?” 

“Uh, no. Eddie wants to get home to Chris so I'm picking up his shift for him.” 

“Oh, that's sweet of you Buck” 

The door opens on his end, you walk up the stairs to your apartment. “Is that your little covid crush?” you can hear Chim ask him, Buck groans. 

“Stop harassing me Chim, why don’t you go call your girlfriend or something?” Buck mumbles, Chim laughs. 

“Hi Buck’s friend, I'm Chim!” he shouts so you could hear him which made you laugh. “I’d tell you to tell him hi but I feel like that might get us in trouble won’t it ?” you asked as you kicked off your shoes. “Yeah, I'll talk to you later hun ?” he asked you. 

“Yeah, if you work overnight, call me tomorrow ?” 

“Of course” 

“Oh, Buck ?” 

“Yeah ? 

“Be safe” 

“Always.” 

--

It’s the crack of dawn, literally and your phone rings. The only person that could be calling you now had to be Buck. Squinting your eyes at the brightness of your phone, you pick up and groan. “Hm what is it ?” you mumbled, rolling back onto your side, your phone against your pillow. 

“Oh my bad, I thought you had work this morning, that’s why I called” he whispered, now realizing that he woke you up. “It’s cool,” you yawn, “going home now?” 

“Yeah, what's the plan for today ?” he asks, you hear the Jeep’s engine come to life. 

“Uh maybe some grocery shopping and catching up on Netflix. I have a shift tonight. What about you ?” 

“Maybe some sleep, a shower and back to work. Oh I also have to do groceries, Chim keeps eating everything in the house” he groans making you smile. 

“Why don't you just send him home? Maddie’s working too, he’ll be fine.” 

“I don't want to be mean, you know? He let me crash at his place. Speaking of Mads, how’s baby Buckley doing? you see her more than me” he chuckled, as do you, remembering your conversation with Maddie 

“Good, they’re both good. You know, I called the baby, baby Buckley and she asked if I had talked to you recently” 

“Hm, did you tell her no?” 

“No, I told yes” 

“What?!” 

“Buck, I'm kidding, relax” 

He let out a sigh which made you laugh. It wouldn’t be horrible if she knew but you guess he wanted to keep it on the lows, it's only fair that you respect that. There was a pause in the conversion, Buck was humming along to the song on the radio, soon enough he started singing. He was 100% off-key and you could hear the tapping along to the beat on his steering wheel as well. You laid in bed listening to him sing off key for a good few minutes until he called out to you. 

“You know, I could pick up some stuff from the store for you, if you wanted ? I can just drop it off later” you offered 

“That would be nice, thanks. But uh- maybe you could actually stay when you drop the stuff off ?” he asked 

“Don’t you have work?” you asked, the sound of his footsteps thudding up the stairs, you figured he got home. 

“Yeah, but if I’m an hour late, it’ll be fine” once again, there’s a pause in the conversation but it comes for your end this time. 

“Y/n?” the shower is running on his end, he sounded distant, the phone was on speaker. 

“Just checking my schedule, what time does your shift start ?” you question him

“9, what about you ?” 

“9:30. I’ll see you tonight Evan, enjoy your shower” 

“Sleep well babe” he hung up, you tossed your phone to the other side of the bed and went back to bed. 

-- 

Buck opened the door, taking the bags from you. “Come in, thanks for these” he raised the bags and rested them on the counter. 

“How much do I own you?” he asks, your back turned to him while you wash your hands. 

“Don’t worry about it” 

“No, c’mon, this is a lot” Buck leans against the counter, you turn towards him. There’s a little bruise on his cheek and a scratch mark by his chin, your hand comes up and cups his face. His hand wraps around your wrist as your thumb rubs the scratch mark on his chin, Buck turns his head slightly to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. 

“I’m okay” he whispers, his other hand finding your waist, pulling you closer to him, your chest against his. 

“I know, doesn't mean I don’t worry” your hand comes down from his face to his chest, both of your hands now resting on his chest as you look up at him. Buck’s arms wrap around you as he picks you up and spins you around. 

“Evan! Stop it!” you laughed, grabbing at his shirt, he sets you down on the counter. Buck stood between your legs, his hands rubbed at the sides of your thighs. Your legs wrap around his waist as his arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. “I take it, you missed me?” you mumbled with your face squished against Buck’s chest. “More than you know” he kissed the top of your head. 

Your phone buzzed, ruining your sweet moment. “Who is it ?” he asked, holding up the phone, the time was 8:45. “Alarm, I gotta go sweets, I have work soon” 

“Oh come on, you can be late one day, right ?” He kissed your forehead

“You have work too” you reminded him, he ignored your comment, kissing down from your forehead to your cheek. 

“Buck, don’t” you muttered as your hand came up to the back of his head, your fingers tangled in his hair. You knew the game he was playing and it was a dangerous one. 

“10 minutes” he mumbled, his lips against your skin, now moving down to your neck. 

“5 minutes” you bargained with him. Buck laughed and shook his head, “you know we’re gonna be here for more than 10 minutes right ?” His hands cupped your face as he leaned in for a kiss, one of your hands grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer to you, closing the gap between the two of you. Buck’s hands slid down from your face to your chest and then to your stomach, ending up on your hips. You pull on his shirt, he lets go of you for a moment to pull it off and then his lips are back on yours. 

The two of you are so wrapped up in each other that you don't notice the front door unlock, Chim walks in to find the two of you making out in the kitchen. Buck’s shirt is on the floor, Chim picks it up and tosses it at the two of you.

“Are you guys serious ?” he groans as he shuts the door. You pull away from Buck, a blush across your cheeks. “Hey Chim,” Buck laughed, pulling back on his shirt. “Thought you had work ?” Buck asks, Chim shakes his head. “I’m done, shift changes in an hour.” 

“You guys couldn't have made out in bed or something ? Like a normal couple ?” Chim asks, you and Buck reply at the same time, “we’re not a couple” the two of you look at each other and smile. 

“Whatever, but c’mon! I eat breakfast there guys, that’s gross” his face screwed with disgust making you laugh. “Sorry” you gave him a smile, looking over at him, now on his way to the bathroom. Buck’s hand comes up to your chin, pulling your attention back to him, his lips are on yours again. 

“You guys do know you're breaking the social distance regulations right now, right ?!” Chim shouted from the bathroom, you could hear him laughing. 

“Shut up!” Buck shouted back, his hands cupping your face and pulling you back in for another kiss. 

--- 

taglist: @ssa-volturi​ @dralexreid​

[six-magnitude-girl]

The Dawn of the New Ackerman

Summary: They don’t know the how or the when, all they can guarantee is that they’ll leave this world loving each other. 

Chapter: 5/5

Tags: Pseudo-Incest, Alternate Universe - Medieval Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Found Family, Possessive Behavior, Eventual Explicit Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, no beta we die like Kuchel, this is what happens when you write with Goblet of Fire playing on loop, this is off the mark tbh, my self indulgent saccharine concoction

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so mistakes were made.  

Note: Bold italics are written documents. Italics are either inner thoughts or a flashback.

A/N:  - I got the chapter summary from JmStorm.  - Special thanks to KB who constantly encouraged me since I am a full-time slacker.   - Thank you so much for reading. 

***

The Ackerman wedding was undeniably the wedding of the century. 

Nobody expected Eren Yeager, the most eligible bachelor to marry so suddenly. 

What was even more shocking (and some might argue: scandalous) was that he decided to marry his older step-sister, Mikasa Ackerman.  

The lady who was suddenly thrust into the spotlight is The Duke of Diamond’s only child from his late wife. People generally don't know her existence, let alone what she looked like and the promise of getting a glimpse of her is enough for most people to covet a wedding invite. 

Considering the circumstances of their upcoming nuptials only privy to their inner circle, although they didn’t actively hide it, they never advertised it either. With the union's potential social and political weight, there were whispers. People started asking questions. They wanted to keep the crowd small, citing the bride's weak constitution. It has the opposite effect because it managed to accomplish two things: exclusivity and supremacy. People are drawn to things they can’t have, the nobility has an appetite for them. All for naught because with the tight time frame, the wedding of the century was over before they could even ask for an invite. 

***

Eren had never taken his eyes off his bride. 

Mikasa was exquisite wearing her late mother's wedding dress that was adjusted and tweaked to be her own. She wore a bellflower hairpin that matched the bellflowers in her wedding bouquet.   

Levi took the mantle of walking Mikasa down the aisle as Kevan couldn’t make it to the wedding. 

Halfway through, the older man leaned over to whisper something to the bride. 

Mikasa paused but when she looked up and met Eren’s eyes, nothing else mattered. 

She smiled and whispered something back to Levi and urged him to continue walking towards her future as if in a trance. 

Mikasa has never been so sure of something up until this moment, it radiated in how she looked and walked toward him…  

As beautiful as the bride was, their guests' eyes lingered on the groom’s face that just glowed the moment he saw his bride walking down the aisle. 

Eren was shaking inside with anticipation the moment Levi handed Mikasa off to him. After days of separation because of the wedding preparations and visitors residing at the estate, he was ready for this wedding to be over. He just needed her in his arms again. He barely managed to restrain himself from kissing her right then and there but Eren settled for a smile that took everyone’s breath away. 

It was one of the few, if not, the first time they ever saw Eren smile. 

They chose to do their vows outdoors with the largest tree in the Ackerman forest as a backdrop. The weather is perfect, it was as if it was planned with the cool gentle air and light pink skies above them. 

Founder Ymir was the one who personally officiated the wedding which has never been done before. Not even the king himself could ever break their matrimony. 

One of the priestesses handed Eren the knife and swiftly slashed his palm. 

Warm blood flowed down like water into the chalice. 

The groom tried to reassure his bride with his eyes that it didn’t hurt but when it was her turn, he finds himself tensing as well. 

Their still bleeding hands linked to each other as they stood side by side. 

In traditional ceremonies, wedding couples usually use luxurious ribbons with light pastel colors for the handfasting ceremony but Founder Ymir tied their intertwined hands together with a crimson bandage-like material symbolizing their union. 

They were now urged to face each other to recite their vows. 

Their eyes were glued to each other the whole time, meaning every word that came out of their mouths.  

He slipped the ring into her finger and pressed his lips to her knuckles. He grinned when she did the same when it was her turn to put the ring on him. 

They are now officially husband and wife. 

Eren leaned to seal their vows off with a kiss on her soft lips. 

Wanting to be a model of propriety, they didn't melt or sink into each other's arms. The kiss was quick despite them clearly wanting more.  

But it didn't stop them from looking at each other like it was just the two of them and nobody else existed.

Founder Ymir smiled looking at the newlyweds. 

***

Days after the wedding, Frieda finds herself in a council room with her least favorite people in the world. 

Frieda Reiss has come to learn from an early age that monsters come in different sizes, shapes, and forms; how can one fear such things when she had lived and breathed with those monsters all her life? 

When she takes her life into account, her insanity was a little bit easier to swallow. 

She was never fond of the bitter taste of coffee but she religiously drinks it every morning. 

The round-rimmed spectacles that she wears every time she reads even though she has clear eyesight. 

She could go on but the eldest Reiss princess realizes that she choose to trap herself with her demons and there was no one else to blame but herself. 

Everyone said that she was just like her uncle Uri. Regardless of how perfect everyone sees her, it seems that her father and oldest brother was only ever capable of resenting her. 

After the wedding, Frieda found herself feeling the exact same way towards them.  

"Didn't Roddie boy teach you? You should get married first before you fool around." Urklyn flustered in a way that made his face look like he was having a really bad rash. 

Rod fake coughed trying to stir the conversation back. "Your niece insulted the royal family." 

Kenny cackled and played dumb "And how is that?" Frieda realizes that she was really like her uncle Uri more than anyone would ever realize. 

"She's my betrothed!" Kenny only yawned and looked at Rod. 

"I thought you were going to ask me to get rid of the prince's paramour like how I–" he smiled and made an ominous slashing motion in his neck "–to your own..." 

Rod glared for bringing up his late lover but Kenny interrupted him. "Tell you what. Let's make this interesting because I'm not exactly sure what y'all want me to do here." his eyebrows wiggled in excitement and if anyone told them that Kenny was the devil himself, they would believe it. 

"Formally declare a trial by combat to my niece's husband and see where it gets you." 

Urklyn pales at the prospect of fighting to the death in the arena. He once witnessed how Eren Ackerman fights at a tourney. Not only does he have strong swordsmanship, but he also has this unusual aggressive magical affinity as well.  

"Keep in mind that it was the Goddess Ymir herself who officiated their union and not one but two princesses were present at the wedding so maybe you'd like to rethink your story." he made eye contact with Frieda and winked. 

After making sure the room is in chaos, of course, that's when Kenny makes his way out. 

They didn't want to touch on the Goddess and her fanatics' involvement so they went for someone within their reach. 

Urklyn interrogated Frieda who only shrugged at him. 

"I was not exactly invited. I was only there as Ser Marco's partner." 

The crown prince smashed the tea set and cursed at his aide but the princess remained unfazed. She was used to his outbursts when things didn't go his way. 

"Ser Marco would have told you but you were on a trip with Lady Reeder and ordered him not to contact you under no circumstances." 

"Stop being a gossipmonger! We went as friends. Our relationship is pure and innocent!" 

"A man having just proposed to someone dallies with another unmarried woman on a trip." She wonders how men like her father and brother are allowed to live while honest ones with kind green eyes are to die, forgotten, and forever lost.

Rod lost his temper with Frieda and didn't wish to hear her talk anymore so he called a servant to summon Historia. 

"My lady's maid was acquainted with Lady Ackerman as they studied at the temple together." 

"You are useless as always! Didn't it occur to you to inform me about it?!" 

If Frieda didn't know his little sister, she would be fooled by her innocent doe blue eyes. 

Historia's lips quivered "The wedding was so sudden and I didn't know you were engaged with Lady Ackerman as I am nothing but a bastard who shouldn't concern herself with family affairs." her back is shaking and she sniffed then covered her face with her heavily decorated fan. 

"Historia's right so stop taking it out on your sister." Historia exists for two reasons: The first is to keep the queen in check, and the second reason is to be an extension of his lost love.

Rod and Urklyn talked to themselves after that. They would offer their support for Eren to be the next duke and offer Historia's hand in marriage in exchange for Mikasa Ackerman. 

The sisters covertly looked at each other with Historia not worried one bit. 

Their endorsement for him to inherit the Ackerman dukedom is meaningless as Kevan already passed it into Eren's capable hands. Kevan and Dina now permanently reside at the former Yeager estate built near the mines.

Rod and Urklyn's speculation of Eren's nuptials to his sister was nothing new. 

When people –including Frieda– first heard of it, they could have sworn that the wedding must have been a sham, a trick, leaning towards manipulation and deception to gain something but the people who attended the wedding had no such doubts.

Eren looked at Mikasa like how everyone wanted to be looked at by their significant other like she was his only source of light in his lifetime of darkness. 

***

Everyone was enjoying themselves at the wedding banquet held at the spacious Ackerman hall. 

Frieda was momentarily left alone because Jean needed to tell Marco something in private. 

She watched the five gentlemen huddled up in a corner talking. Everyone was invested in their conversation but Eren's gaze kept circling back to his newly wedded wife who was laughing with her friends across the room. 

*

The four of them privately talked before deciding to attend the wedding.

"What was Eren... Ackerman like?" Frieda trailed off. 

"Where do I even start..." Marco struggled to think of anything to say about Eren that wouldn't make him look bad; Historia was of the same mind.

"I vaguely remember Mikasa describing him as resolute and would give his everything when given a task, sweet although he may not show it and possesses the purest heart." 

Historia and Marco instinctively looked at each other because both of them thought of the same thing. 

Historia scoffed "I won't comment about the heart thing but sweet might be stretching it." She looked at Ymir as if to tell with her eyes that they were going to talk about her acquaintance with Mikasa in private. 

Frieda looked at Marco for an explanation. "Like his older sister, he also stands at the top of his chosen elective. He has a very unique but effective way of looking at things. He likes to keep to himself so I can't be specific as he's closer with his business partners, Armin Arlert, and my good friend, Jean Kirstein."  

*

From across the room, Mikasa smiled at her husband when their eyes met and his eyes instantly softened. 

Eren clapped Armin's shoulder and marched towards his wife. 

They walked side by side without taking their eyes off of each other, leading her to the middle of the dance floor. 

Frieda had wanted to meet Eren for a very long time. Not having the chance to do so would be inaccurate and she knows this. She was so lost with her own ghost that she didn't notice Historia slipping beside her. 

"I can't believe that Ymir was right." Historia might look sweet and innocent but her cynic outlook would make anyone recoil in shock. 

"How did you know?" 

