#it took me. longer than id care to admit to realize who she was talking about (ace)

[every-sanji]

[the-bau-quinjet]

Anything for You

So, I got this idea in my head and I wrote it. This is not the first thing I’ve written, but the first that I finished. And the first that I’m posting. Sorry if it sucks. I hope someone out there likes it. Italics indicate past memories.

Summary: This takes place after Maeve. It sort of starts a month before Spencer goes back to work but then skips a year. Reader is the newest member of the BAU. Spencer lashes out when she tries to help him, but he doesn’t realize how much she can relate to his trauma. 

warnings: angst but also a little fluff, typical CM violence (kidnapping, torture, death etc.), dark thoughts about dying, I think that’s it

Word Count: 6218

 It is moments like this that make you rethink every decision that lead you here. You are on the jet on the way back to Quantico after a particularly rough case. The team managed to save the most recent victim, but only to discover three more hidden on the unsubs property. And to make it worse, they were children. Everyone on the team keeps shooting you concerned glances, worried that you might break. It’s only fair. You are still the newbie.

 You started at the BAU one month ago to the day. Your previous position was a desk job, but you were ready to get back into field after two years of endless paperwork. Not that the entire team knows you had been in the field before. Only Hotch knows. You don’t like to talk about it. You had gone so far as to cut Hotch off to prevent him from bringing it up on your first day.

 You are counting down the floors with each beep as the elevator rises to bring you to the floor that houses the Behavioral Analysis Unit. To say you aren’t nervous would be a lie, but that comes with the territory of starting a new job. Especially a job with one of the most elite units of the FBI. It’s hard not to be intimidated.

 The elevator doors slide open, revealing the all too familiar glass doors that lead to the BAU. When you were trying to decide if switching career paths was the right decision, you found yourself staring at these doors far more than you’d care to admit.

 You walk through the doors, immediately heading for Hotch’s office. He told you to meet him there first thing this morning. You knock on the open door to draw his attention.

 “Agent L/N, please come in.” He looks up from the file he has open on his desk.

 “Agent Hotchner, I would just like to thank you again for the position.” You have to stop yourself before you ramble on about how grateful you are for his taking a chance on you.

 “Please, call me Hotch. You’re new ID was just dropped off.” He says, handing you the plastic card to put in your credentials. You take a moment to admire the way your name looks just above the words “Behavioral Analysis Unit” before sliding it into the wallet.

 “I wish we had time for a more thorough welcoming, but we just got a case. I’ll introduce you to the team in the conference room.” He rises from his desk, you following behind him to a room already full of profilers. Of course, you already know of them all, but the introductions are nice nonetheless.

 “L/N, these are SSAs Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, and Jennifer Jureau and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia.” You shake hands with each member of the team as there name is called. “Team, this is SSA Y/N L/N. She transferred from violent crimes-” You know he is going to bring up your previous field work, so you cut him off.

 “It’s an honor to meet you all.” You smiled at Hotch, trying your best to get him to move on. Thankfully, you can see in his eye that he understands why you don’t want to relieve your past field experience.

 “Actually, that’s not all. Dr. Reid is on leave at the moment, but you’ll meet him when he returns.” You nod, taking a seat next to Derek. “Garcia, you can start now.”

 The memory fades and you try to ignore the concerned glances from everyone on the jet. Yes, you were the one to find the children in the back shed, but you have techniques to handle this. You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing. It comes with the territory of undercover work.

 You are more concerned with the wellbeing of one Dr. Reid. This is the first case you’ve worked with him, but it still feels like something’s off. Granted, you don’t know why he was on leave or how long it lasted.

 After everyone else is asleep, barring Hotch who is too focused on his reports to pay you any attention, you slide down into the seat across from Spencer. He doesn’t even glance up from his book.

 “Dr. Reid?” You can tell he’s stopped reading at the sound of your voice, but it takes him a moment to actually look up at you. When he does, you can see the sadness in his eyes.

 “L/N. Are you okay?” Of course he would ask you that. You’ve known him for all of 72 hours, but he’s still concerned about you’re wellbeing. The way your heart flutters at the sentiment catches you off guard.

 “Oh, um, I’m fine. I actually wanted to check on you.” He looks startled at that, but you just push forward. “I know we only just met, and I have no idea what you’re going through, but I just thought maybe I could help.” You can see the instant you finished talking that it was a mistake. He is clearly not ready to talk about his demons, especially with a near stranger.

 “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ “No, you shouldn’t have.” His words are defensive more than anything. The words of someone who just went through unbelievable pain “You couldn’t possibly help me. Unless, of course, you’ve been kidnapped, tortured, and drugged, shot multiple times, and witnessed the love of your life being murdered in front of you just to name a few. I’m sure you have plenty of experience with that given your work in violent crimes.” The sarcasm is obvious, with violent crimes being a desk job. He mistakes the tears that spring to your eyes as pity rather than understanding. He scoffs, going back to his book while you wander back to your previous seat, trying to control your emotions.

 Spencer doesn’t know about your time undercover. He doesn’t know you experienced all of those things. He doesn’t know about the scars that line your torso or the more prevalent scars on your heart. You try not to take it personally. You’ve had years to deal with your trauma. His is clearly newer. You tell yourself over and over that he’s not angry with you, but with the world. You just happened to be the first available outlet.

 When the others wake up, they assume your red eyes are due to the case. That you are finally breaking down after a month on the job. They offer words of encouragement and promises to be there if you need to talk. They stress how you aren’t alone. They all know how you feel. You simply nod, gathering your things before heading home. You can’t help but think there is one of them who knows exactly what is going through your head. It’s the first time you’ve cried over Cameron in three months, the last time being the anniversary of his death.

 -------

 The next year at the BAU flies by. You actually feel like part of the family, knowing you could talk to any member of the team when you need a friend. Well, almost any member of the team. You and Spencer didn’t click the way everyone thought you would. Ever since the conversation on the plane, you hold back when you’re with him. It’s not that you two avoid each other. You’re just more like coworkers than family. You converse when you need to, but don’t seek each other out.

 Nobody understands why. Hotch especially thought the two of you would become close. You can see why he would think so. From your brief encounters with Spencer, you can tell he’s been through hell. Hotch was probably hopeful the two of you might bond over shared trauma, act as an anchor for each other to know you aren’t alone. Of course that required you to share your trauma with the team, which definitely has not happened.

 It’s not that you don’t trust them. It’s just that the moment hasn’t provided itself yet. First of all, you can’t just casually bring up being kidnapped and tortured for government secrets with your fiancé who was then murdered in front of you. Second of all, something in you says it would crush Spencer. You can tell he clearly still feels bad about what he said to you that day.

 You two hadn’t talked about it. It was a year later, and you still hadn’t talked about it. You would think he forgot, but he does have a rather prolific memory. Everything was fine though. Mostly. He still seemed nervous around you. Or maybe you were projecting. There is something about Dr. Reid…

 “Y/N, can I talk to you?” You were honestly surprised to hear Spencer’s voice saying those six words. Everyone else had already gone home, even Hotch. You just wanted to finish one more file.

 “Of course, what’s up?” You try desperately to sound casual, to pretend like you weren’t just thinking about him. Despite not talking to Spencer all that often, you still have a massive amount of respect for him. Watching him work is incredible. You would expect most people with his intelligence to come off as cocky, but he is somehow still so humble.

 “I just wanted to apologize. For what I said on the jet. I was in a bad place, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have said those things, you were just trying to help me, and I threw it back in your face. Also, I’m sorry it took me so long to actually apologize. I just felt so awful, I didn’t know how to bring it up and the longer I waited the more nervous I became and” “Spencer,” he looked startled at the sound of his name. Granted, you normally call him Dr. Reid or Reid when you’re feeling more casual, but still. It’s his name, why is he so surprised you’re using it? “You didn’t do anything wrong. Trust me. You were dealing with an amount of grief nobody should have to go through. I shouldn’t have tried to step in without knowing more about the situation. I’m sorry.” This is your chance. Tell him what happened to you. Come clean about it all.

 He just looks so… relieved. As if you had lifted a weight off his shoulder just by telling him you understood he didn’t mean it. Seeing the hope in his eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to put any of that weight back on him. He had just freed himself, he doesn’t need your problems weighing him back down.

 You can tell he still feels bad, but maybe now the two of you can try to move on. Maybe you’ll actually become friends. Telling him that you have indeed been through all of those things would just bring all that guilt back. For some reason, there is nothing you would rather do than protect Spencer Reid from pain.

 So, you’ve resigned yourself to never telling anyone unless you absolutely had to. You convinced yourself it was a secret you could take to the grave. Nobody needed to know.

 Until one day, they do. And that day happens to be tomorrow.

 --

 “Hello, crime fighters. This one is a doozey.” Penelope walked into the round table room and immediately jumped into the case. “Three heterosexual couples in Plano, Texas have been killed. The details are on your tablets. Be warned, it is not a pretty sight. All the victims were tortured. The men all died of blood loss. The women were drowned after multiple non fatal gunshot wounds and other various forms of torture.” You tensed ever so slightly at the description of the crimes. Hotch shot you a concerned glance, but you waved him off with a slight shake of your head. You zoned out for the rest of Garcia’s description, deciding instead to focus on every detail you could learn from the case files on your tablet.

 “Wheels up in 20.” Hotch’s voice drew you from your focus on the files. “Y/N?” You looked at him from your seat at the table, realizing everyone else had already left. “If this is too much for you, everyone would understand.” You stand, plastering the fakest smile Hotch has ever seen on your face.

 “I appreciate the concern, but there is a job to do. And I intend to do it.” There is no malice behind your words. Only a fierce determination to catch this unsub before he can hurt anyone else.

 “Alright, but Y/N, please. Let me know if you need to talk about it. The whole team is here for you.” You features soften into a genuine smile before you respond.

 “Thank you, Hotch.” And with that, you exit the room. You grab your go bag, meeting the other agents by the elevator.

 The flight to Texas is long enough that the team’s discussion doesn’t prevent everyone from catching up on sleep. While everyone else is resting, preparing to start up again on the ground with fresh eyes, you are pouring over every detail again and again. You just need to know if it’s the same people. The same people who killed your fiancé. The same people who tortured you.

 It was a day like any other. You had just gotten to the bar you were working at as a cover. Cameron was working security, you as a bartender. The mission was supposed to be simple.

 There was a domestic terrorist cell operating just outside of Plano in Addison, TX. The leader was believed to own the very bar you had gotten a job in. You were supposed to gather intelligence, and report back. You weren’t supposed to engage with the terrorist cell. It was a simple mission.

 That day, the day you could never forget, started exactly how you expected it to. The leader was supposed to be meeting with his right hand. You were supposed to learn who or what they were planning to target. You still can’t pinpoint the moment you knew something was wrong.

 Everything was normal when you clocked in. Everything was normal when you served you first few customers. Everything as normal when you walked up to the table hosting the meeting and asked if you could get them anything. Everything was normal until it wasn’t.

 You remember waking up in a warehouse. Cameron was tied to a chair across from you. He was injured, bleeding from a cut in his side. It didn’t look that bad, but there was so much blood. How could such a small cut produce so much blood?

 You had a million questions, but couldn’t form the words to ask them. You’re mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Cameron looked at you as if he knew something you didn’t. You suppose he did, given that he was awake before you. But that’s not what concerned you the most. No, it was the look of pure terror in his eyes. Pure terror, mixed with… resignation? That doesn’t make sense. Why would he be giving up?

 Finally gathering enough strength to speak, you mumble “What happened?”

 “Y/N… they know who we are. I don’t know how they figured it out, but they did. They are going to hurt me to get to you. You can’t let them, okay? Stay strong. Everything will be fine.” His words are rushed. You have a hard time following them, as if the words drift into the air, only to enter your head in a different order.

 Before you have a chance to ask any more questions, you hear a door swing open behind you. You can hear the footsteps, but can’t turn around enough to see who they belong to.

 “Do it.” You know that voice. You know you know it, but you can’t place it.

 A man appears from your left. He stands in front of you, a mask covering his face so you can only see his eyes. “Let’s have some fun.” You’re ready for him to hit you. Or cut you. Or hurt you in any way. What you’re not ready for is him pulling a knife only to walk over to Cameron.

 “No” The word is barely there. You aren’t even sure you said it out loud.

 “Y/N, don’t tell them anything. Okay? I’ll be fine.” Cameron is looking at you with pleading eyes. You both know he’s lying.

 “Your fiancé here is a liar.” The man sneers, dragging his knife down Cameron’s arm. “He will most certainly not be fine.” With that, the man plunges the knife into Cameron’s stomach. A gut wrenching scream leaves his mouth as the man moves the knife around inside his body. You try to control your reaction, but tears instantly spring to your eyes.

 “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll leave your man alone.” There’s no point. Cameron would never forgive you if you gave up information to the enemy. He’s always been a loyal soldier. Either way, deep down you know he won’t live much longer. He’s lost too much blood. You are going to have to watch the man you love die. He’s going to bleed out in front of you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

 You are shaken back to reality after the jet has landed. You slowly come to, realizing you must have fallen asleep while you were looking at the files. You can’t get the eyes out of your head now. The last time you had a nightmare was 6 months ago. Although, this was more of a memory than the usual nightmares you have.

 “Y/N/N? You good?” Morgan is looking at you with concern that hasn’t been there since your first month on the job.

 “Yeah, I’m fine. Just groggy.” You try to laugh it off, walking past him and jumping into an SUV. You’re supposed to go with Hotch to the precinct to set up, so you can avoid the rest of the team’s questions for now.

 You bury your head in the files again, trying to discern if anything feels off or if it is all too similar to be a coincidence.

 “Just answer the question. This will all be over.” Cameron is dead. You are staring at his lifeless body as the man tries to torture you to get the answers he wants.

 With all the strength you can muster up, you spit at him. “I didn’t break before and I won’t break now. Do what you want to me. You’ll never get your answers.” “Oh everyone’s got a breaking point. I’ll find yours.” With that, he storms passed you and out of the room.

 You try to inventory the damage he’s done, but it’s hard because he typically drugs you when he leaves. You’re too disoriented to remember everything. You haven’t heard anything else from the first voice, but you finally realized it was the owner of the bar.

 You are just about to drift back into unconsciousness when you hear a loud crash from somewhere in the building. You expect the masked man to come running back into the room, but instead you’re greeted with the face of the terrorist cell leader. He pulls you to your feet, mumbling about how this wasn’t part of the deal.

 You don’t have the energy to protest as he pulls you down hallways and through doors. He bursts into a large open room. It smells like chlorine, but your eyes are too fuzzy to figure out why. The lights just got so much brighter, and you can’t see. You keep slipping on the floor. The third time, you fall to the ground. Everything is wet. He’s kicking you now. No, rolling you. It all feels distant. As if it’s not happening to you, but rather you are watching it happen to someone. Like a movie.

 You hear the splash before you register the water surrounding you. You’re sinking. It’s actually quite warm. Like a comforting blanket tucking you into bed. The sounds of people yelling fade out as the water covers your head. You feel at peace as everything fades to black.

 Suddenly, the peace is gone. You can hear voices. They sound loud, but still distant. Like you are swimming and someone is trying to talk to you from above the water. But the ground is hard now. There’s loud bangs too, but you can’t figure out what they are. There’s no pattern to them, but suddenly they stop. Maybe you’ll never know what they were, oh well. You just want to get back to the peaceful darkness.

 Instead, you feel burning in your lungs and a pounding in your head. It feels like someone is punching you in the ribs. No. No. No. Where’s the peace?

 All at once, the burning liquid is expelled from your lungs and your eyes fly open. You try to spin around, to see what’s happening, but everything hurts. Your lungs are trying to fill with air. Your eyes are trying to adjust to the lights. You head is begging everything to just stop making noise. Then, darkness. It’s not a peaceful transition this time. It’s sudden, as if someone turned everything off.

 “Y/N?” The sound of your name draws you out of the memory again. You turn to see Hotch’s concerned expression. He’s parked the car outside of the station.

 You take a few deep breaths before speaking, trying to prepare yourself for what you never wanted to have to do. “I have to tell them.” Hotch nods with a grim expression on his face.

 “The team won’t judge you for keeping it a secret. We’ll all be there for you.” He tries to smile, but it’s more of a grimace. He’s too worried about you.

