#in this case I’m fairly sure it was meant to be about finding friends who will help with feeling touch starved

[thebluestbluewords]

Jay/Lonnie, mentions of child abuse and technically-underage sex, wildly unfinished.

+

“You’ve got wicked scars on your back,” Lonnie says softly, tracing her fingers over the raised white lines that stand out even now, years later, on Jay’s back. “I don’t want to be rude, but can I ask about them?” 

It’s probably a lie. Lonnie has never once worried about being rude, and that’s one of the things Jay likes about her. He pushes up into her touch.

The feeling of her hands (bare) on his back (also bare, and so exposed) sends weird sparks through his skin, into his bones, and it’s not unpleasant, but it’s definitely weird. An adjustment, physically and mentally, to accept touch that isn’t meant to hurt. 

“Yeah?” he says carefully, forcing his voice to stay light, casual. “I mean, you can ask. No promises that I’ll answer.” 

Lonnie takes her cue to press harder, stroking her fingers up and down the ridges, scratching gently with her nails at the most raised and pitted areas. “What happened? I can guess at some of them, but this one’s not like anything I’ve seen before.” 

Jay shivers. “Electrical cord.” he says. It’s not worth the effort to make himself sound bothered by it. “It’s deep in places ‘cause the plug cut through.” 

Lonnie makes a sharp noise. “Through your skin?” 

“Yeah. Can you keep touching it?” 

Her hands start moving again. Yeah. That’s the stuff. Being touched by a friend is fucking incredible.

Lonnie’s fingers catch on one of the deep, twisted scars right at Jay’s hip. “This one can’t be from a plug,” she says, emphasizing the can’t with that particular auradonian inflection that Jay can’t quite manage to copy. “It’s crazy deep, and unless they plugged it into your skin, I don’t see how that could happen.” 

Jay rolls his hip up into the touch. He’s got a lot of scars, and the memories of the ones on his back that he can’t see every day the memories sort of fade together.

“Mm.” he hums, thinking. Weird and deep probably means something different here. All the other isle kids have scars like his, or worse. “Dunno which one you mean.”

Lonnie scratches her nails over the spot. “It’s right here. Sort of like a twisted hole, like a chunk of skin went missing, maybe? They didn’t shove an electrical plug into your back, did they?” she asks, voice lilting up on ele-trical and back with that  accent again. Jay shouldn’t be annoyed, but it’s a hit to his professional pride that he still can’t imitate it right. He’s supposed to be this charming guy, the one who can get anywhere and find anything, but he can’t get a handle on the stupid auradonian upper-class inflections, and every time Lonnie emphasized a word differently than he expects, it sticks out in his brain like a fresh, shiny nail on an old building. He’s the people guy, able to blend in anywhere, to steal anything, but he can’t steal his way into fitting in, and it’s a growing irritation every time he can’t get it right. 

Right. Scars. Hip. Deep. 

“No,” Jay says thoughtfully, wracking his brain for what the scar actually is. “Who d’you think “they” is anyway?” 

Lonnie shrugs audibly. She makes a soft little humming sound in her throat when she does it, one she might not even be aware of. “Somebody. I don’t know. Your dad?” 

“Nope.” Jay says. He’s pretty sure of that, at least.  His dad’s scars are the main ones on his back, but he never hit below the belt, and her fingers are pressing lower on his hip than where the waistband of his pants usually sit.  

“Some other kid?” Lonnie prompts, running her other hand up and over the curve of Jay’s spine. “It seems crazy that someone would just do something like that to you. Did you have like, a cool fight with someone over a weapon, or something?” 

Oh. 

Right. 

“Technically,” Jay says slowly, the memory burning with unexpected clarity now that he’s found it. “Yeah. It was a fight. When I burn bridges I burn them hard. We were fighting the pirates over— something stupid, now that I’m thinking about it. One of them sunk a hook in my hip. Left it there when he pushed me overboard. My body tried to heal around it, so it left the crazy scar.” 

Lonnie tips her head, considering this information. “The pirates?” she says softly, pressing her fingers deep-deep-deep, into the sharp divot in Jay’s skin, like she’s not even thinking about it anymore, just following the feeling. “I didn’t think they were the sadistic sort. But I guess I didn’t think you were the sort of person who’d eat a girl out for an hour, so I guess that’s on me for judging people by their appearances.” 

[willow-moon-23]

I Know You

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hotch has to call on an old friend for help on a case out of town.

Word Count: 3012

It feels like forever since the team had gone to Colorado. This time it was for a case that, on paper, looked fairly straightforward, but once they had actually got there things felt a lot worse than they had originally thought. When Hotch had first received the case, he had thought to call a friend who was already working nearby and have them help out with the case but decided against it since he knew they probably already had their hands tied with something important. That doesn’t mean the thought of calling them left his mind, by the fourth day Hotch was heavily contemplating that phone call. It felt like the team was chasing their tails the whole time they were there. It wasn’t till the end of the fifth day before everyone was heading back to the hotel, that Hotch picked up the phone and called them.

They picked up on the second ring, making Hotch smile. “Hiya, handsome. To what do I owe the pleasure of a call at 9:47 pm, on this lovely Thursday afternoon?” Their voice teased.

“I was wondering what you were doing?” Hotch tried his best to keep from rolling his eyes.

“Oh. Is this one of those ‘I’m alone and bored calls’ or the ‘I need your help and this is how I ask for it?’ type calls.” Hotch chuckles and actually rolls his eyes. “‘Cause I’m totally down for either. I'd have to find a room to hide away in for the former, but I can make it work.”

He switches the call to speakerphone once he gets in the driver’s seat. “You’re in Colorado Springs, right?” Hotch asked after Morgan and JJ jumped in the car with him, the former giving Hotch a questioning glance.

Their demeanor changed a bit when they heard him go into SSA mode. “Yeah, I’m still working. Pretty sure I already know what you’re gonna ask. But, why, what’s up?”

“I might need to ask you to come in tomorrow if you can.” Hotch started the car as everyone got settled.

“Is that a request or an order?” their teasing tone came back.

“That’s up to you.” Hotch fires back.

“Oooh~” They chuff. “Yeah, I can come help. Not sure when. But I’ll be there tomorrow with what I can.” The sound of shuffling papers was heard through the phone.

“Good, then I will see you tomorrow.”

“What? That’s it? No, ‘I miss you?’ Not even a ‘how are you doing’?” The person on the phone chuckles. “I’m hurt. Hotchner.”

“I’ll make it up to you later.” Hotch smiles at the phone.

“You better. Now, go get some rest. I can tell you’re tired.” JJ and Morgan traded a look with each other.

“Ok. Good night.”

“Night, Aaron.”

The call ended and almost immediately the two other agents in the car started smirking at Hotch. He does his best to ignore them and drive down to the hotel as they bombard him with questions about who was on the phone. Morgan even goes as far as to tease him that it’s a secret lover that he’s been texting the past few months. Hotch of course stays quiet the whole time and even goes as far as turning up the music, making the other two laugh, saying he’s in dad mode now.

Friday morning as Hotch was about to head down to the lobby to meet the others got a call from the Chief of police saying that there was another body, but that this one was different from the others. When Hotch had asked what he meant by that the Chief only said he’ll know when he takes a look at the body, and that someone will be meeting them there to help. Hotch informed the rest of the team and they all separated into the different cars. Hotch and Reid would be going to the morgue, Morgan and Prentiss would go back to the station, and Rossi and JJ would head to the disposal site. On the way to the morgue, Reid decided to look over the more recent details that the team had put together last night before calling it a day.

At the morgue, the two agents were greeted with kind smiles and brought to the back where the body was. The medical examiner recognized the two immediately and began listing off the similarities between this new body and the others that had come in, handing Hotch the medical report while Reid grabbed a pair of gloves from the box on the table.

“Now, nearly everything is the same as the others.” She began. “But this one definitely has more rage behind the wounds. That and this unsub made sure to stay clear of his neck this time.”

Reid perked up. “His neck? Why his neck?”

“Well, if you look here.” The medical examiner moved the man’s head to show off the three fairly deep scratch marks across his neck. “He had claw marks racking across the side of his neck.”

Reid leaned down to take a closer look. “It looks like… nail marks? Maybe? They’re fairly deep though. And there are only three. Maybe either a finger was missing or a nail perhaps.” He looked back at the medical examiner. “Do you know what this could be?”

Before the girl could answer another voice spoke up. “I might know what it was.” This made the three turn to look at the new voice. They turned to see a woman wave at them with a curl of her fingers. The woman standing in front of them made Reid and the medical examiner look her up and down for a second. Instead of professional dress clothes, she wore a leather jacket with a dark gray tank top with a skull and roses on it. Her neck and ears were decked out in jewelry. One of the main things Reid noticed was the long claw-like nails she had, but not only that, her middle fingernail was considerably shorter than the others. Along with what looked like blue ink staining her fingers.

The woman smiles at Hotch. “Hi, Aaron.”

Hotch smiles back. “I didn’t know they would be sending you to help here?”

She shrugged. “I did tell you I could come in and help today, didn’t I?” Her tone is playful.

“So, care to tell me what happened?”

“Simple really,” She walked through the door closer to stand by Hotch’s side. “This guy thought he was being smooth and trying to impress his friends that were with him. He got a little too handsy for my liking. I went to hit him, but someone got in the way. That in turn started a miniature bar fight and the only thing I could land was a scratch on his neck. In my defense, my nails are sharp but not that sharp. I haven't done anything to them in a while. It wasn’t that bad when I did it, just a couple of red lines. If the unsub saw this he definitely made the marks worse. Anyway, the guys ran off before the bouncers could get involved.” she shrugged as if it were nothing. “But that’s the cliff notes version. I’ll give more detail when the rest of your team is present.”

She looked up at Reid. “Speaking of team. I am so sorry. How rude of me.” She politely waved at the young doctor. “Hi, I’m (Y/N) (L/N).”

Reid seemed to gawk at her for a moment. “(Y/N) (L/N)?” The woman smiled wider when she saw the realization dawn on him, making her nod at his question. “I’ve read so much about you. I’ve even read some of your writings before.”

(Y/N) chuckles. “Well, thank you, Dr. Reid. I’m flattered.”

Reid looked shocked. “You know me?”

(Y/N) herself looked a bit surprised at him. “Well, yes? I’ve heard a few of your lectures before and Aaron tells me a lot about all of you when we talk.” She glances at the man next to her, who tries to shift the conversation back to the case at hand.

“I believe we are getting off-topic. We can do proper introductions back at the station.”

“Always so serious.” (Y/N) chuckles at him. “Alright then. Work mode. Let’s get busy.” She smirks at Hotch and the four begin going over the medical reports and the similarities they found.

The three stayed with the medical examiner for a little longer before deciding to head to the station.

Hotch turned to (Y/N). “Are you gonna ride with us or did you drive here yourself?”

(Y/N) smirks, she looks to her side at the motorcycle next to the SUV in the parking lot. “I’ll meet you guys there.” She twirls the keys in her hand. “I’d suggest a race, but it won’t be a very fair one.” She hopped on her motorcycle and began putting her helmet on.

Hotch watches her. “Just get to the station and don’t get hurt getting there, please.”

(Y/N) chuckles. “No promises.” She blows a kiss before putting the visor down and starting up her bike.

The ride to the station was filled with Reid going over the new facts in the case the group found and asking Hotch how he knew (Y/N). Every time Reid asked a new question about (Y/N), Hotch would bring the conversation back to the case. Hotch was thankful it was a short drive to the station. Once Hotch pulled into the parking lot he immediately saw (Y/N) leaning against her bike with a smirk on her face as he drove up. She quirked an eyebrow at him when he parked in the empty space next to her.

”Not a word out of you please.”  Was the first thing Hotch said to her when he got out of the car.

She put a hand to her chest in faux shock. “Ouch, Hotchner. All I was gonna say was ‘long time no see.’ But now I’m hurt.”

Hotch playfully rolled his eyes. “Get inside. We’ve got a case to work.”

(Y/N) saluted him. “Yes, sir.” Then walked into the station, once again her demeanor changing to one more professional. The three agents walk into the precinct and go directly to the conference room where the rest of the team is waiting for them. Hotch walks up to the closed door first and opens it for Reid and (Y/N) to walk in. (Y/N) nods to him in a quiet thanks. The rest of the team looked up when they heard the door open. Rossi was the first to notice (Y/N) walk in, in front of Hotch.

"(Y/N), bella, come stai, mia cara. È passato troppo tempo.” ((Y/N), beautiful, how are you, my dear? It's been too long.) Rossi immediately made his way toward the new agent to envelope her in a hug.

“Rossi, è bello vedere anche te.” (Rossi, it's good to see you too) (Y/N) gladly accepted Rossi’s hug.

The rest of the team watched the two with a questioning glance between them and Hotch. Morgan was the first to step toward Hotch to ask the obvious question “Who’s she?”

Hotch moved further into the room to address the rest of the team. “Everyone, this is  Supervisory Special Agent (Y/N) (L/N). She will be helping us with the rest of this case.” Hotch looks over at (Y/N), who is looking back at him. “Agent (L/N), if you’ll tell the team what you were telling me earlier, please.”

(Y/N) nodded her head. “Of course, Agent Hotchner.” She stepped forward to address the rest of the team in a polite manner. “As you all might know, the newest victim, Oliver Davids; male, late 30s, fairly athletic, nothing to write home about.” A few members of the team chuckled at her comment, while Hotch raised an eyebrow at her. “Sorry.” she chuckles. “I had a run-in with the latest victim the night before last. Which was the last time anyone saw him. I was at the bar on 6th when he walked up to me with a friend of his. The two thought they were being slick but in fact, were making the girls behind me uncomfortable. Many people saw this interaction between the three of us and could see where things were heading from the moment they walked up to me.

“Our victim thought he had a chance and that he could get a little handsy, and I reacted by trying to get him off me. His friend seemed to see that was what I was going to do and tried to pull him away but ended up making it worse for the both of them. His friend reacting to me caused a bit of a chain reaction and caused a bar fight to break out in front of me. The bouncers saw this and came over to throw them out for the scene they had caused but they managed to use the fight to slip out and leave.”

“So if you were the last to be seen with him, why aren't you a suspect?” Morgan interrupts.

“If you’ll let me continue, Agent Morgan, I was about to tell you why that is,” (Y/N) says with a polite smile. The whole team looks at her confused. Her smile never fades as she speaks again. “What did I say to confuse you all?”

“How do you know his name?” Emily asks, a little guarded.

“Ooh, well that’s an interesting thing to get confused by, Agent Prentiss. But to answer your question, I know all of your names. Not only because of how close our agencies are but because of Agent Hotchner. That and you lot are pretty well known.” (Y/N) tried to hide her smirk as the team, minus Rossi and Reid, snapped their attention to their boss.

“You two know each other?”

Hotch clears his throat, throwing a slight glance at (Y/N). “Yes, we know each other. We can discuss that once we finish this case.” He gestured to me to continue. “Agent (L/N), if you’ll finish.”

(Y/N) nodded her head to him with a thankful smile. “Of course. As I was saying after the bouncers got the fight settled and everyone in order, I went back to the reason I was at the bar in the first place. I was chasing a lead that was said to help my team close a case. The lead turned out to be correct but it still took the rest of the night, bleeding into the early morning, to completely close our case. Hence why I am not a suspect and am cleared for this murder. I was constantly monitored and under camera surveillance. Also, I was not only officially requested to join this case, but I also talked to Agent Hotchner over the phone last night about coming in to help with what I can. After speaking to your unit chief as well as the police chief we found some overlap in the case I had just finished with this one you all are a part of now.” (Y/N) looked around and then at Hotch. “I believe that’s it.”

“Good, now the rest of us can get started in working on what we now know and what you can help us with.” Hotch began giving a few orders as the team split off and got to work.

With all hands on deck, the team felt like they had been given a lifeline. (Y/N) had been a huge help in connecting a few dots they had missed and added in information they didn’t have thanks to the case she and her team had just closed. By late afternoon, the team had felt like they were getting really close to catching the unsub, and with one last push from Garcia, the team had found who the unsub was and where he would be. As the team went to make the arrest, Hotch made sure that (Y/N) got into one of the cars and not on her bike, much to her dismay. The arrest itself was quick and easy compared to the last few cases the team had been on.

As the scene was being cleared the team began piling into the cars to head back to the police station to collect their things and go to their hotel. (Y/N) jumped into the front seat of the car Hotch was driving, making Rossi chuckle at the surprised look on Morgan’s face. Everyone was quick to get in the car, all of them ready to go to the hotel and sleep before flying out in the morning. (Y/N) was very animatedly talking to Hotch about the case she was there for as the two others in the car listened to her speak. The ride to the station seemed quicker with (Y/N) telling her story.

Before the small group got out of their car (Y/N) perked up for a second. “Oh, Aaron. Before I forget, I have something for you.” (Y/N) reaches into the pocket on the inside of her jacket. She pulls out what looks like a white envelope, and hands it to him. “I was going to wait till I saw you back home but I figured I could give it to you now so you can look it over on the plane ride.”

“Back home?” Morgan couldn’t help but ask.

(Y/N) turned around to look at him. “Washington. It’s my home too.” She looks at him with a smile, knowing what he was implying.

“What’s this?” Hotch tries to bring the attention back to the envelope she gave him.

(Y/N) tilts her head to the side. “You know, I don’t really know what it says but it’s yours now. So have fun reading it.” She shrugs as if it’s not that big of a deal and hops out of the car without a second to let him respond. Rossi snickers from the back seat and follows her out of the car.

Morgan looked between Hotch and the woman who had just exited the car. “Hotch you have some explaining to do.”

[exceptional-z]

zed necrodopolis x reader

this is an au where zombies were never allowed to go to human high school. so zed is aged up (though age is never mentioned so you can imagine whatever) but has never been on the other side of the barrier. i attempted not to use gendered language but i tend to write with fem!reader in mind.

also please ignore any inconsistent verb tenses. english is not my first language and verb tenses are literally the bane of my existence. + i wrote this in like an hour

your family didn’t have much money growing up, hence why you lived so close to the gate. real estate was cheap since no one wanted to live near the zombies. but it also meant you learnt how to save money in as many ways as you could.

seabrook was all about perfection. if a mattress was two years old, it was time to throw it out and buy a new one. if a bike had a single scratch, it was thrown into the dumpster. all of the old items deemed as ‘garbage’ were brought to a warehouse that was emptied around every two weeks. and this was your favourite place to be.

you sneak into the warehouse. it’s late at night and there’s never any security around. you’re immediately greeted with piles of furniture and clothing and trinkets that are too unique to fit into the seabrook aesthetic.

you start to rummage through with the plastic gloves you always wear just in case any bugs or mice decide that this is a perfect place to burrow. lost in thought, you don’t hear the creaky door open, but you do hear the sudden shout that erupted from behind you.

your heart nearly stops beating at the sudden noise and your head swivels around. the lighting isn’t great, and you can only make out the vague shape of the person blocking your only exit. he looks fairly lanky, and if you squint you could make out some of his features. he doesn’t look much older than you and he certainly doesn’t scream “imposing”. he’s taller than you, but maybe if you caught him off guard you could knock him out with one of the many heavy objects splayed around you.

“i was told no one ever came in here,” the boy says. fuck, his voice is attractive.

“they don’t. in the three years i’ve been doing this i’ve never run into anyone else.” you answer, obviously suspicious.

“i’m uh- i’m just looking for a gift for my little sister,” he explains, “it’s her birthday soon and she said she wanted a new bike but we can’t really afford it.”

you relax a little at his explanation, sharing that you’d gotten into the habit of coming here to rummage for things since your family also doesn’t have much money. “i could help you look if you’d like? and even if we can’t find a bike, there’s a ton of cool stuff you can find if you’re willing to dig.” you offer.

you can’t be sure, but you think he smiles as he answers. “i’ll take any help i can get. my friend eliza told me to try coming here to look, but honestly, i’m a bit overwhelmed.”

you talk and laugh together for what must be at least two hours. you don’t end up finding a bike, but you find an old cheerleader outfit that looks to be in perfect condition. you can’t imagine why anyone would throw it out unless it just didn’t fit anymore. the boy -who still doesn’t have a name- literally jumped up in joy when he saw you holding the skirt from the set, doing a little celebratory dance that should have been embarrassing but was somehow endearing. (that’s how you figured out his little sister was obsessed with cheer).

eventually you have to part ways; it’s getting into the early hours of the morning and you both need to be getting home. he’s halfway down the street when you realise you never shared names and you yell out, “wait!”

he stops and turns around, and you jog to catch up to him.

“what’s your name, stranger?” you ask, “just in case we run into each other again.”

he tells you his name is zed, and you tell him your name in return. for a few seconds the both of you just stand in the street, memorising each other’s faces until you look away, shaking off the thoughts of how attractive he is under the starlight.