My brother is as monstrous as our father. He was what my father has always wanted me to be... He was fully corrupted. 

He lifts her and spins her around with sparkles in their eyes. 

The newlyweds have the entire room as they dance. 

"You really could tell with the way a man dances with a lady…"

Those who personally knew the groom was a bit unsettled with the way he hung on his bride's every smile. 

They say that lust dies right away but love kills and Eren looks like he'd kill anyone who looked at Mikasa wrong. 

The princesses wondered if it was ever possible for them to attain the same happiness. 

"I am relieved that you have found your happiness." The blonde princess uncharacteristically blushed but neither denied nor confirmed her sister's statement. 

Historia resisted looking at the object of her affection who was egging her auburn-haired friend to eat more.

"Sister, I know you are unable to marry because of Urklyn but I hope you find someone too…" 

Frieda was taken aback by Historia speaking her thoughts so freely; she's no longer that little girl who hides in the stables to cry in secret. She wondered how she missed her little sister growing up to be her own person. 

"Because you are a good person and you deserve to be happy." She hugged her little sister and found the courage to finally face her ghosts. 

When Frieda approached Eren, she noticed right away how he seemed to know who she is.

Their backs are leaning on the terrace. The curtains are not drawn so even though they have a considerable amount of distance from everyone and no one could hear their conversation, they are still in public view. 

Frieda looked up. The stars were out but the moon was hidden in the clouds. She wondered what she'll even say to him as they have known each other but had never spoken. 

"Why didn't you come?" he started the conversation since he has this suspicion that the dark-haired girl wouldn't start talking anytime soon. 

Her hands picked on her purple gown's intricate beadings. "We're no longer together..." 

"It's your choice not to see him one last time,"  Eren remembered the funeral and was disgusted by the fact that not one of those people cared for his older brother… but he's already dead and he'll remain that way whether someone poured their heart out for him or not. 

There's no use asking a princess why she doesn't have the decency to say farewell but that doesn't mean he has to be fine with it. 

"Zeke was willing to leave everything that he has ever known for you." Eren remembered being so jealous at the time. But the kinder part of him that life never allowed him to showcase was rooting for Zeke to make it out of the hellhole that they were in. 

"He waited for you." Eren wasn't there but he witnessed his brother sneaking out. 

"All night" he felt chills just remembering how cold that night was because of the storm. 

"...but you never came." He didn't know what to do with himself when he found out that Zeke came back. He wanted to scream at his older brother for letting go of his one chance of getting out. 

The lesson that he learned as he stared at Zeke in the dungeons the next day wasn't the twisted logic that their father was sprouting, what Eren learned was that false hope hurts like no other. 

Frieda struggled to answer despite having a million reasons why she didn't show up. 

"I...I got scared." She closed her eyes, bracing for his anger but nothing came. 

"Have you ever wondered how he died?" 

Frieda buried Zeke in the back of her mind, never to be remembered again. It helped how nobody knew about them, it helped her to act like they never existed. 

"They thought you were trying to gain influence so they tried to kill Zeke and that was the last straw for our father who has always blamed the Reiss Royal Family for their inaction to his younger sister's unlawful death." Frieda was getting visibly more upset but Eren didn't care; He wanted her to know. 

"Our father was planning to kill all of you but Zeke got in his way."

"The explosives..." She remembered the vibrant green explosion that left nothing but ashes in the royal crypts. 

"They also wanted the Yeager mines." 

The Yeager mines are a treasure trove. The gold inside their mines was officially declared to be dried up during excavations but every now and then, rare gems were found. 

"But Dina remarried and the Ackermans are untouchable." 

Eren thinks of an alternative route where Zeke got his happy ending with Frieda and his father arranging a match between him and Mikasa.

But that alternate reality was quickly engulfed with flames and disintegrated into dust before Eren could even feel happy with the image because they must all live with the choices that they made. 

His father, who made himself mad with magic and alchemy as his loathing and guilt tore him apart inside. 

His brother, who wanted someone to love and accept him for all that he is. 

Eren could relate to both of them. Isn't that what everyone wanted in the end? For someone to love all their broken pieces? 

"Zeke died for someone who didn't have an ounce of affection for him." 

"I loved him!" She might have been the worst girl in the world and Eren has every right to loathe her but she won't let him deny the love that she had… still has for his brother. 

Eren clenched his fists and his jaw tightened. Years worth of grudge and resentment were ready to explode but before he can even speak he caught Mikasa discreetly looking at him from afar holding a plate full of his favorite food. She looked so worried and she quickly averted her gaze when she got caught staring. 

Zeke's eyes are a bright emerald green while Eren's is a deep ocean green. 

Not one trace of Zeke can be seen on Eren but the sadness in Eren's eyes pierced Frieda's soul more than the anger in it earlier.  

It would be so easy to burn everything to the ground but Eren wonders if he could do something else. Perhaps, he could be happy… 

"Love has no fear." That was the only thing Eren said before walking away from his past forever. 

***

Mikasa was watching Eren intently who was blankly staring at the food. 

"Would you like your wedding gift now?" He raised his eyebrow at that. 

"I was planning on giving it to you on our wedding anniversary but I changed my mind." 

"What is it?" He tried to be excited but his mood wasn't quite there yet.

She leaned on her husband's ear to whisper it. 

"youwererightabouttheusurper" 

"What?" he couldn't make out what she was trying to say. 

She tried once again. "yourtheoryisright" Eren was unimpressed. 

"I can't understand a thing." he squeezed her hand. Although everyone was kind enough to give the newlyweds some space, he quickly pulled away because they are in public.  

Mikasa sighed and Eren was curious now because she looked pained. 

"Your mad theory about the usurper is accurate." 

"What?" Eren was shell shocked. 

"There is another Ackerman from a branch house involved in the Battle of Heaven and Earth." 

"You're not pulling my leg?" 

Mikasa shook her head. "She was said to be the closest to the usurper so as a form of respect and solidarity, they redacted any records of her to let her grieve in peace." 

"How did you know?" Eren was happy to be proven right but he was rightfully skeptical. 

"It was one of the Ackerman family's carefully guarded secrets but in the Humanity's Strongest Hero's journal: she was mentioned looking gaunt when he visited her cabin deep into the woods." 

Eren was quiet for a while processing the idea before a smug smile formed on his face. "Are you sure they weren't lovers?"

Mikasa composed herself before answering. "They are siblings. The usurper's family took her in when she was orphaned." Eren might have been right about his theory of the Usurper being friends with the heroes but that is the extent of that. 

"And that matters how?" They were staring at each other. Eren chuckled when Mikasa glowered at him. 

"You are not going to let me live this down, aren't you?" 

"Never." She looks unimpressed by his bravado. 

"I just know your theories would get more and more obnoxious after this." 

He gently kissed her bandaged hand before answering as if to soften the blow he was about to give her. "My wife knows me so well." 

Seeing how horrified Mikasa looked at the thought of Eren desecrating history every night is enough to make him descend into a fit of giggles.

She pouted and he couldn't contain himself but she dodged his supposed kiss on her forehead and instead landed on her eyebrow. 

"Don't worry, you are at least safe tonight." She controlled her expression despite blushing from head to toe but Eren is nothing if not resolute. "And you can always sit on my fa–" Mikasa quickly covered his mouth to stop him from speaking. It took greater effort to break free from her hold as he was shaking in laughter seeing how mortified she looked. "–to shut my mouth." 

Making her blush became a new hobby of his. He tells himself that it's definitely not a payback for the times she made him blush all those years. 

Mikasa felt uneasy with her insides pulsing, aching for something when she remembered being spread out at the chaise on his study as he cooed how smooth she is down there in between laps. 

She shyly tugged on his sleeves but couldn't meet his eyes. 

"I think we should retire for the night, husband." 

He reminds himself that there are plenty of chances later and no longer teased her. 

"I think so too, wife." 

As the newlyweds tried to discreetly leave the hall to consummate their marriage, Eren's friends were still dumbfounded seeing him laugh. 

"...The world must be ending." Jean covered his head with his hands. 

Jean wasn't wrong because their wedding was the beginning of the end. 

***

Levi's drinking tea on his usual spot at the solar. He was preoccupied with his deep thoughts and didn't notice Mikasa until she spoke.

“Where’s Hanji?”

"Astronomy tower.”  

“That’s the only reason your proposal wasn’t rejected isn’t it?” Levi was not amused by Mikasa’s joke. They gave each other the signature Ackerman blank stare.  

"Worrying incessantly would shave off your already minuscule height." She put a hand out to stop him from interrupting her. "Just focus on tearing them apart in a barely legal way without getting the blood in your feet." 

Levi would make all of his enemies pay with interest. 

"You are coming with us." It wasn't much of a question. 

"Officially, I'm not as it's safer that way." That didn't reassure Levi in any way. 

"...What does your husband think of this?" Levi was the first one who learned of Eren's untoward feelings towards Mikasa and he still sometimes feels uneasy with how he is with her. 

He's aware of how much of a hypocrite he is because as much as love repulsed him, Levi Ackerman still found and married for love.  

"He supports me." Nobody could promise or guarantee a happy ending but regardless, Mikasa and Eren promised to always be at each other's side. 

"So fucking be it."

***

Duke Eren Ackerman is calculating, ruthless and a man of control. He is surprisingly politically astute despite being infamous for being somewhat of a recluse. 

The duke is an unmatched battle commander. Aside from his powerful and intimidating presence that is reminiscent of Commander Erwayne from the Titan Age, he is a fierce warrior who fights battles after battles alongside his people, personally leading them to victory.

After brief political unrest of the two neighboring kingdoms, nowadays, if the duke wasn't busy maintaining the Ackerman prestige, ensuring House Ackerman is respected or feared, he lives out quietly in his fief, opting out of general affairs despite the fame and influence he gained mostly working on his business projects pioneering towards industrialization. 

But most didn't forget who seated an illegitimate son like Reiner Braun on Marley's throne after the previous king, queen, and all their allies were massacred in a 'political struggle' that happened in the palace. He also had a hand in deposing King Urklyn after ruling for three moons. Considering that and his acquaintance with Queen Frieda's crown matrimonial, Marco Bodt, House Ackerman maintains its neutral status and distance regarding any business of the royal family. 

Mikasa Ackerman's marriage to Eren Ackerman was reportedly a happy one. Despite the Duchess's poor health that requires her to be confined in their fief. Lord Springer was heard to brag on several occasions about seeing the duchess being able to make the duke laugh on three different occasions.

Despite all the accusations of his tyranny, Eren Ackerman is an able and shrewd ruler who brought great prosperity as a duke. One of his many talents is raising funds, leading to a persistent jest that he must be able to 'shit gold' as his late biological father, Grisha Yeager. Eren is more respected than loved, and he was known for his moniker as a kingmaker.

Annie Leonhardt read all the information she purchased about Eren Ackerman from the information guild again. She's to host her first event in The New Eldian Empire and couldn't help but wonder if it's really possible for her to assimilate into her new home. 

The soon-to-be Viscountess had only been an aristocrat by name from Marley and nothing more. She lived in destitute, doing odd jobs to support herself and her ailing father. 

In a twist of fate, her daily trip to the docks paved the way for her to enter into a marriage of convenience that not only saved her family but also allowed her to find love in the process. With that being said, she's determined to do her very best to not let her fianceé down. 

"It's our engagement party. There's no reason for you to be nervous." Annie didn't bother questioning how Armin could tell that she was nervous when not even her father could read her expressions. The long travel to the Ackerman estate is not helping her nerves. 

"It was... thoughtful for the Kingmaker to host an engagement party for us." Annie knows that Eren is Armin's close friend so she tries to forget witnessing him impassively watching the castle burn to the ground to describe him in a more favorable light.

Armin laughed light-heartedly because he knew how much Eren hated that moniker. 

The Viscount could understand her nervousness because of how she's originally ordered to sabotage their operations in Marley and even though his friend has softened, he shudders to think what he does to traitors. 

Thankfully, Armin managed to unmask Annie before any substantial damage and struck a deal with her. 

Jean inwardly winced when Armin told him about Annie. "How you manage to always fall for… such women is beyond me." 

To his credit, he didn't deny his attachment to her, Armin only snorted at the slight jab but wasn't offended because Annie couldn't be more different than his first love. "You're one to talk. Your lady is from Marley as well." 

"Who meets my every requirement: assertive, amicable, ambitious, quick-witted, beautiful–" 

Armin's eyes are half-lidded with a nonchalant tone. "Someone who also runs an information guild." They could be damning themselves and let years of work go to waste. 

Jean felt offended that someone was questioning his choice but cooled down because as much as he is besotted with his lady even he cannot deny how bad it looked. 

"Touché, Armin. Touché."

After being granted a noble title because of his growing wealth and achievements, Armin got a taste of what his best friend went through before marrying. 

It wasn't all bad but it was a lot of work that the blonde man sometimes wondered if it was worth it and often fantasizes about just giving the title back. It took a lot of time to adjust but he did see that some things changed for the better.

Having Annie by his side made a big difference compared to attending social events alone and spending all his time and energy dodging persistent ladies that don't take a no for an answer. 

"Is there dirt on my face?" Annie already felt self-conscious in a foreign environment. Fondly or not, Armin's stare amplified it. 

"The Kingmaker's keeper will be there with him, that ought to soften him up." It's an open secret in their inner circle that Eren may have put two kings on a throne but he's ruled by his lady wife at home. 

"Urklyn Reiss's wife?" 

"What?" Armin is dumbfounded.

"There are rumors that Duke Ackerman is enamored with the deposed king's wife." 

"It's quite the opposite. The deposed king Urklyn lusted for the Duchess upon setting eyes on her when they were summoned to the palace. Eren took that as a personal slight to him." 

Armin remembered how ugly the incident was. Wayen incessantly begged him for his help and Marco was caught in the middle of it as it became Urklyn's first agenda when he became king. How many died because of a foolish king's selfishness? 

Annie muttered something about men thinking with their crotches. "What is the Duchess like?" 

"The Duchess was the one who insisted on doing this for us. So the party is being held at the Ackerman estate as a compromise since Eren doesn't like it when Lady Mikasa goes out." Annie didn't have many great encounters with nobles so she struggles to understand why anyone would do this. 

"Trust me, Annie. We'll have fun." Annie found herself laughing. 

"You. Having fun at parties? The person who hid in the compartment of a carriage to outrun some scheming mamas?" Armin knew he would never live it down, he fully admits how wrong he was when he accused Eren of being overdramatic. 

He rested his head on her shoulder. "Yes, I fully admit how terribly scared I am of scheming mamas so I am really glad you are here now." 

Annie doesn't know how Armin manages to be self-deprecating and make her blush at the same time. 

*** 

The sun is about to set and everyone in the Ackerman estate is busy with the upcoming party in the evening. 

Eren is leaning in the doorway blankly staring at his wife getting dolled up for the engagement party. 

"Husband, what are you doing?" Mikasa sees Eren from the reflection of the mirror. 

Eren didn't answer and waited for her to finish in the Bergère chair. 

"Thank you, Emma, Kelly, and Tasha." The maids gave their finishing touches and excused themselves.

Mikasa sits on his lap and snuggles him as soon as they are granted privacy. 

There's this relief instantly radiated on him from having her in his arms, "Why do you have to organize someone's engagement party? You don't even know Armin's intended." 

"Armin's our friend and we got a glimpse of his intended in Marley." she softly reminded him. 

"Armin has a terrible taste in women." Even after all these years, it doesn't fail to amuse Mikasa how Eren sometimes turns into this petulant kid whenever they are alone. 

"It's not for you to judge. If a lady makes Armin happy, then we must make her feel welcomed." she brushed a hair away from his face using her fingers. 

"I don't want you tiring yourself." It now makes sense to her why she wakes up in the middle of the night with him staring at her. 

Mikasa pressed their foreheads together and closed her eyes. 

"I won't." 

He closed his eyes when he felt the tip of her nose rub against his. 

"Do you remember how scared you looked when we first met?" 

He was quick to deny it. "I didn't look scared." 

"Imagine how Armin's intended feel moving to a whole new kingdom… so we must extend our hand and make her feel welcomed." 

"Why do you have to go far for a stranger?" Mikasa may be kind-hearted but she generally avoids socialization of any kind just like him. 

"This is my way of repaying Armin." Eren angled Mikasa's head resting on his shoulder upward to look at her questioningly. 

"You sounded so sad when you first came to the academy so when you started mentioning Armin in your letters, I was so relieved that you've befriended someone. You sounded much happier!" 

"You think too much," he murmured with his lips on her temple. 

Eren held Mikasa tighter but when his hands came in contact with her belly, he subtly retracted his hand and caressed the small of her back instead. 

"Eren–" her voice is tight. 