 “I know. It’s not me I’m worried about.” For the first time since you met him, Aaron Hotchner looks confused. It’s actually kind of funny. Although, your laughing sounds more delirious than amused.

 “Hotch, my first case with Spencer, do you remember it?” You shudder at the memory.

 “Of course. It was hard on both of you.” Your smile feels weak, even to you.

 “Well, I tried to check on him. I had only just met him, but he looked so sad. I wanted to take his pain away.” You can feel the tears coming, but you can’t figure out why. “He said unless I had been kidnapped, tortured, and drugged, shot multiple times, and witnessed the murder of the love of my life there was nothing I could do to help him.”

 You can’t bring yourself to look at Hotch. His worrisome expression will just make you feel worse.

 “You didn’t tell him.” The realization is evident in the lilt of his voice. Turning toward him, you try to explain, but he cuts you off. “He was listing trauma you’ve both experienced, and you didn’t tell him.”

 “Of course not, he would’ve felt so guilty! He already feels so guilty and he has no idea. We talked it out, you know. We were actually becoming friends, although it was hard to see from an outside perspective.”

 “You had me fooled. The two of you barely talk.” Hotch looks incredulous. You’ve never seen so many emotions on his face in one day, let alone one conversation.

 “I know. It’s still new. Honestly, it happened yesterday.” Hotch actually chuckles at that. “I think he still feels bad that my first impression was him yelling at me. He’s going to feel so guilty, and I just wanted to keep that pain away from him. He doesn’t need my emotional baggage on top of his own.” You can’t read the expression on his face anymore. You can tell he’s thinking something, though he doesn’t intend to share.

 “It’ll all work out in the end, Y/N. Reid is stronger than he looks. He’s been through a lot, but so have you. Let’s go catch this son of a bitch.” And the two of you exit the car as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

 Your nerves build waiting for the rest of the team at the station. Spencer and Derek are last to arrive. You were hoping to have a few more minutes to figure out how to tell them all about the worst moments of your life, but alas the time has come.

 Hotch clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. The conversations about theories die out as all eyes turn to him. “Y/N has a theory to share.”

 That’s one way to put it. Before you can back out, you jump right in.

 “The unsub was a for-hire torturer. I think he left the business and started killing for fun. A sadist. He enjoys the psychological torture of killing the one person you love more than anyone.” You can’t bring yourself to say another word. Spencer looks grief stricken. Everyone else is looking at you in confusion, except Hotch who is looking at you with sorrow. You can’t decide which is worse.

 “What makes you say that?” Derek is the first one to speak. He clearly doesn’t understand why you came to that conclusion. Plus, he’s probably confused that Hotch had to introduce your theory rather than just include it in the brainstorming.

 “Before I worked in violent crimes, I worked in the National Security division. I focused on domestic terrorism. We had a mission go wrong. It was supposed to be a simple, just gathering intel. Something went wrong and two agents were abducted.” You unconsciously decided to depersonalize the story. It’s something Hotch quickly caught on to, but what can he do about it? You just need to get the words out.

 “They were a couple. Engaged. The man, he died from three precise wounds to the abdomen. He bled out while his fiancé was forced to watch.” You’re grateful when Emily interrupts.

 “Did the woman drown?” The woman. You.

 “No. Well, yes. She was dead for 3 minutes when they found her. The cell leader dumped her into a pool in the building she was being held in. They caught him trying to flee the building. When they questioned him about a partner, he said he hired someone to torture the couple to get information. He didn’t know where he went. I think that’s the unsub.”

 Instantly, the team is theorizing. You stay quiet, listening. Where could he have hidden for this long? Were there more crimes in other states? Can Garcia look through unsolved double homicides that fit the signature? Before long, Derek asks the question you’ve been dreading.

 “Can we interview the agent who survived?” You’re grateful that he’s looking at Hotch when he asks. Spencer, though, his eyes haven’t left you since you started speaking. He knows. You know he knows because you can see the weight bearing down on him. You tear your eyes away from him when Hotch clears his throat to get your attention.

 “Y/N, can we interview the agent?” His tone is gentle. Hotch knows what he’s asking. Are you ready to tell them the truth? To share this pain with all of us?

 “Yes. You can interview her.” You are visibly tense, but Morgan is just confused about the interaction. Why would Hotch need to ask you for permission? Why does he sound like someone just kicked his puppy?

 “Great, when can she get here?” Of course, Morgan would ask the next logical question.

 “She’s already here.” Your voice is quiet. He almost doesn’t hear you.

 “What? Where?” He knows he’s missing something. It’ll only take him a few more seconds to put it together, but you save him the trouble.

 “Right here.” You gesture to yourself, eyes flitting between Spencer’s and the ground. The rest of the team didn’t hear you. They were still working out theories as you, Morgan, Hotch, and Spencer converse in cryptic sentences and brief eye contact. Spencer is frozen in place. Hotch was stressed for you. It’s never easy to share past trauma, let alone when you feel like you don’t have a choice.

 The realization hits Morgan so fast he almost falls to the ground. He rushes to you, pulling you into the tightest bear hug you have ever experienced. Morgan has become like an older brother to you. He always jokes about how he would beat up anyone who hurt you. You always joke right back about doing the same for him. He told you about Carl Buford a few months ago. It was also on a case. You would’ve told him everything then, but you didn’t want him to feel like you thought the two were comparable or that his trauma was somehow less important just because you’d been through some bad shit too.

 His actions drew the attention of Rossi, JJ, and Emily though. You weren’t an overly emotional person usually. Undercover work made you good at compartmentalizing, so you never really sought out someone to comfort you. The sight of you in tears, wrapped in Morgan’s arms threw them for a loop. You normally waited until you got home to go through your routine to decompress. It was easier that way. But right now, the thought of even looking at Spencer was enough to bring tears to your eyes. You just couldn’t stop thinking about him. It felt weird, to be sharing such an intimate part of your life with everyone and still be thinking about him. You had moved on from it all though. You knew how to deal with it. Of course, you still love Cameron, but you talk about everything in therapy once a week so you won’t break down like this.

 You see JJ look to Spencer for an explanation, but he’s too busy looking at you with more pain in his eyes than should be possible. He knows how it feels to see someone you love die right in front of you. He knows how it feels to try and move on from being drugged and tortured. He knows how it feels to be alone in it all. What he doesn’t know is how it feels to try and help someone through that grief only to have your own thrown back in your face. That’s what he did to you. Albeit, unintentionally but he did that. And it is so clear that he feels awful. You wish you could talk to him, but Morgan is pulling you into a different conference room for a cognitive interview that you somehow agreed to in your state of shock.

 Hotch explains the situation to Rossi, Emily, and JJ. Spencer’s guilt only pushes further down on him when he hears it all again.

 He stares at the room you’re in through the class doors of the conference room. He hasn’t moved in the ten minutes you’ve been gone. He expected JJ to talk to him first, but he was surprised to find Hotch instead.

 “Y/N told me in the car that she was scared to share that story.” Hotch starts slow, trying to ease Spencer out of his own head.

 “I would be too. It’s a painful memory to relive.” Spencer responds with a familiar tightness in his chest.

 “She wasn’t worried about herself though.” Spencer’s head jerks up to meet Hotch’s stare.

 “What do you mean? Who else would she be worried for?”

 “You.” Hotch says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. You being worried about him when you share your darkest memories.

 “Me?” Spencer practically falls out of his chair in an effort to sit up straighter. “Why would she worry about me?” Despite his genius IQ, he can’t fathom why you would worry about him in this scenario. If roles were reversed and he had to tell the story of watching Maeve die, he wouldn’t be worried about you. He slowly comes to the conclusion that he would be worried about you though. Now that he knows you’ve been through something similar, he would worry about you anytime it was brought up. Anytime anything remotely similar was brought up.

 “She told me what you said to her on the jet after your first case together.” Spencer falls into himself at the memory, his guilt pushing his shoulders down. “She said you still feel guilty about it. That hearing the things she has been through would push all that guilt back to the surface. More than anything, she wanted to protect you from more pain.” Hotch seems to know more than he’s saying, but Spencer is too shocked to profile him.

 “But, I, how would, but…” Spencer is muttering the beginning of every thought running through his head, but he can’t seem to form a complete sentence. “Why?”

 “You’ll have to ask her.”

 --

 Between your cognitive interview and Garcia’s sleuthing, the team find the unsub rather quickly. You stay at the station when the team goes to catch him. You try to protest, but Hotch, Morgan, and Emily stare you down until you concede. Really though, it was the concerned look from Spencer that convinced you to sit down and wait. The case wraps up quickly after that. The masked man ended up being Kyle Beckett. A classic sadist.

 It brings you more closure than you would have imagined to know he will be locked up for the rest of his life. You spent a lot of time in therapy trying to cope with the fact that he was never caught. And now, it’s over. You’re also extremely grateful you didn’t have to face him, although you would never admit that you were actually glad to stay behind. They can all tell though. They are profilers after all.

 You can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu at all the stares you’re getting on the jet. It’s as if time itself was rewound to a year ago. You feel like the newbie again. Getting ready to have a heart to heart with Spencer. You’d be blind not to notice the parallels of the two situations when Spencer slides into the seat next to you on the jet after everyone else falls asleep.

 The silence is comforting at first, but quickly becomes unbearable.

 “Hi” You have a sleepy smile on your face when you say it. You are unbelievably exhausted after everything that happened. Too tired to fully conceal the emotions you know you have been denying. You’re always happy when you talk to him, even if the occurrences are a bit far and few between compared to other members of the team. “You look sad.”

 His mouth actually twitches upward at that statement, which you count as a win in your book. “You’ve been through hell on this case, and you’re still worried about me.” You can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s too good at hiding his thoughts inside that big beautiful brain.

 “I’ve always worried about you. Ever since I met you. You just looked so sad and I wanted to make it stop.” You aren’t thinking before you speak anymore. Probably why Spencer suddenly looks so surprised.

 “Is that why you didn’t want to tell me?” Now it’s your turn to look confused. How did he know that? “I may have talked to Hotch earlier…” It takes longer than you’d care to admit for you to understand what exactly Hotch told him. But still, you’re too tired to be bothered.

 “I’m sorry if that was weird for you. It’s just, after we talked about it I thought maybe we could eventually be friends or something. I didn’t want you to be sad again. I know what it feels like to be sad. I also know what it feels like to be sad again when you realize someone else is sad for that same reason.” You must actually be exhausted because it feels like you’re talking in riddles. “Sorry, that doesn’t make sense. I just mean, I didn’t want you to feel bad about it again. I didn’t want you to feel more pain” You’ve started leaning toward him, about ready to pass out.

 “You’re incredible. You truly are amazing. I don’t think a day will go by where I don’t feel awful for what I said to you, but maybe with enough time I can make it up to you.”

 “I would like that.” You smile brightly as you look into his eyes. They seem sad still, but there is a brightness there that wasn’t there before.

 Spencer doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he lets you lay down in his lap as you drift off, the soothing feeling of his hands in your hair lulling you to sleep.

 You wake up as the jet touches down. The memories of your conversation with Spencer bring a smile to your face. He looks down smiling when you shift in his lap.

 “Thank you” You’re not surprised he still feels like he needs to thank you.

 “I would do anything for you Spencer Reid.” You get up to collect your belongings, turning back only when you realize he hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch.

 “Spence, let’s go.” Spence. He likes the sound of that. Maybe, just maybe the two of you will be okay. 

[pufflyhallows]

Getaway

Gif not mine

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Business is going bad after the war and Fred is not feeling so great, so you decide to cheer him up with a special trip.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, language, tiny tiny bit of angst, still fluffy tho

a/n: this is my FIRST smut EVER so... be nice? also, Fred fucking LIVES bc I’m in denial forever lol

Word count: 4,3k

********

You wanted to surprise Fred.

He had been feeling down lately. Ever since he and George reopened the shop after the war, things had been a little tough. The movement was still quite slow, given the fact that people were still recovering from the war, mourning their lost ones and starting new lives. It was a difficult time for everyone, and of course it affected Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes as well.

What ached your heart the most was the fact that there wasn’t much you could do to help him. Every day you watched as he took longer to get out of bed in the morning, how he sounded slower and quieter when talking to you and, the worst part, how he acted quite mechanic when doing his chores around the shop, the same ones he enjoyed so much in the past and had always gotten done with a bright smile on his face. And although he never stopped caring for you or being loving to you, the bedroom had become… inactive. And you missed it. You missed being intimate with your boyfriend, but every time you tried to initiate it, he would softly decline, claiming to be too tired. You believed it. You could see he was indeed exhausted. And not only physically, but mentally too. Perhaps the latter was actually the one weighing more.

George, however, was quite the opposite. He kept his optimism high and was always the first to wake up every morning, excited with the new day and new possibilities. He would often go out and promote the shop, talk to people and sometimes even manage to bring a customer in.

This big difference between them worried you. No, you did not expect the twins to act the same, but you hoped in secret that Fred would follow his brother’s steps and cheer up a bit.

Cheer up. Yeah. That was exactly what he needed. And what better way to cheer up someone than a surprise trip? That’s how you were going to take his mind off of work. With Hermione’s help, you planned a very romantic weekend trip out of town. You talked to George beforehand, of course, but he assured you he could take care of the shop by himself for two days. He agreed Fred needed this.

“It’s not like we’re getting many customers anyway,” he had said.

So, as Friday approached, you felt the excitement building up. You managed to act completely nonchalant around him, making sure he didn’t suspect a thing. It wasn’t a big, expensive hotel because you knew he would worry about money and that was the opposite of what you wanted for this trip. Hermione had helped you pick a small, comfy hotel that was quite charming and fit your pocket perfectly. You wanted to make sure Fred felt loved, cared for and relaxed. There was also a little extra surprise inside your suitcase that you really hoped he would like…

What you didn’t know was that Fred felt guilty. He reckoned he hadn’t been the boyfriend you deserved lately, but he couldn’t help it. The stress was almost eating him alive and his mind was always wandering back to the shop, worrying about its future. You had been so kind and patient with him, he knew you deserved better than that. The whole thing was snowballing and sometimes he couldn’t see it ending.

That Friday, when you got home from work, the shop was still open and there was actually a customer inside, talking with George. You felt relief wash over you, because you knew what that meant: Fred was probably in a good mood.

You walked straight to the flat, not daring to interrupt George, but you stopped in the middle of the stairs to watch. He was speaking with such enthusiasm, showing and explaining his products to the young boy, that it filled you with pride. You caught his eyes for a brief moment and noticed the smallest of smirks appear on his lips. Smiling back, you nodded at him. Fred was nowhere to be seen, though, so you went upstairs.

There was a delicious scent coming from the kitchen. The older twin was there, cooking. You smiled to yourself at the sight. His favorite The Weird Sisters record was playing somewhere in the flat, adding a familiar, comfortable feel to the whole scene. Fred’s back was facing you while he chopped… carrots? on the counter. He didn’t seem to notice your presence just yet, so you took advantage of that. Placing your bag on the nearest chair, you walked in quiet steps towards your boyfriend. The fresh mint aroma coming from him meant he had probably just showered. Oh, and how you missed showering with him.

You couldn’t refrain your smile from growing even bigger once you noticed Fred’s body was swinging from side to side, so imperceptibly that you almost missed it. Carefully, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek on his back. You felt him tense up for a mere second before realizing who it was. He soon relaxed, letting go of the knife and placing his clean hand on yours.

“Didn’t hear you coming in,” he stated, voice low and raspy.

You hummed in response and placed a soft kiss on the nape of his neck. Fred turned around and briefly met your lips with his.

“It’s gonna take a while. Why don’t you go take a bath?”

“I will,” you nodded, running your hand from his chest to his shoulder and squeezing it gently. “How was your day?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay”, you repeated. “Well, I hope I can make it better. I have a surprise for you after dinner.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes. I have an idea of how we can spend your days off.”

“Hm… Making plans already, are we?”

“Very good plans, yes. But you’ll have to wait until dinner.”

“Or you could tell me right now so I won’t have to.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

You smirked and gave him another peck on the lips before rushing off the kitchen and leaving your boyfriend to his curiosity and imagination.