(bonus: when zed gets home, all he can think about is you. he wonders if eliza would recognise your name, or if he would possibly run into you if he chose to go to school for once instead of always skipping. he wonders where you live in zombietown, since he doesn’t recognise you and is sure he would remember seeing someone as gorgeous are you. he spends the next few days wondering, and then is in for the shock of his life when he sees you through the fence that blocks off zombietown from seabrook and learns that you’re human.)

[dottores]

okay well, i logged back in, obviously, because there are clearly some things that need to be addressed and have been taken out of context. just because i’m leaving doesn’t mean i should sit here and let my name be smeared. 

to preface this, anantaru and i had a discussion where we came to a congenial understanding of what happened, there's been an acknowledgment on both sides of misunderstanding and believing distorted rumors and people that we probably should not have, but i’m still going to give a full explanation as to the background of everything so you all can understand and come to your own opinions. plus, if there's going to be a call-out post directed majorly at me made, i want an official address of it.

please do NOT send any hate their way, we have ended this discussion on good terms and have worked out what exactly was stirring this discourse between us. (spoiler alert: there was a third-party shit-stirrer that we both considered a decent friend at the time!)

i don’t really need a reason to block someone, and i shouldn’t have to explain it, but i did and i will again but more explicitly this time: @/anantaru made a post that i did not like. it’s as simple as that. it was a post about genshin characters and sex icks and one of the lines were “venti: too drunk.” i’m not anti-dc, but there are topics that i am sensitive about because i was sa’d in my freshman year of college—that is something i have talked about on this blog before, many of you who've been around since my tr era are aware of it. i acknowledged, and tee acknowledged, that this was probably a joke and was not meant to be taken the way i took it, but the aloof/casual way it was mentioned without any TW of implied dubcon, and without acknowledging that it was at least dubcon and could border on noncon in certain interpretations made me uncomfortable. i don’t mind seeing it as long as i’m warned. if it was tagged properly, i would have moved on without much care, but it wasn’t, so i was scrolling through the post snorting and was hit with that and i was made uncomfortable because i didn't like how it was just being passed off as an ick, and i blocked. there was no reason for it to go beyond what it did, yet we are here. anantaru mentioned that if you frequent their blog, you would know that they often write about venti and reader being drunk—i don’t frequent their blog, in fact this was my first encounter with them being reblogged onto my dash by shared mutuals, so it rubbed me wrong. thats the end of it. 

i’m not sure the exact timing, but i believe it was two(?) weeks after this, when i reblogged an unpopular opinion’s post with an opinion that i thought was fairly harmless. sure, looking back on it i could have phrased it better, i’m not going to deny that, but pinpointing my one opinion out of the hundreds of others that were objectively far more controversial than mine and crucifying me for it is uncalled for. you guys know very well that i do not have the time or energy to sift through random people’s blogs to look for minors. every once in a while i glance at the notes of shit posts that happen to be on my dash and i’d be a bit startled at finding a minor in them because i still do think you should at least try to catch minors who interact with shit posts because that’s the easiest way to find them. but i was working at a medium sized firm for a year and a half at the time of the post and i am currently in law school, i do not have the time to be psychotic about people’s likes and interaction, and even if i did have the time?? i’ve always gotten incredible interaction from y’all lmfao, imposing the idea that i’m jealous is entirely inane. i do still stand by the fact that my words were twisted, i was made out, more than once and by more than one person after the next bullet point's events, to have been some psycho that stalks peoples’ posts for excuses as to why they get interaction when that is simply not the case. 

regardless, after this incident, anantaru made a vague post that was almost directly quoting my tags from the reblog and was thus sent to me because many shared mutuals put together that it was about my tags. this was upsetting for multiple reasons 1) i had blocked anantaru by this point so i felt a bit violated that i was being vagued for something by someone that i blocked. 2) i started getting hate anons en masse after it, some of which were very unnecessarily explicit. needless to say, i was very upset and made a subpost on my main account after noticing i’ve been blocked on ao3 because 1) i was already upset and i didn’t even know why anantaru seemed to have it out for me much less go to the point of blocking on ao3 which leads into my next point and 2) i thought it was a bit ridiculous because the only thing blocking on ao3 stops is people from commenting on posts and i clearly was not going to comment on a post of someone who i was not on good terms with. reasoning aside, anantaru can block who they want and i was out of line for making comments about that in particular. i’ll admit that, and apologize for it. 

a screenshot was taken from my personal—not a good moment for me, obviously, but anantaru claimed in their post that it was about them with no evidence. i dmed them about this in particular because i was genuinely confused, we spoke about it, i offered them proof that it was not them because i had a discussion about this post with a close friend at the time of posting it and they believed me. i will attach screenshots below (cropped because there's no reason to attach the whole conversation) because i feel as if this accusation was rather extreme and i wish it would’ve been removed because it was obviously not my best moment. an explanation for the post itself, i was upset over plagiarism accusations regarding something i put my heart and soul into and then seeing the same person that made them consistently on my dash just straight up triggered me, for lack of a better word lol, so i made a vent on my personal. how it got misconstrued as to be anything about anantaru is baffling to me but i suppose that's a question for the subject of our next bullet point. i don’t want to go into detail about the accusations in themselves because i don’t want people to send the actual person who it’s about hate. regardless, that post was not about anantaru, i have never called them a cunt nor have i ever called them a gatekeepy cunt, though i’m beginning to think i should probably remove the word from my vocabulary atp, i use it far too flippantly. anyway, i do not know them well enough to formulate any sort of opinion like that. aside from that, in our discussion we came to an understanding over it and i wish that would have been cleared on their blog as wel. so i'll attach here (i crossed some out because i don't want to breach any boundaries regarding what anantaru might be comfortable sharing but i do think it's fair for me to want this particular point fully cleared as it was a bold accusation remaining up):

5. in our discussion, we came to realize that we have/had a shared mutual who was fostering discourse between the two of us. many of you will recognize her as audri aka alucrds, who has supposedly left tumblr by this point—i suspected this and anantaru has confirmed it while we were talking. audri was sending anantaru my posts claiming that they were about anantaru, but i will stress that the only actual discussions i ever had with anyone about anantaru was with tee and eris about that initial joke because it had upset me at the time, it never extended beyond that and it certainly was never with audri. my only conversation with audri that mentioned anantaru at all was probably around a week or so after i made the post in point 3, when audri asked me about ao3 blocking in casual conversation and i offhandedly mentioned that anantaru had blocked me on there—audri was a close friend at that point and iirc, she had actually told me right after that that anantaru had her blocked on tumblr, i had no idea that they'd been mutuals at all but either way, it was an offhanded comment that led to nowhere (or so i thought LOL). looking back on it, it was clearly her baiting me into giving her information about the post i made a week or so prior because after talking with anantaru, they explained that they got an anonymous message claiming that i was shit talking them for blocking them on ao3 and the only person that could have put together that the vent post from point 3 was about anantaru was audri herself. audri continued to evidently cherry-pick random vent posts of mine to show anantaru and claim that they were about them. why? i wish i could tell you. i considered audri a decent enough friend, and though she had her fair share of issues with mutuals and other friends of mine, i never really thought she’d stoop to this with me. but i guess there’s really no explaining people who thrive in discourse.

6. my comment in my most recent post about being harassed on ao3 and in comments and in asks was not about them at all. i thought it was very clearly about heliotropes (my dottore series) and pressure to update from certain readers, but i'm clarifying that now.

7. i never intended on directly addressing this, which is why i did not directly name anantaru in my post, if i’d known at the time that tee was going to end up addressing all of this, i would’ve just been straight up with all of it.

anyway, i think that’s all, hopefully this will be the last post for real as i am tired mentally and now i am also physically sleep deprived. i've been up since three so forgive me for typos and grammar errors. this all has gone on for over a year. sorry for all the discourse on y'all's dash, wish i could have left with a bit more grace than this. rumors have been blown out of proportions and blindly believed, things have been taken out of context, such is life. i made my fair share of mistakes on my personal blog with my vents, others have admitted and owned up to their own mistakes, some will never admit to their mistakes. such is life. it moves on, always does. i know all of y'all are smart enough to come to your own opinions.

over and out, sorry again, and logged out (hopefully for real this time),

cat

[woso-dreamzzz]

bambi’s relationship with alexia is so so complex and sad to me ohmy (sorry for the long msg!)

can’t fault alexia for the postpartum and her initial feelings towards bambi. everything for her was difficult and at the end of the day, she decided to go through with the pregnancy and carry bambi til she was ready to be introduced to the world. alexia can’t be faulted for not feeling an initial connection. nothing is perfect, and their relationship (like bambi’s train) is quite fragile.

i’m pretty sure i mentioned it before but i feel like alexia’s behaviours/attitudes towards bambi manifest in very selfish ways. bambi after the “Before” is someone for alexia to keep, to create a false image of what alexia thinks is a perfect family. before the “Before,” alexia wishes for bambi to start looking like her because MAYBE that’ll make her feel more connected. this makes me wish that bambi never looked like alexia until jenni’s version occurs, where bambi had no semblance of alexia’s features and jaume looked like his grandfather, whom he got his name from.

i feel like bambi would’ve overheard alexia going on and on about how perfectly jaume fits in the picture—because to bambi, that’s all alexia’s ever really cared about: if things fit into the timeline. fit into the family. fit into alexia’s schedule, alexia’s life, alexia’s wishes and wants and desires. in bambi’s POV, she’s nothing but the little girl who so happened to impede on alexia life with the worst timing ever. to bambi, alexia never wanted her. bambi doesn’t fit in (she doesn’t look like any of her known relatives), she doesn’t excel at football, and she feels like she definitely does not have anything in common with alexia.

so, the move to mexico is good for her. jenni’s great at implementing a system, thinking ahead, and prioritizes bambi above everything. there are regular video calls and visits for alba and eli, jenni knows mexico will be a culture shock so she does her best to acclimate bambi to her new home. all of alexia’s teammates are on speed dial for whenever bambi wants to call any of them. alexia definitely walks in on mapi and ingrid saying they hope bambi’s received the new train in the mail and that they’re so proud of bambi for landing the lead role in her first recital in mexico—one she ultimately finds out alba and eli flew out to go see without telling alexia.

with the move to mexico, alexia only yearns for bambi more. after all—distance makes the heart grow fonder… but in this case it’s just alexia wishing for something only because she doesn’t have it. to alexia, jenni’s version bambi begins to grow into her features and soon resembles alexia in the most heartbreaking way. bambi shares almost all of alexia’s features to a T but all of her mannerisms are picked up from jenni. it’s a cruel reminder to alexia to watch little bambi become alexia’s mini me from a distance, especially because bambi credits all of her joys in life to jenni, her “true mama.”

a really bad for bambi and alexia tho, following injured: before! deep frowns and all the love to both of them. <3

how are exams going tho, my friend? hope you’re almost done :) do you have anything planned for the summer? 🌷

Alexia suffered pretty badly from post-partum depression. She wasn't expecting it so it hit like a truck.

Injured!Alexia's love for Bambi does manifest as her being fairly selfish (but only in the main story of Injured, she eases up in Alexia's Version). Alexia and Bambi had a rough start to their relationship so Alexia was never quite sure how she was meant to act with Bambi because everyone just kept telling her about how much love she'd have for her once Bambi was out and never mentioned any of the hardship so Alexia's fairly wary when other people tell her what they do with their kids. Alexia found that being a bit selfish with Bambi worked and she didn't want anything to go wrong (it did) so she just kept it as it was.

The best thing Alexia did in Jenni's Version was get over her selfishness to let Bambi have the best chance. Of course she regrets it a little bit because she's very quickly cut out of Bambi's life and only hears things second hand but she also doesn't regret it because she's the one that made the choice to go to Jaume first instead of Bambi and she's the one that decided she couldn't change enough to let Bambi have the best life possible with her.

(I just took an exam today. It was horrible. I waffled for ages so I've no idea how I actually did. Just the exam today and then the exam on Thursday and I'm officially done. I'm out with my friend on Friday to to Toby Carvery and then I move out on Sunday!

I haven't really got any plans. I head back to work in June and I already know I'm going to hate it yet again but whatever, I need the money 🤷‍♀️)

[bizarrepotpourri]

Behind the Scenes: The Murderous Brat

[Previously on: Unlucky Thirteen]

As promised, this time we focus on the case of a "depraved murderer barely out of high school", written all on my own without asking other users of A Certain Website for inspiration.

This post, of course, contains mentions of violent crime, death and hornyposting again, so everything is under the cut. Proceed at your own risk.

Important info: you can access the link only if you set explicit material to be shown in your Pixiv settings. For a good reason.

As I said, the idea for this one hit me during the writing of "Unlucky Thirteen", sending me down a rabbit hole of outlining the concept through important-sounding legalese, and that it's based on an actual case. Well, two actual cases and each one of them is a doozy.

The original idea came from a discussion with one of the users of A Certain Website about a fairly recent case of parricide over here in Poland. But when I picked up speed and decided to google the details to confirm a few things, it turned out that I misremembered a crucial detail.

Namely, that the perpetrator wasn't a 19-year-old girl (that was the accomplice), but a 40-year-old woman. How she got a 19-year-old to help is less important - the main sell just got shot down, and that while I already had a full page of the notes including made-up press article headlines and ledes and about a third of the story proper written down. But, good for the story and bad for the real world, my lovely country also had another case of parricide involving high-schoolers a few years earlier. A boy and his angsty artist girlfriend stabbed his parents to death and then some, and by "and then some" I mean the investigators describing the crime scene as something straight from a horror movie.

This meant I had the crime implement (a silenced submachine gun), the motive ("I really, really hate my parents" - and I omitted the previous attempt using horse sedative) and the name from one case, and approximate age, accomplice and "angsty artist" schtick from the other one. I even cooked up bad angsty teen free verse while I was making dinner, and in two languages while we're at it. With that, I got to writing the most important part of the story - the conversation.

My idea was to have the condemned have a talk with the executioner as a last wish, in order to highlight her pretentious, insufferable Angsty Teenage Artist personality. I joked to another user of A Certain Website that I was imagining Julianne as a cross between Hannibal Lecter and Wednesday Addams in a private school sweater, and noted down that she was supposed to be "passive-aggressive" and "morbidly curious" - as expected from someone who shot their parents, cut them up, packed the remains in suitcases and finally dumped the suitcases in several different spots in the wild. Putting it together took me three days, and my original idea of making Julianne a psychotic hate sink just couldn't click. Even the “blue and poo” line that I shamelessly stole from the testimony of one of Australian serial killers (I can’t remember which one, though - I’m fairly certain it was either Ivan Milat or the Barrel Killers, but couldn’t find a source confirming either), who described strangling people as “smurfing”, because “first you go blue, and then you go poo”, didn't quite do it - mostly because its context in the story went from complete sociopathic insanity to gallows humor. Sure, she's still impudent, sarcastic and has ridiculously skewed priorities throughout her life - while I haven’t explicitly put the pedicure line in my notes, I had it in my mind pretty much since I started writing the scene. But then, when I started basing the way Julianne acts while smoking and talking on a former friend of mine, I got two ideas from that: obvious posturing and an apparent addiction to bad choices in life. I mean, I couldn’t have come up with the entire footjob situation if I didn’t know someone operating on similarly fucked-up logic. And to top it all off, one reader's opinion on Julianne as a character was "I don't condone her actions, but I understand her." And that means I achieved the exact opposite of my original idea: of course she thinks entirely too highly of herself and sounds a lot like a countercultural caricature, but on the other hand, you can feel sorry for her being treated like a failure through no fault of her own.

There's a lot of emphasis on Julianne being the youngest woman executed in the Kingdom in this century, for two reasons, both related to the twist in the case with Prosecution appealing the original life sentence soon after Julianne’s 18th birthday: first, long ago I had an idea for a still-unfinished story in which a group execution was delayed until after the 18th birthday of the youngest of the condemned, just so nobody could accuse the justice system of putting children to death. Second, they really wanted to get her: the Kingdom wants to be seen as modern and civilized, even if it has teenage skeletons in its closet, but on the other hand, it doesn't want to be seen as soft on crime as heinous as a double murder using a very illegal weapon. So if you're thinking that it was a setup and the entire schpiel about "psychiatric evaluations" was just an excuse, you're most probably right.

The story also gives some insight into the secrecy surrounding executions in the Kingdom. My original idea was that the names of Special Correctional Officers are confidential and listed only in Ministry of Justice personal files - even the Regional Courts and prison wardens know only the Officer’s badge number and it’s all that goes into the case files. There are also non-disclosure agreements and gag orders, so while the journalists attending the execution get to know the last words of the condemned and witness them being taken away, they not only don’t see the grisly end in person, but are also forbidden from probing the involved people for details. Meaning, Missis Officer won’t get to write a tell-all when retired, as opposed to Albert Pierrepoint, for example. Not that she would - the introduction describes her feelings toward the press fairly well, and she can't help but agree with Julianne when she mentions her hate for tabloids. Not only the "reporting" on high-profile trials often turns out to be sensationalist bullshit that skews reality into unrecognizable mess, with "unbridled joy" being an euphemism for baying for blood, but also the condemned often get the wrong ideas from seeing themselves on the front page. After all, there's no such thing as bad publicity.

Since the city of Blackmill is a stand-in for Manchester, the Raymouth prison is mostly based on HMP Strangeways, but when I got an interesting image of Julianne hanged in an industrial-looking room generated by AI, I decided to abandon the original plan of making it more typical and similar to Wandsworth and Holloway and go with basing the execution chamber on the former Nottingham Gaol (more precisely, their current museum exhibit of 19th century gallows), and the post-WW2 execution sheds built in German prisons, based on the stills from "Pierrepoint" again.

And finally, THE SPLOOSH. While Nicole in "Unlucky Thirteen" might have gotten wet at the last moment for an unspecified reason, Julianne is an utter little freak. While she was mostly trying to get a rise out of Missis Officer with the remarks on leather and masturbating in the noose in front of an audience, she was playing up her actual kinks for shock value. If she wasn’t warned beforehand that any stupid stunt means that her conversation with the executioner is over and she’ll be dragged back to her cell with all the remaining privileges forfeit, she’d probably do something like pulling up her dress and pressing her tits against the glass. But still, in her last moments she went like Madeline in my story “Worst Day of the Year”, just witnessed from an outside perspective.

[therapardalis]

reverdies​:

-

As an organization UNIT’s relationship with the Doctor was… complicated, and vice versa. Hence his checking in with someone associated with the Doctor in some capacity. If Earth was about to be hit by a meteor crawling with eldritch beings from before recorded time, or an alien invasion, Javert wanted to find out before the crisis was imminent. From the woman’s attitude it didn’t seem likely, although the Doctor was a master at hiding truths they really ought to know until the very last second.

His arms itched to fold across his chest but this was an official inquiry more or less, So he settled for surreptitiously rubbing the fabric of his uniform between his fingers. “Yes, all right,” he agreed; all this was true. But the coincidence of her jog taking her near UNIT headquarters, plus her association with the Doctor, was one or two coincidences too many to ignore without checking into things.

Unsurprisingly, as was often the case with the Doctor’s companions and friends, she wasn’t responding well to the questioning. If she really was on a jog that would explain it— but one aspect of the newer Stewart’s reign appealed to him. He, like science, preferred there to be provable facts. “It’s just that so often the Doctor and trouble coincide. So when someone associated with the Doctor turns up here…” He left the location vague, London or the Tower; there had been no mention of an earlier visit, so he couldn’t assume she knew about UNIT HQ. Although with the concentration of troops that had mobilized so quickly it probably wasn’t a big leap to guess, but still. “We have to ask.”

The lieutenant’s eyes stayed on her, both out of instinct and because he saw the mechanical birds every day. “They’re for surveillance. Playing on the old superstition, I suppose.” It was clever, he’d give Kate Stewart that. No one would question the ravens’ presence at the Tower, or try to shoo them away. “Can’t be messed with as easily as stationary cameras. Why, were you planning on feeding it breadcrumbs?”

For a moment or two Thera studied him, hands planted on her hips and tongue poked into her lower lip where it began to become her cheek. She was peeved, and behind half-narrowed eyes her thoughts skidded about trying to find reasons to remain so - with an irritating lack of success.

‘Surveillance’ had not been specifically targeting her, she’d just happened to come along. They hadn’t marched out here to arrest her, much as Javert’s straight-backed body language seemed to wish he were. Demanding ‘what was she doing here?’ rankled a bit when she was just out for a fucking run, but it only meant they hadn’t noted her address and as he said it was their job to check.

Not to mention that what he was saying about the Doctor was unfortunately completely true.