At first, she dismissed his attitude as nervousness because she didn't even want to entertain the idea but it was becoming more and more noticeable. 

"The doctors assured us that I am healthy but if... if something happens–" He flared his nostrils and the intensity of his eyes stopped her from speaking. 

They held each other's gaze and when he calmed down, she continued speaking "I promised to always stay at your side and I'll be." 

She guided his hand to touch her belly that is starting to protrude. "Eren, you have to care about our child." 

"We can't make the same mistakes our fathers did." Eren stiffened remembering Grisha and shuddered just thinking of their child getting the same childhood as him.

"If in the future I become a bad mother, please stop me." When she found out that she's with child despite the daily Moon Teas that she drinks, she questions if she'll be a good mother in an instant because she never had one. 

"–or something happens to me... Please, Eren... You must care and love our child for both of us." 

Eren couldn't breathe at the thought of living without Mikasa but he nodded because he'll do everything for his wife. 

"Do you promise?" 

Mikasa is as beautiful as ever… she hasn't aged a day since they got married and he hated how being with a child gave her this radiant glow when it endangered her life.

The combination of pink and orange skies brings him back to their wedding day. 

The golden hues of the sunset make everything seem like a dream. 

"I promise." They sealed their promise with a kiss with the last rays of light shining on them. 

It doesn't matter if there is no light anymore when they open their eyes because they'll always have each other. 

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Red Witch

Jasper Hale x Reader Part 4

A/N: Part 4 has arrived my lovelies! Sorry if it took too long, I was really busy with work. And I just wanna say, even though I have never met you all, I love you guys and wish you a blessed life. 🥺💕

Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.

Warning: language

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 5

The apparition faded away and the shaking of the furniture came to a stop. You felt the heavy weight lift off your chest as you were finally able to move, allowing you to take in a gulp of cold air. The scream that was trapped within you for so long from the paralyzing sensation was ripped out of your throat, echoing into the night. You yanked yourself out of bed and fell to the floor, wheezing and trembling as you clasped a clammy hand around the base of your throat, clawing at the invisible hand that seemed to be wrapped around in a tight grip. It felt as if your head was about to burst as you tried to regain your breathing. Your vision was blurry from the lack of oxygen as you heard the door bust open and Harper run in.

“(Y/N)?! Are you okay? What’s going on?!” Harper cried out in a panic, her brows etched in worry as she saw you shaking on the floor.

“Harper. Stay back.” You struggled to say between coughs. You looked down to see your hands returning to their claw like shape, the black tendrils forming at the skin of your fingers.

Your vision slowly cleared up and you looked up to see Melanie enter your room next with a lantern in her hand. She stared at you with wide eyes as she held Harper behind her. “Mon dieu! (Y/N)! Is everything alright? I heard a warning through the trees. They spoke of a presence.”

You were still on the cold wooden floor on your hands and knees, still trembling in cold sweat as your hair fell over your face in a tangled mess.

“Those. Those things. They’re back.” You sobbed as tears fell down your face and onto the wooden floor. You didn’t want to look up at your sister. She’s never seen you like this and you were thankful in the short moment for the darkness.

“Those things? You mean the spirits? (Y/N), mon amie.” Melanie carefully stepped towards you, trying to reach a comforting hand towards you to rest on your back.

“No!” You stopped her. “Please. Don’t. I need to be alone.”

“(Y/N).” You heard Harper call your name.

“Please.” You begged, turning your face away from their stares.

“If you’re sure. Allez Harper.” Melanie muttered before putting an arm around Harper’s shoulders and leading her out of your room and leaving you to yourself with one last saddened glance. It broke her heart to see you in this vulnerable state.

Melanie offered to take Harper to school as you felt you were unable to. You felt ashamed. You felt weak. That morning, you sat on a chair out on your balcony, wrapped in a shawl with Maleficent curled in your lap, watching the sunrise. The sun peeked out over the horizon, illuminating the dark hills in the distance with a golden glow that slipped through the bundle of trees. You felt the warm rays of the sun touch your face against the coolness of dawn, like the gentle caress of a loved one, which is something you’ve never had the ability to experience, and yet, a wave of relief washed over you. You didn’t know why, but you sensed as if there was a bit of hope left to this day, that it might turn around for the better. You thought perhaps that it might be due to the end of the night and the coming of a new day.

After sitting out and basking in the scenery for a while longer, you went back into your bedroom and threw over your nightgown a floor length dark blue velvet robe that had embroidered flowers and hummingbirds at the collar, cuffs, and hem, tying it around your waist. You then put the front strands of your hair back, tying it with a blue silk ribbon.

You wandered mindlessly through the halls of your manor with Maleficent accompanying you at your side, your bare feet tapping against the cool dark walnut floors and occasionally brushing upon the soft handmade wool Turkish rugs that slightly tickled your bare feet. The skirts of your attire flowed with your every step while you lightly hummed to yourself, until you stopped at a particular room.

You stared at the large double doors before you that led to a surprisingly decent sized area that could be held as a ballroom. You pushed open the doors and glanced around at the tall windows before landing on a large object that sat in the back corner. Your grand piano. You walked over to it and pulled the dust cover off, running your fingers lightly across the keys before sitting down on the bench. You sat there for a moment, pondering, your fingers shifting above the keys. You breathed and started to play a meloncholy tune and began to sing. You haven’t sang or played the piano in a long time, not since Jasper at least. But you were currently so melted in your music, playing along with your eyes closed that you didn’t notice the person walking up to your front door this very moment.

Jasper stood under the porch at the front door of what he believed to be your residence. His eyes observed the intricate wood carvings and the detailed exterior work, and the somewhat sinister looking greenman door knocker that Jasper could’ve sworn was staring him down. Your home reminded him of a time he used to know, back before all of this. Jasper was about to ring the doorbell but stopped when he heard the sound of a piano come from inside. He leaned closer, and that’s when he heard your voice. Your hypnotic yet haunting voice that resonated beautifully with the melody, creating this ethereal sound. He pressed his ear against the door and his breath cut short. He was entranced to say the least from this beautiful voice. Yet, why did he feel as if he heard your voice many times before.

You were still lost in your music until you heard Edgar’s voice coming from the living room.

“Ack! There’s an intruder at the door! Someone has invaded our premises! Ack!

Intruder?

You stopped and snapped your head towards the entrance. Who could it be?

“Have you gone deaf? Intruder I say! Intruder! Intruder!”

“Silly bird.” You muttered, throwing on your gloves and cursing under your breath.

You secretly hated having to converse with visitors you did not expect nor know. The same went to Maleficent for she ran off once Edgar mentioned someone being at the door.

“I’ll have you know there’s a sign out that strictly says no soliciting.” You call out as you walk towards the door. Now unless you have Girl Scout biscuits I want no part of it.”

You unlocked the door and yanked it open, only to stand in shock to see none other than Jasper himself at your doorstep.

“Hi.” He gave a short smile as he studied your flushed face. His eyes roamed down your attire, the way your long thick hair cascaded over your bare collarbone and down your chest, and the way the loose strands in the front curled delicately about, framing your face. He quickly looked back up at you as to not seem rude but stopped at the locket around your neck. There was a slight tingling in the back of his mind regarding the locket with the dragonfly but he couldn’t figure out why.

As for you, though you were modestly covered, you felt exposed and couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. Jasper had never seen you in your night attire. A situation such as this would’ve caused quite the scandal back then.

“Uh, can I help you?” You played it off, adjusting your robe to cover your collarbone. “I believe the coffee shop is downtown. You do know you’re at my personal residence don’t you?”

“Um, can I speak to you for a moment?” He seemed uneasy.

“Um sure. Come in.” You stuttered, the question catching you off guard.

You opened the door wider for him to come in, and your heart skipped a beat as you felt him brush by you.

You closed the door and turned to him, clasping your hands together and fidgeting with your fingers. You were quite nervous having Jasper in your home. “Would you care for some tea? Or coffee?”

“I’ll have some coffee, thanks.”

“Okay, um, you’re welcome to have a seat in the parlour room, on the settee, or whichever.” You gesture to your room with the fireplace and the set of Victorian chairs with tables.

“Thank you.” Jasper nodded his head at you before heading into the room. You made your way to the kitchen and made yourself a cup of blueberry lemon tea and a regular coffee for him, cursing in your mind during the whole task.

After the drinks were prepared, you went into the Parlor to see Jasper slightly reclined on the settee, his gazed fixed on the crackling fire in the fireplace.

You tried not to tremble when handing him his drink. Jasper thanked you as you handed him his coffee before sitting down on a dark red velvet chair across him.

You both sat there in silence, struggling to find the words to say.

“Why the gloves?” He nodded towards your hands.

“Oh um. I have very sensitive skin.” You’ve always used that excuse whenever someone asked you.

More silence.

Was he skeptical of you? You didn’t know why he was here wanting to speak with you, but it was starting to become unsettling.

“Who are you?” He asked first, still staring off into the fireplace.

“I’m sorry?” You faked a smile, “I own a coffee shop downtown.”

“No. That’s not what I meant.” Jasper stopped before turning to face you. “Who are YOU?” He emphasized.

There was a certain coldness to his gaze and it made you cold. This wasn’t like Jasper.

“I-I” you tried to come up with something, anything.

“Ever since I first saw you, I’ve had this strange feeling.” Jasper laughed bitterly with a shake of his head. “Hell, I don’t even know you, and you sure as hell don’t mean anything to me.”

Ouch. That hurt.

You felt your chest tighten from those words, but you kept your ground. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I feel like you do. It explains why you’re so nervous at the moment.” He gestured to you. “I can sense these sort of things. So, tell me. Why is it that I feel like I know you when I don’t. And how come, how come you don’t smell human? What are you?”

You straightened up in your seat as your vision from last night flashed in your mind.

We are monsters. He could never love a thing like you. No one can.

So it’s true, you told yourself. You weren’t human, no matter how hard you tried to be. They could never accept you as one. Your father used to say the same thing. His disdain for the human race was evident and he held a great pride about him for being a powerful sorcerer. He would tell you to not meddle in mortal affairs. He tried to mold you into his ways. Which is why you spent your childhood locked up, away from humanity and only surrounded by your father’s sadism. Had you not had your mother, your poor kind hearted mother who was bound to your evil father, you might’ve turned out just like him. You often pondered upon it. And now, you were wondering whether your fathers words were true or not. Was he right about the human’s hatred for your kind?

“Jasper.” You breathed out, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying his name. You were torn apart, tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you stared down at the cup of tea in your hands.

“Ah, so you do know me.” He sat back, his stern eyes never leaving yours.

“I-I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Well you could start from the beginning.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Look.” Jasper sighs, running his hands through his hair. “I just want to know what the hell is going on.”

“I can’t. I literally can’t tell you even if I tried.” You set your tea down on the table as you tried to explain yourself. “All the words I say will have no effect over you.”

“Great. So what? Am I supposed to just shrug it off? Pretend like all these feelings I’m getting from looking at you is just a bunch of delusions?”

You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “There is another way.”

“What other way?”

“But it can be a dangerous process.”

“How so?”

“I can try to reach into your mind and try to resurface your memories.” You revealed to him. “But, if something were to go wrong, you could lose everything. Even any knowledge of who you are.”

“You what? How?” Jasper looked at you confused. “What do you mean reach into my memories? You’re not a vampire.”

“I promise you, when this goes according to plan, I will explain everything.”

You got up and sat next to him on the settee, your head pounding in your chest as you placed your gloved hands on either side off his head. “I’m going to need you to stay still. This may sting a bit.”

Part of you didn’t want to do this. Trying to unwind the memory spell on Jasper meant that you would have to relive those memories you shared with him all over again. And you weren’t sure your heart could take this torment.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked him one final time.

There was a pause as you watched Jasper look away, weighing the decision in his head before looking back up at you.

“Go ahead.”

There was your answer.

You could feel Jasper’s eyes on you as you closed your own, pursing your lips into a firm line in concentration. You tried to keep your hands still on either side of his head as you lightly touched his temples, trying to focus on the first memory you had of him. The day you first saw him in Texas.

Tag list: @smileygirl08 @peachyevergreen @lustdere @moonlights27 @krazykatkay456 @buckysjuicyplums @oi-itsemily @Ahahanofanks @iberandom @bittergomez @holyhumorliteraturelight @bells3333 @ashdab2611 @toomanybandstocare @twilight-kpop @cricketlicket @5sosfanforever2001 @justine-en @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @shakespeareanbooty @pancake-pages @elisemurphy06 @ineffabledears @bella-stenbakken @seraphpheonix @skelebonessensei @twilightrox @trickylittlewitch

[trans-advice]

Excerpt from “Transgender History” (2017) by Susan Stryker (“Chapter 3: Trans Liberation”)

[...]

Stonewall:

Meanwhile, across the continent [from San Francisco, California, USA], another important center of transgender activism was taking shape in New York City [New York, USA], where, not coincidentally, Harry Benjamin maintained his primary medical practice. In 1968, Mario Martino, a female-to-male transsexual, founded Labyrinth, the first organization in the United States devoted specifically to the needs of transgender men. Martino and his wife, who both worked in the health care field, helped other transsexual men navigate their way through the often-confusing maze of transgender-oriented medical services just then beginning to emerge, which (despite being funded primarily by Reed Erickson) were geared more toward the needs of transgenderwomen than transgender men. Labyrinth was not a political organization but rather one that aimed to help individuals make the often-difficult transition from one social gender to another.

Far overshadowing the quiet work of Martino’s Labyrinth Foundation, however, were the dramatic events of June 1969 at the Stonewall Inn, a bar in New York’s Greenwich Village. The “Stonewall Riots” have been mythologized as the origin of the gay liberation movement, and there is a great deal of truth in that characterization, but—as we have seen—gay, transgender, and gender-nonconforming people had been engaging in militant protest and collective actions against social oppression for at least a decade by that time. Stonewall stands out as the biggest and most consequential example of a kind of event that was becoming increasingly common, rather than as a unique occurrence. By 1969, as a result of many years of social upheaval and political agitation, large numbers of people who were socially marginalized because of their sexual orientation or gender identity, especially younger people who were part of the Baby Boomer generation, were drawn to the idea of “gay revolution” and were primed for any event that would set such a movement off. The Stonewall Riots provided that very spark, and they inspired the formation of Gay Liberation Front groups in big cities, progressive towns, and college campuses all across the United States. Ever since the summer of 1969, various groups of people who identify with the people who participated in the rioting have argued about what actually happened, what the riot’s underlying causes were, who participated in it, and what the movements that point back to Stonewall as an important part of their own history have in common with one another.

Although Greenwich Village was not as economically down-and-out as San Francisco’s Tenderloin, it was nevertheless a part of the city that appealed to the same sorts of people who resisted at Cooper Do-Nut, Dewey’s, and Compton’s Cafeteria: drag queens, hustlers, gender nonconformists of many varieties, gay men, lesbians, and countercultural types who simply “dug the scene.” The Stonewall Inn was a small, shabby, Mafia-run bar (as were many of the gay-oriented bars in New York back in the days when being gay or cross-dressing were crimes). It drew a racially mixed crowd and was popular mainly for its location on Christopher Street near Sheridan Square, where many gay men “cruised” for casual sex, and because it featured go-go boys, cheap beer, a good jukebox, and a crowded dance floor. Then as now, there was a lively street scene in the bar’s vicinity, one that drew young and racially mixed queer folk from through the region most weekend nights. Police raids were relatively frequent (usually when the bar was slow to make its payoffs to corrupt cops) and relatively routine and uneventful. Once the bribes were sorted out, the bar would reopen, often on the same night. But in the muggy, early morning hours of Saturday, June 28, 1969, events departed from the familiar script when the squad cars pulled up outside the Stonewall Inn.

[Source text Inserts “Sidebar: Radical Transsexual” here]

A large crowd of people gathered on the street as police began arresting workers and patrons and escorting them out of the bar and into the waiting police wagons. Some people in the crowd started throwing coins at the police officers, taunting them for taking “payola.” Eyewitness accounts of what happened next differ in their particulars, but some witnesses claim a transmasculine person resisted police attempts to put them in the police wagon, while others noted that African American and Puerto Rican members of the crowd—many of them street queens, feminine gay men, transgender women, or gender-nonconforming youth—grew increasingly angry as they watched their “sisters” being arrested and escalated the level of opposition to the police. Both stories might well be true. Sylvia Rivera, a transgender woman who came to play an important role in subsequent transgender political history, long maintained that, after she was jabbed by a police baton, she threw the beer bottle that tipped the crowd’s mood from mockery to collective resistance. In any case, the targeting of gender-nonconforming people, people of color, and poor people during a police action fits the usual patterns of police behavior in such situations.