The warm bath made you think about a lot of things and you came to realize you were very lucky. The war was over and there you were, taking a bath in your boyfriend’s flat, the person you loved the most in the world. So many people lost their loved ones, their homes, their entire lives in that war. You knew you had many reasons to feel happy and should not take them for granted. Life was good for you right now, and you acknowledged it, promising to yourself that you were going to enjoy it the best you could, with Fred by your side.

George joined the two of you for dinner, which turned out to be the best you had in months. Not because of the food, although it was perfect, but because it felt like everything was back to normal, like all the meals you had shared before the war. Maybe it was the idea of a day off and the mention of a surprise from you, but you could see that Fred was already less gloomy or aloof.

After the meal, as if sensing you wanted to reveal your plans to Fred, George excused himself to his bedroom, claiming he still had to finish some work. You wished him goodnight, not missing the discrete wink he gave you.

“So…” you started, watching as Fred emptied his glass of pumpkin juice. “Remember when I said I had an idea on how to spend your days off?”

“Oh, yes. The surprise.”

“Well… I figured you could use a little rest from everything, so I made a reservation at a very nice hotel for the two of us to spend the weekend at.”

“You what?” Fred asked, a small smile starting to grace his lips.

“The portkey is set for our departure at 10 a.m. tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Nope. No buts,” you shook your head. “I have already packed our bags.”

“Y/N, doll, I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me I’m amazing, the best thing that ever happened to you, an angel sent from heaven…  Something humble like that.”

Fred chuckled, that contagious sound you missed hearing so much. “You’re amazing. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, a true angel sent from heaven.”

“I know! We’re gonna have so much fun,” you smiled excitedly, clasping your hands together.

“What exactly are your plans for us, though?” your boyfriend questioned, curiosity dripping from his lips.

“Oh, you’ll find out once we’re there.”

“The surprise doesn’t end here, I see.”

“Exactly. I have everything planned, baby.”

The look in Fred’s eyes seemed to indicate he had an idea of what you had planned, but he did not say a word about it. He would like to see the surprise reveal itself in the right moment. He wasn’t going to spoil your plans in any way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You always had your doubts when it came to ads, but this time you had to admit this was spot on. The hotel looked exactly like its pictures and descriptions.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?” the receptionist asked as soon as you stepped in the lobby.

It was something so small, so simple, but it made your heart flutter and stomach fill with those restless butterflies. Mrs. Weasley. Were you ever going to become that? You wondered if Fred even noticed the little misunderstanding.

“Um,” you cleared your throat. “Actually, it’s just one Weasley. Fred Weasley. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your slight flustered manner didn’t go unnoticed by Fred. Despite the obvious nervousness, he thought it was rather cute. In fact, he liked to hear you be called that. Perhaps he should do something about it…

“Oh, I apologize. Mr. Weasley and Miss Y/L/N,” the receptionist corrected herself as she checked the reservation’s book. “You’re right on time, your room is ready for you. I just need your wands for ID confirmation before I give you your key.”

Both of you handed your wands to the young woman behind the desk and she did as she was supposed to. Sooner than you had anticipated, you were in the lovely suite you had reserved.

Fred placed the small handbag on the bed – blessed be the extension charm, that’s all you had to carry for that trip – and walked around the room curiously. You went straight for the big window and opened the curtains. There it was. The view you had seen on the ad and that had made you instantly choose this hotel.

“Fred,” you called softly, looking behind you. “Come see.”

Your boyfriend let go of the catalog on the nightstand and approached you, eyeing the outside in awe.

“Wow,” he breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?”

When making the reservation, you were met with the question: would you like a room with view to the street/village or to the beach? And you chose the beach, although the village was a lovely sight. Now, seeing Fred’s reaction, you were absolutely sure you had made the right choice.

The hotel was in a small village where both wizards and muggles lived. With a little help from magic, the wizards could go unnoticed and the muggles lived everyday life without a single clue of the existence of such peculiar neighbors. The beach was right behind the village, and your room being in the back of the hotel, you had a wonderful privileged view of nature’s beauty.

“Wanna go down there?” you asked.

“What’s in your plans?” he asked back, switching his gaze from the window to you.

“Beach,” you replied with a small smile. “Basically the entire day at the beach, lunch at a muggle restaurant down there too. But dinner here.”

“I’ll follow your script, doll.”

Fred placed his hand on your waist and pulled you closer, pressing his lips ever so gently on yours. You instantly let go of the curtains so you could run your fingers through his soft hair. The light fabric fell back to its place, covering the windows again and leaving the room a little darker than before. Fred’s gentle kiss wasn’t so gentle anymore.

No, not yet.

You broke the kiss and pulled back, biting your lip as you started to feel that you might not be able to wait until the right time for your surprise.

“I’m starving,” you whispered against his lips.

“Me too,” he pulled you closer again.

“Let’s go, then.” You managed to get out of his embrace and grab the handbag before heading to the bathroom to change into your bathing suit.

A hungry Fred was left standing by the big window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been hard.

It had been hard seeing you in so little clothing, dripping wet, skin glistening as droplets of water reflected the sunlight. But Fred managed.

All he had in his mind every time he saw you leaving the water was how he wanted to take you then and there. He had to distract himself from those thoughts, paying attention to what you were saying but not too much to your moving lips. He knew you had something planned and he was appreciative of how much effort you had put in this weekend for him. That was the only reason he wasn’t indulging to his not-so-pure thoughts.

Lunch was a good distraction too, specially since you had to convince a muggle child she had imagined it when she saw Fred stop his falling fork mid-air.

Now, as the two of you walked hand in hand back to the hotel, he wondered if he was going to be rewarded for the self-control test he had just passed. You were humming a song as you observed the houses, trying to guess which ones were muggles and which ones were wizards.

“What’s next?” he asked.

“Dinner!” you answered excitedly. “But, if I were you, I wouldn’t go overboard.”

“Why, if I may ask?” but Fred already suspected why.

“Well… there might be plans for after dinner as well.”

Fred held your hand tighter and pulled you towards the hotel in a faster pace. You chuckled, feeling the excitement grow bigger and bigger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dessert?” the waiter asked as he took the empty plates from your table.

“No, thank you,” Fred replied before you had the chance. “We’re calling it a night, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

“Actually,” you smirked at your boyfriend before looking at the waiter. “I’d like chocolate pudding, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As soon as the waiter left, Fred gave you a look.

“What?” you asked nonchalantly.

“I thought you said we wouldn’t go overboard.”

“I’m not going overboard. I had a small plate,” you shrugged.

“Right,” Fred sighed, bouncing his leg under the table.

When your chocolate pudding came, you grabbed the spoon and took a small amount to your mouth. Fred watched your every move, arms crossed and brows slightly furrowed as he saw you slowly lick the spoon. You pretended you didn’t know he was watching, eyes on the tiny bowl in front of you, and you mouthed another spoon, unintentionally getting pudding all over your lips.

Your boyfriend gulped as he watched you run your thumb over your lower lip, getting rid of the chocolate there, and gently suck on it.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,” he mumbled.

“Hm?” you looked at him innocently.

“Just eat the damn thing.”

“You want some?” you raised the spoon at him.

“Yes, I want some.”

You felt your cheeks burn just a little bit with his remark, heart begin to race as the ideas for what you wanted to do to him tonight started to flood your mind.

“If you wait patiently, you might get what you want,” you teased, looking back at the bowl and already serving another spoon, which you quickly brought to your lips, licking all the content off of it.

Fred shook his head, one corner of his lips going upwards ever so slightly, eyes glued on you.

“You sure you don’t want to taste it?” you offered again, lips glistening as you cleaned them with your tongue.

“I will taste it,” his eyes pierced through your body and suddenly the hotel was too hot.

You had barely served the last spoon of pudding when Fred stood up and let the waiter know you were headed to the room.

“I haven’t finished yet,” you protested and he immediately took the last spoon from your hand and into his mouth.

“Now you have,” he said as he pulled you from the chair.

The way back to the suite felt much longer than it actually was, but as soon as you reached the door, Fred’s lips were on yours. You had trouble to get the key with your boyfriend’s hands all over you, pulling your body hard against his.

“Fred,” you breathed, stepping back. “There’s another surprise.”

Before he could say anything, you unlocked the door and went inside.

“Sit down,” you slowly pushed him to the bed. “And close your eyes.”

Fred complied with no protests, but you could see he was getting flustered, probably guessing what was coming.

You blew out most of the candles illuminating the room and left only a few to create the romantic atmosphere you wanted. You went to the bathroom and changed into the expensive lacy lingerie you had bought for this exact occasion. It was red, a color you had learned Fred was very fond of when it came to this kind of clothing, and had one small, delicate bow right between your breasts.

“Are your eyes closed?” you asked from the bathroom, hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah,” you heard in response.

“No peeking ‘til I tell you to,” you warned.

“…‘kay.”

You opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. Fred was still sitting on the bed, one leg bouncing impatiently, and a slight frown between his eyebrows.

Slowly, you approached the bed and stood right in front of him.

“Open your eyes,” you whispered.

As soon as he did, Fred sucked in a shaky, quiet breath. He eyed you from head to toe, not hiding his astonishment.

“Baby,” he mumbled in a deep voice, already feeling his pants get a little too tight as his eyes still traveled through your entire figure.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“Good,” you smiled, placing your hands on each of his shoulders. “Now let me show you how proud I am to be your girlfriend.”

Your lips met Fred’s in a slow, deep kiss as you climbed the bed and straddled him, your arms thrown around his neck. Fred let out a soft moan when he felt your weight against his lap, his hands going up your back, fingertips sending shivers down your spine as they searched for the bra clasp. However, you stopped them and placed them back on your hips.

“Not so fast,” you whispered against his lips.

Before he could protest, you kissed him again, now pushing him all the way back to lay down on the bed. Hovering above him, you started pulling up his shirt, which he quickly got rid of for you. You chuckled. Maybe you weren’t the only one who had missed this.

Now that you had free access to his torso, you began to place soft, wet kisses on his neck, slowly moving down to his chest and stomach, painfully taking your time.

You could feel Fred’s breathing get deeper and deeper as you kissed his abs, working your way down to his pants. Once there, you stopped the kisses for a brief moment, so you could focus on getting rid of that piece of fabric. Again, Fred quickly helped you out until you were both just in your underwear.

The sight sent goosebumps through your body and you inevitably bit your lower lip. He was already so hard, you felt the anticipation building up inside you.

You decided to torture him for a little bit – just a little bit – and carried on with the kisses, not taking off his underwear quite yet. However, Fred’s impatience was growing and he didn’t think he would manage to wait for too long. His hand found your hair and he started stroking it, running his fingers through it, a disguised way to guide your head to where he needed you the most. You realized his intentions, but you did not stop him. You let him take you where he wanted and soon your lips found his still covered length.

“Shit, Y/N.”

You smirked.

Slowly, you started pulling down the last piece of clothing until you completely freed him. He was so beautiful. You still had a silly smile on your face as you ran your tongue all the way up from the base to the tip, where you placed a gentle kiss. Fred’s soft moan reached your ears, a beautiful sound that made you even more wet.

You took him in your mouth and started sucking the tip in a slow, teasing pace, while your hand loosely stroked him. You didn’t want him to cum yet. You wanted him to last. And you were going to make him last.

Fred’s hand never left your hair, and he began to slightly pull it, asking for more. He needed more.

“Y/N,” he moaned. “Y/N, please.”

You ignored him and kept going in that insanely slow pace, taking your time. What was the hurry?

You heard a low groan, and felt him move his hips against you. You stopped.

“Behave yourself, Weasley.”

“Baby… Please.”

You smirked again, giving him one last stroke, and you let go of him.

Fred looked at you in a way you hadn’t seen in a while. His eyes were dark, full of pure lust. But also desperation and discontent with the sudden lack of touch.

You crawled on the bed until your face was right above his, and you kissed him. It was a deep, passionate, hurried kiss between two people who were eager for each other. This time, you didn’t stop Fred’s hands from going up your back and unclasping your bra. He took it off and you quickly felt his left hand on your right breast, squeezing it. His right hand, however, was going up and down your side, sending shivers through your bare skin. He rested it on your waist for a little bit before going down to your ass and squeezing it tightly. You moaned against his lips, your own impatience growing.

You only stopped the kiss to get rid of your panties, the last piece of fabric separating you from him.

Fred watched as you got off of him and started to pull it down your smooth legs. He could feel his cock throbbing at the sight of your completely naked body. You were breathtakingly, heart-racingly beautiful. He loved the lingerie, he really did, but he loved your body a thousand times more. And he would never get tired of looking at it.

When you straddled him again, skin to skin now, he thought he would cum right then and there. You smiled at him, that beautiful smile that never changed, and kissed him one more time. Fred placed his hands on your waist, squeezing it gently, as if to encourage you. Not wasting another second, you guided his tip to your entrance and slowly sank down on him, allowing him to get all the way inside you, quite easily given how wet you were.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he moaned.

Letting out your own whimpers, you placed your hands on his chest and started riding him, still slowly, still teasingly. Fred’s moans soon turned into groans, complaints. He was getting tired of the teasing, he was already on edge. He couldn’t take it anymore. With a swift move, Fred shifted the both of you so now he was on top. He started thrusting into you, quite roughly, earning a loud approving moan from you.

“Fred,” you gasped, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He kept going, pounding harder and harder, moaning as he did so.

You started kissing his neck, biting, sucking, anything that would leave a mark.

“Yes, baby,” you cried out as he thrusted even deeper.

The bed was making a discreet creaking sound that you weren’t sure if the people in the other rooms could hear. You hoped not, but honestly? Right now you didn’t care. The sound of Fred’s heavy breaths, moans, groans and whimpers were all you were paying attention to. Beautiful sounds that had the power to shut down anything else in your mind.

The rhythm he had created was sending you to heaven with every motion. His lips soon found your own again and he kissed you as if he hadn’t done it just minutes before.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m close.”

“Me too.”

As you felt your body tense, Fred came inside you with a low groan, slowing down just a tad bit. He kept thrusting, however, knowing you were about to reach your climax too. And not long after him, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you, and your body relaxed completely.

Both of you were panting against each other’s neck, your arms still loosely around his shoulders as he slowly pulled out and collapsed on top of you.

Hugging him more tightly, you felt Fred leave small kisses on your neck, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the extra-tingly sensation. You started to run your fingernails up and down his back, the other hand caressing his hair.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could hear the waves crashing on the beach, the giggling of children playing down there, and the muffled music coming from the muggle restaurant. You felt so at ease.

After a long moment of peaceful, comforting silence, Fred looked up and smiled. “I love you so much.”

You smiled back. “I love you too.”

Not bad for round one.

********

[cynical-mystic]

ZKMonth 21 Day 5 - Soulmate Marks

On the day you were born, you were given a necklace that was one half of a design. The other half was given to your soulmate. No one knows where the necklaces came from; they just appeared around the necks of infants and grew as they did. You couldn’t take them off until you met the person you were destined to be with. This made it a bit easier to find your match.

Katara didn’t really care whose necklace matched hers. Sokka, her brother, had always been obsessed with finding the other half of his.

She just wanted to live her life, get her degree, and get a good job so she could help support their grandmother.

Her necklace was half of a crescent moon with some kind of design carved into it. She didn’t have the whole thing so she couldn’t tell what the design was supposed to be. When she was little she’d drawn pictures of it trying to guess the full thing, but none of them ever looked right.

One day, as she was sitting in her Intro to Literature class, someone who wasn’t the professor walked in. She knew this class had a TA, but he’d never come to class before as most of his job was helping to grade their smaller assignments.

“Professor Wu is ill today,” he said, not looking up at them as he sorted through his materials. “I’ll be leading discussion on Darcy and Elizabeth’s refusal of their matching necklaces in Pride and Prejudice.”

He looked up and met her eyes, and her necklace grew warm.

It was as though time froze. Both of their necklaces fell from the choker position to a normal necklace length, and they took each other in.

He was good-looking despite the scar that covered half his face. He seemed well put together based on how he was dressed and the state of his bag.

But she didn’t even know his name.

Not participating in class discussion was out of character for Katara, but today she felt like it was excusable. Somehow he was still able to teach class, but she couldn’t focus.

Should she go right up to him after? Should she just ignore him and leave?

When the clock chimed the hour, he made the decision for her, packing up his things as quickly as possible and all but bolting out of the auditorium.

Suki, her best friend, put a hand on Katara’s shoulder as she stared after him.