No ... the only thing she could reasonably stay mad about was that they’d reminded her the Time Lord existed, made her wonder if he was nearby and what nonsense he’d be up to if he were. Or if this was one of those broad ‘warning signs’ Gaia liked to throw her way, and if trouble wasn’t here yet then it was about to be. Which might not necessarily involve the Doctor, and with that thought she eyed the Leftenant more closely, head cocked a little aside.

“I have an affinity for animals, and it was coming up blank.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug; if he didn’t know, then that was all the explanation he was getting. But conversely, she was putting away the indignant for a more businesslike tone. “I haven’t seen him, and if there’s shit about to fly I don’t know about it yet. But, if it does ... I’m fairly sure you have my contact details.“ A pause, hoping that wasn’t going to be necessary, and her eyes flicked to the side.

“Would you like me to tell the people who are staring at us that you’re military re-enactors and part of a show?”

[mischiefmanaged71]

The Love Hypothesis (Prologue) - Stephen Strange X Reader

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is a PhD student who wants to prove to her best friend that she has moved on and dating. With no way to prove it, she kisses the first man she sees, which ends up being none other than Dr. Strange, known as one of the most unapproachable and critical professors in the university.

A/N: AU! Stephen Strange is a Professor/Doctor and reader is a Ph.D. student studying at the same college (Reader - 28, Stephen - 34). @eviesaurusrex credit for the photo. For the life of me, I could not find a gif to match the story. Credits to Ali Hazelwood for the original story. Some chapters will be exclusively from the novel, others I will spin my way. I do not own anything, this is my reinterpretation of the novel with MCU characters.

Pairing: Stephen Strange X fem! Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Series Masterlist

Some would say the timing for love and romance was never fair, nor suitable. In most cases, it probably wasn't, but Y/N could use some of that magic just about now. Something to take the edge off the exponential stress growing with each day all because of her dissertation.

The life of a college student was by far, no means easy or as exciting as movies or books painted them out to be. While some aspects, like the copious amounts of coffee consumed to finish that report, were slightly accurate; the exaggeration was obvious on the fun spectrum. Y/N Y/L/N didn't exactly have time nor the mental energy to be doing anything besides working on her dissertation project. Once you decide to even pursue past your Bachelor's, you give up the reigns to any type of social life.

At least that is what she told her best friend. Natasha didn't understand all of the factors playing into the pressure she was under with her thesis. She was focused right now on the fact of Y/N's lacklustre dating life. At least the conversation only began after her and Steve broke things off.

Y/N was a biology graduate and this was her final year - that meant finishing up her thesis and finding someone to, hopefully, fund her research after all of the effort and tears to get here. Frankly, the one occasion that kind of changed her perspective on grad school was an encounter with someone she denoted as 'the Guy'. A guy whose name she never got, but he certainly made an impression.

On the morning of her interview to Columbia's biology department, she stumbled quite fast out of her dorm, without her glasses of course, resorting to an old pair of contacts stashed in her bag.

"Out of curiosity, is there a reason you're crying in my restroom?" A deep voice asked.

She gasped lightly, wiping her eyes gently when her vision blurred even more. Tears leaked from her eyes as she looked up.

Tall, dark haired, man. Certainly wasn't the women's bathroom then.

"...this isn't the women's bathroom, then." She sighed, pulling her hands from her face.

"No, it's not." He replied, a dreamy voice reaching her ears.

"I swear I don't usually do this. I've had a stressful morning."

"It's okay." His voice sounded nice.

"Are you sure?" her face twisted in embarrassment, a heat flushing her face.

"Yes." the voice assured her.

"Really?"

"Fairly, since this is my lab's bathroom and I don't think anyone else will be using it. Not unless they barge in unsuspecting of others."

Yet again, she was stumped. 

"I'm so sorry, did you need to...", gesturing to the stall behind her.

"I just needed to pour this reagent down the drain." He said, although she wasn't focused on that and rather self-consciously moving her hands to her face to wipe away at warm sensation in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Sure." She nodded, inhaling lightly as she forced herself to ignore the urge to itch her eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you're crying. In my bathroom."

"Oh, I'm not crying. Well, I am, but it's not because of anything, really." She assured.

"No?"

"I forgot my glasses and I might have accidentally put in expired contacts. They were never great to begin with. Don't actually improve my sight that well either..."

"You put in expired contacts?" He almost sounded offended by her statement.

"Yes?" She supposed, slumping against the tile wall. His echo of disapproval was obvious as he questioned her. "A little..."

"What quantifies as 'a little'?"

"A few years, I think."

"What?" His voice was crisp in her ears as he voiced his astonishment.

"A couple years."

"A couple of years." He repeated, “I’m not so sure that’s what they intended with the user guide.”

"It's fine, expiration dates are just a recommendation. Not like it could make my vision any worse than it already is."

"Expiration dates are so I don't find you here crying in the corner of my bathroom."

Why he kept reaffirming it as his bathroom was beyond her. As if he was entitled to the restroom for some other reason.

"It's okay." She waved, "The burning should stop after a few minutes. Or so."

"So you've done this before then?"

"What?"

"Put in expired contacts?"

"Nope." She shook her head, "Never. I prefer my glasses. Contacts aren't exactly cheap."

"Neither are eyes, I hear."

She couldn't argue there when he had a point. "Have we met before? Where you at the recruitment dinner with prospective Ph.D. students last night?"

"No."

"You didn't go?"

"Not really my scene." He was curt.

"Not even for the free food?" What college student wasn't trying to snag free food at any chance? It was free, that was the perk.

"Not worth the awkward small talk." He changed the subject, "Are you interviewing for a spot in the program?"

"For next year's Biology cohort." She wore a small smile, hoping to hide the anxieties fluttering in her mind. "What about you?" Pressing her palms together.

"Me?" she could see him step back and lean against the door of the bathroom to look at her.

"How long have you been here for?"

"Probably six years. Give or take."

Her eyebrows raised in intrigue, "Oh, you must be graduating soon then?"

"I, uh-Not exactly." He paused, causing Y/N to flush in embarrassment.

"Sorry, you don't have to tell me. I forgot, first rule of grad school is don't ask about another grads' dissertation timeline."

A beat passed before he responded, smiling "Right."

"Sorry. Again." she grasped her arms to her chest, an apologetic smile on her lips.

"It's okay."

"I didn't mean to channel your parents at Thanksgiving or anything."

"You could never." He laughed, a beautiful sound she wished to hear again.

"Oh, annoying parents?"

"And even worse Thanksgivings." He reaffirmed.

"I suppose that's a given for science majors."

"I'm Y/N, by the way." Extending her hand out. The hand that grasped her's was larger and warm, sending shivers along her arm as she wrought to focus. "If you happen to talk to anyone on the committee, could you not mention my mishap with the expired contacts? I have a feeling it's not up to their criteria for stellar applicants."

"You think so?"

She would have glared at him, instead, forcing her face into a neutral expression at his deadpanned response.

"Are you planning to enrol?"

"I'm not sure. Depends if I even get an offer." Although, she and Professor Xavier had really clicked. He was understanding of her goals and her stellar GPA also helped. Not having a social life was useful in other ways.

"Are you planning to enrol if you get an offer, then?"

It would be stupid not to, I mean - Columbia University had the best medical and science programs in the state and probably the country. At least, that is what she had been telling herself for the past few months while it dwindled over her head. Grad school was a big decision that posed the question of other prospects outside of studying. The prospect of new beginnings. But that brought her right back here when he reminded her of something else.

"I...maybe. I'm kind of dwindling on the line of excellent career choice and critical life screwup at this stage. Not my best work."

"Seems like you're leaning toward screwup." It sounded almost like he was smiling, the slight tilt of his voice upward. It brought a flutter to her stomach, but the not the anxious kind that twisted her insides. It was a light feeling that fluttered toward her chest.

"If that was supposed to be reassuring, I'll tell you, it wasn't." To answer his question, she thought it over again.

"No. I'm not entirely sure." She breathed out a laugh, "I..."

"You?"

A beat passed as she exhaled, her lips forming a tight line "What if I'm not good enough? What if I-mess it up?"

She wasn’t sure why she was blurting out her deepest thoughts to a stranger. Random bathroom guy without a name. What was the point? Every time she had spoken her friends, she was met with the same meaningless point - You'll be fine. You can do it. If it's what you want. I believe in you.

And that is exactly what she expected from this guy too. It was to expect the expected, in her case. Any moment now-

"Why do you want to do it?"

Her face twisted into confusion, "The program?" 

A beat passed before he repeated it, "What's your reason?"

"Well, I've always had an inquisitive outlook and graduate school is the ideal environment to foster that-"

He snorted, cutting off her practiced words.

A frown twisted her face, her heart pounding in her chest at the response, "What?"

"I wasn't asking for the line in the interview prep book. Why do you want a Ph.D.?"

She sighed, wondering how far she had moved to end up explaining herself to a stranger in a bathroom. "It's true. I want to broaden my research abilities and-"

"Is it because you don't know what else to do?"

"No."

"Because you didn't get an industry position?"

She shook her head adamantly, frustrated with his assumptions, "No-I didn't apply for industry."

"Ah." He nodded, moving toward the sink to deposit a liquid. It smelled of ethanol, detergent and something clean and fresh, the slightest whiff of cologne. An odd combination brought to her attention.

"I need more freedom than industry can provide me."

"You won't have much freedom in academia. I can tell you that." His voice was much closer this time. "You'll have to fund your work through ludicrously competitive research grants. You would make better money through a nine-to-five job that actually allows you to entertain the concept of weekends."

A frown formed on her lips as she turned to his face, or the blurred image of where his face would be, "Are you just trying to decline my offer? This is you're anti expired-contacts-campaign?"

"Nah." She could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm trusting it was just a misstep on your part."

"I don't usually do this-" she promised, "This has never happened before."

"A long line of missteps, clearly." He sighed, "Here's the deal: I have no idea if you're good enough, but that isn't the question you need to ask yourself. Academia is a lot of work for little payoff. What matters is whether your reason for being here is good enough."

"So, why the Ph.D.?"

She stared up at him, thinking about it over and over. She knew the answer, the reason, it was about voicing it and speaking the words to another person that got her throat closing up.

"I have a question. A question I need answered and no one is going to help me find the answer." Her eyes fell shut, "I'm afraid no will if I don't."

"A question?"

A shift in the air. A beat passed as she forced herself to breathe. "Yes. Something that is very important to me. I won't trust just anyone to do it. So far, they haven't been-Because..."

Because something happened and from that moment she has rescinded her trust in others. She needed to do her part so it wouldn't happen again. Not to anyone again. Heavy thoughts plagued her as she stood still, her back against the cold tile. The sound his breathing still reached her ears, the air still. He was looking at her, the image fuzzy around the edges. The dark hair balanced by the white coat.

"Its something important to me. That research is the reason I'm here."

Y/N was alone in this world and she swore that if she could, she would do anything to reverse time. Do anything to make it not so and force the odds in her favour. Because if it wasn't true, then she wouldn't have to face the tragedy of her life. She wanted-yearned to be less lonely. She didn’t care about a good salary or spending weekends with friends.

"Is that a good enough reason to go to grad school?"

He paused, "It's the best one." His lips tugged upward, eyes creasing. He was smiling, probably something like that.

"Good luck with your interview."

"Thanks." 

She still hadn't gotten his name as he was almost out the door.

"Maybe, I'll see you around?" A flush ran over cheeks, "That is, if you haven't graduated already. And if I get in."

He left her with, "Maybe."

And then he was gone and Y/N was left in the bathroom. When Columbia's Biology department got back to her with an offer, she accepted it. 

No hesitations.

[snelbz]

Starting Over {Four}

Collab with @theladyofdeath.

Summary: Elide Lochan thought she had met the love of her life only to find out that he was not the man she thought he was. After her world starts falling down around her, she makes a move back to her childhood home in hopes of starting over. Although it’s the last thing she expected, she meets a man the exact opposite of her ex. With his help and that of her best friend, Aelin, she learns how to stand on her own two feet and take control of her life.

Starting Over Masterlist

——————————

Chapter T/W: Mentions of previous abuse.

——————————

Lorcan caught the medicine ball with a grunt and tossed it back to Rowan, who was standing across from him. Lorcan had been working overnights and early morning shifts, and today was the first day he got off in time to come work out with him. And it’d been a week since he found out that Elide Lochan had been the one to hit his car.

There was something that had made him pause, even during that first meeting, as ill-fated as it was. Sure, she was gorgeous and something about the way she was so tiny, she could fit in his pocket brought him way more delight than it should have, but he was fairly sure that it was the fact that even though he knew she bore scars from what had happened, both physical and not, but she was still willing to fight. Still willing to start over.

That took strength. Determination.

When the medicine ball was thrown back in his direction, he had barely brought himself back to earth as he caught it. He needed to stop being so distracted. Medicine balls didn’t feel great when hitting you right in the gut, or landing on a toe.

“Why does it seem like your mind is somewhere else?” Rowan asked. “You’ve been distracted all day.”

It was true.

Rowan had nearly lapped him on their run. 

“I have not,” Lorcan mumbled, throwing it back. “Long week at work. Long hours. I’m just tired.”

Rowan snorted, knowing he was completely full of shit.

They passed the ball back and forth a few times in that same companionable quiet before Lorcan asked, “So how’s Elide doing?”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed immediately. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” Lorcan asked, as he dropped the ball at the end of their set.

“Elide is off limits,” Rowan said, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow. “And that’s not from Aelin, that’s from me.”

“That’s not why I’m asking,” Lorcan defended, crossing the gym to where his water sat.

As he took a drink, Rowan got the next exercise ready. “Really? You two looked pretty cozy at the bar.”

“I’m not interested like that,” he replied, his voice carrying a little more bite than he meant for it to. “In case you’ve forgotten, I have a bit more sympathy for her situation than I would for others. I’ve been there, and I know how lonely it can feel, even when you’re surrounded by people that care about you.”

Rowan didn’t say anything and when Lorcan turned around, he had the good sense to look somewhat ashamed. “I was just letting her know that if she ever felt unsafe, whether I was on or off duty, that she could call me.”

“You gave her your number?” Rowan asked, clearly not expecting that.

It was at that moment that Lorcan realized that no, he had not given Elide his number.

He could tell that Rowan was trying not to laugh as he asked, “How is she supposed to call you if she doesn’t have your number?”

He mumbled, “I thought you didn’t want her to call me anyways.”

Rowan’s grin widened as he shook his head. “I can give her your number. You know, just in case she needs you, officer.”

Lorcan shot Rowan a look that has made grown men back up, but it only made Rowan’s laughter louder. “Fuck off,” Lorcan muttered. “I’m trying to be nice.”

“Nice is the last word people use to describe you,” Rowan said.

Lorcan took one last drink before tossing his water aside. “I’m incredibly nice.”

“Nice and helpful are two different words,” Rowan noted, running a hand through his hair. “I believe you want to help Elide, I do, but I don’t think you would have told her outright that you were there to help her unless you found her attractive in some way.”

Lorcan’s jaw locked. “Jackass.”

Rowan gestured for him to head over to the free weights. “I’m not gonna pretend to know her entire story, and it’s not mine to tell. And you may mean well, but you’re a pretty intimidating guy.”

Lorcan picked up two fifty pound dumbbells and started curling them one at a time. “What do you mean?”

He wasn’t expecting Rowan to laugh outright and when he paused his set to stare at him, Rowan stopped and stared at him. “You’re serious? Look at yourself, man. You’re curling fifty pounds like it’s nothing and you’re, like, six foot seven.”

He was six-four, but that was beside the point. “I’m not dangerous.”

“You may not be, but that doesn’t mean anything to someone that doesn’t know you.” He nodded to the weights. “Keep going.”

Lorcan started curling again, grunting with each rep. “She has no reason to be afraid of me.”

“She may not have a reason to be but that doesn’t mean she won’t be,” Rowan said. Lorcan knew that he didn’t mean anything by it but that didn’t make the words any easier to hear. The fact that Elide could fear him based on his size alone upset him in a way he couldn’t put into words. He understood it, though, understood it all too well. His mother had been much smaller than his father, too.

Lorcan tried not to let it affect him but failed as he continued his reps. 

Rowan sighed and stopped what he was doing to look at Lorcan. “It’s nothing against you, Lor. I just… I’ve gotten to know her these past few weeks. She’s been through some rough shit.” Lorcan opened his mouth to toss in his two cents, but Rowan cut him off. “I know you understand. I get that, I do. Create a friendship with her. Help any way you can. But I saw the way you looked at her the other night…just don’t try anything more.”

He could deny it all he wanted, but he found Elide attractive and intriguing. He wanted to know her, in all the ways that mattered, but knew it could be a long time before she even felt comfortable being around him.

He thought of how quiet she’d been at the bar the other night, when it’d just been the two of them. She’d been full of fire and bite when Aelin and the rest of his friends were at the table with them, but then it was just him and it was almost like she wanted to blend in with the booth. He’d thought she was just being shy, but maybe…

Maybe she was scared of him.

He’d have to figure out some way to show her his good intentions, that he wasn’t expecting anything from her, that he really did just want her to feel safe and protected.

He just wasn’t sure how.

………………

Elide watched as her client, who was recovering from a torn ACL, headed for the locker rooms. He was a football player, who’d blown out his knee in the final game of the season. He’d already gone through all the physical therapy, he was just trying to get as close to where he used to be as he could.

Most of the clients she’d picked up had all had some sort of major surgery. Thanks to her degree, Sellene felt she’d shine there, and shine she had.

“Hey.”

Jumping, Elide turned, dropping the clipboard she’d been holding.

Lorcan, Officer Salvaterre, stood behind her. When he noticed he had startled her, he hesitated. “Sorry,” he said, even though he stood a good four feet away from her. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Elide let out a breathy laugh. “No need to apologize. I hadn’t even realized I was standing here in la-la land.”

Lorcan chuckled. “Happens to me all the time. How’s your day going? I know Ren,” Lorcan said, nodding to where her football client had disappeared. “He hasn’t looked that good since before his accident. Looks like he likes you, too. His last trainer just kept pissing him off.”

Elide laughed. “His last trainer was Rowan.” 

Lorcan grinned. “I know. They’re too much alike. They go way back, though. Have always bickered.”

Elide’s smile softened. There was something about Lorcan’s features that was hard, but welcoming. It was contradictory and hard to explain, difficult to understand, and perhaps that was why Elide couldn’t stop looking at his face, into his eyes. “Well, I’m glad to see he’s been improving.”

“Me too,” Lorcan said, then started rubbing the back of his neck. “So, I realized this morning that I told you that you could call me if you ever needed anything…but I didn’t give you my number. So, I thought I could do that. Or, you know, Rowan has it. You could get it from him.” A beat passed. To Elide’s humor, she almost swore he was faltering, stumbling over his words. “Or, you know, you don’t have to have it. I could…keep it.”

One of Elide’s brows rose as she bit her bottom lip. “You could keep your number?”

For a second, it looked like Lorcan had almost cringed, but then he nodded, slowly. “Yes.”

Elide stared at him for a moment, trying her best not to laugh. 

“Well, I’ll just let you go—”

“I was just going to get a smoothie from the bar,” Elide said, unable to hold that laughter back any further as she gestured to the juice bar on the far end of the main floor. “Care for one?”

She could have sworn he was about to turn her down, could see the rejection in his eyes and was waiting for the sting to hit when he asked, “Have you tried mango, carrot, banana yet?”

Scrunching, her nose, Elide shook her head. “Absolutely not. Fruit only for me.”

They started walking through the gym and Lorcan laughed. “Oh, come on. You can’t even taste it. And what kind of personal trainer cringes at vegetables?”

“Well, I’m not actually a personal trainer,” she admitted, as they stopped at the counter.

Lorcan was puzzled by that, as it was evident that she was damn good at it.

They each ordered, Lorcan getting the aforementioned mango, carrot, banana, while Elide went with pineapple mango and vanilla protein powder. There were tons or options to mix in, from protein powders to pre-workouts to recovery drinks.

As they sat at one of the few cafe tables they had in front of the bar, Lorcan asked, “What do you mean you aren’t a personal trainer?”

“I got this job, thanks to Rowan and my own rigorous gym techniques,” she laughed, stirring her smoothie. “But I have my degree in sports medicine. I’m helping people now, helping to better themselves, but I want to help them feel better when they’re hurting. A sports or massage therapist.”

Lorcan watched her for a moment, thoughtfully. “You should talk to Sellene about integrating that here,” he suggested. 

Elide smiled. “I did. I’m going to start massage therapy soon, after I get established with my clients.”

Lorcan nodded approvingly as their names were called out. He went to retrieve their smoothies and set them down on the table, Elide’s in front of her. 

“Thanks,” she said, and fiddled with the cup. “What about you? You’re a cop.”

Lorcan blinked. “I am.”

She laughed quietly. “Do you enjoy it?” 

“It’s all I have ever wanted to be,” he said, simply, taking a long drink from his smoothie. Elide had no idea how he could drink something so cold, so quickly. 