Bottles, rocks, and other heavy objects were soon being hurled at the police, who, in retaliation, began grabbing people from the crowd and beating them.Weekend partiers and residents in the heavily gay neighborhood quickly swelledthe ranks of the crowd to more than two thousand people, and the outnumberedpolice barricaded themselves inside the Stonewall Inn and called for reinforcements. Outside, rioters used an uprooted parking meter as a batteringram to try to break down the bar’s door, while other members of the crowdattempted to throw a Molotov cocktail inside to drive the police back into the streets. Tactical Patrol Force officers arrived on the scene in an attempt to contain the growing disturbance, which nevertheless continued for hours until dissipating before dawn. That night, thousands of people regrouped at the Stonewall Inn to protest. When the police arrived to break up the assembled crowd, street fighting even more violent than that of the night before ensued. One particularly memorable sight amid the melee was a line of drag queens, arms linked, dancing a can-can and singing campy, improvised songs that mocked the police and their inability to regain control of the situation: “We are the Stonewall girls / We wear our hair in curls / We always dress with flair / We wear clean underwear / We wear our dungarees / Above our nellie knees.” Minor skirmishes and protest rallies continued throughout the next few days before finally dying down. By that time, however, untold thousands of people had been galvanized into political action.

Sidebar: Radical Transsexual

Suzy Cooke was a young hippie from upstate New York who lived in a commune in Berkeley, California, when she started transitioning from male to female in 1969. She came out as a bisexual transsexual in the context of the radical counterculture.

I was facing being called back up for the draft. I had already been called up once and had just gone in and played crazy with them the year before. But that was just an excuse. I had also been doing a lot of acid and really working things out. And then December 31, 1968, I took something—I don’t really know what it was—but everything just collapsed. I said, “This simply cannot go on.” To the people that I lived with, I said, “I don’t care if you hate me, but I’m just going to have to do something. I’m going to have to work it out over the next couple of months, and that it doesn’t matter if you reject me, I just have to do it.”

As it was, the people in my commune took it very well. I introduced the cross-dressing a few days later as a way of avoiding the draft. And they were just taken aback at how much just putting on the clothes made me into a girl. I mean, hardly any makeup. A little blush, a little shadow, some gloss, the right clothes, padding. I passed. I passed really easily in public. This is like a few months before Stonewall. And by this point I was dressing up often enough that people were used to seeing it.

I was wallowing in the happiness of having a lot of friends. Here I was being accepted, this kinda cool/sorta goofy hippie kid. I was being accepted by all these heavy radicals. I had been rejected by my parental family, and I had never found a family at college, and now here I was with this family of like eight people all surrounding me. And as it turned out, even some of the girls that I had slept with were thinking that this was really cool. All the girls would donate clothes to me. I really had not been expecting this. I had been expecting rejection, I really had been. And I was really very pleased and surprised. Because I thought that if I did this then I was going to have to go off and live with the queens. And I didn’t.

Stonewall’s Transgender Legacy:

Within a month of the Stonewall Riots, gay activists inspired by the events in Greenwich Village formed the Gay Liberation Front (GLF), which modeled itself on radical Third World liberation and anti-imperialist movements. The GLF spread quickly through activist networks in the student and antiwar movements, primarily among white young people of middle-class origin. Almost as quickly as it formed, however, divisions appeared within the GLF, primarily taking aim at the movement’s domination by white men and its perceived marginalization of women, working-class people, people of color, and trans people. People with more liberal, less radical politics soon organized as the Gay Activists Alliance (GAA), which aimed to reform laws rather than foment revolution. Many lesbians redirected their energy toward radical feminism and the women’s movement. And trans people, after early involvement in the GLF (and being explicitly excluded from the GAA’s agenda), quickly came to feel that they did not have a welcome place in the movement they had done much to inspire. As a consequence, they soon formed their own organizations.

In 1970, Sylvia Rivera and another Stonewall regular, Marsha P. Johnson, established STAR—Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries. Their primary goal was to help street kids stay out of jail, or get out of jail, and to find food, clothing, and a place to live. They opened STAR House, an overtly politicized version of the “house” culture that already characterized black and Latino queer kinship networks, where dozens of trans youth could count on a free and safe place to sleep. Rivera and Johnson, as “house mothers,” would hustle to pay the rent, while their “children” would scrounge for food. Their goal was to educate and protect the younger people who were coming into the kind of life they themselves led—they even dreamed of establishing a school for kids who’d never learned to read and write because their formal education was interrupted by discrimination and bullying. Some STAR members, particularly Rivera, were also active in the Young Lords, a revolutionary Puerto Rican youth organization. One of the first times the STAR banner was flown in public was at a mass demonstration against police repression organized by the Young Lords in East Harlem in 1970, in which STAR participated as a group. STAR House lasted for only two or three years and inspired a few short-lived imitators in other cities, but its legacy lives on even now.

A few other transgender groups formed in New York in the early 1970s. A trans woman named Judy Bowen organized two extremely short-lived groups: Transvestites and Transsexuals (TAT) in 1970 and Transsexuals Anonymous in 1971. More significant was the Queens’ Liberation Front (QLF), founded by drag queen Lee Brewster and heterosexual transvestite Bunny Eisenhower. The QLF formed in part to resist the erasure of drag and trans visibility in the first Christopher Street Liberation Day march, which commemorated the Stonewall Riots and is now an annual event held in New York on the last Sunday in June. In many other cities, this weekend has become the traditional date to celebrate LGBTQ Pride. The formation of the QLF demonstrates how quickly the gay liberation movement started to push aside some of the very people who had the greatest stake in militant resistance at Stonewall. QLF members participated in that first Christopher Street Liberation Day march and were involved in several other political campaigns through the next few years—including wearing drag while lobbying state legislators in Albany. QLF’s most lasting contribution, however, was the publication of Drag Queen magazine (later simply Drag), which had the best coverage of transgender news and politics in the United States, and which offered fascinating glimpses of trans life and activism outside the major coastal cities. In New York, QLF founder Lee Brewster’s private business, Lee’s Mardi Gras Boutique, was a gathering place for segments of the city’s transgender community well into the 1990s.

[lepus-arcticus]

52. Interlude

That night, wading through the undergrowth in the boreal chill, Walter Skinner believed. 

He saw it all and he believed; saw the ship slip from its shimmering veil, massive and magnificent in the endless, glittering night; saw the bodies rise; saw light, saw heat, saw his agent rapt and limp in the ecstasy of surrender. 

He saw it all, and he felt anew the awe and terror of Vietnam, the helicopters and the fire and MK-NAOMI, the sputter of an M60, khaki dark with blood. He saw it all, and he felt the quiet peace of inevitability, and then the sick sweetness of wonder, or perhaps the end of wondering. 

He stared into the sky as the tears gathered without falling, stared as the invaders blinked away into an abrupt and infinite void. He stared until there was nothing left but the slow creep of dawn’s mist, the sound of his own ragged breath. Stared until there was nothing left to do but stumble back through the pines to the car, to Mulder’s keys still dangling from the rental keyring in the ignition, to his jacket crumpled in the back seat. 

Walter sees it all, again and again. 

He closes his eyes, and he sees it all, sees nothing but his promise, made in earnest and then helplessly, flagrantly broken. 

-

When the sunrise begins to stain the wood paneling of his office, burning away the homey shadows in a flame of honey and bronze, he swills back the last of his whiskey and makes the trek, coatless, to the steaming coffee cart across the street. He is not drunk. He is never drunk, even after his best efforts, but the cool morning air slaps him sober anyway. 

He stands in line, pays the burly, ageless Serbian woman manning the cart her due, and wrestles a lid onto the paper cup. Black, no sugar, no cream. He stalks back through the wind with his coffee to the Hoover, picturing Scully at home in the great concrete belly of the building, tilting endlessly at her strange and unclassifiable work, reluctant to leave its orbit. 

He glances at his watch as he shoulders past security. He’s still got twenty ‘til their meeting. 

Jesus Christ, she shouldn’t even be here. It’s bad for the baby. She should be resting, goddamn it, should have her feet propped up on a pillow or three, should be eating fucking bonbons with her stubborn head wrapped up in a fluffy towel. She should at least be on desk duty, not running around Idaho brandishing scalpel and SIG-Sauer like some sort of modern day dual-wielding hedge knight. 

As usual, he abstains from the elevator, and takes the stairs back up. The mild exercise helps him squash his chivalrous irritation, helps him put it back into context. Maybe he’s just more of a sexist than he thought he was. Or maybe he just knows his agent. Maybe, that night in the hospital, he looked down into her wet blue eyes and saw rage and fear and unbridled joy as she wept, saw a woman, a lover, a mother. It was a revelation; he hadn’t even seen her cry when her sister was killed. 

She’s a warhorse, that one. She’s Joan of Arc. At the very least, she’s one hell of an agent. 

He guards himself against sentiment; he does not yearn. But in his weaker moments, he allows himself to wonder. He knows that he is no Fox Mulder, no crusader or revolutionary. War’s vicious hand had already beaten the thirst for adventure and glory out of him by the time Dana Scully was ten years old. He’s no longer the kind of man that could inspire the love and loyalty of a woman like her, and maybe he never was. 

But hell, he still believes in doing the right thing; believes in America, even after all he’s seen. He’s got the patience to play the game by the rules, the muscle to bend them. He knows his place, his role in all of this.

Some men are bound for greatness. Some must be content to be good. 

-

Nothing about Dana Scully has ever been cliché, but he can’t help but think that in this newly fertile iteration, she really does glow. Across from him, coolly delivering her account of the events in Burley, she’s pale and dewy, clearly fighting through a bout of morning sickness. He thinks she might be wearing less makeup. Her cheeks are beginning to fill out, her cider hair shines with health. She is beautiful beyond all reason, beyond all sense. When she finishes her narrative, he has to clear his throat in order to speak. 

“And Agent Doggett?” He prompts, watching her face carefully. He likes John Doggett, likes his weary moxie, his work ethic. He recognizes within him the familiar clarity of loneliness. 

Scully purses her lips for a quick moment, the only indication that he’s hit a soft spot. “He’s a good agent, sir,” she clips. “He’s thorough and seems to have a respect for what we—what I—do. But…” 

“But he’s no Mulder,” he finishes for her. 

She blinks, slowly, unevenly, and looks down at her hands, knotted together in her lap. 

“Listen, Agent Scully, I couldn’t very well leave you alone down there,” he says. “Not while you’re… not in your present condition.” He pries off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, knowing that he sounds like the worst kind of man. “Not that you’re…” 

“It’s okay,” she says, saving him. “Thank you.” 

She still won’t meet his gaze. 

“Scully… off the record. We haven’t given up. We’re still working hard to find him,” he says, leaning forward, reaching for some sort of simpatico, some way to scale the wall between them. “Frohike—”

“Frohike can’t do a goddamned thing,” she interrupts, her voice thin and sharp. She lifts her shining eyes to his, trapping him in the vortex of their whirlpool blue. “If Mulder couldn’t bring me back when I was taken, then there’s nothing that any of us can do to bring him back now. We have to wait. I’ve been thinking. It’s the only way. I have to be—” 

“Exactly, Dana. Now is the time for patience.” The use of her first name seems to shock her back into herself. Her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips. 

“Your only job right now is to wait,” he continues. “To focus on your work, on your pregnancy. I won’t have you doing anything rash or stupid. That’s Agent Mulder’s job.” 

She can’t restrain a small, sad, girlish smile, and the sheepish pleasure and relief that rushes through him is entirely inappropriate. Juvenile. Undeserved. 

“Which, by the way, is waiting for him when he returns, once he is ready,” he says, forging onward. “Doggett’s position is temporary. I just feel better knowing that there is someone looking out for you, someone you can rely on, to turn to when you need something. John Doggett is a good man. You can count on him.” 

She does not respond. Silence fills the room. 

“I, uh, I have something for you,” he says. He rummages in a drawer, extracts an overstuffed manila envelope, slides it across the desk. She stares at it for a moment before claiming it, drawing it into her lap and unspooling the clasp. 

“The investigation no longer requires these items as evidence,” he says, by way of explanation. 

Scully reaches inside and pulls out a worn leather wallet. A badge. A ring of keys and a lockpick jackknife lashed together with a Liberty Bell keychain. 

She opens the badge and rubs her manicured thumb over Mulder’s photo. It’s an act so intimate and heartfelt that it hurts him to observe it. He studies his own hands instead, large and square and calloused from long, punishing hours in the Gold’s weight room down the block from his condo. 

There’s a soft metallic click. He looks up. 

There is a single key on his desk. 

“This is my apartment key,” Scully says. “Hold it for Mulder until he gets back, will you?” 

She stands, and her waist is still tiny, her secret still safe. She is proud, sweet, noble, peculiar. He is not in love with her, but he could be, if he let himself. “Thank you for looking out for me, Walter.” 

He watches her disappear through the door, back to the basement, back to the shadows. He savours the sound of his name on her lips.

- 

Incrementum

[thefanficmonster]

Kick Some Ghost Ass

”Until Dawn Gang x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Sex jokes (excuse my bad humor)

Genre: CRACK, Humor

Summary: It’s one thing when trouble finds this gang, but why don’t we take a look at what happens when they go actively looking for trouble. Needless to say, chaos ensues and no one is spared. Some are more affected than others, and some are dead-ass traumatized, but isn’t that just how life is in general?

Requested by my dearest ever - Until Dawn Anon. Hi lovely! I’ve missed writing your requests and I’m really happy to be back, creating another chaotic fic! I’m sorry it has taken me so long to post it but here it finally is - crazy as ever! I hope you enjoy it! Love you to Blackwood Pines and back baby ❤❤❤

I don’t know how I’ve found myself in this situation but I’m not complaining. If I get to do dumb crazy shenanigans with my crew, I’m ready for just about anything. Not to mention I’m no stranger to ghost hunting. I’m that kid that made DIY Ouija boards and took them to cemeteries with their terrified friends. You should’ve seen us leaving after capturing no ghostly activity - my friends relieved as fuck, and me pissed as fuck.

But today, I’m not expecting nor will I be accepting any disappointment. Especially not with Jess swearing on her Chanel purse that she wasn’t making things up when she said she had a haunted house she wanted us to visit. I must say, I appreciate this group’s enthusiasm when it comes to the paranormal. Never have I had someone who catches my vibe on the subject so well, let alone an entire gang all sharing the same opinion as me - that ghosts, demons and poltergeists are so fucking cool. Sure, Emily took a bit of convincing and Jess is not one to give a shit about the other world creatures invisible to the human eye, but something allegedly happened that changed her mind.

Her a-hundred-and-something-year-old great-grandmother passed away recently and though the death itself didn’t shake Jess up as much as it probably should’ve, the events that followed led to this moment right now - the eleven of us pooling out of two minivans that have pulled up to a terrifying looking house in a wooded are of the suburbs. Jess literally gathered us all on an ‘emergency meeting’ in the courtyard of our college just so she could explain the situation in detail - she doesn’t do well with explaining things in general, let alone when she’s hysterical - so we only understood what she was trying to say when she mentioned the word ‘ghost’. That’s when we all started listening more closely, with the exception of Emily, Beth and Sam but the latter two were intrigued despite trying yo hide it. You can only imagine how excited Josh, Chris and I were, Mike and Matt following a close second behind. Ash was a tiny bit more hesitant but Chris convinced her to give in. And just like that, a week later, here we are.

“I gotta ask, did your great-gran own a VHS player? Or a chest in the attic? Bonus points if there’s a creepy, child-sized doll in there.“ Josh asks as he yanks all the equipment he insisted we bring out of the trunk of the minivan.

“Quit fucking around, Josh! This is serious!“ Jess complains from the spot she’s standing in, shivering in the cold autumn breeze.

“Yeah, Josh! VHS players, creepy dolls, that’s all child’s play.“ I scold him as I pull on my jacket, wrapping it around me more tightly, “Shit gets serious when there’s a secret basement.“

“Y/N!“ Jess shrieks in exasperation. Honesty, how am I supposed to NOT bother her when doing the opposite is so much easier and brings more amusement? “You’re not helping!“

“Wasn’t trying to.“ I wink at her, driving her into a new level of fury that almost leads her to chuck her phone at me. If it weren’t such a prized possession of hers, I’m pretty sure she would’ve chucked it with the intention of knocking me dead. I’m lucky she has the aim of a drunk toddler that spun around fifteen times.

“Hey, quit pissing my girlfriend off, will ya?!“ Mike, who is basically halfway inside the trunk of the other van calls out to us.

I roll my eyes but choose to let it slide. However, someone else doesn’t. Emily does a dramatic turn on her heel, turning to face Mike, or at least the only part of him which is visible. You can imagine how hard it is arguing with an ass like THAT. I don’t know how Emily does it but oh well, I guess I do it too, in a way.