“I saw your necklaces,” she said, gesturing to Katara’s neck.

Out of habit Katara grabbed for her pendant but it wasn’t where it usually was, as she already knew. She pressed it against her chest and found she couldn’t speak.

“So much for finding your match not meaning anything,” Suki teased. “You’re starstruck!”

“I don’t even know who that guy is!” Katara moaned.

Suki pulled out her folder for this class and thumbed through the papers. She pulled the syllabus out and handed it to Katara.

TA: Zuko Tamura.

“It even has his email,” Suki pointed out. “You could email him!”

“I’m not going to email him,” Katara said, shoving the paper back at Suki. “Did you see the way he ran out of here? He has no interest in me.”

Suki shook her head, but really couldn’t say anything to this. She’d seen him bolt just like Katara and the entire rest of their class had.

Later, Katara was studying in the quad, her books laid out around her on the blanket she kept in her bag, when a shadow fell over what she was reading.

She looked up to see Zuko, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag.

“Can I help you?” she asked cooly. “You’re blocking my light.”

“Sorry,” he said, stepping to the side. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Katara nodded her head to the open spot on the blanket and Zuko sank down, setting his bag down beside him.

“I’m sorry I freaked,” he said. “I was not at all prepared for what happened to happen.”

“Neither was I,” she admitted.

“You probably know my name already, because I’m your TA, but I’m Zuko.”

“My name is Katara.”

He nodded, recognition flashing across his face. He’d graded her papers, so he’d had some idea of who she was already.

“I just needed to tell you something,” he said, still fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag.

“Yeah?”

“I...um...I have a girlfriend.”

This didn’t surprise her. People often had significant others while they were waiting to meet their soulmates. Some people even married those who weren’t their soulmates because of various reasons.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m not interested in a relationship right now, so it doesn’t matter.”

Zuko nodded and stood up.

“I’ll see you around, then?”

“Sure.”

As he walked away, Katara wondered if they would see each other around, or if they would both avoid each other as much as she intended to avoid him.

Like she’d told all her friends and family, it didn’t matter who her soulmate turned out to be. She wasn’t interested in a relationship.

A few years after her first encounter with Zuko, Katara was a senior and working in the college’s library.

One day he came in, looking a bit frazzled, and approached the counter where she was running check-outs and checking in books.

She recognized him immediately, of course, but what she hadn’t counted on was him still wearing his necklace.

Hers was tucked into her backpack. Always close, but no longer around her neck. It was the easiest way to keep most guys away.

He looked up and stepped back when he recognized her.

“Katara!”

“Zuko.”

Her tone must have confused him, because he looked at her for a moment before looking back at the paper he had in his hand.

“I have a few books on hold from other libraries.”

“I’ll get them.”

She retrieved them from the shelf behind the counter and took his ID card from him to check them out to him.

“What are you still doing around here?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you have graduated last year?”

“I’m doing my masters in English.”

She nodded.

Finally, the books were checked out and the ticket printed. She stuck it to the cover of the book on the top of the stack and pushed it towards him.

“Here you go. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks.”

He took the stack of books into his arms but didn’t walk away.

“Is there something else I can help you with?”

“I was wondering...would you be up for coming to my place and watching anime?”

Her eyes widened.

“Are you really that desperate for a relationship? We don’t know each other at all!”

“Not a relationship,” he muttered. “I don’t really have any...any friends? And you seem nice.”

To her surprise, her heart went out to him.

“What about your girlfriend?”

“She dumped me when she saw my necklace,” he explained.

Katara nodded thoughtfully.

“Sure, I’ll watch anime with you,” she said, grabbing her phone. “What’s your number?”

They exchanged numbers and as he left the building with a friendly wave, Katara couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe being friends with her soulmate wouldn’t be all that bad.

Months later, after weeks of anime binging and laughing over stupid sitcoms Katara had loved as a child, Katara realized she’d fallen for Zuko.

Not in the passionate, the love is burning inside of me, kind of way, but a softer way. He’d slowly become the person she wanted to hang out with the most, and she found she wanted to spend even more time with him than she already did.

When she suggested moving in together, he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t you think that’s a little much?” he asked. “We aren’t even dating.”

Katara shrugged.

“We don’t have to share a room or anything. I think it would just be nice to coexist. I like being around you and want to be around you more.”

Zuko nodded slowly.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he admitted.

When she told her family they were moving in together, they were thrilled until she emphasized that they weren’t romantic in any way.

“Why are you moving in with him then?” Sokka asked. “Just because he’s your soulmate doesn’t mean you have to spend your life with him.”

“I don’t really want to spend it with anyone else,” she said, shrugging. “And I want to be around him more.”

“Do you love him?” her father asked.

“I do,” she admitted.

He nodded thoughtfully.

“I support you, Katara,” he said.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Katara was pleased when Zuko seemed to be even more similar to her than she’d thought he was. They spent a considerable amount of their free time together and engaged in a lot of physical touch such as hugging and snuggling and holding hands, but he never tried to make it sexual. Which was more than fine by her.

Eventually, though, he did bring it up.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this life we have?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well usually things would be, I don’t know, more physical?” he said. “Aren’t you interested in sex?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I was a bit worried that would be a problem.”

Zuko let out a huge breath.

“Thank goodness,” he gushed. “I’m not interested in it either, which was another reason why my ex probably broke up with me, but that’s beside the point. You make me happy, Katara, and I’m glad we can be happy just the way we are.”

She reached out and took his hand in hers.

“So am I.”

@zutaramonth​

[prongsisabadger]

TWP Chapter 33

To say Wolffe was frustrated would have been the biggest understatement in the galaxy. There he was, muscles burning with fatigue, sweat clinging to his blacks and panting like a Hutt that just took the stairs to the third floor. He hadn’t felt like this since he was a cadet, damn, even the first battle of Geonosis seemed like a breeze right now. Still, he forced himself to maintain his stance, he would be damned if they caught him slipping now. It was so infuriating, Kriari was breathing a little deeper than she usually did, she was trying to control her breathing, but that was the only indication that they had been fighting the last thirty minutes. 

He knew she was a Jedi, he knew they trained since they were children, so did the clones and they were engineered to keep up with Jedi, but the gap between their abilities was still quite large. He resisted the urge to scratch his fresh scar out of annoyance. They had been at it for a week now and he was making progress -slow, but progress nonetheless. 

Kriari slipped into her offensive stance once again. Wolffe resisted the urge to sigh. He admired her and her abilities -whether influenced by the Force or not- but he was not going to lie and say getting his ass handed to him on a platter by a teenager didn’t hurt his pride a little. Kriari moved, and this time, Wolffe could actually follow the movement, his new eye a little sharper than his original one. He blocked one strike, then the counter strike, he parried and went on the offensive. Kriari blocked his roundhouse kick with ease, using his own strength and momentum to redirect the blow and get inside his guard. 

The first time she’d done that, Wolffe had ended in the med bay with a heavily bruised rib, he knew better now. He backed away from her and created more space for him to move. Kriari wasn’t incredibly big or strong, but she was quick and she knew what she was doing. Putting some distance between them was the smartest thing to do. Once he was out of her range, he went on the offensive again, looking for an opening in her defence. And then he saw it, Kriari had left her left side open, and Wolffe respected her too much to go easy on her. 

As Wolffe’s fist collided with Kriari’s left side, all the air in her lungs was forced out. He heard the little “umph” that escaped her lips as she stumbled away from him. She looked at him in disbelief as she held her side. He smirked but he really should have kept a straight face. Well hindsight is 20/20. Something lit up in Kriari’s eyes, something only her fellow Padawans had ever seen, something her masters found both concerning and incredibly amusing in equal measure: Competitiveness. 

“Ah, shit, Commander- wait!” he said, backing up slowly as a predatory smile crept onto her face. Panic started to grow inside him steadily as the woman in front of him slipped out of her stance and started circling him like a predator, surrounding him, watching him, stalking him. 

“You landed one on me, Wolffe. Let’s see if you can do that again.”

But he never got to find out, because General Koon announced their time was over. They all had responsibilities to attend to. It was quite remarkable how the fight left Kriari the second she stepped off the ring, Wolffe definitely still had his guard up. Sometimes he forgot that, for all her emotional volatility, Kriari was still a Jedi. Granted, not a fully trained Jedi but a Jedi nonetheless, so of course she knew when to quit. 

Sometimes it felt like he knew very little about her, about her upbringing, about her culture and her relationships outside the 104th. But it didn’t really matter, he knew who she was at her core: brave, bold, selfless, loyal. He didn’t need more than that, even if the urge to know -to know her- was growing with each passing day. He wanted to be able to sit at the canteen and drink caf with her and talk, or more specifically, hear her talk. 

He was a man of few words and 80% of those were usually sarcasm, so he wasn’t one to make good conversation, but he could listen, he was very good at that. Wolffe had always been the observant type, and it was most likely the reason he had become Commander in the first place.

“Hey, Wolffe?” said Kriari beside him. “I won’t be able to train with you for a while. I’ve been assigned a mission and I don’t know when I’ll be back. You’ll train with Master Plo while I’m gone.”

Her smile was a little strained, like she didn’t really want to go, but orders were orders. The thought of her leaving with the 212th again made him more bitter than he cared to admit to himself, and once again his feelings were making his job far more difficult than it should have been.

“I guess you could give Cody my regards then..” he said as he put away his water bottle and towel before swinging the strap of his backpack over his right shoulder. 

“Oh, no, I’m not being deployed with the 212th. I was assigned an undercover mission. It’s just me and two other troopers. We’re going to Ord Anlata.”

Wolffe looked at Kriari for a moment, not really understanding why she was sharing this information with him. Did she feel guilty for leaving him again and felt like she had to explain herself? Did she simply not realize she shouldn’t be telling him this? No, it was none of those. And then it dawned on him, Kriari was nervous. But why?

He didn’t have time to figure it out, because Kriari crossed the space between them and slowly, gently, reached her hand up. Wolffe was frozen in place as Kriari’s hand caressed his jaw, his cheek, the bottom of his scar. He wondered how the yellow of her skin would contrast with his dark complection and if she could feel the stubble starting to grow. She was looking at his face so intently, like she wanted to memorize it. She was touching it so softly, so reverently it made him feel fragile. It made him feel seen.

The moment ended before he could understand what was going on. Kriari took a step back and clasped her hand behind her back. She sighed at the floor before looking up at him once again. 

“Goodbye, Commander. I hope we see eachother again. May the Force be with you.”

…

Sinker was almost done packing when Wolffe entered the barracks. He didn’t really pay him much attention, he still needed to double check his weapons were in top shape for his next mission. He had packed his new civvy clothes and fake IDs, he had hidden as many weapons among his luggage as he could without making him an easy target for scanners. He checked for ammo, then for his maintenance kit and the first aid pack Twitch had given him. He took a deep breath in. This one would be tricky. 

“Can I have a word?” Asked Wolffe beside him. 

“Of course, Marshal Commander.” answered Sinker teasingly. Wolffe had been a little reluctant when he had been promoted, but the Pack was glad for him, he deserved it. 

“None of that, this is more of an unofficial matter,” he said before sitting on the cot across from Sinker. “I have a bad feeling about this mission, the Commander made it seem like she- like you wouldn’t be coming back.” 

Now this was way out of Sinker’s area of expertise. He knew Wolffe and their Jedi Commander had a special bond, hell there was an ongoing bet on the status of their relationship. But to have Wolffe approach him about Kriari was not something he had expected.

“Well, we are going undercover and we might not be back in a while…”

Wolffe sighed.

“It’s not that, when she said goodbye- it seemed almost too final '' If it hadn’t been for the fact that his brother was voicing his concern, Sinker would have thought Wolffe was completely indifferent to the situation. If one looked at his face, the only thing they’d see was confusion and a little frustration, but not concern. 

“Maybe you should speak to her about it, vod.” Sinker let go of any pretence of formality. This wasn’t his CO talking to him, it was his brother. “The only thing I can tell you is that I will do anything to keep her safe, and so will Art. But I can’t speak for how the Commander feels, I care for her because she is loyal and kind, but that doesn’t mean we are close.”

Wolffe looked away, as if ashamed of something, as if speaking to Kriari was the last thing he wanted to do. And it was probably true, Sinker thought, they were walking a very fine line and one step in the wrong direction could prove to be catastrophic to them both. 

“Come on, Wolffe.” he said finally with a smirk and a rough pat on his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a teenager, Commander.”

“Sinker-”

“It’s Just talking, vod. Clear things up before she leaves, because if something happens to either of you, you will both regret it the rest of your lives.”

…

I stared at my folded robes, the urge to take them with me was great, but I would not be a Jedi for the duration of the mission, and as such, I would not be able to have anything that could identify me as one. Still, I would not be erasing my identity so easily, even if my clothes, my armour and my braid would not be coming with me on this journey. 

I wore robes that resembled traditional Tusken wear -with a few alterations to make them easier to fight in-, my face would be covered most of the time, and the only weapon I’d be able to use was the old rifle I’d brought with me when I first left Tatooine all those years ago. It was a jarring experience, to let go of one’s identity completely and become no one. The ego was yet another attachment Jedi were encouraged to let go of, but only few managed to do it. 

And there I was, staring holes into a few layers of clothing that had become a part of me, a part of my identity. I would no longer be Commander to the 104th and the 212th. I would no longer be an apprentice to masters Plo Koon and Obi-Wan Kenobi. I would no longer be Kriari Foreas. 

Someone knocked at my door. It was past lights out, and I would be heading out at first light. Few people knew where I was going, but they all knew I’d be leaving for a while. Whoever was out there wanted a word before I left. I should have been surprised, I really should have. But when the door opened to reveal a very anxious Wolffe, all I could think about was the fact that he was there. 

“Commander, can I have a word?” He said after a moment.

All I could manage was a nod as I stepped aside from the door to let him in. He seemed just as lost as I felt. The Force around him was anxious as well, and he couldn’t bring himself to look me in the eyes. 

“About today, Commander- what you said….”

“I apologize if I overstepped, Wolffe” I interrupted. “I just, Where I’m going isn’t exactly safe at the moment, and I wanted to make sure… I don’t know what I-”

“You made it sound like you wouldn’t be coming back.” He said, his tone slightly accusing. 

“I might not be.” 

“You will, you have to.” He insisted, finally looking at me. 

“I can’t make promises like that and you know it.” I said, almost pleading. 

I was confused, overcome with emotions I couldn’t place. Why was he here?

“Then I’ll make a promise,” he said, taking my right hand in both of his. “I will tear this galaxy apart to find you, Kriari. So make sure you come back.”

He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed my palm before placing it on his cheek. 

“I promise.”

[straight-outta-kaer-morhen]

The Rose of Temeria <Vernon Roche>

Some soft Vernon Roche mixed in the story. You can’t convince me he doesn’t have a soft side. 

She fussed with her appearance in the small hand mirror. "You look gorgeous." Ves said rolling her eyes as her friend checked her reflection for the tenth time that night. "Take a shot of liquid courage." Ves offered.

"No, he'll be able to smell it. He'll be able to blame it on the alcohol." She dismissed. 

Ves looked surprised, "thinking like a soldier tonight? So what's the game plan?"

Y/N sighed, "I'm going to get him alone, and then just say whatever comes to mind." 

"That's it? That's your plan?" Ves inquired with a raise of her brow. 

Y/N huffed, "I'm not like you Ves….the more I plan something the more it blows up in my face. It's best if I'm just as surprised as he is by what comes out of my mouth." 

A light chuckle came from the blonde, "oh how I love that honest heart of yours."

•

••

•

Luck appeared to be in her favor, when she caught him exiting the tactical tent. "Commander." She called, stopping him in his tracks. 

"Y/N." He said, turning to face her. 

"Can I speak to you about a personal matter?" She inquired.

He nodded, his eyes taking in her body language. By the chewing of her lip and the fidgeting of her fingers he could tell she was quite nervous. 

"I like you." She blurted, immediately cringing as soon as it came out. She felt like a blushing maiden with that sort of statement.

Vernon Roche raised his eyebrows at the confession. "I think you like the ide-," but she quickly cut him off.

"No, I've thought this through." She said simply. "I've been waiting years to tell you."

"This can't happen." He said flatly.