“Yeah?” Elide asked, intrigued, sipping from her drink. “Since you were a kid?”

Lorcan nodded and something flashed across his eyes that Elide couldn’t quite place, but then he smiled tentatively. “Yeah.”

She thought he would go on but when he didn’t, her smile began to falter. “Sorry, I didn’t—“

“No,” he said, quickly, afraid he had offended her. “It’s okay, I just…let’s say my dad is a class A criminal of sorts. Growing up with him…” he shook his head, and Elide did not ignore the way he said dad. “It made me want to protect people from others like him. So, as soon as I got out of high school I got my degree in criminal justice, and then I joined the police academy at twenty-one.”

“Wow,” Elide breathed. “That’s…so brave.”

It seemed that whatever Lorcan was expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. His cheeks heated, just slightly, and he shook his head. “That’s not why I do it though. I do it for the people who can’t be brave themselves.”

Elide looked away from him, her eyes landing on her smoothie. She was quiet for longer than she’d been before.

“I said something wrong.”

Her eyes found his again, and she saw the concern there. Quickly, she shook her head. “No, it’s not that you said something wrong, it’s just… What Roland did to me, and my uncle, it’s not that I wasn’t brave enough to fight back.” She gestured between the two of them. “It’s a lot easier to fight back when you’re not five-one.”

Lorcan watched her and she swore she could hear the wheels turning in his mind. She took another drink of her smoothie, playing with the straw.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.” When she looked up, he was already looking at her. “You’re here, starting over, putting the shit that asshole did behind you, and moving on. That’s bravery in itself.”

Suddenly, Elide’s throat seemed tight and she doubted it had anything to do with her smoothie. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat, blinking away what he could’ve sworn was moisture in her eyes. “I did fight back, by the way. Against my boyf— Against him.”

The fact that she nearly called that piece of shit her boyfriend after everything he’d done had Lorcan seeing red, but he willed himself to try and forget the name Elide had mentioned a few moments before, before he made a dumbass decision.

Instead, he gave her a smile, one he reserved for people who deserved it, and said, “I know you did. You got out.”

[cassandraclare]

The Letter Game (in full)

Many have asked to read last week’s letter game in a slightly simpler format. So here it is, for everyone’s enjoyment in plain text, under the cut. The action takes place between Chain of Gold and Chain of Iron. Read on . . .

1: INVITATION

To all and sundry—

The leaves are changing, and with them the season. It grows colder in London by the day, and even without the pestilence that recently ravaged us, even without demons breathing down our necks, cold with chill—now is the time for all good Shadowhunters to come to one another’s aid, and support one another in that most hallowed Nephilim tradition: song and dance.

So, a Musicale! The Townsends are pleased to invite the Enclave, in toto, to our West End home this Friday’s eve. Refreshments will of course be served, but the entertainment will be provided by you, our esteemed guests and friends. We would be so honored if you would help us welcome the coming of winter by bringing your most excellent capers and ballads, to keep us warm.

Grahame and Millie Townsend

2: Lucie » Cordelia

Cordelia, my sister, the very twin of my own heart,

Can you believe the Townsends’ invitation? How pretentious can one be, I ask you! It took all four Herondales an hour of discussion to conclude that “Friday’s eve” meant simply Friday evening rather than the eve before Friday (that is, Thursday). And is the demons or our necks that are meant to be cold with chill? “Cold with chill!” As a writer of words—no, even only as a reader of words—I am offended.

I digress, however. I write to ask whether you will be attending, as that will be significant to my own decision of whether to go. I asked James, and he was unenthused but “supposed” that “we must.” So I wish to let you know that if you don’t fancy attending, I believe James could be easily convinced. But, as unpleasant a night as it promises, I fear he may be correct that “we must.” You and he, after all, must do the social rounds as a betrothed pair, and I—well, I can hardly sit alone in my bedroom all night while all my friends witness Catherine Townsend’s cold-blooded murder of “O mio babbino caro.” 

So whatever your preference, I will be amenable. We can put on our frills and watch the most foolish of our set warble and prance, and at least we will have each other’s company and champagne. Or, if you’d prefer, tea and draughts in the Institute parlour. I am yours to command, my warrior-sister.

(I have realized only at this moment that perhaps you not only wish to attend but to perform yourself; if that is the case, I retract all previous mentions of warbling in favor of my unconditional enthusiastic support. I will even accompany you, if you wish, but I am not very good at the spinnet so please, something fairly slow would be best.)

Yours ever across the still waters of time and space,

L. Herondale

3: Ariadne » Anna

Dear Miss Lightwood,

I expect that you will have received the same invitation to the Townsends’ Musicale that the rest of the Enclave has. I write with the question of whether it’s your intention to attend, and to say that I hope that you will, and that I hope to see you there.

It’s not your sort of party, of course—dull, bourgeois, and stuffy, I imagine you’d say—but since as the daughter of the Inquisitor I am rarely able to appear at the more lively gatherings that you prefer, I do plan to attend myself, much as I would rather be elsewhere. (At one of those lively gatherings, perhaps?) Catherine will have my head if I am not there to keep her mother out of her hair, for one thing, and for another…well, I wish to see you.

I have it on fairly good authority that your brother and his roisterous band, or whatever they call themselves, are planning to be there. So I also write to implore you to come so that a cooler head will be present and any explosions, or implosions, or indeed bedlam of any kind, will be, if not prevented, at least more easily contained and cleaned up after.

For the event I am thinking of a dress I have, in a deep ruby color, with a rather striking neckline. I am no great judge of my own appearance, but I do know your taste and I daresay you will find it flatters me. For your part, I hope you will wear those pinstriped trousers you have. You have not worn them in an age, and I miss them, or rather, I miss how elegantly you wear them.

In short, I hope to see you there.

I know it is not your habit to keep letters from admirers, but rather to use them to kindle your fireplace. Perhaps that will be the destiny of this note as well, but I believe not. I come to you not as an admirer, after all, but as a friend, and one who wishes you all the best things in the world—

Yrs.,

Ariadne Bridgestock

4: Anna » Matthew

Mr. Fairchild—

Matthew, I have instructed the courier bringing you this note to evaluate your sobriety and, if it is found wanting, to slap you across the face twice. Straighten up and pay attention, you debauched fool. It’s still breakfast-time. And this is important.

Are you going to the Townsends’ musicale? 

Let me rephrase: if you know what’s good for you, you will be going to the Townsends’ musicale.

I hope to enjoy your company there, of course, as my friend and companion. But also, to be frank, I will need the support. My night was free and so I told them I would be there, but I wasn’t thinking, and now I’ve received a note from one A.B., letting me know in no uncertain terms that she will definitely be attending as well. It will be a large gathering, no doubt, and most of our time will be spent watching Thoby Baybrook chase after the juggling-balls he keeps dropping during his performance, rather than close-quarters socializing. But—and I trust in your confidence on this matter—I find I flutter with nerves. Imagine. I never flutter!

I hope I can count on you. I am not usually in the business of begging favors. However, this is an unusual situation. Matthew: she will be wearing the burgundy dress.

Anna

5: Ariadne » Matthew

To Matthew Fairchild—

All right, I’ve sent the letter. Against my better judgment, I should add. It seems more likely to drive her away than to attract her, to be honest, but you have her confidence in ways that I no longer do. If you think she is more likely to be there as a result, I will trust in your plan.

However.

I am fully aware that under most circumstances neither she nor you would be found as such a dreary party as an Enclave-wide musicale. (Nor would I, but as the daughter of the, et cetera et cetera, I hardly need to tell you.) So let this note serve as, not a threat, but a promise: if you even think about ditching the party for one of your Downworlder orgies, or whatever your usual scene, and you leave me and her to awkward politesse over stale canapes without showing up yourself…I will follow you to the ends of the Earth and your life will be forfeit. Forfeit, Fairchild. I daresay I can best you in a duel three times out of four, but also be assured I am very good with a dagger in the dark.

I look forward to enjoying this merry entry in the social season with you. I will see you there.

Yours sincerely,

Ariadne Bridgestock

6: Matthew » Cordelia

C,

No, that won’t do at all. There are already other C’s. Christopher, for instance. Also Caiaphas, a werewolf from whom I sometimes purchase wine. (He has an excellent nose, you see.)

Cordelia Carstairs, you need not worry about the Townsends’ party. First, none of Our Lot are planning to perform at all, but merely hang back and watch the festivities while imbibing and filling seats. You certainly shouldn’t worry that you’ll be asked to dance as you did at the Ruelle. This will not be the Ruelle. It will be far more insipid.

I’m sure J is focused entirely on your responsibilities as an engaged couple to make the rounds and be seen by the whey-faced provincials of the Enclave. He is correct, as always, the bastard, but he worries too much. Rest assured that we Thieves will be concocting a plan in which we are able to (1) have a good time at the most boring gathering of the season and (2) not miss cake. (I don’t know if you have had cake at the Townsends’. They are a tedious family, but their cook is some kind of confection-obsessed elf who performs great conjurings with spun sugar and buttercream.) (Yes, he really is an elf, I think. Or Catherine was having me on. His ears are fairly pointed, in any event.)

I do not particularly anticipate this musicale with great pleasure, but I do, of course, anticipate the opportunity to spend time in your presence with great relish. Truly, my parabatai could not have picked a more suitable bride with whom to be mutually bored to tears at parties for years to come. I suggest that for this one you bring a flask to tuck into your reticule. If you don’t, worry not; I will bring two. At least two.

I remain, as always, yours sincerely, etc etc,

Matthew Fairchild

7: James » Thieves

CONFIDENTIAL—DO NOT DISTRIBUTE—ON PAIN OF TORTURE—THIS MEANS YOU

Merriest of Thieves,

After extensive discussion, we’ve reached consensus (or as close as we will come) on our plan for Having Fun At the Townsends’ Musicale Even Though It Is a Musicale Hosted By the Townsends. (A variety of alternate names were proposed, but all have been vetoed by the plan’s organizer, that is, myself. Please do not continue to send proposed names, Matthew.)

Our esteemed colleague Christopher has, it seems, been working in his spare time on a new method of rapidly sending written messages without the use of couriers. Instead, messages are sent with a combination of runes (so bring your steles) and a propellant of Christopher’s own invention. I’m told that the technique is not yet flawless, but Mr Lightwood reports that it is ready to be shown and tested, and what better place than a party at which missing the main entertainment would be not disappointing, but rather a great relief.

Down a corridor from the Townsends’ main parlour is a small games room. I say games room, but in truth it is empty of games, and nobody ever uses it. It is windowless and a bit close, but mostly empty of furnishings and a suitable location for a scientific demonstration. Even better, the corridor itself departs the parlour with a dog-leg, and once one has passed around the corner, one is invisible to the notice of the other partygoers. (See attached floor plan of the first storey of the house; thanks to TL for his freehand drafting skills.)

This plan assumes that none of you are planning to perform in the musicale itself; if this is not the case, then MF wishes me to remind you both of your loyalties and to the overall philistine-like qualities of most of the guests.

Surely this will provide sufficient entertainment to get us all through the evening.

The party is only one days away, so if there are any questions about this plan, please hiss them to me sotto voce tomorrow night while Millie Townsend is performing her murder ballads.

Courage, half a league, half a league onward, and so on,

James H

PS: For those whose main draw to this party is Morgaint’s famous Victoria sponge, Christopher assures me that we should be done well in time for dessert. (I should add a warning that it should not be referred to as a Victoria sponge within earshot of Morgaint, as he will lecture you at length about the recipe’s preceding Victoria by centuries, the history of confection in pre-Roman Britain, and so on. He is very temperamental, even for a faerie.)

8: Thomas » Alastair

Dear Mr Carstairs—

We have not spoken in many weeks, presumably as a result of the unfortunate circumstances under which we last met. Nevertheless, I write this evening to extend my wishes for your family’s continued health and good fortune.

As I’m sure you know, this Friday marks an Enclave-wide social event at the home of the Mr and Mrs Townsend. I know that your sister will be in attendance, with her fiancé. The Lightwoods—Eugenia, Anna, Christopher, and myself—are also planning to be there. And, of course, we expect the family of our esteemed Consul, including both of her sons, to make an appearance.

Shall we expect to see you there? I ask merely because if so, I will not be attending. I understand that as your family will be there you have every right to attend, so I am happy to be the one who bows out of the evening.

Yours sincerely,

Mr T. Lightwood

9: Alastair » Thomas

Mr Lightwood

Tom

Look, you,

I am amazed and impressed by the effrontery of you writing to me to ask whether I will be attending an event only to them tell me that if I attend, you will not. No doubt you are feeling aggrieved about the last time we met. Well, so am I.  Jests and pranks from our schoolboy years are hardly a good enough reason for the kind of public humiliation I suffered, both from Matthew Fairchild’s rude outburst and your own. The very thought of attending a party with the likes of you sends me into a mixture of, on the one hand, paroxysms of helpless laughter, and on the other, a thumping headache of barely contained fury that I

[letter discarded, not sent]

Mr Lightwood,

Thank you for your kind letter.  I am, of course, aware of the upcoming affair at the home of the Townsends, through the usual means of receiving my own request to attend. It would seem to me obvious that I had no need of being informed about the party as though I would otherwise be ignorant of it. Unlike some of the London Shadowhunter families, the Townsends have only ever been courteous to the Carstairs family, and the implication that I wouldn’t have received exactly the same invitation that you did is exactly the kind of nonsense that

[letter discarded, not sent]

Thomas,

I won’t be attending the Townsends’ musicale, as I am already committed to a preferable previous engagement cleaning out the pigeon cages in the Regent’s Park Zoo.

Thank you for thinking of me.

Receipt of your letter is hereby acknowledged.

I don’t know why you would write to me at all, but please do not write back to try to explain.

[letter discarded, not sent]

Thomas,

I do want to apologize, I have tried to apologize, but every time I come near you a wall of your friends prevents me from doing so. You can hardly hold it against me that I have not apologized when you will not allow me to do so. Yes, I know what I did rises far above the level of a jest or a prank. But one must be allowed to make amends somehow, for otherwise what is there? Hopelessness? Not I suppose that you care much what I feel. Just because you are beloved of your friends, and ridiculously tolerably handsome, you think —

[Letter discarded, not sent]

10: Cordelia » James

J—

Do you need rescuing? Everyone is in the games room for Christopher’s demonstration, even Thomas, who has spent most of the evening hiding from my brother. You on the other hand have been waylaid in the corner with Mrs Whatshername. I tried to get close enough to intervene but was swept away myself by Mr Townsend, who wanted to tell me about his travels in the Levant when he was a younger man. Could not tell if he was confused about my family’s origins or he simply assumed anyone would be fascinated by his tales of camels and pyramids. Anyway, M suggests he could interrupt and scold you for ignoring your betrothed. Lucie says you are ignoring your betrothed, but don’t listen to her, I know you are far too polite to interrupt a member of the older set. (If you yourself remember, please remind me of her name when you come.) 

Come as soon as you can. Do not allow Mrs Whatshername to follow you.

Daisy

11: Christopher » Thieves

To: James, Lucie, Matthew, Thomas, Cordelia, Anna, Ariadne

From: Christopher

In an ideal world, I would have been able to send you this note through this very technique I am demonstrating tonight, but it does make a fairly loud bang, and I thought that would likely give the game away. Though I wish to not allow social proprieties to impede the progress of science, I have been reminded by several of you that discretion can be the better part of valor. Although I admit I can’t think of any personal examples where that would be the case.

In the games room I have piled a supply of protective spectacles, which I suggest you wear. There is no danger of damage to your eyes, but there may be some very bright flashes. In addition, the propellant which I will be using to send the message is an experimental mixture, similar to those I have tried in the past but not exactly the same. There is a very very small chance that inhalation of its fumes may cause some temporary effects to the mind, so I recommend that you hold a handkerchief over your nose and mouth during the demonstration. To be clear, I don’t think that any of these effects would have any negative impact on our ability to return to the party and attend the musical performances afterwards. At worst, it may make those performances seem more enjoyable than they would otherwise.

12: James » Townsends

Dear Mr and Mrs Townsend,

On behalf of myself, my family, my fiancée, and my fellows, I wished to extend sincerest apologies for departing your lovely gathering without saying proper goodbyes. Your musicale was, as all would have expected, a smashing success, with performances across the board demonstrating the falsehood of the common claim that the Nephilim are unable to produce works of art. Surely your daughter Catherine’s rendition of Puccini’s famous aria could stand alongside the finest professionals to be found in the Royal Albert Hall.

As you discovered along with the rest of the guests, Christopher Lightwood wished to use the opportunity of having us all present to demonstrate the state of his newest invention. I’m told that when it is completed, it will utterly revolutionize the way that Shadowhunters are able to communicate with one another, obviating the need for the runners, couriers, and use of the mundane Royal Mail to send messages to one another. Instead we will have a fully self-contained rune-based method. Surely anyone would agree that such a development would be well worth whatever growing pains the process of invention and experimentation might create.

As you also discovered, Mr Lightwood’s demonstration took an unexpected turn, with a good amount of his customized propellant being released into your games room and corridors. Luckily, it was a mild evening, and open windows as well as the vigorous fanning of the doors by Thomas Lightwood and Ariadne Bridgestock quickly dispersed the gasses.

That said, neither I nor my companions are able to account for an interval of roughly ninety minutes between the end of the demonstration and our departure from your house. To that end, it seems that we were sadly lacking in good manners by failing to thank you for your warm hospitality at the time. Again, please accept our deepest apologies, and our thanks for that hospitality, even if it has been delivered discourteously late. 

Warmest regards,

James Herondale

13: Matthew » James

Jamie,

Good Lord, what was in that stuff of Christopher’s? Do you know if there will be any lasting effects? I hesitate to ask Kit, he seems too dismayed.

Also, I am trying to find out to whom exactly I owe an apology for specific behaviors that might have happened after the demonstration. I seem to have lost more than an hour from my memory, as well as my waistcoat and a garnet ring of which I was quite fond. Any thoughts you have would be appreciated.

Matthew

14: Lucie » James

James,

I have been expecting to hear from Matthew, but as it has been most of a day and I haven’t yet, can you please let him know that I will make myself available to be apologized to during teatime, either tomorrow or the next day. Please also tell him that I will be sending along a bill for the costs of cleaning arrack out of the skirt of my dress. For such a prodigious consumer of spirits, you would think he would have learned not to slosh them around so much when he talks. I suppose Christopher’s propellant takes some of the blame, but honestly, Shadowhunters are trained in agility and dexterity and even under the influence of one of Christopher’s experiments he should be able to, at very least, not slosh so.

Lucie

15: Cordelia » Anna

Dear Anna,

The last hour or so of the party was something of a blur for all of us, I think. But I feel confident in assuring you that both you and Ariadne acted with all due propriety, and that at no point did you “make an ass of yourself,” as you put it, either out among all the guests or in the games room. 

Also, when next you speak to Ariadne, please compliment her on her lovely dress. It suited her quite well! I wondered if you were responsible for finding it for her? You do have such an excellent eye for what colors and cuts will flatter. 

Anyway, do not worry. I have made some private inquiries, and nobody took note of any unusual behavior on the part of either yourself or Miss Bridgestock. (In fact, Rosamund seemed to be under the impression that you were shamelessly flirting with her. I can confirm that you were not and that Rosamund simply has an odd way about her.)

Are we still on for tea Wednesday? Let me know if not and otherwise I will see you then.

Cordelia Carstairs

16:  Townsends » Everybody

For the attention of: 

James Herondale

Lucie Herondale

Matthew Fairchild

Thomas Lightwood

Anna Lightwood 

Christopher Lightwood

Alastair Carstairs

Cordelia Carstairs

On behalf of not just our own family, but the parental generation of the Enclave more generally, we wish to communicate our displeasure with your behavior at our soirée on Friday’s eve. You are all adults or near-enough, under Nephilim Law, and so you should be held to account as any adults would be. And you should be ashamed of yourselves.

Given the influence had by many of your families, and the small size of the London Enclave, we cannot bar you from all of our future events. If only we could. We will, however, be more careful in future about shutting off access to rooms in our house that are not intended for use by party guests.

Rather than taking the time to craft individual complaints, we hereby itemize the most obvious of our grievances, so that you may all have your behavior exposed to one another. Certainly none of you deserve to have your actions kept private.

Alastair: We were glad to see you eventually arrive, though there is a wide difference between “fashionably late” and the hour you appeared. (Just in time for the desserts, we note.) Also, the song you performed was highly inappropriate for the ladies present, especially the unmarried ones, such as our daughter, and also your own sister.

Lucie: While we have always supported your hobby of writing down entertaining tales, and we understand that the storyteller’s art does involve artistic creativity, your ongoing, strident, melodramatic narration of the events following the Christopher Lightwood Incident was not appreciated by us or, especially, Mrs Rosewain, who you referred to throughout as “Mrs Whatshername.” 