“So it’s girlfriend now, huh? No space between the words?“ Oh that smile she’s flashing him, it could make the Devil himself shiver. I find it kinda hot though - it means shit’s about to go down or hit the fan, either way, the rest of us will be entertained.

Mikey boy straightens up, gracing the rest of us by-standers with his dazzling features. Nah, I’m capping. I honestly think Mike is as attractive as I am patient - very little, almost not at all. It’s surprising how him and Jess are now apparently together since I always pegged her to be the superficial type.

“Got a problem with that, Em?“ He asks, eyebrow raising, head tilting to the side. Oh yeah, it’s on now. But, as someone who’s been quite excited to do some ghost hunting, and also as a representative of the peanut gallery formed of the rest of us who find it amusing and annoying, I feel the need to cut it short before it goes where it shouldn’t. I came to see some exorcist shit, not Keeping Up With The Bitter Exs.

“Jess, I sure hope your grandma is a blood-thirsty ghost cause I can think of at least two people I’d serve to her on a silver platter.“ I snatch the keys the blond has been jingling nervously between her fingers and jog up the stairs to the front door.

Ok I maybe overexaggerated the eeriness of the house. It sure wouldn’t sit right with you if you saw it around sunset or at night, especially not if it’s foggy, but a horror movie house it is most certainly isn’t. It’s pristine and well kept, not a single crack in the walls, the only reason it’s unsettling is because: 1) We’ve all seen a few too many horror movies; 2) There’s been reports of ‘ghostly activity’ - as far as Jess is to be trusted.

While I’m surfing through all the keys, checking each and every single one of them on the door because the real key is unmarked, I can’t help but overhear the conversation going on behind me on the porch.

“Can you believe we got all this in a single day and for a discount on top of all?! Whoever says Craigslist sucks isn’t doing it right.“ Chris’ enthusiasm over the deal him and Josh got on the ghost hunting equipment has been what’s keeping a wide grin on his face this whole time. Though I’m proud of my boys for not getting murdered by the Craigslist seller, I must say I hate that I lost the bet we had - I had to pay them each ten bucks if they didn’t get scammed/kidnapped/murdered and I’m now twenty bucks poorer. I’m not saying I value those twenty bucks more than my friends, though my broke ass needs all the bucks it has and all the dollar bills it could get, but Lord knows I hate losing.

“Yeah, and the guy was only mildly sketchy.“ Josh adds just as excitedly and proudly, “To be honest, Cochise and I were probably the scary looking ones in that parking lot.“

A look over my shoulder shows the twins, Sam, Matt and Ash giving the duo skeptical and somewhat disappointing looks and shakes of their heads. I’ll admit, the equipment is in very good condition and it’s the complete set for ghost-hunting, according to BuzzFeed at least. I’m impressed with the purchase - probably had something to do with how scary Chris and Josh actually look. The all-nighters we’ve all been pulling lately have taken a toll on them worst with the dark circles and bags under their hollow eyes, pale faces and brains turned to mush. I know I’d give them a discount to avoid them pulling out meat cleavers on me.

“That’s all fine and dandy guys, but do you know how to work any of this?“ Sam asks, hesitantly lifting the EMF reader and turning it in her hand, analyzing it with a curious gaze. 

Josh and Chris exchange a look before the former replies, “Just the cameras and voice recorder, the rest falls on them.” He points a finger at me and laughs, “Though they aren’t able to work something as simple as keys, they are more than qualified to be a ghostbuster.”

“You know, Josh, jokes on you, I can work keys! Jess, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be able to work well with organizing things, hence my problem with these keys.“ I hurl the bunch of keys connected my a scarlet keychain at Josh, “Lemme demonstrate my true skills.“ I hop down the flight of stone stairs and approach the pile of equipment the guys have created smack-dab in the middle of the house’s driveway. 

“Oh, I gotta see this!” Mr. Ex-Class-President all but runs over, frowning when we all turn to look at him just as I pick up the spirit box to show off how it works, “Oh that’s what you meant. So you aren’t taking your clothes off?“

Jess and I are alike in one thing - the need we feel to chuck objects at people who piss us off. “You’re girlfriend is, like, right behind you, Munroe. Have some decency!”

“I was gonna enjoy a show as well, but I’m guessing we won’t be getting one.“ The girlfriend in question replies, looking at me quizzically as though that’s gonna convince me into discarding my outfit.

“No, unless you’re a ghost.“ I point the device I’m holding at Mike, “But if your boyfriend here keeps acting up I might turn him into one.“

“That sounds kinda kinky.“ Beth’s comment surprises me. The wink she sends me even more so. “And I kinda like it.“

Ok, ok, ok, hold on. 

Flirting with Munroe is one thing, but Beth is a completely different story. I can be threatening Mike with a knife one moment and cracking sex jokes with him over cold beer the next. While Beth actually has the ability to get me flustered and blushing, and my close relationship with her brother doesn’t help. Mother fucker can just whack me upside the head every time he catches me fussing over my silly crush on his sister.

“Ew, you too! Keep it in your pants or at least get a room.“ Emily doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to being herself. She’s truly a garbage bin full of treasure.

“We’d do the latter if SOMEONE could get the door open.” I glare daggers at Josh who is making hopeless attempts at what I was doing earlier - unlocking that damn door.

“I’d be more than happy to come through for you ladies.“ Mike says, getting in a stance of a runner before a race, his body directly opposite the door.

Oh I can’t wait to see where this is going. I SHOULD RECORD IT.

“Mike, it’s still breaking and entering and it’s still against the law even if the person’s dead.“ Sam points out, entering her mother-like mode, ruining the fun and causing me to pout at her. She gives me a look of disappointment - one worse than I’ve ever seen on my parents - so I just shut my trap before she can also express said disappointment through words and have me feeling guilty for the rest of the day.

A loud crash suddenly echoes causing us to turn our heads to look for the source of the terrifyingly startling sound. One glance is all it takes to put our minds at ease and a second one is enough to provoke different reactions in all of us - the broken window telling the story of where Josh has disappeared.

“What did I just say about breaking and entering?!“ Sam shouts after him while the vast majority of us are cracking up like hyaenas. Jess is just gaping at the broken window next to the front door in disbelief. She obviously can’t decide whether to join in on the fun or serve as back-up to Sam. Josh did technically damage private property that’s partially hers, but if you ask me it serves her right for not marking her keys.

“Sorry, I was too busy breaking the window to hear that part of the conversation!“ Josh’s apologetic smile appears on the other side of glassless frame. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely sorry or holding back laughter but either way, he looks innocent enough for Sam to let him off the hook as long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble - in which case: tough luck. Chris, Josh and I are nothing if not troublemakers, especially when we’re together. Chris tones it down when Ash’s around, and the same goes for Josh with Sam while I’m simply problematic regardless of who’s watching. My chaos is untamable, it’s a blessing and a curse and I love it, even though it’s landed me in hot water more than once. It’s nice to be around people on the same wavelength - chaos resides within this group and not a single one of us can hide it.

“At least we have a way in now.“ Ash offers Josh a helping hand in this argument after she recovers from the overwhelming fit of laughter. “I hope the broken window doesn’t anger your gran, Jess.“

The blond snaps out of her trance briefly, “No, she was a very sweet lady, but damn is Josh creative!” She hurries to correct herself, “Destructively creative.”

I hurry to correct her once again, “Chaotically creative.”

“Guys, do you mind coming in? It’s very creepy standing here alone!“ Josh calls out to us, looking over his shoulder at the interior of the house, “I’m expecting to be snatched and dragged to that secret basement we mentioned.“

“Mention it one more time and I swear to God-!“ Jess screams, fists tightened.

Before her angry wrath could crash atop us, we all make our way into the house through the broken window, carefully avoiding the shards of glass strewn about. One step inside and we’re met with the upmost of horror clichés - a drop in temperature. We’re all wearing thick hoodies because the weather outside is chilly in and of itself, but said hoodies aren’t as efficient at holding the house’s cold at bay and away from out skin.

Chris and Matt make their way in last, carrying the equipment consisting of three cameras, flashlights for everyone, an EMF reader, a spirit voice box, a voice recorder and a motion detector. I help them hand a light to each group member as well as a ghost-hunting device before we venture onward.

“If I were your grandma’s ghost, I’d be ten times more pissed about that window. It looks to me like that lady payed a lot of attention to keeping things in order.“ Matt comments while he examines the expensive looking painting hanging in the hallway.

I hear Emily scoff, “Unlike some.” but the remark is said so quickly and quietly I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who heard it.

Jess laughs, “She did like things in order, but she was never as strict as you might think. As I said, she was very sweet.“

“So do you just not take after her at all or were you adopted?“ Emily’s remarks are no longer a mumbled jumble of words, “No, nevermind, of course you’re not adopted. Your parents are smart people, they wouldn’t have chosen you if they had the chance.“

Jess laughs again, much more menacingly this time, causing me to exchange a look with Hannah who’s walking beside me. “Twenty bucks says one of them isn’t making it out of here.” It’s just a matter of time, to be honest. If not the lodge, or any party we’ve ever attended as a group, this haunted house is the perfect opportunity for a murder. We could even argue it was a ghost.

Luckily, the two cats clawing at each other’s throats don’t overhear, “No, my parents aren’t stupid, but your boyfriend clearly is. He chooses to date you! Or are you holding him captive or something.“

Ok that’s enough. I can tolerate a lot of things, but people calling one of my best friends stupid is not something I’m about to put up with, “How dare you call one of my hoes stupid?” I sneer at Jess, eyes narrowing.

“I thought I was your hoe too!“ She fights back, looking almost offended.

“Even more reason you shouldn’t have called him that! I don’t tolerate my hoes not respecting each other.“ 

I don’t get to see where this argument goes because Ashley’s shriek echoes throughout the hallway, stealing mine as well as the attention of everyone else. 

“There’s a ghost in here!“ Making it to the doorway of the room she’s in first, I peak my head inside and see the EMF reader she’s holding going nuts as if it’s detected something.

“Don’t worry, Ash, there’s a dead cactus here. That’s not the ghost we’re looking for, is it?“ Chris, my amazingly bright friend says, quirking an eyebrow suggesting that remark was nothing short of dead-ass serious.

“Chris, darling, that’s not how it works. Cactuses are plants.“ I point out as sweetly as I can as to mask my laughter.

“Don’t the same ghostly rules apply?“ The genuine look of confusion he gives me almost makes me lose it.

“Ok children, leave the room, we need to set up a motion detector to be sure.“ Beth says with a tone that suggests she’s more than over our insanity. Jeez, count on her and Sam to start parenting us through our chaos. They are of high authority, must admit - one genuinely feels bad if they don’t comply to whatever these two girls demand.

We all pile out in the hallway while the twins set up this interesting motion detector with green dots. I don’t know what Jess’ granny looked like, but I bet that even the most unattractive of people would look hella good with this lighting. Thankfully the room is dark enough with the shutters closed and the curtains drawn, allowing the dots to be perfectly visible.

We stare at the minimalistic room littered with fluorescent green dots on every surface for maybe a minute or two but not much happens to the disappointment to some and relief to others. However, as if not wanting to let us down, the ghost makes a shy appearance if the shift of the green dots is anything to go by.

“Oh shit, is that a ghost?“ Chris whispers, sounding as amazed as I feel in this moment.

“It better be.“ I mutter in response, refusing to blink and risk missing anything important.

The sudden presence of the obnoxious noise of the spirit voice box makes us all jump. As I turn my head to glare at whoever’s using it, Josh speaks up. “Are you an attractive ghost?”

“Josh, that’s my great-grandmother, you ass!“ Jess barks with disgust in her voice.

In the meantime, I catch glimpse of Mike rolling up his sleeves. Oh shit, this ain’t good.

“I’ve been waiting for this!“ He shouts victoriously, cracking his knuckles.

Knowing this won’t end well, the first thing I do is snatch the camera from Chris’ hands and turn it on.

“Um, Mike, what do you mean?“ Sam’s back to being concerned, turning to the rest of us when Mike doesn’t give her a response, “What’s he gonna do?“

“Fight it.“ I answer as though it’s the most normal thing to ever have been done, “Or, ash he calls it - kick some ghost ass.“

“A freaking ghost?! He’s gonna try to tussle with something he can’t see?“ I can’t tell if Matt’s tone is disbelief, amusement or disappointment, but I believe he isn’t about to try and stop or dear ex-president in his pursuit and that’s all that matters. I ain’t about to let someone stop whatever’s about to go down from going down.

“That’s still my great-grandmother, you dumbass!“ Jess shrieks with something alike terror.

“Don’t worry Jess, I’m sure she’ll go easy on him.“ I say in an attempt to reassure her but I can’t even be bothered really, I’m too laser-focused on the circus that’s about to take place in front of me.

Mike, as if encouraged by my words, charges into the room. Much to his dismay, before he could even reach the ghost, he’s met with a much more vigorous enemy - the carpet. The rascal trips him up and Mr. Munroe falls flat on his face.

The group stays silent, looking at the glorious aftermath of the glorious fall. Told ya these lights could make everything fabulous. Must say, it’s truly an honor for me to have been able to catch all that on tape.

“10/10, would ghost-hunt with Mikey Munroe again.“

[honestsycrets]

Gun: New Discoveries | 10 Days til Halloween [ Oleg x Reader ]

❛ pairing | dark!oleg x reader (or just oleg?), gaanbatar x reader (minimal)

❛ type | drabble... shot?

❛ summary | you walked in on something you shouldn’t. oleg has loose ends to tie up. 

❛  tags | dark!oleg, dark fic, possessive!oleg, short chase scene, bad consent (don’t trigger yourself), slight gun play, female!reader, nothing redeeming about oleg, facials, pussyfuck, pre-existing relationship, I like to think she gets out of this but who knows because I probably won’t finish.

❛ sy’s notes | ahhh i should have known better than to use oleg for this. As per usual, I’m not tagging on this sort of fic. 20-some minutes til the end of the day, woosh. It took a bit to finish this one out.

You never really knew a man til’ you lived with him.

 You full-heartedly believed in that shit that you told your sister, your friends-- but what might have been minor little offenses: shoes carrying dirt inside, an annoying quality of unwashed dishes, or milk at the edge of the fridge? Yeah, that? That was the gist of what you expected. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” the storming steps upstairs became louder, more poignant, crashing down step after step as you bolted down the steps. Your name bounced off his tongue; bounced off the walls. 

“Come here!” 

You hit the first floor with a clap of your shoes, and you would have started to bolt, but a sudden pressure seizing your wrist caught you in an instant. As you swung back around, you realized it was Ganbaatar there, catching your other wrist in his hand. You hiked up your knee and he jerked his hips back to avoid what would have been a well-placed kick. Air escaped your lungs when he barreled you back into the wall, thrashing your head painfully into a fixture of a great wooden cross. 

“Keep her there,” he bellows from the floor. You can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but the annoying pulse of Ganbaatar’s prominent erection against your side. There’s an eerie stillness in your shared home along the coast side of beautiful Russia; you should have listened, you thought, trying your best to thrash in the man’s pressing grip.

“Why did you run away? Hm?” The coolness of metal stopped you instantaneously. It kissed the side of your head, attached to not a knife or sword, but the barrel of your husband’s favorite handgun. You’d weep, if not for the stillness of Oleg’s sycophantic shushing. In a moment, you realize that you had been begging.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Oleg churns, stroking your hair with that one large hand that wasn’t so busy with threatening the life out of you, gun kissing your temple. “I love you.” 

“Then why do you have-- have a gun against my head,” the words bubble out between ugly tears that reddened your cheeks in their appearance. 

“You ran,” Oleg looks to his man. Ganbaatar’s cool hand worked its way up to your thigh, under the soft skirt, and against black pantyhose. Without the need to pin you there, his right-hand man tore the black sheer fabric with a clean shwiiippp of the fabric. Ganbaatar had always been the sort of man that was, in a word, unpredictable. You didn’t know him. Nor did you want to know him, not here, in front of Oleg.

“Oleg-- don’t let him, please.”

“You heard her.” You swallow relief when Oleg’s hand promptly replaced his, shrugging the man off back upstairs to your spare room; where bills were spread in fat stacks and the thin cut powdery substances were separated out into their individual little bags. You never knew this side of Oleg; perhaps because you blinded yourself to his short working hours and the luxurious lifestyle he supplied you with. Blindly, you believed he did work at home. 

And he did. But maybe not in the way you thought he did. 

“I wouldn’t let him touch you. You know that,” Oleg’s fingers delved deep into your panties, molding your cunt with his big hand; and it doesn’t do anything to calm your nerves, not with the gun pressed tightly against your temple. “But you have to know-- you’re all wound up in this. You’re can’t leave me. Not alive, anyway.” 