"Why, because people will talk?" Her brow furrowed, as she felt her heart slowly cracking. "I don't care what people say!" She said quickly. 

"Because you deserve better than me!" He said throwing his hands up at her stubbornness. It would be easier for him to bury his feelings if she just walked away.

"That's not true!" She insisted, surprised he would even think that. 

"What do you want me to do?" He cried exasperated. "Destroy you?"

"Yes Vernon, I want you to destroy me." Her shoulders were squared. "I want you to absolutely wreck me." 

He knew it was impossible to avoid the inevitable. This stubborn woman was determined to follow him to the ends of the earth. A free Temeria or no, it didn't matter to her. She only wanted him. 

He never believed anything could compete with his burning love for Temeria. That was until he laid eyes on the fierce, kind hearted woman before him. She was the only soul that could calm the raging storm inside him, but he fought her every minute of the way. Vernon couldn't fathom blackening her pure heart, so he was determined to keep her at arms length. 

He had to admit she was absolutely cunning. Smoldering eyes gazing up at him through thick lashes, broke the rest of his resolve. 

He found himself pulling her to him. A rough kiss found its mark. He kissed her like a famished man in the desert, drinking from an oasis. No matter how deeply he kissed her, or how tightly he held her, it was never enough. 

He pulled her into the nearest tent. Fuck all the consequences, as he hoisted her onto the desk. Markers were sent clattering to the ground, as he pushed her thighs apart. He was in no mood for taking his time. He'd held himself back for years, and tonight he'd be buried in heaven.

Her blouse tore easily as his lips trailed across her exposed skin. His hands mapping the curves of her body, and taking notes of the sinful noises she made. 

"Since you like speaking out of turn I want that filthy mouth to tell me exactly what you want me to do."

"I want you to fuck me against this desk." She said, pulling him closer by the chained medallion that adorned his neck, as she dropped into a sultry voice. "I want to see what that infamous rage of yours can really do."

•

••

•

"Y/N," a frantic voice pulled her from sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in her surroundings. The tent was smaller than hers, but it wasn't lined with cots for the sick and wounded. A luxurious pelt had been carefully tucked around her for warmth. 

It all came rushing back to her as the pleasant soreness was felt when she stirred. The table, sneaking back to Roche's tent for a slower, more sensual round.  

It was no surprise the Commander was already up, ordering his soldiers around. She slowly sat up, taking care to keep herself covered. "What is it?" 

Flustered the man quickly turned. Vernon Roche was not a man to be crossed, and the longer he lingered here with the Commander's latest conquest the higher his chances of experiencing the infamous rage the Commander was known for. "There was a soldier injured in a training exercise. He needs medical assistance." 

A small sigh escaped her lips, slow enjoyable mornings were impossible with military life. Especially when men liked to attack each other with pointy sticks. "I'll be there in a moment." She said as the soldier quickly left. 

Her body shuttered as soon as her feet touched the ground. She was half tempted to tunnel back into the nice warm cocoon of blankets. She began the tedious work of putting on her pants which included an excessive amount of hopping and shimmying of her hips to pull the tight pants over her ass. She then recalled her shirt was still in the tactical tent shredded in ribbons. She found one of Vernon's billowing shirts in the chest at the foot of the bed. She quickly pulled it on tucking the front of the shirt into the front of her pants before lacing the pants. The shirt was too big for her (petite/curvy/lean) frame. The collar kept slipping off one of her shoulders, but she decided it would have to do. She made the bed as quickly, and as neatly as she could. Before trotting over to the infirmary tent.

She set to work rolling the large sleeves up as she approached the cot. "What happened?" She inquired, taking in the large soldier who was gripping his left arm.

"The bastard sliced me, that's what it was." He gritted through the pain.

His comrade huffed, "I didn't mean to!"

"Let me take a look." She said leaning over the man to inspect the wound. Gently she rotated his arm, before pressing a cloth to the wound. It's deep, it'll need stitches." She said simply, as she reached for her suture kit. "I'll let your captain know that you shouldn't be using that arm until the stitches heal." 

"Commander wont like that." The man murmured. She took a seat next to the man as she threaded the needle. 

"I will speak to him directly then." She said simply.

"Work your magic on him, eh?" He said nudging her, soliciting a frown from her. 

"This may hurt a bit." She said pouring some alcohol on the wound. His wince in pain felt like a small amount of payback for his earlier words. 

She knew what she was getting herself into when she slept with Roche. The comments were exactly what she was expecting. Most likely the men would tease her, the higher ups may walk on eggshells around her, and look at her with a bit of disgust believing that she slept her way to the top.

She had come to the conclusion that it didn't matter what others thought. If she was happy, and if Roche was happy that was enough for her.

She quickly tied off the stitches. "I'll speak to your Captain as soon as I finish in here." She said dismissing the two soldiers. 

"Ignore them." A female voice said from the corner of the room. 

Y/N practically jumped out of her boots. "Ves, you scared me." She reasoned, relaxing when she noticed the blonde. 

"I haven't seen him this happy in years." She commented, wrapping a bandage around a minor wound. 

Y/N leaned against a table, "I hadn't seen him this morning." She admitted.

Ves smiled, "well I believe he'd be very disappointed to miss you in his shirt." 

A small blush bloomed on her cheeks, "I didn't have any other options…" 

A light laugh was pulled from Ves's lips, "and you don't think that was tactically planned?" 

Y/N's eyes light up with understanding at Ves's words.

"Roche is always plotting, he's very good at getting exactly what he wants." She said with a shrug. She gave Y/N's shoulder a friendly pat as she exited the tent. 

Ves was right. Y/N was almost positive no one had seen them last night. He'd pulled her to his tent. He wasn't so love drunk that he wouldn't have realized her tent would have been less suspicious. Someone had told that soldier where to find her this morning. If she wasn't mistaken then Roche wasn't planning on this being a one night thing, or some secret affair. Vernon Roche wanted everyone to know who she belonged to. For who would dare cross the Commander of the Blue Stripes?

She couldn't deny that this was exactly what she wanted. A relationship with the man, but she felt foolish that it never crossed her mind that he could be so cunning both on and off the battlefield. He was an intelligent man, and she felt like a foolish girl who followed her heart wherever it deemed to carry her. 

"I can hear you thinking from over here." Vernon's voice cut through her train of thought. 

"You and Ves really should announce yourselves." She said with a frown soliciting a chuckle from him. 

He was quick to take her in his arms again, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. His eyes flickering down to the shirt exposing her shoulder. Calloused fingers ran across the soft skin. "I knew you'd look absolutely sinful in this." His voice murmured. 

"Vernon?" Her voice came soft.

His eyes flickered up at her, flooded with concern. "Is everything alright?" He inquired. "No one has given you trouble have they?" His eyes instantly burning with the need to fight and protect. 

"Just some teasing," she admitted before quickly continuing on. "Nothing I can't handle." 

His eyes softened a little at her words, "then what's the matter?" 

"You're so cunning, intelligent, and I'm just...me." She said softly. "I worry one day you'll realize I'm just a foolish woman, who follows her heart too easily." She said looking away. 

"Having a soft heart in a cruel world is very rare," he said, turning her to look at him. "I try to make Temeria a better place with my plotting, and fighting, but you..." He paused to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "You use that sweetness to soften the hearts of men." He said simply. "I've watched many take advantage of that sweetness, but to remain kind after being hurt is a different kind of courage." 

A shy smile crossed her lips, as she pulled him in for a kiss. "Vernon Roche, I had no idea you were the romantic type." 

"I have something for you." He said reaching into a large pouch at his side. He pulled out a small bundled cloth. He unwrapped the cloth revealing a short stemmed rose. Yellow stained the delicate petals. Her eyes widened as she picked up a soft flower. Its petals still fragrant. As she inhaled its sent her eyes flutter shut for a moment. 

He scratched the back of his neck, "I've always thought of you as the rose of Temeria." A bashful, boyish look came over his features. "I saw it while I was training this morning." He rambled on, his cheeks slowly flushing. 

A warm smile graced her lips. The thought of the Commander cutting a flower, and then taking his time to delicately wrap it gave her butterflies. She cut off his rambling with her lips. 

"Y/N, oh!" A couple shoulders echoed. "Commander, I'm so sorry." They said quickly, standing at attention. 

"Meet me at my tent tonight." Vernon murmured against her ear, before pressing a quick kiss to her jaw. 

"At ease soldiers." He said passing them by, leaving whatever medical mess for Y/N to look after. She placed the rose in a narrow necked bottle, before turning to the men. "What have you gotten yourselves into this time?"

[katsukiscaramel]

nights like these

Pairing: Midoriya x Reader

Summary: Growing up sometimes means saying goodbye to people who you thought would be in your life forever. But, you’re determined to keep your friendship with Midoriya intact, no matter how distant you two grow. 

Song: Nights Like These by Will Jay

Note: I’m at 69 followers and i can’t stop cackling (yes, I’m aware that I have the emotional maturity of a middle schooler). Anyways, thanks again for the love! Hope you enjoy, and remember feedback + comments are always appreciated!

“We’re still going to keep in touch, right?”

Your eyes snapped away from the mesmerizing sunset, focusing on the green-haired boy sitting next to you. The orange and yellow hues of the setting sun gently hit his face, creating a calming aura around him. But the look of slight worry etched onto his face said something entirely different. 

For a moment you blankly stared at the boy sitting next to you, trying to figure out where that question had come from. 

“Of course we are Izuku,” you said as you gently nudged his arm. You saw the boy slightly relax at your words, feeling relieved by the reassurance. Your eyes sent him a questioning look. “Where did that question even come from?”

The boy ran his fingers through his wild head of green hair, letting out a soft sigh.

“Well, we’re graduating from UA soon,” he began as his eyes glanced over towards you. “And I feel like eventually we’ll get so busy, we’ll hardly see each other.” 

He stared at you, waiting for some sort of response. Rather than getting an intelligible answer, all he could hear was your uncontrollable laughter.

“Hey! Quit that out! I’m being serious,” Midoriya mumbled, quickly looking away from your laughing form as his cheeks heated up with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry!” You managed out, calming down your laughter. “I just expecting something more serious--”

“I am being serious!”

You took a moment to looked over toward Midoriya, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Listen here Midoriya,” you began, quickly gaining the boy’s attention. “It doesn’t matter if we’re both extremely busy. Or if we’re a million miles away. Or if you annoy me too much with the weird ramblings you have with yourself. I promise you,” you stuck out a pinky towards him, “I pinky promise you that we’ll always keep in touch, no matter what.” 

Midoriya looked at you, the slight frown on his face shifting into a smile.

“That’s so cheesy.” 

“Shut up and accept the pinky promise.” 

Midoriya lifted up his hand, gently latching his pinky with yours. You gently shook your locked pinkies up and down, a satisfied smile forming on your face. Letting go of his hand, you moved closer towards him, the two of you quietly watching the setting sun, enjoying each other’s company. 

It was a promise meant to last a lifetime, only now it was nothing more than a broken reminder that nothing truly lasts forever. 

The drift between the two of you was slow, almost falling undetected. You were both so preoccupied with all the things happening in your lives, you just became too busy for each other. And it wasn’t as if you two didn’t care about the other, quite far from it actually, it was just simply a consequence of growing older. 

You didn’t even begin to notice the distance between the two of you until weekly movie nights filled with sleepy laughter and fluffy warm blankets became quick apologies on why either one of you couldn’t make it. You didn’t notice until those random yet endearing conversations that dragged on until after midnight became conversations full of empty repetitive words and awkward silences. You didn’t notice until daily conversations shifted into weekly phone calls, gradually turning into monthly texts sent more as a formality than anything else. You didn’t notice until you saw Midoriya’s face for the first time in months, not in person, but on a TV screen on the streets as you were passing by, finding yourself shocked by how much he had changed. 

You didn’t notice how far the two of you had strayed from each other until you found yourself watching the sunset alone, the bright yellow and orange hues no longer bringing warmth, your eyes constantly trailing beside you in search of the familiar freckled face you longed to see; a face that never seemed to be around anymore. 

And by the time you did notice how far you two had grown apart, it was too late to do anything about it. 

Attempts at starting conversations again fell short, never quite having the same energy as they once did. Plans between the two of you always ended up being canceled, work managing to drag one of you away. Even the texts you two had sent each other soon became nothing more than repetitive conversations, the same sequences of “hello, how are you?” over and over and over again. 

It took you a year for your determination of rekindling your friendship to fade away. It took you a year to realize that maybe you did end up losing your best friend, and there was nothing you could do about it. It took you exactly one year full of one-sided attempts to come to the heartbreaking conclusion that maybe, just maybe, Midoriya didn’t care enough to try as hard as you did. And so, you gave up on trying. After all, you couldn’t fix something that wanted to stay broken.

There was that bitter acceptance that the distance between you and Midoriya was only going to grow, the two of you never going back to what you once were. But even through the acceptance, it didn’t make your broken heart hurt any less. 

With the absence of Midoriya in your life, you had realized there was no reason for you to stay in Japan anymore. Deciding there was nothing holding you back, you accepted a job offer out of the country, wasting no time packing your bags and leaving. 

It had been years since you had left. Years since that moment you spent with Midoriya watching the sunset, promising to be by each other’s side forever. 

Though you had gone back to Japan many times, never once had you visited Midoriya. As you found yourself back home again for a week-long business trip, fate seemed to have different plans in store for you. 

Your feet had barely exited the airport before your phone started ringing. Fumbling with your bags, you reached into your pocket, fishing out your phone. Your eyes barely glanced at the caller ID, the ringtone already giving away who was calling.

“Hey Uraraka, what’s up?” You asked, attempting to hail a cab without dropping all your bags.

“Hey Y/N! You’re in Japan, right?” Uraraka asked, surprising you. 

“I only landed like half an hour ago, how’d you find out--”

“Don’t worry about it! Hey listen, some of us from Class A are having a get together at a bar tonight. Can I count on seeing you there?” Her words were fast and excited, almost jumbling into an incomprehensible mess.

“Well, Uh-- I just landed and--”

“Deku will be there.” You couldn’t deny how your heart twitched at the mention of his name. It had been months since you thought of him, years since you’ve seen him, and yet you couldn’t help but still miss him. 

“Is that supposed to change my mind?” You asked, finally managing to catch a taxi. Balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder, you opened the trunk of the car and placed your bags inside.

“I know you two haven’t talked in a long time, but you were best friends! Don’t you think it’s about time you two finally talked?” She asked. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you miss him and you know it.”

You let out an irritated groan, fully aware of the point she had made. You opened the taxi door and got inside, silently contemplating your options.

“Okay fine I’ll go.” You mumbled out, wincing at the excited squeal your friend had let out. 

“Great! I’ll text you the address, see you there!” Before you could respond, she ended the call. Sighing to yourself, you told the driver the address to your hotel before closing your eyes, hoping to get as much sleep as you could. 

And that’s how you found yourself in a crowded bar, seeing familiar faces you haven’t seen in so long, catching up with friends, and laughing at jokes until tears started building up in your eyes. But, even while you were surrounded by so many friends, you couldn’t help but feel like something, or someone, was missing. Every once in a while, your eyes would trail over the crowd, straining to spot the one face you wanted so hopelessly to see. You’d occasionally notice flashes of messy green hair in the crowd, only to disappear as quickly as it appeared. 

As the night dragged on, you took a moment to yourself, sitting quietly by the bar counter. You were lost in your thoughts, your eyes absentmindedly trailing over the dwindling crowd. Why you were still so determined to find Midoriya made no sense to you, but you just couldn’t seem to let it go.

The sound of a bar stool being pushed out managed to grab your wandering attention, your eyes quickly shifting to look beside you. For a moment you froze, your eyes meeting the green ones you had spent so much time looking for earlier.

“Hey,” Midoriya said, giving an awkward smile. Your breath caught in your throat, your brain suddenly forgetting what words were. You had so many things you wanted to say to him, yet for some reason, you just couldn’t think of anything to say. 

Your blank stare only fueled the nervousness building up within him, his smile slightly faltering. He knew it had been a long time since the two of you had talked, but that didn’t mean you never wanted to talk to him again.

Right?

“Hey Midoriya,” you finally managed out, regaining your cool. “It’s been a while. A long while.” Seeing Midoriya wince at your words, you mentally cursed at yourself. Of all the things you could’ve said--

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Midoriya admitted, his voice trailing off as he wracked his brain for what to say. An uncomfortable silence fell between you two, the both of you unsure of how to continue the conversation.