James: Your interruption of the cake serving to declare your undying devotion to your true love was a gallant gesture. It might, however, have gone over better had you not pledged your troth to a portrait in oils of our ancestral matriarch, Frideswide Townsend. Your taste is admirable, of course, and she was considered a great beauty. It is unfortunate for your affections that she passed away in the late sixteenth century.

Anna: We would thank you to come by and pick up your brother from our house at some point. He has been muttering to himself, fiddling with a pencil and paper, and threatening “another test, much improved.” Please retrieve him post-haste.

 Thomas: We don’t know how you made the acquaintance of that vampire who attempted to accompany all of the performers on his dulcimer, but he is not welcome back to our house, and if we see him again, neither are you.

Matthew: Whatever was in that bottle you were plying to my mother, we only found her this morning, napping on our roof. When we woke her she said it was of a greenish color and asked for more of it. We would be obliged if you could bring another bottle by, at your convenience.

Cordelia: Your demonstration of the supernatural sharpness of your sword was very impressive, even if it was not in the spirit of the kinds of performance we expected for a musicale. It is, however, not all that surprising that it was able to cut through our drapes, a dining-room chair, or the sponge cake. We spoke to your brother, and he suggested that we should feel free to send an invoice for replacement costs to the Herondale family, since soon enough you will be their trouble, and not his.

In short, you have all behaved abominably, and are, each and every one of you, embarrassments to your various hallowed family names. 

We hope you will join us the Thursday after next, for boating and luncheon in Hyde Park.

Mr and Mrs Graham Townsend

[plus-size-reader]

Hack Job

Jerome Valeska x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2315 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Jerome comes back from the dead with his face stapled on and she needs to help him put it back

—————————————————————————————————

You were bored.

Gotham was the kind of city where you could never really know what to expect, and you had to be ready for anything. There was always something going on, or going wrong, but tonight, that didn’t seem to be the case.

It was an unusually quiet Friday night, with nothing of note happening, and really, you were glad for it.

Having nothing going on was better than having to deal with the truth.

Since Jerome was killed, nothing had the same gusto as before. You didn’t find anything exciting, or worthwhile and that didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon.

You missed him.

So, rather than think about anything else, you decided to keep doing what you’d been doing all this time. You were going to spend the rest of your life on your couch with a bucket of popcorn and shitty news coverage.

Shitty news coverage all about Jerome.

Evidently, the rest of the world was celebrating the death of the man you loved, even though you were more miserable than you had ever been. You didn’t want to do this whole thing without him.

Even tonight, which started out fairly normal, was dull and dreary.

You had a pint of your favorite ice cream and a spoon, as well as the newest episode of your favorite show, but you couldn't have cared at all.

Nothing was going to make you feel better.

Unfortunately though before you could feel too bad for yourself, all that had to be put on hold when the doorbell of your apartment went off, echoing through the small space like the abrasive chiming of church bells.

“Coming” you groaned, standing from your couch with a groan, leaving the old blanket you had been cuddled up with in your place. You were desperately hoping they would just go away.

You weren’t in the mood for any company but you knew that whoever it was would just keep knocking. In this city, you were painfully aware of everyone who lived around here and they all sucked.

They wouldn’t go away.

...But it wasn’t like something terrible was going to happen.

You had no idea who could be visiting at this hour, but you doubted anyone would try to pull anything on you.

Everyone knew you as Jerome Valeska’s girlfriend so they didn’t dare inflict the wrath of his killer cult, who basically worshiped you as a goddess, even now.

The fact that Jerome was gone wasn’t going to change the way they felt about him, or how they felt about you by proximity. As long as you were alive, everything that Jerome had believed in was alive.

That was all they needed.

However, the moment the door swung open, you knew your ice cream would be long forgotten, left to melt without a doubt. 

After all, the last thing you expected to see on a Friday night was your dead boyfriend but in Gotham you had to be ready for anything.

“Jerome?”

The word came out as a single gasp from the back of your throat, your jaw slack as you tried to collect yourself. All that did, of course, was cause hot tears to spill from your eyes and down your cheeks.

It was weird.

You had never been super emotional, in all your life, but for some reason, this was really getting to you. You couldn’t handle the rush of emotion that hit you as you tried to fathom a million things at once.

Jerome was dead.

You had seen him die, and the coverage of his murder was all over the news. It wasn’t like you’d imagined the whole thing, or forgotten to take your medicine again.

It was real.

Though, before you could get too worked up in that, you pulled Jerome into your body as tightly as you could. You didn’t want him to disappear again, even if you couldn’t figure out how this happened.

It didn’t really matter as long as he wasn’t going anywhere.

You sighed, taking in his scent as deeply as you could just to make sure that he was really here. 

He smelled faintly like formaldehyde but buried beneath all that was his calming scent that a few moments ago, you would have killed to smell again.

Somehow, you’d managed to forget just how much it meant to you.

“Are you real?” you whispered into the crease of his neck. You were no stranger to the odd hallucination in the past, but this was much more than that.

Hallucinating Jerome like this would be far too cruel to handle.

“Course I am” he grinned, pulling you closer before letting go completely, heading inside the apartment as if he owned it, which technically he did. After all, you’d bought it with the money he’d stolen.

The scene that Jerome walked into was hilarious, it was as if he hadn’t even left and you had been waiting for him to return.

The blanket you had been cuddling with was the only thing that was out of place, it had come from his closet, not from your shared bed.

He picked it up and looked back at you in questioning with a smirk dressing his lips. “It smelled like you” you level, shrugging and making your way over to him, before crashing down next to his body on the couch.

It was just like it always was, like it should have been all along.

You let yourself melt into his chest as you crawled into his lap, letting him wrap the before-mentioned blanket around you both as you moved closer.

...but there was one thing that you’d yet to address, and one thing that you needed to talk about.

Jerome wasn’t completely the same as you remembered because as you snuggled into him and let your fingers dance over the skin of his jaw, you were met with the cold chill of metal.

That was certainly new.

You pulled your hand away quickly and looked up at him in shock “What was that?” you whisper, keeping your voice low so as to not disturb the peace. You still hadn’t gotten any answers as to what was happening, but you certainly should have noticed that.

In the dark, it must have skipped your mind. You hadn’t noticed, but now that you had, it was kind of hard to go back to cuddling as if everything was fine.

It definitely wasn’t.

Apparently, Jerome's had his face stolen and as best you could tell, had attempted to reattach it with a staple gun.

“Oh no J, what did you do?” you whined, naturally concerned that he’d made some kind of half-cocked choice that was going to hurt him. He was prone to irrational solutions and you were worried.

There was silence between the two of you for a moment or so as you thought about what you were going to do before you stood from the warm cocoon you’d created on the couch completely.

You had to do something about this.

“How did this happen?” you muttered, taking his hands in your own to lead him to the table where you could get a better look at him. You didn’t really want an answer from him, of course.

It was just more of that nervous prattling you tended to get up to when you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“I did the best I could with what I had” he shrugged, as if there was nothing wrong with the way he had chosen to attach his face. In his mind, he didn’t think that he could have done any better but you knew differently.

It looked like a mess.

“You might as well have super glued it” you teased, sitting him down and getting to work looking him over. It was an absolute chaotic solution to what had happened, and frankly, you weren’t even a tad bit shocked.

The edges of his skin, held together with a few thick staples, were jagged and ridiculous.

“Careful princess, I didn’t exactly have you around to put it back on for me” he chides, admiring your concentration as you studied him. Your tongue peeked out between your lips as you did your best to pick at the staples without hurting him.

They had to come out.

Anything was better than having rusty metal holding your lover’s face on, and you were sure it wasn’t comfortable. As unpleasant as it was to look at, you could only imagine it felt that much worse.

“Stop me if I’m hurting you” you suggested, knowing fully that he wouldn’t. No matter what he was feeling, he was never going to admit that he was hurting. He was never going to do that, not ever.

Instead, all you could do was smile as you looked him in the eye, continuing to pluck at the metal in his face.

“I missed you” Jerome hummed, moving on completely from what you’d been talking about. He didn’t care about if his face hurt or about the fact that he was literally back from the dead.

Nothing mattered to him any more than you did.

“I missed you too” you whispered, taking in the predatory look in his eyes as he looked at you. You found yourself admittedly taken aback by that because you hadn’t seen that look in almost a year.

You really had.

Jerome was your greatest friend, and the love of your life. Having to live life without him for so long was awful, and you never wanted to do it again.

If you could help it, he would stay by your side forever.

“Y/N” he sighed, catching you off guard. Jerome very rarely used your real name so at first you were concerned you had hurt him, or that something was wrong. 

However, all he really wanted was for you to give him the attention he’d been craving.

You were trying desperately to get his face cleaned up but he was already bored of that. So bored, in fact, that he slid his hands under your ample thighs to pull you into his lap, earning a heavy sigh from you.

This was going to take forever.

“Jerome” you scoffed, doing your very best to get away from his hold so that you could finish up here, but he wasn’t having any of it. In fact, the more you struggled against his hold, the more Jerome laughed.

This was one big game for him.

“I have to get you cleaned up J, you need to let me” you grumbled, doing everything that you could to figure this out. You were well aware of how difficult he could be but this was serious.

He could really run into trouble with this.

“But that’s no fun at all” he huffed, pressing a kiss to your face as gingerly as he could. It had been too long since he’d been able to hold you and right now, the last thing he wanted to do was wait for anything.

Especially not for you to sew his face back on.

Without hesitation, you stood from his lap and headed over to the medicine cabinet before he could argue with you over it. 

He wasn’t happy about it, of course, which you could tell because of the hefty slap on your ass as you did so.

Thankfully though, you didn’t have to care about that because you had a job to do right now and it was far more important than whatever he wanted to do. You had plenty of time to spend together now that he was back.

You didn’t exactly have any experience reattaching faces but you knew anything you could do would be better than the hack job he was currently walking around with.

At least if you took over, it would be clean.

After quite a bit of going back and forth, you decided that a spool of thread and a sharp, disinfected needle was going to be your best option. 

You practically soaked everything in 95% pure alcohol, and if it wasn’t clean, not was.

The last thing you wanted was for Jerome to be walking around with a painful, infected face, so you let the needle disinfect for a little longer just in case.

Once you felt it was good enough, you headed back over to the table where Jerome was now pretending to be dead against the hardwood, always the drama queen.

“Get up you goofball” you ordered, playfully smacking his shoulder with the back of your hand before setting everything you had gathered down in a huge pile.

You weren’t looking forward to doing this but it had to be done and you couldn’t exactly take him to urgent care to get it done.  After all, the man you loved was still a wanted criminal, even though some people didn’t know he was alive.

“Okay J, this might sting a little” you sigh, biting into the plump flesh of your bottom lip to stifle your own nerves.

Jerome wondered if maybe you were more bothered by this than he was, but he thought it was cute so he said nothing regarding it.

“That’s okay kitten, I’ve got something to hold onto” he smirks, grabbing onto you before you could even ask what he meant. 

Jerome Valeska was always a terrible flirt but considering you hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year on top of that, you couldn’t imagine how bad he was going to get.

It wasn’t until you felt his hands snake around your waist that you understood the meaning of his words, your suspicions were confirmed when he took two big handfuls of your jean wrapped ass and kneaded the flesh through the fabric.

This was definitely not how you thought your night was going to go this morning, but at least he was alive.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Magic is legal, Arthur knows The Truth and Merlin is... shit at explaining things:

Arthur demands a trip to visit the Druids, who are far more qualified than Merlin, so they can explain this whole... destiny thing.

I’ve written a lot of angst and Hurt!Merlin recently, so I just wanted to write something short and sweet and fluffy :)

SO.

Magic has been legalised, Merlin is Court Sorcerer, all the knights are alive and happy, Morgana is good, and the only thing Arthur has to worry about right now is what the hell to do about the rapidly growing crush he has on his BestFriend™.

After the dust had settled, Merlin had tried to sit Arthur down and tell him the whole story; all about Emrys, and the prophecies, and destiny. The King already knew about Merlin’s magic, and roughly how powerful he is, but that’s it.

But Merlin went so long barely mentioning it at all, not even to Gaius or Morgana or Lancelot, that he’s still not entirely sure what to say. Years of hiding and lying and trying desperately not to think about it, mean his brain now blanks when he tries to explain it.

After far too long of Arthur looking on confusedly whilst Merlin rambled on about dragons and coins and mental links and names, The Court Sorcerer gave up, and decided to just not bother.

Arthur, of course, decided that giving up was stupid, and made the executive decision that they would just go to the Druids, and someone who actual knew what they were talking about could explain it thoroughly. Maybe even allow Arthur to read the original prophecies.

Plus, it turned out that Initiating a Golden Age took quite a lot of work, so neither of them had had a chance to leave the city for weeks. They could do with the fresh air. And if Arthur saw it as a good chance to be properly alone with Merlin for more than half a candle mark? No one else needed to know, least of all Merlin.

~

It was a pleasant journey through the woods. The silences comfortable, and the conversations easy and filled with smiles.

Magic had only been legalised for about a fortnight, and after over twenty years of fear, magic users were still understandably cautious, meaning the closest Druid camp was still a two days ride away.

But that wasn’t a problem. With Merlin now able to use his magic openly, and therefor more able to defend his King, he found he was far less anxious about the trip outside the city than he would’ve been before. And if his good mood bled into the environment around them? Well... it was spring... surely no one would notice the extra flowers and abundance of butterflies?

(Arthur definitely noticed. But Merlin was still... wary, of performing sorcery openly, in fear of scaring the people who had been sucked in by two decades of propaganda and fear-mongering. Meaning Arthur sure as shit wasn’t going to point it out, in case Merlin stopped.)

It was around noon, and the sun was shining down on them when Merlin pulled his horse to a stop. He dismounts effortlessly, and hands a confused Arthur his reins. At Arthur’s raised eyebrow, Merlin sighs and speaks quietly:

“The camp is about two minutes further on but... the change in the law was only recent, and...-”

He bites his lip and looks away, worrying Arthur slightly, before continuing:

“-well, chainmail and red capes still make them a little nervous. I’ve already warned their leader that we’re coming-”

He taps his temple briefly:

“-but I should go ahead and explain properly.”

Arthur nods in understanding, and gives Merlin a comforting smile:

“I completely understand, Merlin. How long do you want me to wait, or will you come back to get me?”

Merlin returns his smile, before saying:

“Just wait ten minutes then follow me, straight down the path. Bring the horses, there’ll be somewhere to tie them there. You shouldn’t run into any trouble this close to a camp, but you do have a track-record so-”

Merlin laughs at Arthur’s indignant expression, but continues before he can interrupt him:

“-if you do, just yell. We won’t be too far away, we’ll hear you.”

Arthur rolls his eyes fondly and shoos Merlin away. The Warlock laughs as he turns and continues down the path on foot. Just before he disappears behind a large bush, he turns around again, a slightly concerned expression on his face:

“I might look a bit... different? But don’t mention it, they’re quite fond of me... uh... dressing the part.”

Arthur huffs out a laugh before saying:

“I’m sure I won’t forget what you look like in ten minutes, Merlin. Go.”

Merlin hums thoughtfully, and turns back around, disappearing into the trees and leaving Arthur to his thoughts.

After a few moments, he removes his cloak, tucking it into a saddlebag. He also, after only a little hesitation, removes his sword, strapping it to his saddle. It was still visible and easily within reach, but not so threateningly on display at his hip.

He was entering these people’s home, after personally wielding the sharp edge of their persecution for almost a decade; the least he could do was make them as comfortable as possible.

He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not even Merlin, but he had a feeling that this meet was going to end up being about more than the prophecies. Peace had been harboured, magic had been legalised, but like Merlin had pointed out, things were still a little tense. This meeting was a way to show the Druids that Arthur meant it, that his whole heart was behind this change. The he was not his father.

Arthur was a little nervous (not that he’d ever admit that), this was important. Not just to him and the kingdom, but to Merlin personally. He had to get this right. One of the only things that Arthur had managed to get out of Merlin, to do with the whole destiny thing, was that it was finished. It was done.

If Arthur messes this up, not only will it ruin the peace they had been working so hard for... then Merlin might leave. He has no reason to stay after-all, he’s done his job. So Arthur has to get this right, has to impress everyone, now more than ever, because if he fails and the Druids all leave Camelot, then Merlin would leave with them.

And that thought was... unbearable.

He counts down the minutes, getting more and more tense. He tried to distract himself by thinking about what Merlin had said, “dressing the part” what does that even mean?

But it doesn’t work. Soon enough his brain is throwing thought after paranoid thought at him, about all the possible ways Merlin could tell Arthur he hated him, and leave forever and ever.

Arthur rubbed his eyes harshly, muttering to himself about how he really should’ve accepted the “relaxing tea” Gaius had offered him before they left. Other than Merlin, the old physician is the only one who ever seems to know what he needs in the moment, Arthur should definitely learn to listen to him more.

He finally reaches zero in his mental countdown, and sighs before standing from where he’d sat on a fallen log. He’d allowed the horses to wander a bit but they were trained to stay close by, so he has no problem gathering their reins again and leading them slowly down the path Merlin had followed.

All Druid camps were different. Some moved around constantly, some stayed fairly still. Some were huge, acres large with hundreds of people, others were small, only ten people or so. Some were occupied by mostly the sick and elderly, others were full of the young and adventurous, and others were family orientated.

And of course it was rare, according to Gaius, that someone would stay in the same camp their whole life. The Druids were a nomadic people, always shifting, drifting, wandering. Following a constantly tugging thread in their hearts, going where nature beckoned them.

According to Merlin, this specific camp was pretty small (around twenty adults) but it was also a fairly familial group, meaning lots of children. And if that didn’t make Arthur nervous (it definitely did) then nothing would.

Arthur didn’t have much experience with children, and definitely had no concept of how to act around them, especially Druid children.

After about a minute of walking, Arthur could hear loud laughter and quiet conversations floating through the trees. He slowed his pace; trying to appear unthreatening and friendly, or to delay the inevitable, he’s not quite sure.

He finally breaks through the treeline to see that... no one is even looking in his direction.

It was the middle of the day, so the camp was busy, people milling about everywhere, most of the tents open, various jobs getting done throughout the clearing.

But what immediately drew Arthur’s eye, was the source of the laughter.

The King looked across the clearing to see Merlin, in a whole new wardrobe, and a whole new light.

The man had changed from his simple travellers clothes (basically the clothes he’d worn as a manservant, just a bit newer and cleaner.) into a loose, white, lace up shirt (sleeves rolled up, which Arthur absolutely did NOT find himself staring at, thank you very much.) paired with slim black trousers.

But what was most striking, was the deep blue cloak billowing behind him, and the silver crown on his head. It was delicate, as if forged with vines and leaves and feathers, but it was oh so Merlin.

Arthur stayed at the edge of the clearing, glad that no one had noticed him; allowing him to stare in reverence at his best friend.

He was surrounded by young children, all laughing joyously as his eyes glowed golden and he waved his hands around. He needn’t mutter spells as he smiled widely, willing butterflies and bees to manifest in the air around him.

One of the younger children held his arms in the air and made grabbing motions with his hands. Merlin bent over and pulled him up into the air without a moment of hesitation, spinning him around on the spot (much to the kid’s enjoyment, who giggled outrageously), before settling him on his hip.

He used one hand to support the kid’s weight (when did Merlin get so strong??), and used the other to summon flowers around the feet of the rest of the children.

A fond smile spread across Arthur’s face as he saw them run around exuberantly, gathering the flowers in chubby hands to present to parents and siblings and friends.

Arthur laughed softly as he saw Merlin reply enthusiastically to something that the boy on his hip had said, and a second later, the child had a butterfly perched on the end of his nose. 

Arthur is broken from his concentration, jumping a foot in the air when a soft hand lands on his shoulder from behind.

He whips his head around, just about managing to stop himself from yelping and reaching for where his sword usually is at his hip.

He calms his breathing as his eyes find the friendly face of a Druid, an amused smile on his face. Arthur returns his smile, a tad shakily, suddenly feeling the nerves again, and nods his head respectfully.

The man keeps his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, but looks towards Merlin in the clearing, before softly saying:

“He’s quite something, your Emrys, isn’t he?”

Arthur gulps, also looking back at Merlin as he replies with a chuckle that was only slightly forced:

“He’s more yours than mine, especially like this, but yes, he is something special.”

The Druid laughs disbelievingly, and Arthur turns to look, a confused expression on his face as he listens to his reply:

“Definitely not. He’s always belonged to you more than he’s belonged to us-”

He stops laughing to look at Arthur, eyes sparkling with friendly mirth as he continues:

“-prophecy or no, he had a... well... a pre-carved place among the Druids, but he still chose to carve his own space by your side. I think that speaks volumes about where he truly belongs, or at least where he wants to belong, don’t you?”