As if he sensed your discomfort, he drew the gun down. Not back to his pants, but rather between the thin fabric of your panties and your lips, quivering in nothing short of fear. The only thing worse than being shot-- you thought, was probably being shot in the cunt. Oleg’s pitch eyebrows are relaxed in nature, almost amused. 

“But I didn’t--” you glance to the hand slipping free from your panties instead of guiding your hip to roll down upon the gun. Fuck it, like you would him, on those long nights where nothing other than him mattered. “I didn’t do anything.” 

“I don’t think you’re telling the truth,” Oleg chides, aware of your body’s response, slickening the gun. It’s his lips, caressing the skin of your throat, filling your body with distant memories. Or maybe the roll of his lips, drawing out a low and amused hum. “How does a woman date a man for four years-- and not notice anything at all?.” 

They didn’t. 

“I just wanted to see you.” 

The words cause him to draw back, catching the need behind the end of them. Somewhere in that prickly hole of a heart, Oleg realizes the truthfulness of the words. He draws the gun-free, suckling what soft juices were there. Footsteps rattle the dark wood staircase beside your head as he secures his gun in its place. 

“Really,” Oleg breathes out, the foreign scent of your slick on his tongue. He fiddled with his jeans then to pull himself free. Normally, his shaft against your belly would be something exciting, forming a little knot in your belly that he would knock free. But this time it was different. It wasn’t marked by the excitement, but the apprehension that would come with it. He drew his cock to your pussy and filled you at once. His strangled groan beat with the small chiding snickers of men filtering down the stairs. “I know you did. You’re so damn good.” 

His thrusts were pinched tight, juddering his hips into your body. Your gasps are cropped short, marked out by the repetitive slap of skin. You cut off the small noises wrenching up your throat by bunching up his short, black hair in your fists. Soon Oleg’s mouth wrenched toward your skin, drawing it into his mouth with bites that broke the skin, breathy moans growling out between his needy bites. “You’re going… to stay.” 

“Oleg--” He’s not your Oleg. You don’t even recognize him. But he’s buried deep, so deep you swore you could feel him in your womb, although you knew he could not be. 

“Shh,” he hissed. 

The house is quiet again, marked by the punctuation of Oleg’s hips against the wall, your legs struggling to keep upright and meet him. His forehead is bubbles with a heavy ring of sweat from the exertion. The thrusts become jerky-- you recognize Oleg’s desperation as his orgasm welling to the surface. 

He pulls free, shoving you on your knees between the wall and the solid muscle of his legs. He frantically pulls his cock until his seed paints your face in strings of sticky cum. His hips pump into his hand a few more times before his hand leaves his cock, snatching your throat. Its bruising grip snuffs the relief that flooded your chest. Oleg presses a sticky kiss to your lips, scratchy by his facial hair, forceful by its intent. 

It’s all a show. 

“Upstairs,” he husks out, his chest thrumming rabbit-like against your breast. When you don’t move, he raises a hand, snapping your attention with a strike of his palm against gooey cum. His sardonic, unrelenting smile reminds you; it’s not the Oleg you’ve always known now. Oh, it’s someone completely new. Completely-- strange to your world of dinner, sex in the car, and kisses at dawn. 

You never really knew him.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER FIVE: US

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x (fem)Reader Word Count: 2868 Rating: T - canon-typical language, reference to Stephen King A/N: The adorable, fluffy early part of a relationship is hard to write, y’all. Especially first dates.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

“So...you and Derek…” Riley began after you had both placed your orders and found a table. 

“What? What about Derek and me? There isn’t a ‘me and Derek,’” you said in a rush. Except that there was, now, and you weren’t sure why you were denying it. 

“That’s my point! You’d be good together.”

“Would we?” you asked skeptically. 

A voice nagged at the back of your mind, lecturing you about how you knew that already, how of course you were good together, you were more than good, you were perfect foils. You liked bickering and bantering with him, and watching scifi together, and doing terrible impressions of people you both knew, and just talking and being near him. You weren't sure what had happened earlier, but you knew you wanted it to happen again. And that you wanted...to curl up on your couch with your knees tucked up under you and your head on his chest while his arm wrapped around you and held you close, or sit across from him at a restaurant and steal his fries, or make pancakes with him on a Sunday morning in your pajamas (never mind that you'd have to learn how first, for Derek you'd figure it out). You were sure you wanted all of those cute, romantic companionship things, with Derek. So why were you still pretending otherwise?

“Sure. He’s not my type, and he can be a little annoying sometimes, but he makes it work, in his own way.”

Your conversation was momentarily interrupted by your drinks and snacks being brought over. It was just enough time for you to come to a decision. 

“You’re really selling him,” you joked, hiding a smile behind your scone. “I’m so convinced.”

“Come on, Y/N. Give him a chance. He might surprise you.”

“Riley, listen. I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, setting me up with Derek, but you are wasting your breath...”

“Why? Give me one good reason not to go out to dinner with him.”

“He hasn’t asked me to?” you squinted your eyes and tilted your head in question. 

She sighed. “Okay, you’re right. Hypothetically though, if he did ask, and assuming you both had the night off, and—”

“Riley, can you slow down for a second?” you couldn’t help but laugh as you cut off what was likely to be quite the spiel. After all, she was a business major, and they loved their hypotheticals almost as much as lawyers.

She stopped, or at least paused, and picked up her coffee cup, looking at you expectantly.

“You’re wasting your breath not because my answer would be no, but because...well..he and I sort of...already...hooked up? About,” you checked the clock on your phone, “an hour ago.”

She choked, only just avoiding spraying her latte over you. “What?!”

“Well I mean, not hooked up, hooked up. But there was a lot of kissing, and other stuff. And not a lot of clothes. It probably maybe might have actually ended up as hooked up, hooked up if you hadn’t called,” you grimaced as you tried to explain. “But you cannot tell Sean any of this.”

“Why not?”

You chewed on your lip. “Because it just happened. And I don’t know if it was a one-off, heat-of-the-moment thing. So I don’t want him to know anything until there’s something worth knowing. If there’s something worth telling, he’ll probably end up one of the first to know anyway.”

“Okay, I might let you have that,” she smirked, leaning in. “So tell me more: What’s ‘other stuff’? How few clothes are we talking? How’d it happen? Was it good?”

Your cheeks felt hot with embarrassment as you laughed awkwardly and focused your attention on your drink as a distraction. 

~

“You’re never gonna believe this, dawg,” Derek said, blowing a puff of smoke up into the air. “So I was over at Y/N’s, and we were hangin out, and we started arguing, right?”

“Because that comes as a shock to anyone,” Sean answered, rolling his eyes and taking a long drag before passing the joint back.

“No, no, no, man. That’s not the surprising thing. We’re arguing and all up in each other’s face and then, out of nowhere, she kisses me!” Derek’s grin was wide and a little bit awed as he spoke, forgetting to take another hit.

There was genuine shock on Sean’s face and he seemed at a loss for words, blinking owlishly at his best friend. 

“So anyway, there I am, there we are because the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen - no offense to Riley man - is kissing me, so obviously I kissed her back. She didn't taste like I thought she would, apples or somethin, like she always smells, but I guess that's her hair or something, it was…” Derek trailed off for a second, trying to think of exactly how he wanted to describe the taste of kissing her, and then he snapped his fingers, carrying on, “candy canes. Those ones with the extra purple stripe that kinda taste like berries.”

He ignored Sean saying his name, trying to capture his attention and carried on. 

“Then, it's not just kissing. Cus she's laying back onto the bed and I'm following and now I'm on top of her and she takes her shirt off. No bra underneath so I've got the perfect view of her sweet, perky—”

“Stop!” Sean yelled, voice echoing off the concrete pillars of the parking garage. “Fucking hell Derek, that's my cousin. Practically my little sister for Christ's sake.”

 “What?” Derek frowned, confused for a moment when it finally dawned on him. “Oh shit, man, I'm sorry. I thought since you were cool with me taking a shot...I wasn't thinkin about…”

“It's fine. I only need to bleach out half my brain. I'm happy for you and Y/N, I really am, it's about time frankly, but I don't want to know.”

“Yeah. Yeah no problem man.”

A silence hung over them as they finished their smoke, before suddenly Derek was speaking again.

“I looked up the song while I drove here, and it turns out, she was right. I had nothin to even argue with her about.” He chuckled, the grin creeping across his face again. “I’m glad I did though.”

~

Several weeks went by and it seemed like things were going back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened. You got busy with school and finals, seeing Derek a lot less often and for shorter blocks, and the timing never seemed right to talk. 

One night, you were both hanging out with Sean, trying to cheer him up over the fact that Riley had cancelled on him because of some big presentation for school. While your cousin was out of the room meeting the pizza guy, an odd silence descended over you both for a moment, before Derek turned to face you on the couch. 

“What are we?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” you answered, frowning in confusion and mirroring his position. 

“We have one killer makeout, then never talk about it. I flirt, I think you’re flirtin back but it’s hard to tell. You call me sweet one second and stupid the next. I just don’t get it, Y/N, and it’s starting to drive me crazy.”

“I like you, Derek. A lot. Like, to the point it kinda scares me if I’m being honest, a lot,” you shrugged, holding your shoulders at your ears. “But...I don’t know. Is this a good idea?”

“This? You mean...us?” He frowned in confusion. 

“Is there an us already?” you sighed, voice trembling. “Yeah, I guess I mean, the possibility of an us at least.”

He reached over, taking one of your hands in his. “I don’t want to push you into anything, but I’ll be honest, girl, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You opened your mouth to make a snarky comment in response and he shook his head, laughing lightly. 

“I mean the real you, not just kissin you or seeing your tiddies, although those were nice.”

You shot him a glare, reaching across the gap between you to slap his shoulder in annoyance. He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender.

“You’re so smart, way too smart for me. And fiesty, and hilarious, and sweet. I don’t know, you’re you. And I really like everything about you, all the little things even that make me feel like I got steam comin outta my ears like the Looney Tunes.”

“I…”

“Let me take you out to dinner, or breakfast, or lunch, whenever you’re free. A date though. One date and we can talk about it, whatever’s got you feeling unsure. Please?”

He was looking at you so earnestly that you couldn’t resist saying yes, suggesting lunch on Sunday just as Sean returned. He looked between you with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk. You rolled your eyes, stealing the food from him, and Derek pressed play on the movie as Sean settled back into the middle seat. 

~

You paced anxiously up and down the length of your living room, biting on a thumb nail. You paused, debating changing your outfit for the third time. Derek had said he wanted to do the whole package for a date, so he was going to pick you up at your apartment, and drive downtown. Then you’d park and walk together to lunch. It was cute. But it left you with too much time to think while you waited for the text that said he was downstairs.

It was just Derek. Derek who’d been your friend for months now, who could make you laugh no matter what, and who looked at you like you hung the moon when he thought you didn’t notice, and who made your stomach flip. Derek who you’d been fully ready and willing to sleep with a few weeks ago. But this felt different. It was a real date. It was a tipping point, maybe the start of something, or the end. 

Your phone buzzed in your hand, making you jump. 

‘Hey, I’m here. Want me to come up?’ you read. 

If he came upstairs, you could probably convince him to forget the date and the questions and the everything else to pick up where you’d left off the last time he’d been to your place. The thought was tempting. But it was only delaying the inevitable. 

‘I’ll be down in a sec,’ you fired back instead, gathering up your keys and purse and hurrying down to meet him. 

He was standing on your front step when you got downstairs, greeting you with a surprising hug, which you were happy to return, before you both stepped back and took each other in. 

“Damn,” he said with a low whistle. “You look…damn.”

You felt your cheeks flush hotly. Your outfit wasn’t something particularly fancy, but you had tried to dress nicely for him, and to take advantage of the warm spring weather.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased, smiling broadly at him (code for he looked absolutely jaw-droppingly sexy in his own choice of dressy-casual). 

He winked at you and then swept an arm out dramatically. “Your chariot awaits. Shall we?”

“Don’t mind if I do, kind sir,” you affected a posh accent and haughty expression before giggling and practically skipping down the stairs.

~

The drive, as usual, turned into an impromptu concert (mostly Bon Jovi today) and for the walk to the restaurant and all of lunch, conversation flowed easily. It was comfortable enough that you almost forgot that you had hesitated to agree.

“I hate to kill the mood,” he said after most of your meal was done. “But part of today was supposed be to figuring out us.”

You sighed. There was the other shoe, finally dropping.

“You’re right, it was.”

“So why do you think this is a bad idea?” he cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Straight to the point,” you observed. “I'm surprised.”

He shrugged. “Just wanna get it done. Why dance around?”

“I don’t know. We’re friends, and I like how things are. And you and Sean are friends and if we were to try this...dating or whatever thing, and it didn’t work out I don’t want to lose us or ruin your friendship or,” you sighed. “It just seems like a lot to risk.”

“Sean and I are way too close to let a girl come between us, even if that girl is you.” He smirked teasingly at you.

“Well that makes me feel a little better,” you rolled your eyes, but there was a sincerity to your words that he definitely picked up on. “What if you’re wrong, and we start dating, and it makes things awkward between you and Sean? What if it doesn’t but we break up and then Sean has to pick between his cousin and his best friend? What if we start dating and it doesn’t work out and we lose each other? Because you’re one my best friends, Derek, and I can’t even imagine what life would actually be like without you in it, but it’s a scary thought. What if—”

He reached across the table to rest his hand on top of the fingers you were drumming anxiously on the table. 

“Forget what ifs for a second.”

You looked at him skeptically.

“Just work with me. No thinking about the future. If just right now mattered, how would you feel? What would you do?”

“I don’t know. I’d feel...happy? I’d tell you that I’m having a really good time hanging out with you again, and I missed it when I got busy with finals. I’d tell you that color looks really good on you. And that you have chocolate from your pancakes on your lip, but...I think you should leave it there and let me get it…” you were blushing furiously, cheeks practically on fire, and you fought the urge to look down at the table. 

He laughed, the sound filling your chest with warmth and effervescence. With a wink, he shifted his chair around the table until his knee bumped into yours. 

“Go on then,” he murmured, angling even closer. “Live in just this moment.”

You breath caught in your throat, heart racing.

“Or should I do it for you?” 

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips and his eyes traced its path. 

“Derek…” your voice was barely above a breath. 

And then you were both leaning in, and his hand was braced on the back of your chair, and yours was on the back of his neck. Your lips were on his and his were on yours, and for a second, time and his breath and your heart all stopped. You slid your tongue across his lip and then sucked on it lightly, removing the chocolate stain as promised and making him groan softly. His hand left the chair to curl around your back, trying to angle you closer without pulling you off your chair. 

Someone cleared their throat behind you, shattering the moment and making you leap apart. The freckle-faced young waiter stood awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.

“You...uh...I was asked to come over and tell you that…” he stammered, blushing furiously. 

“We’re disturbing the other customers and should keep the PDA for later?” you asked sheepishly, not unfamiliar with the feeling of having to deliver such messages to couples on dates. 

He nodded rapidly before turning tail and practically fleeing back to the kitchens. You couldn’t help giggling, especially when you saw the pouting look on Derek’s face. After a moment, he grinned and joined in with your laughter, until you earned another stern look from some of the older folks in the little restaurant around you. 

“Maybe we should go?” you suggested, struggling to contain yourself. “I don’t think they like us much.”

“Probably,” he answered, quickly waving down someone to bring your check. 

As you walked out together, you impulsively stepped closer. You were just passing through the door and into the afternoon sunshine when you laid your head on Derek’s shoulder, making him stiffen for a moment, before he shifted his stance to make it more comfortable for the both of you, looping an arm around your waist.

“So,” he said as you wandered like that down the sidewalk in no particular direction.

“Hm?” 

“What’s this mean then?”

“It means that I like you, a lot. And I like this...us...thing. And I’m still scared, but I want to give it a shot?”

“Okay.” You could practically hear the grin in his voice as his arm tightened to pull you closer.

“And if you ever break my heart, I’ll break your foot.”

“Why my foot?” he laughed.

“Because it’s easy-ish. And it makes it harder for you to leave.”

“Ah, I see. Going a little Annie Wilkes on me?”

“You’ve seen Misery?”

“No. But I liked the book.”

You tilted your head to look more fully at him, gaping. 

“What? Am I not allowed to be a Stephen King fan?”

“You never cease to surprise me, Derek Sandoval.”

[lo-55]

Playing With Fire Ch. 2

What Do You Know?

@emrysaf

When dawn breaks through the window and assaults your eyes you take a few long minutes to relish the feeling of obliviousness. 