“So--”

“How--”

The two of you stopped talking, letting out awkward laughs.

“What were you going to ask?” You asked, prompting him to continue talking. 

“Just wanted to know how things in America were going,” he said, his hand absentmindedly running through his hair. “I saw your name pop up in a news article about the top rising heroes in North America. Congrats on that by the way.” 

You stared at him for a brief second, a smile spreading on your face.

“That’s really ironic coming from the Number One Pro Hero,” you said, nudging his arm. “If anything, I should be congratulating you.” 

Midoriya sent you a sheepish smile, shrugging his shoulders at what you said.

“Well, it’s not a big deal or anything--”

“No big deal?” You scoffed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “It’s not like you wanted that title since you were like four years old!”

“Okay, okay, I guess you have a point,” Midoriya said, letting out a small grin. Words couldn’t begin to express how much he had missed these conversations, how much he missed your voice, how much he had missed you.

“Damn right I do. I always have a point,” you said, grabbing your glass and taking a sip out of it. You couldn’t help the smile that spread on your face. The heavy air that once suffocated the two of you had practically disappeared, being replaced with something more comforting. And weirdly enough, even though you had been back in Japan for the entire day, you were finally beginning to feel like you were home. 

Your eyes glanced around the bar, noticing how you two were the few people left. Midoriya seemed to have noticed too.

“I guess it’s getting late,” he pointed out. He didn’t know why he did, it’s not like he wanted to leave. And the dejected look on your face told him you had felt the same. 

“Well,” you began, a small smile spreading on your face. “The night’s not over yet, and we still got years’ worth of catching up to do. So, I say we go to my hotel and catch up,” you suggested, your eyes hesitantly waiting for Midoriya’s reply. There was that small possibility that maybe you had been reading too much into your brief encounter with him, maybe he didn’t want to talk to you as much as you had wanted to do so with him, maybe--

“I would love that,” Midoriya said, making a large grin appear on your face. You practically jumped out of your seat, feeling the excitement coursing through your veins.

“Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” You announced. Without thinking, you grabbed Midoriya’s hand, trying to get him out of his chair. Smiling at how excited and happy you looked, he got up from his seat. You paused for a moment, your eyes trailing up to meet his green ones.

“When did you get so freakishly tall?” You asked, feeling shocked by how much he towered over you. Where were the good old days when you were the taller one?

“Maybe you’re just freakishly short,” Midoriya said, laughing at how angry you became by his comment. You lightly smacked him, only making him laugh even more.

“Shut it Midoriya!”

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

You opened the door to your hotel room, wasting no time kicking off your painful heels and throwing your jacket onto the nearest surface. You trailed over towards the kitchen, while Midoriya gently closed the door behind him. His eyes swept over the messy room, an amused smile forming on his face.

“You’ve barely had this room for a day and it’s already this much of a mess?” He asked, “I’m glad to see some things never change.”

“Like you’re the one to talk. You’re a grown man, but I bet you fifty dollars that your room is still covered in All Might merch.” You sent a glance towards him, smirking at the small blush that formed on his face.

“No one’s ever too old for All Might merch,” he softly grumbled out. His head perked up at your uncontrollable laughter, the sound itself making him smile. Soon, he saw you approach with a bottle of wine. 

“Since when did you start drinking wine?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Would you believe me if I said I only drink the good stuff?” You asked, pouring out two glasses. 

“I don’t think seven dollar wine counts as the good stuff.” He couldn’t help but smile at the look you gave him.

“Okay Mr. Professional-Wine-Taster--”

“I believe they’re called sommeliers.” You sent a glare towards the green-haired hero’s way, only making him stifle a laugh.

“Fine, Mr. Sommelier, do you want a glass or not?” You asked, holding out a glass. He sent you a somewhat apologetic smile, taking the glass from your outstretched hand.

The two of you wasted no time talking, beginning to catch up on years’ worth of lost time. The next several hours had blended together, filled with unbelievable stories, dramatic reenactments, and uncontrollable laughter. Somehow, the two of you found yourselves on the floor, laughing so hard that tears started flowing down your face.

“So you’re telling me, you just threw the snowball at Bakugou, and it hit him directly in the face?” You asked, your words barely coming out of your mouth. Midoriya nodded his head, unable to answer. 

“Oh my god, I can just see his reaction! ‘Deku I’m going to kill you!’” You said, trying to imitate Bakugou’s gruff voice, only making Midoriya laugh even harder. “How are you not dead yet Izuku?” 

“I genuinely don’t know!” He managed out through his laughter. You wiped away the tears falling down your face, your eyes glancing over towards Midoriya. 

The rays of light created by the rising sun made its way through the blinds, perfectly framing Midoriya’s smiling face. Instantly, memories of weekly movie nights, midnight conversations, and the peaceful times you two had spent watching the sunset together flashed before your eyes. Instead of making your smile grow wider, those memories only seemed to make it falter. 

Midoriya noticed the change in your attitude, quickly sending you a concerned glance. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You stared at him, debating if you should tell him about the thoughts swirling around in your mind. You ran your fingers through your hair, softly sighing. 

“It’s just-- Talking to you like this reminds me of all the moments we spent together as kids.” you began, your eyes looking down at the carpet beneath you. “And the thing is, as we grew apart, those moments ended up becoming distant memories.” Your eyes slowing trailed to meet his, noticing how intently he was looking at you. “And I’m afraid that we’re just going to grow apart again. Tomorrow this will be a memory, and nothing more.” 

Midoriya looked at you, his green eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, surprising you. 

“Why are you sorry?”

“It’s kind of my fault we grew apart, isn’t it?” He asked, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t try to keep in touch, I didn’t really try to do anything to communicate with you. At some point, I ended up using how busy I was as an excuse, but really, I could’ve-- I should’ve made time for you.” He saw your hands grab his own, his eyes quickly snapping up to meet yours. “And when you moved away, that’s when I finally realized how much I missed you. I tried ignoring you towards the beginning of the night because of how guilty I felt. How selfish of me is that?” 

“We aren’t playing the blame game Izuku.” You said, your thumb gently going over the scars on the back of his hand. “And if we were, we’re both equally to blame. After all, I’m the one who gave up on us.” 

His eyes stared into your’s, noticing how the sunlight framed your face, covering you in an angelic glow. A memory flashed before his eyes, a soft smile forming on his lips. 

“Remember, the week before we graduated from UA, we were watching to sunset, and we made that promise to always keep in touch?” He asked, making you nod your head. You let out a dry laugh.

“Look at how well that went,” you mumbled, making Midoriya laugh. 

“Well,” he started, slightly raising his hand. “I can’t promise to have moments like this with you every day, but I can promise to make new memories with you. And I definitely promise to keep in touch, no matter how busy we get or how far away we are from each other,” he said with a small smile, raising his pinky out.

“That’s so cheesy Izuku.” You scoffed out. But, you couldn’t help but let out a smile, latching your pinky with his. He gently shook your hands up and down, before letting go. 

Your eyes stared at his sunlit freckled face, noticing the soft smile on his lips, and the way his green eyes looked so bright, almost shining brighter than the rays of light that had managed to brighten up the room. Bright eyes that seemed entirely focused on you. Bright eyes that seemed to be getting closer, as the green-haired boy leaned close. 

Midoriya wasn’t exactly sure what compelled him to lean in so close. And you weren’t entirely sure why you were leaning in too, your lips meeting softly in the middle. 

It could’ve been due to the alcohol in your systems, knocking away all the logic that might have existed within your minds, replacing it with actions based purely on instinct. Maybe it was the fact that this moment of emotional vulnerability unlocked emotions thought to have been lost due to the test of time. Or perhaps, it was more of a simple concept than any of that. 

Perhaps, it was because the two of you had always known you weren’t just friends, always wanting something more, but never attempting to reach for what you wanted; instead just painfully aware of how it always existed within your grasps, so far away yet so close.

As the two of you broke apart from the kiss, you wasted no time wrapping your arms around him, enveloping him into a hug. He wasted no time wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. 

As the rising sun began to illuminate your room, you made sure to hold on tight to every memory you had made with Izuku. And most importantly, you made sure to hold him tightly, determined to never let go of him, or nights like these, ever again.

[shotgun--rider]

Fake It Till You Make It - One

A Sam x Reader Series

PART ONE

Y/N knows it’s a bad idea to try telling her family that she’s dating Sam Winchester. But it’s just for the week of her sister’s wedding, and it’s all fake anyway. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 3600

Warnings: plus size! Reader, background Destiel for a hot sec, fatphobic comments, Y/N’s family are demons

A/N: Has this trope probably been done five million times? Yes. Am I about to do it again? Yes. 

Your cellphone rang and you grimaced, rolling your eyes as you took in Dean’s all-too-amused expression. Your best friend may have thought your situation was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, but that didn’t mean you were of the same opinion. 

“What?” you snapped out, not bothering to read the caller ID. Who else would be calling you for the fifth time in as many hours?

“Well that’s not a very nice way to greet your mother.”

Here you went again, the same thing over and over. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “What do you want now, Mom?”

Bent over something under Baby’s hood, Dean snorted, shamelessly listening to your half of the conversation. He could probably hear your mother too, you thought wryly. The woman was certainly loud enough. 

“Well, listen, honey,” your mother began. “I was just talking to Jimmy...you remember Jimmy? From down the street, you used to--”

“Yes, Mom, I remember Jimmy.” you said tiredly. “Why do we care about Jimmy?” Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say. 

“For the wedding! I just asked, and Jimmy agreed to come with you.”

You let out an alarmed noise before you could stop yourself. “Mom, no.” you said firmly, with an undercurrent of panic at the thought of being trailed around by awkward Jimmy for a week. “I know it’s hard to imagine,” you drawled sarcastically, “but the vows will still be successful if I’m there without a plus one. Not like I’m the one getting married, you know.”

Still focused on the Impala, Dean’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. You seized the apple core you’d been munching on earlier and chucked it at him, feeling marginally better when it bounced off of his back. 

“Y/N L/N! You should be a little more grateful. Besides, have you even thought about how it’s going to look to Dick if you show up alone?”

“I don’t care,” you said automatically. “He’s a dick, pun absolutely intended.”

“He’s marrying your sister.”

“At least it’s not me.” 

“That miserable attitude is exactly why you’re going to die alone, young lady,” your mother snipped. “You could at least make an effort. Maybe if you just lost some weight--”

“Yeah, okay Mom.” You hung up the phone before she could get another word in, immediately flopping back onto Dean’s front lawn in defeat. “If I ever get married, it’s going to be in Vegas with Elvis, and nobody is going to know about it.” Not that you would. Given your complete inability to keep a boyfriend for longer than two months and your habit of getting hung up on guys who were completely out of your league, marriage, or a relationship of any kind didn’t seem to be in the cards. 

“Who’s Jimmy?” Dean’s green eyes were sparkling with mischief, and you let out a groan, smoothing out the skirt of your sundress as you sat back up to answer him. 

“Straight-laced, awkward, kind of greasy. Went to high school with me.” You wrinkled your nose. “My mother is really scraping the bottom of the barrel. She’d throw a fit if I actually tried to bring him home. But apparently Jimmy is a better temporary solution than being single while my sister marries my ex.” You trailed off into silence, your hand pulling absently at a few strands of grass in your best friend’s front lawn. “Maybe I should just rent a boyfriend to shut her up. That’s a thing, right? Like a non-sexual escort.”

“If you’re going to the trouble, you should also get the sex,” Dean returned, still smirking at you as he wiped grease off his hands. “Or you could take me. I would make the best fake boyfriend. And I’m free if you feed me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing at the mental image. “My mom knows you have a boyfriend,” you sighed. “Which, believe me, is a great source of sadness to her every single day.”

Dean laughed loudly, both of you glancing toward the house as the screen door swung open. “Maybe we broke up,”

“Well, she still doesn’t understand the concept of bisexuality, so as far as she’s concerned, you’d still be gay.” You rolled your eyes, long since over your mother’s narrow-minded opinions.

“Who’s gay?” Castiel inquired vaguely, making his way over to the flowerbeds. 

“Dean is,” you pointed out helpfully, prompting a wide-eyed stare from Cas. 

“Really? Dean, you should have told me!”

When you’d first met Dean’s new boyfriend, he’d been stiff and absolutely useless at sarcasm. It was always nice to see yours and Dean’s combined efforts working.

“D’you want me to ask Sammy?”

You were still laughing at Cas’s antics, and snapped your head back to Dean so fast that you were positive something popped in your neck. “W-what?”

 “I can ask Sam if he’s free that week,” Dean repeated, looking at you like he thought you were stupid. “If you want,”

You blinked, irrational panic running through you at the thought of Dean’s younger, perfect, brother. 

“It’ll shut your mom up,” Dean went on, oblivious. “Sammy wouldn’t mind.”

“Dean, I barely ever see Sam,” you protested after an awkward pause. A fact that was quite devastating, actually, not that you’d ever admit to your hopeless crush on the younger Winchester. 

Your best friend and his boyfriend shared a look. “That’s because he’s a hopeless do-gooder on top of being a hotshot lawyer,” Dean said fondly. “But I bet we could talk him out of taking a bunch of free cases for a week,”

Walking into your sister’s wedding with Sam Winchester on your arm sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. On the other hand, it would shut your mother up. She’d been vocal in her fears of you dying alone since you’d been barely out of college, sending you links to weight-loss workout videos and advertising her fixer-upper daughter to single men in the grocery store for years. Sam’s presence might even serve to stave off comments about your weight, which seemed to be the family’s second-favorite discussion topic any time they were together. 

Still, that meant pretending Sam Winchester was your boyfriend for a week, which just seemed like some masochistic form of self inflicted torture. Besides, if even you knew Sam would never go for a girl like you, how in the world were you supposed to sell it to your nosy, skeptical family?

“I was mostly kidding about the whole fake boyfriend thing, Dean,” you said wearily, not wanting to devote any more thought to the idea. 

Dean shrugged easily, sharing one more pointed look with Cas before refocusing on you. “Fair enough. You’re still staying for dinner, though, right?”

You’d have to be crazy to turn down one of Dean’s steaks. “Obviously.”

“Great,” he returned brightly. “I think Charlie’s coming.”

--

You were going to kill Dean. And Cas too, potentially, though it was entirely possible that he’d genuinely just been too preoccupied with his backyard beehive to remember the full extent of his boyfriend’s dinner plans. Because, apparently, “Charlie’s coming” actually meant, “Charlie and also Sam are coming.” 

It only took about five minutes for Dean to bring up your mother’s nonsense, prompting you to consider just face planting into the mashed potatoes in embarrassment while Charlie burst out laughing. She thought the whole thing was unbelievably hilarious, and had immediately offered herself up as a fake date. The offer was well meant, you knew, but you were only trying to get your mother to shut up, not disown you for bringing home a girlfriend.  

“I don’t need a date,” you finally huffed out, irritated with the whole thing. “I’m perfectly capable of showing up by myself. It’s not like anyone’s going to have anything to say about it that I haven’t already heard.” It was true. Your mother, and you sister and all of your aunts and uncles, for that matter, had been making the same jabs at your weight and relationship status for the past decade. You were used to it by now. 

“Doesn’t mean you should have to hear it,” Charlie shrugged. “If we’re too gay for your mother, get somebody else.”

“I tried to tell her Sammy would do it,” Dean put in unhelpfully, elbowing his brother, who had been silent up until this point. You contemplated kicking him under the table. 

“Poor Sam does not need to be subjected to my family for no good reason,” you said firmly, hoping that would be the end of it.

Sam was studying you across the table. “Or you could just ask me,” he said finally, and you felt your face heat up as you realized you’d basically been speaking for him. 

“Yes!” Charlie burst out before you could come up with a reply. “Sam doesn’t mind, do you, Sam?”

Too late, you realized Charlie was the real villain in all of this. Your old roommate, after all, was the one who knew about your little crush. You wondered if it was worth running the risk of trying to kick her under the table without hitting Cas, who thus far had remained off of your hit list. 