Arthur doesn’t really have a response to that as he stares at the man with barely concealed bafflement, but luckily, before the silence stretches too long, the Druid gestures to the clearing:

“Come. Everyone is excited to meet you, though I warn you, the children in this camp can be rather energetic, as you’ve already seen.”

Arthur gulps and nods, following him into the centre of the camp.

Everyone’s attention is quickly caught by The King’s presence, and someone comes over to wordlessly take the horse’s reins from him.

The adults bow their heads slightly in respect, giving him soft smiles, and the children fidget on the spot, wide grins on their faces as they whisper conspiratorially to each other.

The boy in Merlin’s arms wiggles, and he gets put down. He rushes over to Arthur, grabbing his hand with a toothy grin and dragging him over to Merlin and the other children.

Merlin hides a laugh behind his hand as Arthur’s eyes widen, and his face goes pale. He thought this was going to be meetings and serious discussions and apologies, not playing with children!! What do children even like?! Swords?? Can he talk to them about swords??! Druids are pacifists right? So probably not??

He gets pulled down to crouch, and the children crowd him, all babbling at once, wildly showing him flowers and butterflies.

Merlin laughs at his bewildered fear for a few moments, before he crouches next to Arthur and holds his hands up, saying loudly:

“Alright, alright, you lot. Remember what I said?”

The children still, and a chorus of “Yes Lord Emrys” resounds from the group. With that, they stay silent, but still grin widely and bounce on the spot in excitement.

Arthur gives Merlin a stressed, but grateful smile, before looking back to the children. He takes a deep breath, before smiling at them, and saying:

“My name’s Arthur. Thank you for having me, I appreciate your hospitality.”

Merlin snorts at his overly formal tone, and has to stop himself laughing at the shock and fear on Arthur’s face when one of the younger ones loudly asks:

“What’s hosp-ee-tal-it-ee?”

Arthur furrows his brows, but luckily one of the teenagers steps in, quietly saying:

“It’s when someone comes into your home, and you’re nice to them.”

Arthur smiles and nods, and Merlin chuckles in amusement.

Thankfully (for Arthur) Merlin then stands and announces to the children that it’s lunch time, and to get washed up. They all rush off, and Arthur lets out a breath as he stands.

Merlin holds in yet another laugh, but tilts his head in confusion as Arthur’s gaze is once again drawn to the crown that rests on Merlin’s unruly hair.

Merlin flushes slightly when he realises what Arthur is looking at, looking to the floor and mumbling:

“You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to get them to just call me Merlin, but then they presented me with this a few months ago and I could hardly say no, could I?”

Arthur nods as Merlin looks up again, meeting his gaze. There’s a soft smile on his face, one that Merlin isn’t quite sure what to make of as he quietly replies:

“Hmm. Looks good on you.”

Merlin makes a surprised noise and his eyes go wide, the flush on his cheeks deepening as Arthur laughs gently at him.

Arthur puts his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, his thumb brushing against the skin of his neck in a way that was slightly more than friendly, but Merlin doesn’t pull away, so Arthur leaves his hand there as he looks around the bustling camp.

His smile falls into something more sad, and Merlin frowns at him curiously:

“Arthur? What is it?”

Arthur shakes his head slightly, not looking back at Merlin as he replies, almost whispering:

“Nothing. It’s just, last time I was this far into a Druid camp... I did terrible things. Look at this place, how could I ever have believed that magic was evil? It’s beautiful here.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, but before he can reply, a small hand tugs at Arthur’s sleeve, and the two of them look down suddenly to see one of the boys from before. He wore a confused expression, and whispered, as if he knew this was meant to be a secret conversation:

“What terrible things did you do, Mr King Sir?”

Merlin takes in a quiet gasp and widens his eyes, but before he can tell him off or lie, Arthur squeezes his shoulder, and crouches down in front of the child.

Arthur gives the boy a smile, and takes his hands, quietly saying:

“Well. When I was young, I was taught some things that are wrong, I didn’t question them, and because of that I did some really bad things. I thought I was being a good person, but actually I was being a bad person because I didn’t do my own research, and I didn’t know any better. But then I started learning how to be better, and now I do everything in my power to be an actual good person.-”

Arthur looks up at Merlin with a small smile on his face, before looking back down to the boy, who is hanging on to his every word:

“-Your Emrys is helping me with that. You see, he’s the best person I’ve ever met, and he’s helping me be more like him.”

Arthur resists the urge to look back at Merlin as he feels a firm, but shaky hand on his back, and instead looks at the child as he thinks over Arthur’s words. His face breaks into a grin, and Arthur returns the smile as the boy says:

“He’s the best isn’t he? I wanna be like him when I grow up!”

Arthur ruffles his hair, and replies quietly:

“Yeah kid, me too.”

The boy gives him a toothy grin, before running off once again, and Arthur lets out yet another breath he had been holding before standing up.

Merlin’s hand remains on his shoulder, and Arthur regrets meeting his gaze the moment he turns his head. But he also can’t rip his eyes away from the teary expression of awe and bewildered happiness on his face.

Merlin lets out a gentle laugh at Arthur’s apprehensive face before shaking his head, and looking back at him once again, this time amusement on his face:

“The best person you’ve ever met, huh?”

Arthur rolls his eyes and blushes deeply, pushing Merlin’s hand off his shoulder as he mumbles a flustered:

“Shut up, Merlin. I could hardly tell him the truth, could I?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully and replies with laughter in his voice:

“Hmm. That makes more sense, of course.”

Without waiting for Arthur’s reply, he grabs the King’s wrist and drags him towards a large tent in the corner of the clearing. Inside were two tables, one large, and one smaller and lower, both surrounded by benches.

Merlin directed them to bowls in the corner so they could wash their hands, before they sit at the larger of the two tables. Everyone over the ages of about fourteen joins them, the younger ones going to the smaller table.

Food appears, covering the surface, summoned from the cooking pots outside and the various food stores around the camp. Arthur tries to keep the wonderment off his face, but knows he failed miserably when he hears Merlin chuckle beside him. He punches Merlin’s leg under the table playfully, but that only makes him laugh harder.

He quietens when the man sat opposite Arthur stands:

“Today we have two honoured guests, our Lord Emrys, and the Once and Future King Arthur. We share our home, our food, and our welcome, for as long as they wish to stay. We raise our goblets to you, My Lords.”

At that, he raises his cup in the air, everyone else in the tent following him. Merlin smiles and nods at him, raising his own cup, and Arthur nervously copies his movements, comforted by Merlin’s reassuring hand on his knee.

With that, the Druid sits down, and conversation breaks out around the tent as everyone begins to eat.

Merlin handles most of the discussions, talking to everyone as if they were life long friends. Arthur is grateful for that, he answers any questions sent his way, asking a few polite ones in return, but Druid culture is so different to life in the city and Arthur doesn’t really know what he should be talking about.

Thankfully, the meal passes quickly, and after another announcement from the man Arthur now presumed was the leader here, the crowd dispersed, everything being cleared away with magic.

Not every Druid practiced sorcery, but they were clearly in a magic-heavy camp; Arthur could see it plain as day, everywhere he looked.

Merlin once again took Arthur’s wrist, leading him out into the sun. Usually, Arthur hated being led places, especially by the hand, but he found he didn’t quite mind it today. Whether it was because they were in Merlin’s domain, and Merlin was King here, or because of how nervous he was, or because of some other reason entirely, Arthur wasn’t sure, and frankly, he didn’t want to think too deeply about it.

This time, Merlin led them to another, smaller tent.

It had several comfortable looking chairs around a smallish circular table, which was covered in scrolls and parchments and old-looking books.

A few seconds later, they were joined by the Druid leader; he smiled softly at them and gestured for them to sit at the table. Merlin and Arthur sat next to each other, and the Druid kindly pretended not to notice them shuffling the chairs closer together.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, Arthur having lost his nerves fairly early in the conversation. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that official meetings were his specialty, or maybe it was because Merlin’s hand once again found his knee, but stayed there this time. Who knows.

The Druid had introduced himself, and once more welcomed Arthur to the camp, before launching into explanations of the prophecies and destinies, and everyone’s roles in them.

Merlin knew most if it, and looked especially proud of himself when the Druid described in wonder how Merlin had changed the very fates of the Lady Morgana, Sir Mordred, and Arthur himself.

Arthur was definitely taken aback at that. Whilst Merlin had prattled on, making no sense, about his and Arthur’s destinies, he had never mentioned anyone else, and Arthur becomes increasingly glad he came here to sort it all out.

There were some bits that not even Merlin knew though. He wasn’t aware that the other knights, Guinevere, and Gaius featured in a few of the newer prophecies, and the Druid had an amused smile on his face when he admitted that he’d thought Merlin would have figured that out.

Arthur did laugh at him at that, and Merlin flushed before telling him:

“Shut up, or I’ll tell the others you said I was the best person you’ve ever met, and they’ll never let you live it down.”

Arthur narrows his eyes, and the Druid continues look at them in amusement as they bicker.

The meeting comes to an end just before dark, and Arthur thanks the Druid profusely, for welcoming him, and taking the time to go through everything thoroughly.

Another meal is had in the large tent, but when they leave this time, the clearing has been completely emptied. A large bonfire roars in the middle, and logs surround it, providing seating for everyone.

The evening is full of stories and music and magic, and Arthur once again finds himself wondering just how he thought any of this could be evil.

Even Merlin stands to lead a song. He moves around the clearing with yet another child sat sat on his hip, giggling as Merlin spins her around.

Arthur is surprised to learn that Merlin has a good voice, and stares in wonderment as he leads the melody as if it was what he was born to do. The rest of the Druids clap along, joining in loudly and harmonising and playing instruments in time with the tune.

When the song comes to a close, the crowd burst into cheers as Merlin looks back to Arthur, breathing deeply and cheeks flushed. The Warlock smiles widely as he settles the child back in her mother’s lap before walking back over to his seat, next to Arthur.

Arthur returns his wide grin with a soft smile of his own, and as the music continues around them, Merlin tilts his face in happy confusion:

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Arthur just shakes his head slightly, smiling slightly wider as he responds without missing a beat:

“You’re beautiful like this. And you have an exceptional voice.”

Merlin flushes in surprise and looks to his lap, quietly muttering:

“I wouldn’t know about that...”

Arthur doesn’t look away, huffing out a laugh before replying:

“I mean it, Merlin. You just look... happy. Like you belong here.-”

He does look away here, staring into the fire with a thoughtful, but slightly mournful look on his face as Merlin peers up at him, curious. Arthur continues, even quieter, before Merlin can question him:

“-You know, I wouldn’t be angry if you wanted to stay. Here, I mean. I know magic is legal in Camelot now, but you belong somewhere like this. I would never begrudge you a home like this Merlin.”

Merlin laughs quietly, and takes Arthur’s hand, holding it in his lap like it’s something precious (it is, at least it is to Merlin). Arthur looks back at him in surprise, but doesn’t pull away as Merlin replies, still smiling:

“Home isn’t a place, Arthur, and the Druids know that better than anyone. Home is... home is wherever the people you love are. You are my people, Arthur, you and the knights and Gwen and Morgana and Gaius. My home is wherever you are. No matter my magic or title or destiny; my home will always be where you are.”

Arthur doesn’t let the tears in his eyes fall, but he does squeeze Merlin’s hand, giving him a tender smile that's returned without hesitation.

With the exchanging of smiles that any onlooker would describe as loving, the conversation comes to an easy close, and they spend the rest of the evening hand in hand, smiling fondly at the antics around them.

It’s late when the festivities come to an end, and Arthur and Merlin are exhausted, struggling to hold back yawns as they’re shown to a tent that had been set up for them.

Their bags had been removed from the horses and left in there, and the floor was covered in various blankets and pillows. There was a small trunk, for them to store anything they wished to unpack, and a few candles were lit, filling the room with a soft golden light and pleasant smells.

Merlin charms the tent to be soundproof so they don’t have to worry about noise (he may be openly able to use magic, but the idiot was still rather clumsy, and prone to accidental bangs and crashes), before removing his crown carefully. His cloak and boots follow shortly, and they all go neatly into the trunk, before he starts organising a spot to sleep.

After a few minutes, he realises that Arthur hasn’t moved from his space by the entrance, and Merlin turns around to look at him questioningly. Arthur’s eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks deep in thought as he stares at the floor, fiddling with the hem of his tunic.

Merlin walks over, concerned, and takes one of Arthur’s hands into his own. Arthur looks up at him suddenly, broken free of his thoughts, and Merlin raises an eyebrow at him as he strokes his thumb across The King’s knuckles:

“What’s wrong, Arthur?”

Arthur looks into Merlin’s eyes searchingly, but seems to find what he’s looking for after only a moment, and smiles. Merlin tilts his head to prompt him, and Arthur takes his other hand, before softly speaking:

“You know, I used to find the idea of falling in love frightening.-”

Merlin takes in a subtle deep breath, but Arthur doesn’t notice as he shakes his head, huffing out a gentle laugh before continuing, looking somewhere over Merlin’s shoulder:

“-The possibility that someone could have that much control over me; that I would willingly give another person dominion over my heart, my soul, my... everything, was terrifying to me. But I find I’m not scared anymore.-”

He looks back at Merlin’s shocked face. Arthur looks an odd mix of disbelieving, and happy beyond words as he continues, confident that what he’s saying is right, for the first time in a long time:

“-Because it’s you, Merlin. It’s always been you. And how could I possibly find falling in love with you anything other than beautiful?”

Merlin gulps, seemingly searching Arthur’s face for any hint of a lie. When he finds nothing but sincerity, he launches himself forward, almost knocking Arthur to the floor.

He wraps his arms around the blonde’s shoulders tightly, burying a hand in his hair, and his face in the crook of his neck. Arthur huffs out a laugh as he wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist, running a soft hand up and down his back.

At Merlin’s muttered:

“I love you, Arthur, more than anything is this world. My magic, my everything, belongs to you.”

Arthur pulls back, smiling. He leans forward pressing his forehead against Merlin’s, and cups his cheek softly with his hand. They stare into the blue of each other’s eyes for a moment, not in any hurry to move the moment along, Arthur running his thumb over Merlin’s cheekbone, and Merlin carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

Arthur takes a deep breath, before whispering, so quietly it’s a miracle Merlin hears him:

“Can I kiss you?”

Merlin nods infinitesimally, and the two of them lean forward, meeting in the middle in a soft kiss that could only be described as tender, and full of love.

If the stars shine brighter, and the wind blows warmer, and the animals of the dark seem happier that night... well... it was spring... surely no one would notice (Arthur definitely noticed, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to point it out, in case Merlin stopped).

~

THE END!!

This is the first one I’ve written in aaaaages that didn’t involve a dizzy/exhausted/sick Merlin so... yay me?

I just really wanted to write something fluffy, where there were no high stakes. No huge battles, or angsty confessions or anything like that, just a soft love story.

I genuinely got no clue what I’ll write next. I do have a few drafts and ideas floating around, but let me know if you’re after anything specific, I live to please :)

Like always, you wanna write this up properly with paragraphs and fleshed out stuff, go for it, credit and tag me :)

[goddess-of-green]

More Tobi please !!! It’s so good 😫🙌 I love ur writing so much 😊

I'm running out of Tobi gifs you guys (Part 2 here!)

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes, submissive reader

"Yay! It must be Tobi's lucky day!" Tobi exclaimed as he threw down his cards—his winning cards.

You paled.

This generally wouldn't be such a problem.

Sure, Tobi was suspiciously good at Poker when he needed to be, but you never minded when he beat you by a landslide and proceeded to gloat until one of the other Akatsuki members had to shut him up.

Although, since you didn't really want to wager money on the game -your savings had been dwindling recently and you jumped at any opportunity to save some extra Ryo- you and Tobi decided to instead, make a bet.

If you won, Tobi would be at your beck and call for 24 hours; if Tobi won, you would be at his beck and call for 24 hours.

You knew such a bet could go either horribly wrong or horribly right.

However, you hadn't really let the implications of being at Tobi's beck and call hit you until you saw that winning hand.

Tobi was completely unpredictable and a known troublemaker.

He was always 'innocently' finding ways to insult people or taunt them. You were fairly sure he had some weird sadistic hobby to see how far he could bend people before they reacted violently.

You and Tobi had meshed so well in the organization because you were extremely patient and always reacted positively to Tobi's teasing and jabs.

After a while, Tobi seemed to realize that his taunting and teasing wouldn't make you upset, so he claimed you as his "best friend" and took to following you around in his freetime, you being the only one who could handle his overbearing and deliberately annoying nature.

Tobi loved to cause trouble and make fun of people. Despite his 'innocent' nature, you knew his humor was a little twisted at best.

What the hell did I get myself into?

Tobi was giggling like madman at your expression, a hand raised to where his mouth would be to ineffectively muffle his snickers.

"Y/N-Chan's time starts now! She has to be Tobi's maid for a whole day!" Tobi cheered, throwing his arms up into the air.

You blinked.

Maid?

Fuck.

"M-Maid?" You asked, already knowing that no matter what he responded with you were screwed.

Tobi giggled a bit more, "Yep! Tobi's even got Y/N-Chan a cute little outfit to wear while she does everything Tobi desires~" Tobi explained, his amusement coming off him in waves.

Maid? 'Cute little Outfit'? Tobi's desires!? God, help me.

You sighed, "Very well, Tobi."

"Actually, Y/N-Chan...there's something else Tobi would like you to call him~"

::

Here you are, dressed in a maid outfit.

A frilly black and white choker secured around your neck and your hair down, your top doing nothing to hide your cleavage, and your skirt giving you about two inches of leeway.

If you so much as bent over, your panties would be revealed to anyone in the vicinity. To top it all off, you had a white waist apron with little frills on the ends.

It covered even less than your skirt.

Kami, where did I go wrong? What did I do to deserve this?

Your internal lamenting is brought to halt as you hear Tobi cooing at you.

"Y/N-Chan~ you look so nice, all dressed up for Tobi like this~" He put his gloved hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him as he continued to inspect your form.

You swallowed, "Thank you, Tobi~Sama." You said softly, as he had requested you call him.

You blushed in embarrassment as you said it, unintentionally making yourself look even cuter as you looked up at him through your lashes, hoping he wouldn't make fun of you.

Tobi was unusually silent as he stared at your inadvertently coy expression. His hands still on your hips, and his expression unreadable through his mask.

After a moment, he started giggling.

"Y/N-Chan is such a good little maid for Tobi~ Tobi has a feeling he's going to enjoy this very much~" Tobi purred as he brought his arms up to wrap around your waist and buried his masked face into your neck; his body snuggling into yours in the process.

You gulped as his warm body encased yours.

Is it just me or is it a little hot in here?

You would have tugged on your collar if you had one.

Tobi pulled away from the embrace with excitement as he grabbed your hand.

"Alright Y/N-Chan, you're going to make some for lunch for your master, and then we're going to play a game~" Tobi said brightly, a teasing tone slipping through his usual beaming attitude.

Something about the way Tobi said "game" raised some flags, but you complied nonetheless.

You certainly didn't want to give Tobi a reason to punish you, as he had warned.

You shuttered at the implications.

He didn't mention or signal any sort of sexual things happening, but you could never be too careful. This entire situation was more than a little suspicious.

He's already made it clear he's got a pervy side, if the outfit was anything to go by.

You sighed lowly as Tobi's hand slipped from yours and he wandered off to wait in the living area of the base while you prepared him something to eat.

"It's too bad Tobi has his mask, or he would love to have Y/N~Chan feed him~" Tobi sighed wistfully as he walked off.

Clearly talking to himself, but you were sure he meant for you to hear.

You blushed at the thought, shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts as you continued on your way to the Akatsuki base's kitchen.

After you finally washed your hands and got to actually making something for Tobi, you ran into a little roadblock.

You had no idea what kind of food Tobi liked, or even if he had any allergies. He rarely ever ate around you, and when he did you tried not to stare at him too much and respect his privacy.

(Even though you were definitely curious as to what lied underneath his infamous orange mask.)

Even if you had paid attention, you doubt you would have caught much anyway.

Tobi is very sneaky when it comes to keeping his face hidden, and his food is off the plate and in his mouth faster than anyone can even tell what he was eating.

"He's so annoying all the time, yeah! The least he could do is let me catch a glimpse of his damn mug for once, un!"

You smirked as you recalled Deidara's ranting.

Remembering your situation, your smirk slipped away as you considered your options.

You could take a stab in the dark and make something that Tobi may or may not like, or you could go back out and ask Tobi what he wanted.

Neither were very good options.

If you took a wild guess then you would risk Tobi either not liking what you made or having an allergic reaction to it.

The last thing you wanted was to make Tobi sick or unhappy, but going back out to ask posed its own risks.