If you lay here for long enough and pretend hard enough that yesterday never happened maybe you can open your eyes to your own living room, or even a hospital room where they’ll tell you you took too many Benadryl and hallucinated everything. 

Eventually you have to open your eyes and look to the ceiling. 

You really don’t wanna do this, but here you are. Doing this. 

You really, really wanna open your eyes and find yourself home, with the storm blown over and your life back to normal. You wanna call your parents, who you never knew you could miss quite this bad. 

You can’t do any of these things. 

All you can do is open your eyes and look at the unfamiliar ceiling.

There’s a few cracks in it that you count while you remind yourself how to breathe. Eventually you have to get up and change into the school uniform instead of the blinding orange jumpsuit. If you remember right you were all supposed to meet in a classroom to get your final assignments, and then jump on a train and go to your new company with a resume in hand. 

You ended up following a pair of girls to the classroom, where you plopped yourself next to Shinra. You didn’t see Arthur or Ogun anywhere, which was weird. If you recalled right Ogun stayed in the fourth after graduation, and he and Arthur were close friends of Shinra, even if Arthus disagreed with that fact for the most part. 

You shoot Shinra a quick grin, and turn to face the front again. 

If you remember right, this was where your were assigned the fourth in the game, along with Ogun. You (or the MAIN character) got in trouble snooping around and Ogun, after hearing your reasoning, turned himself into your own personal body guard. 

Now that you were thinking about it, it might be a good idea to start writing everything you know down. 

God knows you’re gonna forget something important when you need to remember it. 

Er, Sol knows? 

This is stupid. 

You look up at some nameless teacher who paces the front, holding a stack of assignments for you and copies of the applications that had been sent to each of the companies. 

This is it. 

You sit a bit straighter. 

The teacher hands out each person a form. When you look to the side you see Shinra grinning that huge, nervous smile of his and it’s all you can do not to pinch his cheeks and tell him how cute he is. 

The teacher finally hands you your assignment. 

Company 8. 

You do a fist pump. 

“Hell yeah! First choice!” 

A few of your classmates shoot you startled looks. Was your character really so quiet before? 

“Hey, I got the same one,” Shinra poked his head over to see. The list was pretty simple. All it said was the company number, their captain, leuitenant, and address. A glance around revealed that everyone else had a whole packet of information on their new companies. But 8 was so small, and so new, apparently they didn’t warrant it. 

That was fine. You already knew enough it hardly mattered. 

“We’ll be together then,” you say cheerfully. “Wanna take the train together?” 

Please say yes. I don’t know where the train station is. Or how to ride one. 

Shinra nodded, “Yeah. Sounds like fun.” 

“Wanna meet at my room and we’ll go? It says we’re supposed to meet them at their station this afternoon.” 

“Are you sure?” Shinra looked startled. You poked his cheek. 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t, babe.” 

Shinra suddenly looked unsettled. “You’re not just doing this to mess with me, right?” 

“Mess with you?” You cocked your head. “What would I do that for?” 

He didn’t have an answer for that, but it made you sad. You knew he got teased a lot, but was it really so bad he thought you being friendly was a trick? 

You were so gonna get in a fight here someday. 

You flipped your company eight paper around so you could take a look at the copy of your resume that they’d be getting there. It was pretty bare bones. It had your name, age, weight, height, blood type, and listed you as a Second Class Fire Soldier, as well as your grades. They were all pretty average, but apparently you were good at math. 

You didn’t have a home address, but it did say you were Ueno, but that part you knew already. In the game you’d gone to Asakusa on an errand, done a bunch of side quests, and found out that Ueno was your home town and it was nearby. It was mostly made of museums and old buildings. 

Still nothing about your pyrokinesis. Damn it. 

This was starting to get annoying. 

“So I’ll see you in a few hours, right?” You clarify quickly, looking up at Shinra. 

Shinra still looks surprised, but he nods quickly, with another small smile. “Yeah. I’ll see you then.” 

You bump fists with him again before you retreat to your room. 

You take to your desk and grab a pencil and paper to try to write down everything you remember, in english for good measure. You don’t know how you know japanese now, but then again you don’t know a lot of things lately. 

What I know for sure: 

MAIN CHARACTER’s family is from Ueno. They died in an infernal fire. They had a sister they’re looking for. They have their sisters ring, a scar on their wrist, and lighter that’s connected to the Tragic Back Story. After the fire SISTER enrolled in the Fire Force Special Academy, leaving MAIN on their own for a few years. She disappeared not long after graduating, and MAIN joined to try to find her in turn. 

In the original game MAIN joins fourth company, which their sister was a part of before her disappearance. In their first night there they dream of a man in a red suit who smiles and pats their head. He’s probably important. Maybe dad??? Likely dead. They snoop around and get in trouble a couple of times, but the captain is on their side and let’s it slide with a slap on the wrist? And no mention of wanting to be lit on fire. He’s a cool, if weird old dude. 

Ogun takes it upon himself to look after MAIN after they nearly get arrested looking into 5th company. 

    Note, avoid the Princess until after Shinra works his magic. 

A choice is made: agree to let Ogun help or ditch him. 

MAIN chose help and together THEY snuck into the Holy Sol Temple. While Ogun looks above, MAIN manages to find a door leading down to old training grounds.

    Note. MAIN didn’t know they were for the shadow sun whatever they were called training. 

MAIN gets lost and pops out at the end of a tunnel, where Joker happens to be setting some cards up. 

    Note . Why???? 

A choice is made ; Tell Joker the truth or lie. 

MAIN admits to Joker that they’re looking into a disappearance, and suspect the church of having something to do with it. They admit that they think the entire situation is a little hazy, and the history is a fragile thing. After that Joker is considered a Friend.  

MAIN returns to Ogun, but only hints at what they found underground. That night they dream of the Man in Red, who tries to speak to them and pats them again. They notice he has a ring with the same design as their own. 

MAIN also spent time in Asakusa with Benimaru Shinmon and Konro. MAIN was little more than an over glorified messenger at the time, but took advantage of the opportunity to see their old home. (UENO) 

    Note. Benimaru is hot

A choice is maid ; leave at once or help out. 

Did a buncha side quests in Asakusa when MAIN stumbled on an old subway entrance in the basement of a restaurant they were working in. The owner says it’s dangerous to go down, but there are a few other holes around the city. Most have been boarded up long ago. 

MAIN, not knowing what they are, leaves them be. 

    Note. Were the subways part of the underground church forbidden place??? Asakusa doesn’t follow the church? So they don’t think they’d curses just dark and flooded? 

MAIN goes home. Rumors of the White Clad begin to circulate, and MAIN goes to company eight to ask Shinra about them directly, thinking that their sister might have been taken by them. 

. . . 

You look at your paper and realize something vital. 

You’ve misspelled maid. 

Fuck it. 

You also write the three powers you could have picked down in blue ink, taking the last pen in your drawer out.

The fire wings, Phoenix in the game. They were support type, with heavy defense properties and minor healing powers, but you couldn't fly which was lame. 

The fire spear, the Sun Lance, was a damage type power. It took fire from around you and made a blade at the end of a long stick. Technically it was a spear, but if you flipped it upside down you could ride it like a witches broom. That one you could fly with, but not the wings. 

The magnet sand, Dark Desert, was a tank type. They made a lot of long range weapons and smashed through fire pretty easily and made strong walls, but it couldn't get too close to you or you yourself will take damage, and you can’t move while you use it. 

They’re all really cool, but you still don’t know which you have and you have no idea how to find out. And you can’t ask anyone or you’ll look crazy! 

...Maybe you should arrange an ‘accidental’ fall down the stairs and claim anmesia. 

Just when you’re seriously considering that option a harsh knock sounds on the door. 

You jump and smash your arm so hard into the drawer you actually break the bottom out of it. 

“Shit! Just a second!” You yell at the door. You scramble to try to hide the evidence when you realize ; the drawer isn’t broken. The bottom is fake. 

You carefully extract, from within, a thin, red, leatherbound book. A look at the inside cover shows you a note. 

To keep your thoughts in order, you scatter brain. 

<3 Fuyuki

Another knock sounds. 

“Hey! Are you ready to go?” Calls Shinra from the other side. 

“Y-yeah! Just a second!” You stuff the book into the front pocket of your bag and throw yourself to the door. You swing it open and throw Shinra back with your blinding grin. 

“Let’s go!” 

~

When the two of you board the train, each clutching your bag close, you’re forced to stand shoulder to shoulder with Shinra, who ends up keeping up his grin the whole time even though you can see him visibly straining to stop it. 

It probably doesn’t help that you keep looking at him, but oh well. 

The second you step out on the platform the screaming starts. A burning train is on its way. An infernal. You and Shinra scramble towards the sound, with Shinra in the lead, and come to a halt just in time to see the train stop. Fire streams out the windows and a creature from a nightmare crawls out of door. 

You swallow thickly. You can smell burning flesh. You can feel heat on your skin. 

This is real. 

You tear your eyes away from the walking corpse in time to see Company 8’s bad ass entrance. They’re all so cool! Maki is such a badass, and Obi is way too strong, and Iris is sweet faced and determined- 

You’re barely able to focus on the infernal itself, and you actually forget that the big metal sign is going to fall up until it happens. 

Shinra shoots off like a bullet. 

You’re left behind, your hair whipping behind you and your arm raised to protect your face while Shinra saves Iris for not-the-last-time. 

You watch him introduce himself, for a moment feeling like you’re just an observer. Its not really intruding, but the familiarity of it all doesn’t help anything. 

It’s not until Shinra points at you and says your name that you snap to attention. Your body knows to salute even if you don’t. 

“Sir!” You echo. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. That was totally awesome, sir.” 

Obi gives you a brief once over before he nods, seriously. 

“Yes. Yes it was. It’s good to have the two of you. Come on. We should get going, back to the cathedral.” 

You and Shinra hurry to grab your things and follow after the four of them. 

When they’re not looking you elbow Shinra. 

“That was so cool!” You hiss. “I didn’t even have time to react and you totally saved the sister!” 

“A-ah, you really think so?” Shinra looked away, his cheeks pink and his grin huge. He scratched his cheek in embarrassment. “ I just did what any hero would!” 

You laugh and swing your arm around his shoulder. “True! Still, it was really awesome. I know I can count on you to help me in the future, right?” 

Shinra nods quickly, however embarrassed he might be.

“Yeah! Or I’m not-” 

You don’t get to hear his new, weird nickname. You’re cut off by the fact that instead of loading into a matchbox the captain has called you a cab. 

That’s weird. 

You know that’s weird. 

“...I don’t get it, but I’m not fighting it,” you say after a minute, and crawl inside. Shinra follows suit and the two of you finally make your way to the run down cathedral. 

Home suite home. 

 ~  ~

A/N So which power do you guys wanna see?

Dark Desert, Phoenix, or Sun Lance? Please let me know!

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: Aftermath Chapter 6 - The Man Who Sold The World

Warnings: Swearing, slight violence, some Kate and Wheaty cutensss, usage of drugs (Bliss)

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: In the penultimate chapter, Paige, Kate and Mandy finally meet face to face with Joseph Seed, but there will be bloodshed, and maybe a few sacrifices the family will have to make. 

Guest OCs: Just the usuals. 

Guest Characters: Archangel Raphael [Supernatural: mentioned], God/Chuck [mentioned], An Archangel? [read until the end]

Note: One more chapter!!! Then New Dawn begins.

*****

Another few weeks have passed, October is here and that means Fall in Montana is beautiful. The fallen leaves, the crispy cool breezes, orange, red and yellow leaves. Fall colors.

Pumpkins, hot chocolate, sweater season, blood shed, violence, and crazy fucking Cultists. 

The Winchester-Smith compound has never looked more alive. The trees on the property with their orange, and yellow leaves.

The threatening words of graffiti on the gates of the compound. Sinner. The Father. The Power of Yes. 

John Seed’s followers tried to retaliate, and avenged his death, but the Winchester family is always 10 steps ahead of them.

7:00 am. A letter arrived at their front door for the 3 females of the Winchester family that morning. From the man whom they’ve been looking for, The Father Joseph Seed himself.

Telling them to go to his church at 5:30 that evening. He didn’t say for what, or why, but they weren’t gonna let this opportunity slip.

“It’s clearly a trap” Kenny tells his wife.

“What if it isn’t?” she asks.

“Why would Joseph send you a letter telling you to go to his church?!?” Nate asks, as he pours coffee in a cup.

“I don’t know, but we’re going” Kate says.

“You two are pregnant!!” Kenny exclaims, “You aren’t going”.

“Okay! Then who else is gonna take our place?” Paige asks.

“I’ll take your place, Mandy and one of the guys can go” he replies. 

“Joseph asked us, and us only to go. We aren’t risking you two going, and probably getting killed” Kate tells him.

“What if he kills you guys?!” Mark asks.

“Remember the letter he left us? When we killed his brothers? He said that we were forgiven for all the shit we’ve done” Paige informs them.

“He could be lying!” Mark adds in.

“Joseph is telling the truth” Mandy steps in. 

They all turn around to face her, “How do you know?!?” Kenny asks.

“I spent 6 months with him. I can tell if he’s lying or not. Writing or speaking I can tell” she says.

Paige looks down at the letter, “So what do we do?!?”.

Mandy takes a deep breath, “When 5:30 comes we leave for church. Whatever happens, happens. This is where it all ends”.

They all stare at her in anticipation.

“I just got the chills when you said that” Mark mutters.

“Yeah for real” Adrian says, looking at her like she just gave him life changing news.

****

A few hours later. 

10:00 am, everyone had just eaten breakfast, Paige is feeding Cristina 2nd her morning bottle.

Kate just threw up, morning sickness and she hates it. 

She called Wheaty, and they’re gonna hang that afternoon. Not telling him about the letter from Joseph to meet at his church.

Kenny, Mark, Nate, Cody, Marty, Adrian and a few others finished putting up one of the 2 houses. Rachel is having a panic attack, knowing that Joseph knows she’s living with the Winchesters. Mandy sitting in her room, blinded by her thoughts. Wondering why Joseph wants the 3 of them to go to his church.

What could he possibly want?. What is the meaning, or purpose of this?. Is he gonna kill them? Does he want to make peace with them?. Is he gonna surrender himself? What is he gonna do?.

Paige is sitting on the front porch swing, holding Cristina while “Fade to Black” by Metallica plays on her bluetooth speaker. Humming along with the song, with Cristina falling asleep in her arms.

****

2 hours have gone by, 12:00pm.

“Things not what they used to be. Missing one inside of me. Deathly loss l, this can't be real. I cannot stand this hell I feel. Emptiness is filling me. To the point of agony. Growing darkness taking dawn. I was me, but now he's gone.”

Kenny steps outside, and sees this. A huge smile grows on his face. He takes a seat next to Paige on the swing, putting his arm around her. She leans closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He places a kiss on her head, rests his cheek on her head. 

Lightly swing back and forth on the swing. Little moments like this they love. They don’t need to go out to fancy restaurants every weekend, or a weekend get away for the both of them. 

Cristina falls asleep in her mothers arms, letting out soft nasal snores, making Kenny snickers at this.

“You know I still don’t like the plan” he tells her. 

“I know you don’t” she responds. They sit in silence for a moment.

“If you could guess what Joseph wants. What would you guess?” he asks.

She sighs, “I don’t know. Maybe make peace with us, or make some sort of treaty between everyone in Hope County”.

“Your mom seems to know a lot about Joseph. Like how he thinks, or what possibly goes through his head.” he tells her.

“Yeah, my mom is really good at reading people, even if she’s not trying to. It’s like a power she has. Growing up I couldn’t even lie to her, and I’m really good at lying, but she knew. She always knew. Kate takes a lot after her, they both try to see the good in people even if they don’t deserve it. I take after my dad, he didn’t trust anyone outside the family. Like if he was still alive, and all this shit that happened, like Rachel turning on the Project, he wouldn't trust her either. Even if she had a change of heart, he wouldn’t trust her at all”.

Kenny zones out as she’s talking, still being able to hear every word she says. He places his hand on her 9 in half weeks pregnant belly. 

“You think your dad would’ve liked me?” he asks, looking up at the sky.

Paige looks up at him, looking into his blue orbs and smiles “If he knew I trusted you, then he would’ve trusted you as well”.

He looks down at her, and kisses her forehead. 

Paige sighs, “My mom-” she says before getting cut off by a soft “mom” from the infant in her arms.

Her and Kenny look at each other wide eyed, then down at Cristina who is half asleep.

She picks her up, having her stand on her lap.

“Say that again” she tells the 11 month old in her hands, “Say mom”.

“Say mama” she tells her again, “Say mama”.

“Say dadda” he jumps in.

Paige glares at him, “This is my moment”.