Sam cleared his throat roughly, looking between you, Charlie, and his plate. “No, I don’t--I mean, I don’t think Y/N really--”

“No, I do,” you blurted out, scrunching up your face immediately after the words left your lips. I do? I do? Since when? And what was it about Sam fucking Winchester that always made you act like a complete idiot? 

Dean was smirking at you across the table, and you idly wondered what would happen if you tried egging Baby. 

“Oh,” Sam brought you back out of your thoughts, looking hesitantly pleased. “Well, I just wrapped my latest case up, so I don’t mind coming up with you for that week. If you want.”

“Are you sure?” you bit your lip. There were a lot of emotions vying for your attention, but the dominating one was concern for Sam’s wellbeing. He had no idea what he was trying to agree to. 

Sam sighed, staring you down with those hazel eyes. “Y/N, you’re basically family. Of course I’m sure. You just worry about the maid of honor stuff, and I’ll watch your back. Okay?”

This was a significantly softer ending to dinner than you’d expected, but you couldn’t deny the warm feeling that rushed up inside you at his words. I’ll watch your back. Pretty much no one in your life had ever done anything of the sort, until you met Charlie, and, through her, the Winchesters. You’d known Dean for months before you finally met Sam, and of course he was perfect. 

It was easy with Dean, since he’d been the big brother you’d never had from day one. Sure, he wasn’t bad looking (seriously those boys won some kind of genetic lottery, you swore) but it just wasn’t like that. And then Sam had shown up and he was six and a half feet of walking perfection. 

And now he was smiling reassuringly at you across the dinner table, having just agreed to pose as your completely fake boyfriend in front of your god awful family. Well, at least you’d be able to pinpoint the exact moment your life went completely sideways, if you ever had to look back.

-- 

Two anxiety-filled weeks later found you in Sam’s car, because subjecting his long legs to your tiny vehicle for a seven hour drive just seemed like cruel and unusual punishment. You were driving at his insistence, and Sam was in the passenger seat with a legal pad on his legs like he thought he was going to take notes.

“Sam,” you whined out, “is this really necessary? Can’t we just... you know, lie?” Since the whole thing is a big fat giant lie anyway. 

Sam raised an eyebrow at you, and it just wasn’t fair how sexy that made him look. “Y/N, you’re the one that kept trying to warn me about getting cross examined by your mother,”

“Such a lawyer,” you huffed. “Okay, fine, you’re right. Let’s write our fake love story,” You batted your eyelashes at him exaggeratedly, punching a surprised laugh out of Sam. He watched your antics in amusement for a moment, and then refocused, absently playing with a pen in his long fingers. 

“Okay, how did we meet?”

You cocked your head to one side. “My mom knows who you are,” you explained. “Vaguely, but she knows you’re Dean’s brother. We can just tell them how we actually met and stuff,”

Sam smirked at you. “You tell your mother about me?”

You made a face at him, smacking his arm as the heat of embarrassment suffused your entire body. “Just in passing, don’t go getting a big head. Well,” you made a show of studying him, “a bigger head,”

He looked affronted, running a hand briefly through his hair. “Okay, fine, we met because of Dean. Where did I take you on our first date?”

“Why did you have to take me out? What if I took you out?” You were mostly arguing for the sake of arguing, trying to keep yourself from thinking too hard as you imagined a fake life with Sam that had never happened and never would. He thought of you as family, he’d said as much, and you had to remember that. 

“Because I had been waiting forever to ask you out, and I had all the good date ideas saved up,” Sam answered immediately.

“O-okay,” you said hesitantly, jarred by the conviction in his statement. But that was the point, wasn’t it? You were trying to sell it, and Sam was obviously a good actor. And unfairly attractive. And kind. And...and oh god. Your fingers gripped the steering wheel harder as you thought about the unexpected trial he hadn’t signed up for. “Sam, can you golf?”

He shrugged. “I know how it’s supposed to work. I’m just...not that good at actually getting the balls in the holes.”

If Dean were here, he would have taken that opportunity to make a lewd joke. As it was, you just winced. “My dad is going to force you to go golfing,” you explained tiredly. “I should have thought of that, I’m sorry, I--”

“It’s no big deal, Y/N,” Sam assured you easily. “I don’t mind. Besides, I want to meet your dad,”

You blinked at him, almost missing a turn in the process. “You actually want to meet my family? Sam, they’re terrible. Well, my dad’s probably the least awful of the bunch. Mostly he just hides. But Ruby will definitely try hitting on you, even though she’s supposed to be getting married, and Dick will try hitting on everything with legs, which is just gross, and Gramma Lilith is gonna give you the speech about how you could do so much better, and my Uncle Az is going to start Googling you and making weird threats, probably…” you trailed off in a huff. “It could be worse, I guess. At least if Uncle Fergus shows up everybody’ll start yelling at him instead. One can hope. He’s pretty harmless,” you shrugged, “if sometimes high. And my mother will probably just stick to the usual fat girl comments, so…”

Sam’s quiet laughter at your descriptions trailed off. “Y/N, you know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?”

You just shrugged again, deflecting. “Oh, come on, Sam, you don’t have to pretend like you think I’m a size two or something,”

“I’m...not,” Sam sounded genuinely confused, and you risked a glance over at him in the passenger seat. Oddly enough, he didn’t look like he was lying. Huh. “I think you’re beautiful.”

You didn’t want to have to pretend not to be affected by that, and this was maybe the first time in your life you’d actually been grateful to see the turnoff for your family’s old estate. “Here we go,” you narrated a little shakily. “It’s a big house,” you warned, still smiling a little at the way Sam’s eyes widened. 

It had been a given that the wedding would take place at your Aunt Abaddon’s old estate house, which no one was quite sure how she’d acquired and which no one questioned. The only fun of the house was watching people’s reactions on the rare occasion that you brought someone here. 

“I’ll get the bags,” Sam said vacantly, still staring at the house, and you chuckled softly, getting out of the car in a rush. You couldn’t explain it, but it felt important that you got to your family before Sam did, to put yourself between them, though at this point you weren’t quite sure who was being shielded from whom. 

You smoothed down the little sundress you’d decided to wear, grabbing your small duffel out of the backseat and hastily going up the front walk, Sam still rummaging in the trunk.

“Y/N!” Ruby opened the front door to meet you, her smile already insincere and condescending. “You’re late. We thought you weren’t coming.” She glanced behind you briefly, then smirked. “And you’re alone. I mean I figured you wouldn’t actually find a plus one, but you know you’re gonna owe me for the meal--”

“Got everything?” 

Oh thank god for Sam Winchester. You smiled tightly at your older sister, glancing briefly at your shoulder to reassure yourself that Sam was there. He was, holding a bag in each hand and a pleasant smile on his face. It was totally his false courtroom smile, but Ruby didn’t have to know that. “Ruby, this is...my boyfriend. Sam.”

Ruby blinked long eyelashes at him, processing. You figured she was torn between insulting you and flirting with him, and, as expected, the flirting won out. “Hi, Sam,” she purred. “I can’t wait to get to know you a little better,”

“Right,” Sam said flatly. “Well, I can’t wait to put these bags down, so…”

Something in Ruby’s expression soured as she looked at him, and her hand fell away from the doorframe as she stepped back, letting you both into the house. You lost no time in ducking past her, Sam right behind you. 

“There’s rooms on the second floor,” Ruby said quietly, then, “I’m up there too, just in case you get bored...”

“Great,” Sam returned, and he shifted both of the bags into one hand to put a hand on your back as you walked toward the staircase. You shivered at the touch, exhaling the frustration that was already tensing your shoulders, and started up the stairs. God, it hadn’t even been five minutes. How were you supposed to get through a whole week of this?

Sam’s warm breath on your ear startled you, and he whispered, “So, third floor?”

You turned to catch him with a mischievous spark in his hazel eyes, and nodded quickly, a little smile pulling up the corners of your mouth as you started toward the second staircase with a new energy in your step. 

“Hurry your fat ass, Y/N!” you heard Ruby shriek from somewhere below. “Everyone’s already out in the garden,”

You blew out your breath, hastily swinging open the first door you saw. The room was mercifully unoccupied, with a queen bed in the middle of the room and not much in the way of decoration. Your Aunt Abaddon had always been pretty minimalist. 

Sam shut the door behind you both, setting the bags down in a line at the foot of the bed.

“I can sleep on the floor,” you said quickly, figuring that it was best to get that out of the way as quickly as possible. “I’m the one that got you into this, so--”

He turned to face you with a quizzical expression. “Why would you...Y/N, you didn’t get me into anything. I said I wanted to be here. If you’re not comfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor,”

“No,” you sighed out, defeated. “Ruby’ll probably try barging in here anyway. I don’t think she believes you’re dating someone like me. We’re adults,” you went on with more confidence than you felt, “we can share,”

Sam’s brow furrowed adorably. Stop that. “Someone like you?” He moved to stand in front of you, one hand sliding very gently along your upper arm. “She doesn’t think I’d go for someone that’s funny and clever and really pretty?”

Something in your chest eased at his words, and, before your malfunctioning brain could stop you, you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his solid chest. “Thanks. She’s a bitch,” you mumbled into his shirt.

Sam’s hand migrated to gently rub over your back. “I’m beginning to get that impression,”

You stood there for a few more moments, letting yourself breathe within the safety of Sam’s arms, and then you straightened up and shook yourself. “Alright, boyfriend, ready to go meet the rest of the firing squad?”

He smiled down at you. “Whatever you say, honey bunch.”

You grimaced, but it got a laugh out of you, which you supposed had been his goal. “Absolutely not.”

“Cutie pie? Boo bear?”

“Stop it,” you threw a mock glare over your shoulder, opening the bedroom door. 

“Okay, darlin’,” Sam murmured, and somehow that one sat better than all the rest. “I’ve got your back, remember?”

You smiled back at him, letting him slide his hand in yours for the show, and you braced yourself to head back downstairs and deal with the full force of your family. 

[kzzzo]

chapter 7 pt. 2 - you can never be too happy in this life

'you can never be too happy in this life' yeah, that's still the line

series masterlist - here

previous | next

warning: character death

a/n: aaand she lives! hi, yes, i'm alive! i honestly don't remember how long i was gone but thank you sm for (still) supporting 'with a smile' even if my updating schedule is shit lmao. here's the long overdue part 2 of chapter 7! i hope it's alright 😩

tags: @crayonwriting

-

The timing couldn’t be more perfect for the two of you. Spring break rolled around a couple weeks later, giving you time to work on Kuroo moving into your apartment. Soon enough you were sharing your room with your boyfriend. The triplets were overjoyed to find out that their papa will be living under the same roof and that they get to spend more time with him.

“Papa!” The triplets yelled one peaceful afternoon; excitement evident in the tone of their voice. That could only mean one thing; Kuroo has returned home from volleyball practice. You peaked at the entrance area from the kitchen, seeing how hot and disheveled your boyfriend was. Duffel bag slung across his torso, his hair messy as usual and his lips smiling widely at his little boys.

He picked all three of them up at the same time (which gave your poor motherly heart a scare) causing the boys to burst in a fit of giggles. Kuroo chuckled along with them as he walks the short distance to the kitchen before placing them down on the table. You walk up to him to give him a kiss, standing on your tippy toes to match his height. He grabbed you by the waist the moment you came in close proximity to him.

"I'm home," he whispered.

"Welcome back," you whispered back, giving him one last peck on the lips before pulling away and moving your attention to the food on the stove.

You ate dinner with your family as usually would, nothing really going out of the ordinary until you heard your phone ring from the living room. You were about to stand up in order to retrieve the device but Kuroo offers to do it instead as he was closer to the living room.

"I'll get it." He picks it up then glances at the caller ID which showed the name 'Grandpa'. He instinctively answered it then brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

"(Y/N)— Oh, Tetsurou?"

"Yes, it's me." He began walking back to his spot on the dining table while you watch him curiously, trying to find out who he's talking to and what they're talking about. "I'm sorry, what?"

Kuroo's face went pale, probably due to the news delivered to him. He gulps before shifting his gaze to you.

"(Y/N)..."

You beg Kuroo to drive faster than he already is in hopes of arriving to the hospital quicker. She'll be alright. She's fine. It's just a minor thing, right? Thoughts flooded your mind from the moment you dropped the triplets off at Bokuto and Akaashi's shared dorm room to the present.

Kuroo grabbed your hand that you were nibbling on out of anxiety, giving it a tight squeeze of reassurance. But nothing could keep you calm, all you need was to arrive at the hospital faster and see for yourself that your grandmother would be alright.

The second the car was parked, you dashed out of it and into the hospital, frantically asking the front desk for your grandmother. You didn't even give the receptionist a chance to finish her question regarding your relation to the patient. You simply dashed to the elevator, pressing the 'up' button too many times, as if it would help the elevator arrive faster. When it did, people swore a ghost rushed by at how quick you got on.

More thoughts fill your head, making you forget that you completely left your boyfriend behind, but he understood. Unlike you, Kuroo calmly asked the receptionist for your grandmother's room and calmly waited for the elevator door to open.

On the other hand you were there catching your breath right outside your grandmother's room. You knew she wouldn't be too fond of the state you were in now so you gave your self time to breathe. After a couple minutes you finally lift your fist to knock— beep.

Oh no. It was that beep. The long one. Your heart sank to the deepest pits of Earth. That's not it, right? You were hearing wrong. She's fine. When you walk in, she'll greet you as always. She's fine. She's fine. She's—

The scene that greeted you when you opened the door sunk your heart deeper than what you thought was humanely possible. Doctors, or were they nurses? You didn't know, you couldn't think, were huddled around the bed while frantically trying to revive your grandmother.

In the corner was your grandfather, who had noticed you enter because he was trying so hard not to see his wife battle life and death. You ran to him in tears. He gave you a tight hug, his breath equally as shaky as yours, maybe even more.

The two of you stayed in that position the whole time, earnestly waiting for good news that never came. She's gone. You grandmother's gone. The person who took you in and raised you like her own was gone.

You sink into the chair beside the bed, listlessly staring at her peaceful expression. If it was even remotely possible, more tears rolled down your cheeks. Your breaths becoming even heavier, as you release sobs.

"Grandma," you called out, hoping she'll find her way back to you. Maybe she was just lost. "Granny..."

The more you call for her the more you realize that she's not coming back. You grab her cold hand with both of yours, desperately trying to heat it up as you call for her. You lean your head onto her shoulder and bawled. Her body no longer providing the comforting heat you always loved.

"I said— I said I'm going to repay you... for everything you've done for me." You choked out in between sobs. "How am I going to do that now? Please don't leave me..."

You stayed like that for hours, even after Kuroo came to comfort you. But Kuroo and your grandfather both decided that it would be best to leave you be for now.

After a while you calmed down. Your grandfather approached you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"She... knew what was coming." He started. "Two days ago, before we came here, she told me she wanted a nice romantic evening before she goes. So we did that. She said she regrets not being able to properly say goodbye to you and the triplets before she goes."

You stare at your grandmother's lifeless body as tears began to flow once again.

"We prepared gifts for the boys for the next 15 years until they turn 18. She said it was the least she could do. She didn't let me contact you until she knew it was her last day. She said it was 'a few days too many of worrying for my baby'."

Once again you were full on sobbing into her shoulder.

"She said she has a last wish for you."

"What is it?" You lift your head, determined to fulfill your grandmother's last wish until;

"(Y/N)..." You felt your body tense at the feminine voice from behind you. You turn around only to see—

"Mom, dad. Why are you here?" Your voice was harsh as you eye them up and down.

"(Y/N), sweetie..."

"Don't you 'sweetie' me. You kicked me out remember?" Your grandfather's hand on your shoulder gave you a slight squeeze.

"(Y/N)... did you know that all this time they've been assisting you and the boys as much as they can? They regret what they did. Please talk to them at least. Your grandmother would be very happy."

You remind yourself that this was your grandmother's last wish as you hesitantly lead them out of the room. Kuroo gave you a look of concern from where he sat, knowing how tense you were. You give him a slight smile to reassure him.

"Just so you know, I have nothing to say to you." You speak up.

"I know, but please listen to us." You crossed your arms and turned to face them, not making eye contact. "I admit that what we did was wrong, that we were too harsh to you. I also admit that the first few months, we didn't care at all, but then one day your grandmother visited us and brought us a copy of your ultrasound. Your dad and I were happy for you, we regretted what we did but we knew you wouldn't even want to see us after all that."