If you went out into the living room to ask Tobi what he wanted to eat then there was a good chance one of the other members would see you.

Then, they would ask questions.

You knew that Tobi wouldn't hesitate to embarrass you and go into great detail about how you were his cute little maid who would do anything to "satisfy" him.

Your face heated up in embarrassment just thinking about it.

You sighed, biting your lip as you ran through the pros and cons in your head.

You wilted after a moment, your morality winning the internal battle.

Discarding your dignity, and swallowing the last of your pride, you turned around to exit the kitchen and go find Tobi.

::

"But D-Deidara-Senpai! Tobi's not lying! He swears!" Tobi exclaimed, waving his hands around wildly as if that helped his case.

"Tch. Sure Tobi, un. You really expect me to believe that you got Y/N to be your maid?" Deidara scoffed.

It was then that you peaked from the hallway. Calling Tobi's name and desperately hoping that he was alone.

"Ah! Y/N-Chan! Impeccable Timing~!" Tobi said happily, Deidara snapping his head over towards you to see if Tobi really wasn't lying.

Uh oh.

Your face flamed as you tried to retreat back into the hallway, Tobi one step ahead of you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the living area for Deidara to see.

Deidara's eyes widened as he looked over your form, clad in a skimpy maid outfit complete with the lacy little headdress on top.

Deidara slowly but surely flushed, before turning to Tobi.

"I want in." Deidara said earnestly.

Your face flamed and you literally wanted to die in a hole of pitiful embarrassment.

Completely appalled, Tobi gasped quite dramatically at Deidara's words and pulled you close, as if protecting you. "Deidara-Senpai! You can't! Y/N-Chan is Tobi's maid! And Tobi doesn't think you would appreciate her like Tobi does!" Tobi said indignantly as he snuggled into your chest.

Good lord, you felt like your face was permanently pink today. From all this excitement you had nearly forgotten what you came out to ask-

"What?! Tobi! You can't keep her all to yourself like this! You're being selfish!" Deidara yelled.

"Nuh-uh senpai! Tobi won Y/N-Chan's free will fair and square! And why would Tobi share? This way she's all mine~" Tobi exclaimed, trailing off into a creepy giggle at the end.

It's like they're two kids fighting over a new toy... You sighed.

You blushed when you realized that you were the toy.

Before Deidara could fire back or you could finally ask what the hell Tobi wanted to eat, something awful happened.

Hidan walked in.

It took him five seconds to skim his eyes over your form, Tobi's face pressed into your chest and Deidara blushing... and burst into laughter.

"Pfft Hahahaha, what the hell kind of kinky shit is going on in here?" Hidan howled, bent over and holding his stomach from laughter.

Tobi hurriedly let go of you and turned around, putting his arms in front of you as if to hide you. "Nothing Hidan-Senpai! Y-You don't have all the information!" Tobi exclaimed, his slightly shaky voice not convincing anyone.

"Tch. Tobi got Y/N to be his maid, and he's keeping this opportunity all to himself!" Deidara scoffed, crossing his arms indignantly.

Interest piqued, Hidan walked over to you, promptly pushing Tobi out of the way and grabbing your jaw.

"His maid, huh? And just how'd he manage that...?" Hidan said, his voice quieter and more husky since he was so close to your face.

You tried to repress the shiver that threatened to crawl down your spine...Hidan had always creeped you out.

Before you could stutter out a response, you felt a stinging on your ass.

Oh my-

He pinched my ass!

You squeaked involuntarily and pushed Hidan off you, Deidara starting to fume as he realized what happened.

"Hey man! Don't touch her like that, un!" He exclaimed, though he probably wanted to do the same thing.

"Hidan!" Tobi gasped, rushing over to pick you up bridal style and cradle you in his arms.

"No one is allowed to touch Y/N-Chan like that! She is Tobi's!" He exclaimed, and you would have been happy for his defense if he didn't keep referring to you as 'his'.

Deidara and Hidan were now straight up fighting, Tobi's yelling falling on deaf ears.

The lewd things Deidara and Hidan were saying about you as they fought had you desperately hiding your burning face in Tobi's chest.

Tobi pet your hair in a soothing manner before running off, with you still in his arms.

"It's too dangerous out here with all the other members! Y/N-Chan will just have to serve Tobi in his room! Alone~"

Lunch completely forgotten, you worried for what was to come as Tobi carried you off, Deidara and Hidan still wrestling on the floor.

It was then that Kisame and Itachi walked in, just in time to hear Tobi's exclamation as they saw you being carried off by Tobi while Deidara and Hidan were rolling around the floor and pulling at each other's hair.

[agent-whiskeys-sweetheart]

Meant To Be (iii)

Pairing: Hotch x F!Reader

Summary: After meeting Garcia you make quick work of helping with the case, desperate to prove yourself to Hotch. Once the two of you help the team wrap everything up it’s time for them to return home. Which also means it’s time for you and Hotch to talk. One on one.

Warnings: Nothing in this chapter.

Word Count: 5,288

A/N: I wanna say I’m super happy you guys are enjoying this series cause honestly I’m having a lot of fun writing it! I love you all dearly. (If you’re just now finding this series, that’s perfectly alright! I’m glad you’re here! Feel free to catch up and enjoy the rest of the story. Here’s a link to Part 1 and Part 2 of Meant To Be.)

The elevator ride to the bottom floor of the building was quick, allowing you to make your way to Garcia’s office in a matter of minutes. There was a plaque up next to the door, indicating that you were in the right place. Taking a moment to steady yourself you exhale before knocking on the door. A voice on the other side tells you to come in so you do. Around you are dozens of impressive looking monitors, all of which are doing something different. On top of the long L-shaped desk there were several small trinkets and toys, bringing a sort of life into the dark room. The woman sitting in front of you spins around in her chair to look at you, a quick flash of confusion on her face. She looks extremely kind and everything about her appearance makes you want to smile. 

“Hello. My name is Y/N L/N. Are you Penelope Garcia?” 

“Yes, I am. What can I do for you?” Once you’re sure you’re in the right place you step forward to shake her hand. She stands so that you are both on the same level now, shifting awkwardly. 

“Sorry to barge in like this. Everything has gone pretty fast this morning. I’m a new agent for the BAU. Today is my first day. The rest of the team just left on a case and SSA Hotchner asked me to stay behind and help from here.” Her face lights up with a bright smile.

“Oh, that’s awesome! It’s really nice to meet you! Please come in, sit down. Make yourself comfortable.” With this, she pulls another chair up to the desk and then sits back down in her own. “I didn’t actually know we had any new agents joining us. That being said, welcome! I’m almost always here by myself so the company will be nice. You and I can get to know each other.” You nod with a smile, watching her as she continues what she was doing. There are several different tabs open across the screens with loads of information that she seems to be compiling. When she sees your incredulous face she laughs.

“I know, it’s a lot. I’m just trying to get as much preliminary information as I can to send to the team. That’s what you’ll be helping me with. We collect research, data, important records. Anything they need to find out, we provide. Kind of cool, right?” Remaining silent, you nod. Upon seeing this, Garcia stops typing for a moment. “I know it may not seem as exciting as field work but it’s still very important. Don’t worry, I’ll make it fun. I promise you won’t be bored.” Patting your knee, she continues typing and you watch carefully now. This is where you will be until the case is over so you intend to make the absolute best of it. Everyone on the team has their own special skills and now is the time to learn from Garcia. 

“So what exactly are you looking for right now?” 

“I am compiling a list of the victim’s friends and family, plus witnesses from the robberies who might be able to give us any information. This will give the others a clear list of where to go first. I’m also seeing what I can find about the people who were at the banks on the days of the robberies in case there’s anything useful they need to know. Financial troubles, criminal records, anything to possibly link the witnesses to one another.” Scooting your chair forward so you can see better, you lean an elbow on the desk. 

“What can I help with?” You ask hopefully. 

“Oh, I think that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t even count on one hand how many times I’ve had someone down here and all they do is sit and look over my shoulder. Sorry, rambling. I can get you logged into a monitor here and it looks like the next thing on my list was looking into the victim’s workplace. Sound good?” 

“Yes, absolutely.” She moves over quickly and gets a separate monitor opened so you can begin researching. 

“We’ll probably do what research we can in the next twenty to thirty minutes and then we’ll call the team to tell them what we’ve found out.” With that, you make quick work of doing everything you can in the time you have. Even if it is the last thing you ever do, you will prove to Aaron Hotchner just how valuable a team member you are. 

++++++++++

The jet takes off fairly soon once the team is onboard. They all stow their go-bags and begin settling in for the flight. It is going to be a longer one today so they are all preparing themselves for the journey. Aaron finds a seat near a far window where he sets the case file down in front of himself and begins reading. His mind is swimming with thoughts and he will do anything to quiet them. The scene plays out over and over in his head, the memory still painfully fresh. Why had he said those things? He was unnecessarily harsh and he is fully aware of this. Now the first memory you’ll have of starting your dream job will be your new boss treating you appallingly. What had even compelled him to speak to you that way? Seeing you had overwhelmed him. The way you looked when you came into his office for the first time. The way your hair framed your face, the light hopefulness in your eyes, the way you captivated him with your movements. Standing there, just feet away from him, you had looked just as beautiful as the first day he met you. God, why did he lie like that? How could he have said he didn’t recognize you when you had stayed in his thoughts more times than he would like to admit over the past year? All the emotions he felt at the mere thought of you made him nauseous and he had no way of understanding them. As badly as he felt for it, he knew that for the time being it would be best to let you work from the BAU headquarters. 

“Hotch, are you okay?” JJ’s voice brings him quickly back to reality. The fact that she could see how deeply in thought he was makes him feel an odd sense of shame and he straightens in his seat. 

“Of course, I’m fine.” With this, she goes back to her own seat. With a huff of exhaustion, Hotch continues reading. The cabin is silent for a time as the other team members sit reading their case files. 

“So,” Morgan’s voice breaks the quiet. “What do we think of Y/N?” The mention of your name causes Hotch to perk up against his will. 

“Well, I like her.” Emily is the first to chime in. “I know you guys all got to meet her before me but there’s just something about her. An inherent sweetness. I’m really excited to work with her.” 

“Me, too,” JJ says next. “I thought she was kind and open. In this job, that kind of personality is hard to find. I just hope the things she sees doesn’t cause her to lose that. The world needs more kind people, not less. She seems tough though. I think she can handle it.” 

“I totally agree,” Morgan adds, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “She’s got a little bit of fierceness in her but I like that. You’ve gotta be tough to do this job but she’s also sweet. That’s important too. Plus, that kid’s got the cutest smile. Kind of reminds me of my sisters.” At the mention of your smile, Hotch closes his eyes briefly trying to picture that smile directed at him. He quickly catches himself and looks back down at the file. 

“Well, I can’t say I know her that well yet but she seems intelligent. She certainly has eagerness to learn. I think that will help her be successful. It’s very ... refreshing.” Spencer says with a small smile.

“I agree. Right off the bat she’s got a very likable energy,” Rossi begins letting himself trail off for a moment. “Although, I have to say there is something about her that is so familiar. I can’t quite place how I might know her though. Her name too, I recognize it. For a second I thought she recognized me too but I can’t be sure.” The rest of the team watches him for a moment as he tries to recollect how he knows you but he quickly comes up blank. “I’m sure I’ll think of it eventually. Nevertheless she seems like a good kid. I’m excited to see her at work. Just a shame we’ll all have to wait.” 

Hearing this Aaron shifts in his seat, knowing that the comment is directed at him since he was the one that made you stay behind. He is suddenly very aware of the other team members looking at him. 

“Yeah, Hotch. Why isn’t she here? I thought for sure you’d wanna see what she can do.” Derek locks eyes with Aaron, causing him to debate how to answer the question. All his life Hotch has worked to control his feelings and the way that they manifest so his face remains expressionless as he thinks for a short second.

“I think that for right now her time would be better spent helping Garcia and getting used to her new environment. I agree that she does seem very intelligent and more than capable. I would just like to speak with her one on one first before thrusting her into the high intensity atmosphere that comes with our line of work.” However, this answer doesn’t seem to satisfy Morgan’s curiosity. 

“She told me when she came out of your office that you said you didn’t remember her. Is that true?” This continued line of questioning makes his blood begin to boil. Aaron Hotchner of all people knows that lies are what cause the foundations of trust to crumble. If he can’t be honest with himself, how can he expect to be honest with his team? And yet, he finds himself unable to expose his own misdeed. 

“Yes, that is correct. We’ve had a lot of cases come and go in the last few years and no one should be expected to remember every interaction they have in that length of time. According to her it was only one day and it was a long time ago at that. I apologized to her and she understood. That is the end of it.” 

“Look, I’m not passing judgement Hotch. I’m just saying I can understand why she was so hurt,” Hearing this causes his heart to clench. “She looks up to you. She didn’t even have to tell me that, I could just see it. You mentored her in a time that was very uncertain, when she had a lot to prove. She still has a lot to prove and I’m sure she thought that you would have her back and the first thing you tell her is that you don’t even remember who she is? I get it man, you’re under a lot of stress right now but she’s a part of your team. I just thought you of all people would be a little more sensitive than that.” 

His words cut right through Aaron’s heart like a knife but before he has a chance to say anything the laptop screen in the center of the cabin lights up, revealing you and Garcia. Glad for a break from the tension the rest of the team members look toward the screen. With one last glance at Morgan, Hotch leans towards him. “We will discuss this later.” His voice is firm and dangerous but he pulls away to look at the laptop. “What did you find?” He directs at the two of you.

Seeing him causes you to straighten in your seat as you ready yourself to put on your most professional face. Garcia begins telling everyone what she was able to find out about the victim. She has significantly more information than you do but once she’s done she allows you to share what you found. The victim worked at a local grocery store but he had been previously employed at the bank where the robbery took place. The team begin building a rough profile based on the information. You listen closely to their analysis of the unsubs, making mental notes on what you might add to the profile. Before you have a chance to add anything, Hotch thanks the two of you for your work and hangs up. For a moment, you could swear you saw a hint of sadness when he looked at you but you were sure it was just a glitch on the screen. 

“Sorry sweetpea. I could totally tell you wanted to add something. They can be pretty abrupt like that sometimes.” You simply give a small shrug. “Well, why don’t you tell me what it was? It’ll give you a little practice for building profiles.” She scoots to the edge of her chair, looking at you intently to which you give a small laugh.

“Well, as we know all of the unsubs are large burly men. The five of them could easily subdue the few weaker people that were present at each of the robberies and yet they chose to bring guns. I believe this shows that they feel a certain sense of inadequacy in their everyday lives. Despite their masculine appearance I would suspect they all have mediocre jobs where they are looked down upon or treated poorly. It’s possible that they all work at the same place but I would imagine they probably met somewhere else. Maybe a support group of some sort. The use of weapons gives them a sense of power over the victims that helps them live out their mass fantasy. The victim of the last crime scene was shot in the head which indicates some personal relationship between him and the unsub who pulled the trigger. That could be a good place to start.” 

“Well, it definitely makes sense to me. Maybe we can start looking in to possible support groups for these type of men. Oh, and anyone that might possibly have had reason to kill our victim.” Garcia immediately begins typing and you scoot closer to her side. 

“Shouldn’t we wait for the order from Hotch?” She laughs at this. 

“Trust me, sweetheart. At the end of the day he’s gonna thank us for the head start. One thing to know about the boss man. He likes to see initiative but he also wants you to follow his exact orders. It’s a fine balance but once you figure out how to work the line, he’s gonna love you for it.” The thought of Hotch loving you for anything at all in the world makes your heart flutter. Almost instantly you stop that train of thought and berate yourself for even entertaining it. 

“Well, I guess we better get started then.” The rest of the day goes smoothly. You and Garcia coordinate everything beautifully, finding a good amount of information that you save to send to Hotch at the most convenient time. The day seems to be over almost as quickly as it began and you thank Garcia before heading out to your car. The drive home seems to be much more monotonous than before. It seems like you’re back inside your apartment and stretched out on the couch before you can hardly blink. Rolling over, you reach for your phone which you had thrown on the coffee table. With a groan, you begin dialing your sister’s number. As much as today sucked there was no one in the world you’d rather vent to than your sister. 

“Well hey there babe. I’ve been patiently awaiting your call. Give me just a minute to get sat down. I want to hear every last detail.” There are sounds of shuffling on the other side of the phone as she finds a seat. “Okay, I’m all good. Now, tell me about your first day at the BAU! Was it everything you dreamed it would be?” 

“Yeah, not exactly,” You laugh. “It was kind of rough to be honest.” There is a moment of silence as you think how to begin.

“Okay. Start at the beginning, walk me through it.” 

“Alright. Well, I got inside and I was honestly just in awe of being there, just getting to stand in that room. It felt like I was invincible. Derek Morgan was the first one to talk to me. He was just as charming as I remembered. Anyway, he introduced me to the rest of the team and we got to talk for a bit which was really nice, you know? From the get go I really felt like part of the team.” 

“Now you know I hate to interrupt but all of this sounds great!” 

“Yeah, well, that was the best part of the day and it didn’t last very long. After I met everyone I went up to Aaron Hotchner’s office to give him my paperwork. I’m sure you know by now that I was pretty excited to see him again, right? Well, when I told him how excited I was to be working with him again he told me that he didn’t actually know who I was. He completely forgot about me. I mean, I guess I get it. It’s been a year and a half and he meets a lot of people. Why would he remember me specifically?”

“Y/N, don’t invalidate your own feelings. What he said upset you and it’s okay to be hurt. That would have hurt my feelings too. You’re a really great person and he sucks for not thinking about you ever since he met you.” Hearing this, you can’t help but laugh a bit. Her ability to defend you no matter what always cheers you up. 

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I just wish he thought the same. Anyway, I gave him my paperwork so I could travel with the team. They got a case this morning and I was planning to go with them but for some reason Hotch made me stay behind even though I am cleared to be in the field. It just really bummed me out because I was super ready to get out there and start working but I got benched for my very first case. He had me stay with this girl named Garcia, she’s the team’s technical analyst. I mean, she’s really sweet and we worked super well together but I just wish I could have been out there doing the things that I spent seven years of my life training for.” 

“I am so sorry. That sucks. I know how excited you were. Look at the bright side, this is only your first case. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to get out there and prove yourself. It’s all gonna work out.” Unable to keep from smiling, you roll over on your side. 

“Thanks. I really hope you’re right.” Sensing the fact that you’re still upset she decides to help by changing the subject. 

“So, who all did you meet today? I know you already knew a few of the team members but was there anybody new?” 

“Yeah, Elle and Gideon are no longer there. I’m really sad I missed getting to work with them but the people I met seem really amazing. The first girl I met was named Emily Prentiss. She was really nice. The other was a guy named David Rossi.” When you finish your sentence there is nothing but silence on the other end of the phone. You wait a minute for your sister’s response but there is nothing. Before you can ask what’s wrong she chimes in again. 

“Did you say David Rossi?” There is a tone in her voice that you don’t recognize and it causes concern to stir in your stomach. 

“Yeah, why? What’s up?” There is another moment of silence. 

“It’s -- it’s nothing. I shouldn’t bring it up. You’ve already had a rough day.” As if she can sense your anxiety she continues. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I promise I’ll tell you later, okay? I just don’t think we should talk about it right now, that’s all.” As much as you want to pry you can tell that no matter how much you ask, you’re not getting the answer out of her. With a sense of unease you agree and try changing the conversation again. Once you’ve changed the topic to something other than work you can feel her ease again and the two of you talk for nearly 45 minutes. After a while you decide to call it a night and shortly afterwards you find yourself in bed. You hadn’t even realized how exhausted you were until your head hit the pillow. Your sleep is dreamless which you decide in the morning is probably a good thing. 

++++++++++

The remainder of the case is spent hunkered down in Garcia’s office either doing frantic research or simply getting to know one another. In just a short while the two of you become very fast friends. You realize quickly that you share a lot of common interests and all of your conversations are endlessly fascinating. It also doesn’t take you very long to realize that you actually enjoy the work that you do with her. There is quite a bit of skill required to dig as deeply and accurately as the two of you do. It is a race against the clock to find everything you need in order to help the team and there is a certain level of excitement that comes with that. Of course you still wish you were out in the field but in the end you learn a lot and make a good friend along the way. The case ends rather succinctly with all five unsubs found and arrested with no more casualties along the way. It’s a good feeling, knowing that you helped to catch the bad guys and no one had to die for you to do so. The day the team is set to return you and Garcia head out for coffee before they show up, figuring that you deserve a little treat after all of your hard work. You make light conversation as you make your way back into the building just in time for the team to arrive. You watch them each make their way to their desks, setting down their bags and taking a moment to rest. Of course the last one to walk in is Hotch who heads straight up to his office, shutting the door behind him. 

When you feel like it’s an appropriate time you make your way over to Morgan’s desk. Upon seeing you his lips crack into a wide smile. 