“Say mama” she tells her again slowly.

“Mama” Cristina mutters her first word, very softly that it sounds like a mumble.

Paige gasps loudly, her eyes widened “She just- she. She said mama. She said her first word!!!”. She gets up from the swing, and goes inside the house.

“Mom!!!” she calls out as she goes inside.

*****

Kate went on her date with Wheaty. She wanted to go hunting, but since she’s 7 in half weeks pregnant, they changed their date plans. They decided to go to the camping spot where they first met a few years back.

“It looks the same” she jokes.

“Camping spots usually never change” he replies. They sit near the water, on some boulders. 

“So how’s the pregnancy?” he asks.

She looks down at her belly, chuckling “I threw up this morning. I’m peeing a lot but my mom and sister said that's normal, other than that it’s going pretty good”. 

“Thought of any names?” he asks, putting his arm around her. 

She thinks about it for a brief moment, “If it’s a boy his name would be either Gabriel Joel Eddard, or Samuel Dean Rhaegar. For a girl Daenerys Arya Brienne, or Lyanna Pamela Cersei”.

“What is up with you and these Game of Thrones names?!” he laughs, kissing the side of her head. 

“They’re nice names!. It’ll give them character, plus Pamela isn’t a name from Game of Thrones, and neither is Samuel, Dean, Gabriel and Joel” she laughs. 

“Don’t be surprised if little Daenerys asks for a dragon, or 3 for her birthday, or an Iron Throne” he jokes. 

“And if she does I’ll be very happy about it, and I’ll get her a stuffed dragon. One of those giant plush ones that are like 5-6 feet tall”.

They talked, they laughed, they made out. They enjoyed their time together, holding her in his arms as they watched the lake. Watching the boats, and jet skies go by.

Even the subject of marriage and kids came up on their date. Even though they've started dating back in August but have known each other over 2 years. 

She starts reminiscing back when they first met. She still remembers that night very clearly. She still has the photos. 

"I still remember that day when we first met" she tells him.

A smile appears on his face, "Yeah me too". 

"I never had a crush on anyone until I met you" he tells her. She looks up at him. 

"Really?" she asks. He nods his head, she moves closer into his arms. Enjoying every single moment of it. 

Kate knows this might be the last time her and Wheaty ever hang out again. Their last date together, and they don’t know it.

Resting her head against his shoulder as they sit by the lake. His arms wrapped around her. 

"Also I wanted to give you this" he says, getting something out of his pants pocket. He pulls out a bracelet, similar to the ones he wears and puts it on her wrist. She smiles as he puts it on her, holding her hand in his. She looks up at him, and kisses him.

***

4:15 pm Kate is still on her date with Wheaty. Her sister and mother prepare themselves as they wait for her.

“Where is she?!” Paige asks, getting annoyed.

“We still have a whole hour” Mandy tells her, “She’ll be back. Soon hopefully”.

15 minutes later Kate pulls into the driveway. 

She enters the house, “It’s about time you show up” Paige tells her.

“Well sorry!” she responds sarcastically, “I had a date with Wheaty, and I wanted to see him before we’re killed!”.

“We’re not gonna get killed” Mandy steps in, “Because we’re not going”.

They all look over at her in confusion. Mandy was having 2nd thoughts about confronting Joseph, and she made the decision not to go to the church.

“What do you mean we’re not going?!?” Paige questions her, “You literally said a few seconds ago that we’re going. Implied it”.

“We’re not going. We’re not gonna give Joseph what he wants” she tells them. 

“Mom?!” Kate mutters in disbelief and confusion.

Paige scoffs, shaking her head “Mom, this is our only chance. To get rid of Joseph. Put an end to the Cult, and kill whoever is left”.  

Everyone, Paige, Kate, Kenny, Adrian, Martin, Cody, Mark, Nate, Barbara, Rachel, and everyone else in the house look at Mandy. About 30, plus, eyes staring back at her. 

“We’re not going” she tells them, “I don’t care what Joseph wants. We’re not going”.

Paige, scoffs at her mother, “Why?. Why the change of heart all of a sudden?!?”.

Mandy glares at her eldest child, and says “You wouldn’t understand”.

Kate stops her older sister from doing or saying anything else to their mom. 

She still plans to go and confront Joseph. All the damage, pain. suffering and bloodshed he had caused. It’ll all end that evening, nothing will stop Paige from ending The Father. 

5:20 rolls around, Kate and Mandy have no intentions of leaving for church. 

The youngest Winchester thinks they should go.

“Mom?” she asks.

“We’re not going Katella” she says, not looking up at her youngest daughter. 

Paige comes downstairs, and is immediately out the door, and goes to the Impala. 

“Paige?!?” Kate exclaims, going after her. Too late she’s already driving like a maniac off of the property. Leaving behind a cloud of dirt.

“Son of bitch!!” she mutters, “She’s going after Joseph”.

They grab the keys to the Monte Carlo, and drive after Paige who is probably already at the church.

**** 

Church of Eden’s Gate

Paige enters the compound, breaking down the front gate with the car. She stops the car, exits it. Pistol ready in her holster. A few peggies on the property staring at her. She ignores them, she’s there for Joseph. She’ll handle the hillbillies later.

“Joseph!!!” she shouts his name, echoing in the sky “Joseph!!!”. 

Approaching the church, the man himself Joseph Seed steps out. She stares at him intensely. He looks up at the sky, closes his eyes and says, “And the lamb broke the 5th seal, and I saw under the altar the souls of Martyrs. Slain because of the Word of God”.

Pointing to Paige, “You. You turned my sister. You poisoned her mind with your wretched words”.

She pulls her pistol out of its holster and aims at him, “I didn’t change her. She finally saw your monstrous ways. She changed on her own”.

“Lies” he hisses, “Your disgusting words against God, and his word”. 

She turns off the safety on her pistol, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here. Right now”. Her voice filled with anger, and violent intentions. 

He walks around her, she follows his movements. Gun still aimed at him. 

“I told you. Your mother. I told you that we were living in a world on the brink. Where every slight. Every injustice. Where every choice reveals our sins”.

Paige narrows her eyes at him, her pistol still aimed at him, not lowering it once. 

“And where have those sins led us?, Where have those sins led you?”. 

The sound of tires screeching, breaks Paige’s concentration, she turns her head and sees her sister's car drive on the property.

Kate and Mandy get out. “Paige don’t!!!” Mandy exclaims, running towards her. 

She turns back to Joseph, and aims her gun at him again. 

“Paige what are you doing?!?!” Kate exclaims.

“What does it look like I’m doing??!” she replies sarcastically, “I’m ending it all”. 

Joseph stares at Mandy, “Paige, you can’t do this” she pleads.

“Uhh, sure I can” she replies back. Rolling her eyes. 

Mandy gets in between the gun and Joseph. “No, I mean you can’t kill him”.

Lowering her gun, glaring at her mother, “What are you talking about?!?”.

Before she could explain herself, Joseph speaks up. 

“Mandeline”, his voice so calm that it sends shivers up her spine. Giving her goosebumps. 

She closes her eyes, sadness and shame written all over her face. She turns to face him. Her eyes meeting his. He stares at her with so much intensity that you can almost feel the anger radiating off of him, and the fear radiating off of her. 

“You betrayed me, my family, my flock, and God. You dare to show yourself to me” he tells her, slowly approaching her. 

“Joseph, I’m sorry, but I had no choice. I couldn’t stand by and watch everything happen” she explains to him.

He points at her, “You turn my family into Martyrs. And I plan to do the same with yours”. He walks around them, and they see their friends Mary May, Nick Rye, Pastor Jerome, Grace Armstrong, Jess Black, Tracey Lader, Wheaty, and Tammy Barnes all under the influence of Bliss holding Kenny, Mark and Nate hostage. 

“Wheaty!!!!” Kate cries out, seeing her boyfriend drugged up with Bliss.

“Kenny?!?” Paige says under her breath, “How the fuck did you get to them!?!?!”. 

“Joseph let them go!!!!” Mandy yells.

He turns to her, and says, “Your friends, and family have been taken and torture, and it’s your fault. Countless people have been killed, and it is your fault. The world is on fire, and it’s your fault. Was it worth it?. Was it?”.

“You motherfucker” Paige mutters angrily, “Me killing you will fucking worth it, and I can promise you that”. 

The followers on the property gather behind the 3 Winchesters, blocking them from escaping. 

“Kenny what happened?!? Was it Rachel?!?” Paige asks.

“No!” he mutters. 

“The others are fine. They got us, Rachel took off when they showed up” Nate wheezes. 

“Paige?” Mandy mutters softly.

“Not now” she responds, “Joseph I swear you better-”

“Paige!” she yells, breaking her attention from him. 

“Mom!. Now's not the time” she tells her.

“You can’t kill him” she tells her almost in a whisper.

She looks at her, eyes furrow, “Yeah I can, he has our friends and family hostage!!”.

Mandy looks back at Joseph then back at Paige, “No I mean you can’t kill him”.

“What do you mean I can’t-” She stands in front of her once again, blocking the bullet from hitting Joseph.

“Raphael” she mutters, interrupting her. 

“Raphael?!?” Kate whispers, “The Archangel?!?”.

She nods her head, “Yes, I was told by Archangel Raphael that Joseph had to be protected, and I was the one to do it. That’s why you can’t kill him.”

Kate and Paige look at their mother in disbelief, and confusion.

“Because Chuck spoke to him” she whispers to them, “About the end. You can’t kill him because if you do everything, everyone will die. Cease to exist. The end of life as we know it”. They both glare at her with mixed emotions. 

“You knew this whole time?!?” Paige yells, “This whole time!!. If Joseph gets killed, hurt and harmed in any way. Chuck will drop a bomb on all of humanity?!?”.

“Why didn’t you tell us?!?!” Kate asks, betrayal in her voice.

“I couldn’t say anything. Raphael forbidden me from saying anything to anyone!!” she says.

Paige lowers her pistol, putting it back in her holster.

Shaking her head, “I can’t believe you. He could be playing him for all we know” she tells her.

“Let them go” she orders Joseph, pointing to Kenny, Mark and Nate. 

Joseph stares at her, “Are you deaf?!? I said let them go!!!” she orders him again.

Mandy holds her back, “Let me handle this”.

She turns to face Joseph, and pleads with him “Joseph please, let them go. We don’t want anymore bloodshed. Please let them go, and we’ll leave”.

“Wheaty too!” Kate shouts.

“You betrayed me. Betrayed God. I forgive you for what you’ve done to my family, but that I can’t forgive” he tells her, stepping close to her, “Your family will pay for what you have done”. 

The few followers grab Paige and Kate shoving them onto the ground, taking their guns and other weapons away.

“Don’t fucking touch me!!” Paige yells, struggling.

“Get off me!!” Kate shouts, fighting to be let go. 

“Joseph, it’s not their fault!!. It’s mine. Let them go, and you can deal with me” she pleads with him again.

He grabs her shoulders, “This is where it ends” he whispers to her. Tears stream down her face. 

“You peggie fuckers!!. Pieces of fucking shit!!” Paige mutters as a peggie pushes her face first into the ground. 

“Get the fuck off of her!!” Kenny yells at him.

Tears streaming down Mandy’s cheeks, if only she was honest with her family. If only she had told them the truth. All of this wouldn't have happened. Her family was gonna be killed because of her. Her own greed. 

“When are you gonna realize that every problem cannot be solved with a bullet?” he asks her. 

“It doesn’t have to end this way” she pleads with him. 

Two of his followers, grab her. Preventing her from stopping whatevers gonna happen. 

One of his Chosen has a sharp knife in hand. Almost like a miniature machete, holding it in front of her eldest child. 

“Really Joseph? You’re gonna kill two pregnant women!” Paige yells. Grabbing the Father’s attention.

He stops them, having Paige’s full attention. He looks at her with a questioning look on his face. 

“Yeah” she says, a smug look on her face “I’m pregnant. So is my sister. She’s carrying your little brother's kid. John”. 

He looks over at the youngest sister, and she nods her head. “It’s John’s kid, Joseph. You kill us, you kill your nephew/niece, but keep in mind we’ll never be family”. 

He looks up at the sky, backing away from them. His back to all of them. “Let them go” he says. They free the family of hunters, showing them all mercy. 

“Wheaty?!” Kate cries, trying to snap him out of it, “Wheaty please. It’s me, Kate”. 

She holds his face, cupping it, hoping to get him back into reality. All their friends drugged up, blind from reality. Paige grabs her arm, “Come on, we have to get out of here”. 

She resists, shaking her head “No, Wheaty please snap out of it. We have a child on the way” she cries. The Bliss has taken over his state of mind that he can’t comprehend anything.

Mark and Nate practically dragged Kate back into the car. Her, her mother and sister in the Impala, Kenny, Nate and Mark in the Monte Carlo. They all drive back to the compound.

*****

Little did they know they’re not the only ones that have had an issue with Joseph, and the Cult. The new Deputy has had their fair share of issues with the Seed family, and their followers.

Liberating their outposts and destroying their properties. Making the Seed family look like a family of psychopaths they need to be locked up. 

When Faith took off, she went to her gate and met with the Deputy. They put up a fight against her and they ended up killing her. 

Faith. Rachel would’ve been the adopted sister to the two sisters. Rachel Winchester would’ve been her name. 

****

They all arrive back at the compound. Kate in tears, Paige in shock.

The others come out, and see all their friends alive. Their children and wifes stand at the front porch. 

“Holy shit!!” Cody says relieved, “You’re all alive!!”.

They all nod, “Yeah, yeah we are” Mandy mutters. 

“Is Joseph alive?!?” Adrian asks. They all nod in disappointment, “Yeah, the fucker is still alive” Kate mutters angrily. 

“Where’s Rachel?” Kate asks them. The others shrug, “We don’t know, she fled the property when the peggies arrived”. 

“So now what?!” Mark asks, shrugging. 

Paige shakes her head “I don’t know, we’re gonna have to-”. 

As she’s speaking, it’s almost like God himself was making a huge entrance. Lighting up the entire sky. 

A bright white light blinds them all, covering their faces from the burning brightness. 

When the bright light clears, a giant mushroom-like cloud in the distance fills the sky. 

“Oh my god!!” Nate mutters in horror, “Oh my god!!”. 

A huge storm flies at them, causing the entire ground to shake violently. Making them stumble, and fall. The trees, and land go up in flames within seconds. Animals running to seek shelter. The whole sky orange, everything is a fiery orange red. 

“Shit! he was right!” Martin screams in horror, “He was right!”.

“Damn it Chuck!” Paige mumbles angrily with a hint of fear in her voice. 

Realization hitting hard, “Wheaty?, I have to get Wheaty!!” Kate yells.  

She gets stopped by her mother and brother in law, “Kate no!!”. 

“I have to go back for him!!” she cries, trying to get to her car. 

Paige tries to hold her back, “It’s too late for him!!. You’ll die if you go back!. Kenny! Adrian! Get the cars underground. Everyone else get the children, pets and go down to the bunker”. They get the cars underground to the bunker garage. They get all their kids, pets, and all go down to the bunker. 

Everyone settles underground. Fear, anger. So much emotion in one room. The distance rumbles of explosions going off, making it sound like the king of all thunderstorms is happening right above their heads. Paige looks around the main room of the bunker to see if everyone made it down. She counts everyone that was on the property. 

Herself, her daughter, Kate, Kenneth, her mother, Barbara, Mark, his wife and 2 kids, Nate, his wife and 3 kids. Cody and his wife, Martin and his fiancee, Adrian and his wife. 

“He was right” Kate mutters, playing with her bracelet, “Joseph Seed was right, and we didn’t see it coming. God, the Collapse, this sort of thing is right up our alley, and we didn’t believe him!!”.

Paige sighs in disappointment, “It’s not that we didn’t believe him. He didn't believe us, which is not surprising. It’s that he claimed that he spoke with Chuck, and for all we know. He couldn’t been played by him”.

Kate is about to say something when a fluttering sound, and a loud thud a few rooms away throws her off. 

“Did you hear that?!?” she asks the others. The others stay back while her and Paige go to investigate it. Kate then sees a single golden, brown feather on the floor.

“Hey, look a feather” she says, pointing at it. Paige, who doesn’t see it, looks at her in confusion. 

“Where?!?” she asks, looking around for it. They get to the source of the sound, and see a man with his back to them, kneeling on the floor. 

Paige pulls out her pistol, and aims at the intruder. 

They both see the same man, but Kate sees a little more. Tattered up golden, brown angelic wings. They approach the man, and stand in front of him. He lifts his head to look up at them, and they see the wounded, beaten up Archangel. 

“Gabriel?!?” Kate mutters. 

____

When the bombs fell

Not long after (The Angels fell)