“Well hey sweetheart! I have to say, you did awesome work on this case.” As he says this, he extends his hand for a high five which you quickly grant him. “I know it wasn’t easy having to sit out but you did great. I’m proud of you.” It takes everything in you not to blush. 

“Thanks. I learned a lot and I made a good friend along the way.”

“Yeah, Garcia’s pretty great isn’t she?” He says with a knowing smile.

“She definitely is. She talks about you a lot, you know.” 

“Oh, I know. Baby girl just can’t stop thinking about me. Not that I blame her, of course.” At this you lightly punch his arm. 

“You are both such teases.” This makes Morgan laugh. 

“We gotta keep things interesting.” He leans forward as though he’s about to start his paperwork but he quickly leans back to look at you. “Hey, now that I’m back we gotta go out for drinks tonight. Everyone else is already game so long as you are.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You confirm with a grin.

“Great. You know, I’d say I’m buying but I kind of feel like you owe me.” Your brow furrows in confusion.

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Well, I was trying to get some answers for you so I asked Hotch why he wouldn’t let you on the case and he royally chewed me out for it. In his defense I probably shouldn’t have asked in front of the rest of the team but that decision still just doesn’t sit right with me.” Morgan’s words mingle in your head. It doesn’t sit right with you either but it isn’t really your place to question your boss’ orders. 

“I’m sorry he got upset with you. I do appreciate you defending me though. You’re my knight in shining denim.”

“Anytime kid. I’m happy to help.” Getting to talk to Morgan has almost instantly lifted your spirits. However, it doesn’t take long for your heart to drop into your stomach. 

“Agent L/N. May I speak to you in my office please?” You hadn’t even noticed that Hotch had come out of his office until his voice drew your attention to him. With a quick look at Morgan, who gives you a reassuring glance, you push yourself off his desk and make your way over to where Hotch is standing. Once you’re at his side he extends a hand, allowing you to step inside first. He follows quickly, shutting the door behind him. “Please, have a seat.” He says, gesturing towards a leather couch on the far wall. As you begin to sit on one end he takes up residence on the other, his knee just inches away from yours. Once you’re both settled he focuses all of his attention on you. He doesn’t seem angry but you aren’t holding your breath. It’s best to just stay professional and speak with him earnestly. 

“I’m glad to see you all back safely sir.” You begin. After the stress of the case, you want to make sure he knows that as hurt as you were by his previous decision you harbor no ill will towards him. 

“Thank you. It’s not very often that cases end as well as this one did. You understand that, don’t you? This was a special circumstance.” 

“Yes, I realize that. I’m just grateful that it did end happily even if it was just this once.” There is an intensity in the way he watches you.

“Good. I just want to make sure you fully know what to expect.” 

“I do sir. I did the day that I applied for school. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Staying silent for a moment he nods as if in thought. 

“I know before I left I said we would be able to talk. I’d like to learn a little bit more about you and from there I’ll be able to evaluate your abilities before taking you into the field. I know it wasn’t the decision you were hoping for but I hope you understand it nonetheless.”

“Of course. It’s not my place to question you and in the end I learned a lot from Garcia. Plus she was nice to work with.” 

“Good. I’m very glad to hear that you were able to make the most of the situation.” He stops for a moment, his gaze relaxing. “I wanted to tell you how well you did on this case. A challenge was presented to you and you handled it with grace. The information you provided was incredibly helpful and your suggestions were very well thought out. I was very impressed.” The softness in his eyes as he praises you leaves a fluttering sensation in your stomach. Throughout the entirety of the case you had been so hell bent on proving yourself to him and hearing him say that you had done well made every hour of hard work worth it. As much as your heart is singing you have to remind yourself to be calm. Even though he is being kind to you now, he had made his feelings known to you during your first meeting. There is no reason to read into things. Clearly he doesn’t feel what you feel. 

“Thank you sir. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed when I was left behind but I realized that I’m grateful to be here no matter what. I worked really hard to get here, to be doing this kind of work, and not everyone gets the chance to do what they’re truly meant to be doing. As heartbreaking as the outcome of this job usually is, I can’t imagine myself doing anything else.” With every word the two of you are locked into one another’s eyes. For a moment you can almost swear he is holding his breath. 

“I appreciate that sense of purpose. I will always support my team but it makes it easier with members who are invested.” 

“I am. Completely. I’m here. I know you haven’t gotten a real chance to see me work but please know that my heart is in this.” 

“That was never in question,” Hotch pauses, letting his eyes fall to his lap as he considers his next sentence. “I believe now that I made a rash decision in asking you to stay behind. I can see that you are mentally prepared to be in the field. I apologize for my harsh words. I of course can’t say anything for your physical performance yet but I won’t be able to evaluate the full extent of your abilities until I am able to watch you in the field. On the next case I would like you to join the rest of the team.” A breath of relief leaves your lips.

“Of course. I’m ready to get to work.”

“I know. You’ll have the chance soon enough. In the meantime, if you have any questions or concerns feel free to come speak with me.” 

“Thank you sir.” Hotch simply nods in response, beginning to stand. You follow his actions, gathering that he is done with the conversation. As you make your way to the door, feeling much lighter than when you came in, he stops you.

“Agent L/N,” The sound of his voice causes you to turn back. “I just wanted to say again that I’m sorry for not remembering you. I never meant to hurt you. It isn’t that you were forgettable. It’s just that a lot has happened in the last year.” This apology seems much more heartfelt than before and you try to hide a smile. 

“I forgive you, sir.” With that you take your leave, making your way right back to Morgan’s desk. The shift in your mood must be palpable because he looks up at you with a smile.

“That’s not the face of someone that just got yelled at by Hotch.” 

“No, no he didn’t yell at me. He was just telling me I did a good job and he cleared me to work in the field on the next case.” 

“Good for you, kid. I’m glad we’re finally gonna get a chance to see what you can really do,” Nodding you rest against the edge of his desk again. “Now, see? That wasn’t too bad was it?” Looking back towards Hotch’s office you can see him bent over his desk, filling out paperwork. Being able to watch him for a moment without fear of falling apart allows you to crack a small smile.

“No. I guess it wasn’t.” 

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[heliads]

Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent. 

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century. 

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.” 

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.” 

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

[thatfanficstuff]

Unexpected - Stucky x Reader

Pairing Grouping: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Steamy fluff with a dash cupful of foul mouthed Reader and super soldier. Also liberal use of sugar and baby but no sugar babies.

A/N: short fluff is no 3300+ of very steamy fluff. I’m gonna go with 16+ on this one folks. Oh, and STUCKY!!!

***

They didn’t think anything of it at first. It was just little things after all. Things that hardly warranted their attention. It wasn’t until Tony mentioned it that they began to take notice.

“Hey, Capsicle, you and tin man been sneaking off to the store without telling anyone? You could at least ask if we needed anything? I’ve been out of blueberries for days,” Tony said one night as the team sat to watch a movie.

“What are you talking about, Stark?” Steve asked with a furrowed brow.

Tony gestured at the bag of gummy worms that you and Bucky were currently sharing. “Just that you two seem to be the only ones around here that never run out of your favorite goodies. You could have stocked up for everyone. That’s all I’m saying.” He shrugged his shoulders and waved a hand through the air as if it wasn’t important, though clearly it was if he’d brought it up.  

You rolled your eyes. “Tony, you’re a billionaire. Pay someone to do your shopping and have it delivered, you big baby.”

The super soldiers on either side of you laughed and you settled more firmly into your seat between them. Tony started to say something else but Natasha smacked his arm. “Shut up. Movie’s starting.”

He grumbled which brought another smile to your face. He really was an overgrown kid sometimes. Really, you were just pleased that he’d shut the hell up. After all, if you’d wanted your crushes to know you were secretly taking care of them, you would have done it not so secretly. Liking both of them was awkward enough without them being aware of it, thank you very much.

Honestly, until that day, Steve had just assumed that Tony had someone that replenished the food in the kitchenette on their floor. True, they’d never seen anyone, but it wasn’t like it happened by magic. It was just over a week later when Steve glanced up from his drawing when Bucky walked into their living room. “Hey Buck, you didn’t do any cleaning did you?”

Bucky snorted. “There’s never anything to clean is there?”

Steve frowned. “Yeah, I noticed that to. I asked Stark if he had a service that did our floor. You know what he said?”

“I’m guessing he said no or we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Bucky answered as he sat across the table from his boyfriend.

“He asked if I wanted him to get someone in to help us out.”

Confusion caused Bucky’s brow to furrow as he leaned forward. “So, someone has been coming into our space, replacing our food and cleaning up after us and we have no idea who it is?”

“Looks like it.”

There was a stretch of silence before Bucky asked, “Why?”

***

It started when the boys were on a mission. You’d raided Buck’s candy stash for movie night and before you replaced it, you’d done an inventory and picked up everything else they were needing. It wasn’t like it took much more effort. And when you’d seen how happy they were when they arrived home to all their favorites, that was all the incentive you needed to keep doing it.

You made sure to refill their stash when they were on mission or out for training so they wouldn’t catch you. There was always the chance they’d return when you weren’t expecting it, but the odds were slim. After all, you made a living by sneaking around unseen, hence the name Shadow. The cleaning started when they were gone on a mission and you didn’t want them coming home to clutter and dust. You weren’t even sure that they noticed, but it made you happy to have something else you could do for them.

Steve and Bucky were currently on week three of a mission with Nat and Sam and you were sorting out the groceries you’d just bought while you tried to think of something special you could do for them.

“So, why do you do it exactly?” you heard from behind you, causing you to jump. The twins were in San Francisco until tomorrow so you should have had the floor to yourself.

You scowled when you found Tony standing behind you wearing his infamous smirk.

“Jumpy?”

Your cheeks heated as you turned back to the task at hand, hoping Tony wouldn’t notice at least half of your food was for the super soldiers. “Mind was just elsewhere. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering why you pamper the geriatric twins if you aren’t going to take credit for it?”

You froze briefly before finishing up and placing the boys’ food back into bags so you could carry it upstairs. Finally, you turned and crossed your arms over your chest as you leaned against the counter behind you. “I don’t suppose it would do me any good to deny it?”

He chuckled as he moved closer. “They asked me to look into it before they left. It was the complete lack of evidence that led me to you actually. Only one person I know can get around my system like that.”

“Shit.” You were a technomancer and were very skilled at making tech do what you wanted. Tony hadn’t been thrilled the first time you’d completely circumvented the tower’s security. Now he used you to test out new systems. Finally, you quit freaking out enough to meet his eyes. “Are you going to tell them?”

He tilted his head and frowned at you. “Why are you so dead set against them figuring this out? You know they won’t be anything other than grateful.”

“Because they’ll want to know why and I can’t tell them that.” Your voice was quiet but you knew he’d heard your answer.

“Well how about you tell me then, sparky?” he suggested.

You rolled your eyes at his stupid nickname as you sighed. He wasn’t the most trustworthy when it came to secrets but you were dying to tell someone. And honestly, he would probably be the least judgmental out of everyone. “You can’t tell anyone, Tony. I mean it.”

He rubbed his hands together and closed most of the distance between you. “My lips are sealed. You have my word.”

You arched a brow but chose not to comment. You closed your eyes not wanting to look at him as you made the confession. “I might possibly be just a little bit in love with them.” When you got no response you opened one eye to find Tony grinning at you as he rocked on his feet. You opened the other eye to give him a narrow-eyed look. “What?”

“I think you should tell them.”

“Not funny, Stark.”

“Wasn’t meant to be, sweetheart.” You just stared at him, saying nothing. After a few moments, he sighed. “Listen, as amusing as it might be to trick you into having that conversation with them and recording it to watch at my leisure later, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“That little admission didn’t exactly help your cause any.”

He ran a hand down his face. “I can’t tell you that I know for sure how they’ll react, because I can’t. I also can’t tell you how many times I’ve caught them checking you out when they think no one’s watching. Or how many times they’ve argued about who got to sit beside you when there was only one seat left. Or the number of whispered conversations they have that fade away when you walk into the room. And while I have had many female friends over the years, I have never suggested any of them sit in my lap unless I was trying to take things beyond friendship.”

You frowned. “I sit in their laps all the time.”

His hands went out to the side as if to say ‘see?’.

Your frown deepened as you recalled something else. “Wait, didn’t you try to get me to sit in your lap when I was still new?”

Tony chuckled and turned around to walk off. “Only proving my point, Y/L/N,” he called over his shoulder.

It was barely five minutes after he left that you gathered the bags of food to take upstairs and put away. You weren’t certain you’d survive sitting around doing nothing and there was only so much training you could stand in a day. “Protocol five, J,” you said as you stepped onto the elevator. “Super soldiers’ floor, please.”

“Of course, Miss.” Protocol five would shut down all recording devices anywhere in your vicinity until you turned it off.

You made short work of putting the food away and glanced around. Things were fairly tidy though they could use a dust and a quick vacuum. A peek in both bedrooms had you wrinkling your nose. They’d had back-to-back missions before they’d left on the current one and obviously hadn’t had time to do laundry. While the boys normally slept together, they maintained their own spaces in case one of them was having a bad night or just needed some time to themselves.

Moving into Bucky’s space, you gathered up all the laundry and threw it out into the hallway. You also stripped the bedding and added it to the pile. You put a load in the washer before moving to Steve’s room. There was more laundry there as it was the space they shared the most often. You added to the pile already in the hallway before stripping those sheets as well.

After sorting the clothes into loads, you took about half of them down to your floor and started a load there as well before heading back upstairs. You opened windows in both bedrooms to let them air out as you put fresh sheets on the beds. You dusted and straightened and vacuumed only pausing as necessary to switch out the laundry.

By the time you finished all but the last loads of laundry, their rooms looked better than they had in months and they had clean sheets to crawl into when they got home. You’d cleaned the rest of the floor as well and were heading back to your floor to take care of the last of the clothes. You had to wait a bit for them to finish drying, but then once it was all folded and sorted, you loaded up the laundry basket to put it away. You were happy you’d gotten so much done.

Apparently ignoring your feelings made you productive, who knew? Most of the clothes in your basket were Buck’s so you headed to his room first. You reached for the handle, only to have the door open on its own. Your mouth dropped and the basket fell to your feet as you ran your gaze up a naked torso to see Bucky frowning at you. He was dressed in a pair of sweats and his hair was still wet from a shower. His gaze darted from you to the basket and back as a grin crept over his face. “Fuck,” you breathed out and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I-I need to go.”

He reached out and snagged your wrist before you got more than a step. “I don’t think so, sugar.” He tugged you gently back in his direction and lifted your chin with a finger since you seemed unable to look at him on your own. “Where do you think you’re going to escape to anyway, Y/N? We know where you live.”

“I was thinking of moving to Alaska. I hear it’s nice there this time of year.”

“You hate the cold,” he said with a laugh and looped an arm around your waist.

Your heart raced and you prayed that his stupid super soldier senses wouldn’t clue him in, but who were you kidding? You’d never be that lucky.

“Oh, Steve,” he called in a sing-song voice. “I have something for you.”

“Not now, Buck. I’m…” Steve’s voice trailed off as he stepped into the hall and saw you. His ears and cheeks turned a rather adorable shade of red and you couldn’t stop a giggle at the sight. “What’s this?” he asked looking between the two of you.

Bucky nudged the laundry basket into view with his foot. “I intercepted her on her way to put away the last of the laundry.”

Steve straightened immediately. “Oh, did you?”

And damned if his voice didn’t drop a whole octave when he said it. Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. You squirmed in Bucky’s hold but didn’t try to escape. There was no point. He chuckled behind you and passed you over to Steve when he held a hand out toward you. You licked your lips as you took it and let him lead you into the living room.

He sat on the couch and pulled you down onto his lap. Bucky sat right beside him and pulled your legs onto his lap. You cleared your throat. “I can sit by myself.”

“I’m sure you can, baby,” Steve assured. “But I’m happy with you in my lap. And you like to make me happy, don’t you, Y/N?”

Oh.

My.

God.

That was not fair. Not fucking fair at all.

Steve trailed a finger up your spine, chuckling when you shivered at his touch. His finger continued it’s journey up your neck then back along its previous path as he talked. “When Buck and I were kids, there wasn’t a lot of money to go around. Less so for me because of my meds. Our folks taking care of us meant putting food on the table and mending our clothes. Sometimes there might be enough for a dime novel or some sweets, but for the most part we took care of each other.”

Bucky kept rubbing little circles on your ankle with his thumb. “That hasn’t changed much over the last several decades. You know, except when I was trying to kill him. But then someone else started taking care of us. In a million little ways we didn’t always notice. Not right away anyway.”

“But then we did notice and we started making note of everything that made us feel cared for.” Steve’s hand flattened on your back and his fingers flexed slightly as he said, “Loved.”

“So, tell us, Y/N, why did you do it?” Bucky asked.

You shrugged and stared at your hands where they twisted together in your lap. “I stole your candy and needed to replace it so I picked up some other stuff. But then I saw how happy you were when you had your favorite snacks when you got home and that made me happy. The more I did, the happier and more relaxed you seemed so I kept doing it. I like it when you’re happy. Both of you.”

“That the only reason, baby? You like us happy?” Steve asked as he trailed that damned finger back up your spine.

You jumped out of his lap and stepped back until you were out of easy reach for either of them. They stared at you in surprise and you held out a hand to stop them when they started to stand. “No. You stay put. You two aren’t playing fair.”

“How’s that, doll?” Bucky asked, his blue eyes sparking with amusement.

“You with the touching and the sugar and the arm around the waist,” you said gesturing to Bucky before turning to his boyfriend. “And you with the baby and more touching and the deep voice. It’s not fair. It’s not.” You sucked in a breath. “My entire life I’ve been attracted to the unattainable guy. Every fucking time. But this time I really outdid myself because I fell in love with not just one, but two unattainable men and they’re dating each other. I mean fuck my life. Seriously. What is that? So yes, I did all of this because I love you. Both of you. And I’ll keep doing it for the same reason and it will always make me happy to see you happy. But at the end of the day, you two have each other and I don’t and that’s not fucking fair so stop. Just stop, okay?”

Steve stood first as if afraid to startle you. He stepped forward and swept his thumb across your cheek wiping away the tears you hadn’t been aware of. His hands settled on either side of your neck as he studied your eyes for the longest time. “You’ve got quite the fucking mouth on you, baby,” he said then tugged you forward and slammed his lips onto yours.

You hesitated for only a moment, a brief stretch of time and then you let yourself go. Your Steve was kissing you and it was nothing like you’d imagined. There was nothing soft or questioning about it. It was firm, sure, and altogether fucking fantastic. His hands moved to your thighs and lifted as his lips stayed glued to yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and as he turned, his lips slid from your mouth to travel the length of your neck. His open mouth kisses alternated with tiny nips that were sure to bruise and you rolled your hips against him in response. He hissed against your skin and you smiled.

A large hand grasped your chin and turned your head until another pair of lips slanted over yours. Bucky. His kiss was dark and rich and full of promises. He shifted his body so he supported your back as his hands found the hem of your shirt. Cool metal and warm flesh contrasted against your skin as he slid over your belly and up to caress your breasts. “Oh God.” You rolled your hips again, Steve pressed against your front and Bucky pressed against your ass.

“Fuck,” Steve said as his hands tightened on your waist in an effort to still your movements.

Bucky chuckled against the back of your neck and bit at the skin there, his bite firmer, more punishing than Steve’s. “What’s the matter, punk? She pushing you to the edge already?”

“Suck it, Barnes.”

“I intend to, Rogers.”

That had you grinning. This playful love they had between them was what you wanted. Was part of the reason you fell in love with both of them. Bucky’s gaze shifted to you and he mirrored your grin. “I love you, Buck.”

His grin widened. “You hear that, Stevie? She loves me. God, that’s sexy.” He kissed you soundly then pulled you from Steve’s arms to carry you bridal style to the bedroom. “I love you, too, sugar.”

That earned him another kiss. You put your hand against the door frame to stop him before he could carry you inside. This needed to be said before you were all in bed together. You turned to find Steve with a question in his eyes. “I love you, too, Steve.”

His smile was sweet, soft. “I know you do, baby.” He placed a hand on your cheek and gave you a soft kiss. “I love you, too. Have for awhile if I’m honest. We both have. Turns out we were both feeling guilty for loving someone else and it was the same girl. Never dreamed you’d actually be ours though.” You kissed him again and it only took a moment for it to take on a rougher edge.

Bucky turned you so he could carry you into the room, causing your lips to be pulled from Steve’s. You whimpered at the loss of contact and both men chuckled. “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll have more of us than you can handle in a moment.”

You squealed as Buck tossed you into the middle of their king sized bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows and bit your lip as you looked at the two men standing before you. “Promise, soldiers?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s a goddamn guarantee.”