She reached for your arm but you flinch away from her. She sighed then continued her explanation.

"We asked for updates about the four of you. We asked about what we can do to help, even if just financially. I saw how well you raised your boys, (Y/N). I don't have the rights to, but I'm proud. We... didn't plan on approaching you because the pain we caused you was too much and I didn't want you to be in pain again when you see us. But mom said it was her dying wish, and I also wanted to make things right. So, (Y/N), I'm very sorry."

You eyed your parents, checking for signs of insincerity in their words. But their expressions were nothing but sincere. You sigh and slowly approached your mother for a hug.

"Don't get me wrong, I still haven't fully forgiven you. I'm still very hurt. I just think that having things continue the way they were will only be bad for all of us." Both parents gave you a tight hug back, crying. Yoy caught a glimpse of Kuroo sitting outside your grandmother's room from over your mother's shoulder. "I have someone for you to meet."

You pull away from each other before calling for Kuroo. "Tetsu."

Your boyfriend stared at you in confusion, probably wondering why on Earth were you calling him in the middle of a touching reunion. Nonetheless, he complied to your call and approached you sheepishly.

"This is my boyfriend, Tetsurou."

"Kuroo Tetsurou, ma'am and... sir." Without further notice your mom pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thank you. Thank you very much for taking care of my (Y/N)."

Kuroo chuckled as he hugs her back, looking over to you before saying, "My pleasure."

[monsterlovinghours]

So... I found an interesting tweet and was wondering if you'd write something sexy for it.... "In Vietnam it's a popular belief that if you are single in your 20s there is a ghost following you and hindering your romantic life because it wants to be with you and I just want to tell my personal ghost to quit being a coward and fuck me already." Also I claim the ✨ Emoji, if that's okay?

That’s fine with me, Starburst! holy fucking moly this took me forever to finish and this turned out way longer than i had originally planned but fuck this is such a neat idea and it just kinda snowballed but it’s finally done hurrah!!!!

fem!reader, just bear with me i am soft and full of feelings and i need to self insert

Bitter tears stung her eyes as she unlocked the front door to her empty apartment. Her empty, cold, lonely apartment. Another unsuccessful first date, ruined before any real potential could be reached. Everything seemed to go wrong; first her car wouldn't start, then her Uber was late, the table next to theirs at the restaurant was noisy and obnoxious, and the movie they had wanted to see had been sold out. Her date hadn't offered any suggestions to further the date, just sighed and took her home. He didn't even try to touch her, barely looked at her, and that stung more than she cared to admit, to feel invisible and undesirable. If he was the first, second, or even the fifth, it might not have hurt quite so badly. But the numerous dates she had gone on since entering her twenties had all gone the same way, ending too soon without a single spark of chemistry. Was there something wrong with her? Was she that repulsive?

Sighing, she swallowed her tears for the moment and walked dejectedly to her bedroom, dropping her purse and keys as she went. Down came her hair from the careful twist she had pinned it into, Mediterranean blue waves spilling down her back, her dress shed and her shoes kicked off. Makeup removed and dressed in panties and an oversized shirt, she slipped into bed, curling up with a pillow hugged to her chest. Finally, she let the tears come, sobbing out her hurt, her frustration, her loneliness. She had thought that perhaps this would be the one that went somewhere, that she'd finally break the cycle and maybe, just once, she'd have the chance to feel wanted, to feel seen. To love and be loved, like everyone else. But no; either she was entirely unloveable, or some force out there was deliberately fucking things up for her. In desperation, she angrily muttered through her tears, "Whatever cosmic entity has decided that I'm going to be lonely and hurting forever, could you either fuck off or come fuck me yourself?"

Thud

Something fell from her desk, something relatively heavy, and she sat up with a start and a gasp, her heart hammering. Her journal had fallen to the floor, lying open on a date that was still several months in the future, and the pen that she kept tucked in the pages…was standing upright on the page, scribbling something onto the paper. Her heart rose up into her mouth, fluttering sickeningly. That...was...not normal. Slowly, she slid out of bed, approaching the journal as if it were a live thing, dangerous and fanged and unpredictable. The pen finished whatever it was writing and fell over, and she knelt to read the message it left behind.

i thought you'd never ask babe

She sat back, her eyes darting around the space as if she could catch a glimpse of the mysterious specter that seemed to be listening, watching. Her voice soft, hesitant and tremulous, she asked, "Is someone there?"

Instantly, the pen flew upright again, scratching something out just below its previous message.

been here the whole time sorry about your date. 

"Oh my fucking god," she breathed, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Who...who are you? How long have you been here? Are you the one fucking with my love life?"

whoa one question at a time babes

To calm herself, she took a deep breath. "How long have you been following me?"

5 years 

"Jesus." She let out a breath, unsurprised to feel her hands shake as she ran them back through her hair. "Why?"

its complicated id rather tell you face 2 face

Her brow furrowed, getting to her feet to switch on her light. "Okay. So come out and talk to me. Why are you hiding?” The pen scratched across the paper insistently.

invisible not hiding

“So...make yourself visible?” She crouched by the journal, noticing that the pen was digging into the paper so hard it was nearly tearing it. 

Can’t until you say my name

“So what’s your name?”

Can’t tell you

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation. The pen suddenly flew across the room, where a poster that had been hanging on her wall swung loose, then fluttered to the ground. Her poster of the constellations. The pen was circling something, a name...the name of a star. 

“Betelgeuse?”

Almost excitedly, the pen wrote next to the star, the words jagged and sloppy.

Two more times!!!

She paused, wondering if this was truly a good idea. “Beetlejuice.”

One more one more one more please baby gimme one more

One beat, then two, then she threw caution to the wind and spoke the word one final time. “Beetlejuice.”

Her light flickered, as if to announce the sudden appearance of a very real, very solid looking figure standing with their feet planted on her poster, wearing a suit of dirty black and white stripes and a grin that could light up a small town. “You said it! You finally said it! I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for five fucking years and you finally said my name!” Before she could speak or even breathe, he had all but lunged for her, wrapping her up in his arms, the smell of damp earth filling her lungs even as he tried to squeeze the breath out of them. Ineffectually, she squirmed in his over-enthusiastic embrace, trying to wriggle away, to take a minute to process what the fuck was happening and who the fuck was standing in her bedroom right now. 

“Wait wait, hold on, so...your name is Beetlej-”

“Shhhhh!” He clapped a hand over her mouth, shaking his head vehemently. “Don’t say it. I’m sorry babes, but I’ve waited too long for this to go tits-up now.” He lowered his hand slowly, that grin resurfacing. “Okay, so I know you’ve got a lot of questions and you must be pretty excited to meet your own personal ghost but before we get to the boring stuff I gotta do one thing first.” Without giving her a chance to ask, his hands slid to her waist, pulling her to him even as he dipped her back and kissed her, his lips like ice, though surprisingly soft. What surprised her most was not the kiss itself, but rather her lack of aversion to it; she tried to tell herself it was because she hadn’t been kissed in so long that she was desperate for any kind of affection, even the strange, otherworldly, and rather abrupt kind. Oddly enough, she even found herself kissing him back, her fists gripping the lapels of his coat as he set her upright again. That Cheshire grin still hitched the corners of his mouth high, and his gaze raked over her like a physical caress, cool, white hands still curved in her waist. 

"Alright. Fire away, babes, ask me anything."

"Um…" Her head spun, thoughts racing, heart still pounding a chaotic timpani in her ears. "Did...did you say 'my own personal ghost'?"

"I sure did. You're one of the lucky gals that gets a ghost attached to ya when you reach adulthood. And you've got the luck of the draw, sweet stuff, because you managed to snag the Ghost with the Most!" His thumbs hooked into his suspenders, though oddly enough, two hands still stayed clasping her waist.

"And you...you've been fucking with my dates...screwing around with my love life for five years?"

Her voice raised a bit in pitch, and he had the presence of mind to look sheepish. "Sorry about that, but none of those schmucks were good enough for you. I had to scare 'em off, you're mine."

"Excuse me??" She broke his grasp, stepping away from him as her brows knitted together in hurt and anger. "I've spent five years convinced there was something wrong with me, that I was repulsive or unattractive or unlovable, because no one ever made it past the first date, and you waited this long to tell me that it was you the whole time? Do you have any idea how worthless I felt after each failed date? How broken a-and defective I felt? How-”

“Hey hey, take it easy for a second, dollface!” He grasped at her wrists; until he grabbed them, she hadn’t realized how wildly she was gesturing. “Look, I tried. I’ve been trying since the moment I saw you to get you to talk to me. It ain’t exactly easy for the dead to communicate with the living. But you knew I was there, didn’t you? Hasn’t every house you’ve lived in felt just a little bit haunted?” She paused, thinking back to all the doors she had closed but hadn’t opened, the objects on the floor that had been sitting secure on a shelf when she’d left, the quiet moments when she couldn’t sleep when she swore she could feel eyes on her. Encouraged by her pause, he continued. “You breathers are stubborn, you just don’t wanna see what’s right under your noses. Until tonight, I barely had enough influence on the living world to push a piece of paper off the desk. But you...you called for me. You finally gave in and called for me.” He grinned again, and though the fangs should have made him seem frightening and demonic, he just seemed...relieved. “I was finally able to tell you my name, and let me tell ya, there hasn’t been a single sound in my very, very long existence sweeter than you calling my name.”

She took a deep breath in, processing everything he had told her, everything that had happened in...god, had it only been three minutes? “What did you mean when you said that...I was yours? What does that mean?”

He shrugged, pulling her closer, his hand pressing against the small of her back. “Means you’re mine, babe. It means that you’re my girl.” Something dulled the gleam in his eyes, and to her surprise, the green in his hair began to fade to a deep, shamed violet. “I was there for every night you fell asleep cryin’ over some guy who would have only hurt you in the end. It gutted me that I couldn’t do anything to help. You’re my baby, and I don’t like to see you hurt, and I really don��t like being the one to hurt you. But it had to be done. You didn't belong with any of them." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut as his hair faded back to green, as if he were forcing the color to appear. "We're wasting too much time talking when I should be kissing you."

"W-We just met!" The outrage on her voice felt like a show, a dutiful proper response to finding a green-haired, handsy ghost in her bedroom. But she hadn't once tried to wriggle out of his arms, unconsciously leaning closer when his hand slid up her spine.

Beetlejuice shook his head, stepping into her, strands of pink peeking through the green of his hair as he felt her body against his, solid and oh, so warm. "We've known each other for years, honey. You may not have had a face or a name, but deep down you've always known I was there. If I was just some stranger, you'd have run for the hills by now." She wanted to argue, but as much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. His presence felt familiar, like a memory from her past she had all but forgotten about, but the emotions attached still lingered. It was why she hadn’t struggled when he reached for her, hadn’t tried to shake off his grasp, had kissed him back. His grin widened when she didn’t argue or protest, and he pulled her close, her body flush to his; he all but purred at the way her lashes fluttered, her hands naturally settling on his shoulders, as if they had done this a hundred times.

“Let me kiss you,” he rasped, holding her chin in his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, babe, please...let me give you a real kiss.” There wasn’t much more than a fraction of a second of hesitation before she nodded, gaze flicking to his mouth just before the distance closed and her brought her lips to his. With that first urgent kiss out of the way, this one was softer, more patient, sweet, and when she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips, she parted them without question. Oh, it was wonderful, more so than she had ever dreamed, to be kissed like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, to have hands pressed so close to her skin, as if she would slip from his fingers and shatter if he let go. She wasn’t quite sure how they had ended up on her bed, but the softness of the duvet embraced her as he laid her back, kneeling over her. She moaned as the tip of his tongue flicked against hers, the sound echoed as he tasted the first flickers of her pleasure, soft and tremulous, like the first stretch of the wings of a newly emerged butterfly. 

“I wanna touch you,” he growled, his kisses trailing down her neck. “Fuck, you taste so good already, baby.” One of his hands rested at her collarbone, waiting for the invitation to slip lower. “Please, honey, let me pull your shirt up? Wanna feel just how warm you are under there…”

“Wait,” she said breathlessly, leaning up on one elbow. He seemed confused, perhaps just a touch annoyed, but he stopped. “All those years you spent following me around...did you ever…” She gestured to herself. He smirked.

“Of course not. Not that I didn’t want to, sweetness, but when I saw you for the first time, I wanted you to be able to see me back, y’know?”

“And when I...had...alone time?” She arched a brow, and his grin widened. 

“Didn’t see a thing. Scout’s honor. Though, I definitely heard quite a lot. You know, you’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are.” Her cheeks flushed red, and she turned her head to the side in an attempt to mute the color rising in her cheeks. “Nope, huh-uh. Keep those eyes on me, babe.” His fingers gripped her chin again, bringing her gaze back to his. “I want you to keep looking at me, no matter what.” She nodded, and he grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. “Good girl. Now, lemme get a look at you.” Perhaps not quite as slowly as he should have, he grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it, groaning as her breasts came into view, soft and tipped with dusky pink. “Oh fuck,” he nearly whimpered, and she moaned as his hips pressed into hers, seeking warmth and friction. “Such a gorgeous little thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen you come in from the cold, saw these little beauties all stiff and hard through your shirt, and wanted to tease them with my tongue until I had you moaning and squirming.”

She shivered, letting loose a soft sound of want as he settled his weight more firmly over her, purring like a cat as he leaned down to kiss her nipples, first one, then the other. A moan left her as she felt his tongue softly lick at one stiff peak, her hand tangling in his hair, which to her surprise pulled an answering moan from him. Seems she had found a weak spot.

Oh, she had never dreamed that this would feel so nice, his mouth at her breasts, sucking, kissing, licking, teasing. His hands, still cool but warmer than before, squeezed the full flesh, kneading restlessly, and she arched her back, pulling her shirt off all the way and moaning. His scruff tickled her skin, made her shiver and break out in goosebumps, and she let her fingers drift through his hair, causing him to spill little growls and purrs against her skin.

"Ohhhh, baby," he groaned, lifting his head, his hair a deep rose pink, his pupils wide, drinking in the sight of her. "Baby girl, I've dreamt of this moment for five years, I wanted to make it so good for you. But I don't think I can wait." His hand slipped down her body, palm flat to her skin to touch as much of her as he could at once, then slid between her legs, inside her panties to cup her sex, the heel of his hand pressing into her clit. She keened, her toes curling, and he groaned in response. "Please, babe," he murmured, pushing the tip of his middle finger into her. "Please?"

"Yes," she said, with no hesitation, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, god, please."

There it was again, that mega-watt grin, his mouth split wide with joy. "Thank you, doll, fuck...oh, I've been wanting this for far too long." He sat up, and in the time it took for him to be upright again, his clothing-suit, tie, and all-had vanished, leaving him naked and visibly throbbing. His hands shook as he pulled down her panties, his cock twitching as he saw her bare for the first time. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, my god…” Nearly the same temperature as her now, he touched her, thumb rubbing her clit as he pressed two fingers inside. “Has any guy ever done this to you before," he asked lowly, his free hand sliding up her thigh as he watched his fingers slide in and out of her. 

"No." Her answer came immediately with a shake of her head, hips rolling against his hand. "No one."

"I knew it." He grinned, withdrawing his fingers and popping them in his mouth with a deep groan. "Knew you'd wanna save this for me." Licking his lips to savor her, he crawled over her, grasping himself to guide his cock to her entrance. The tip pressed inside, and he groaned, shivering as he saw her teeth come down on her lower lip. "Feel okay?"

"Feels great," she murmured, reaching up to hesitantly cup his cheek in her hand. "You can move, honey, you won't hurt me." Her heart gave a funny little stutter as he nuzzled into her palm, as if craving her touch. He began to rock his hips, so shallow and gentle, widening her for him, though she could see the strain it put on him to go slow, the tension in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw. Any last doubts she had about him melted away as she fully understood the care he was treating her with. To wait so long for somebody, to be with them every second and watch them laugh and cry and hurt without you, to ache with the need to touch them and be near them, and for the object of your affections to not be able to see you, let alone touch you...she could only imagine how frantic for her he must feel, but he was taking the time to consider her comfort, setting a slow pace despite the fact that it must be torture for him. “Beej?” She spoke the nickname softly, and his gaze focused on her with laser intensity, teeth exposed in a grin. “You don’t have to take it so slow, I won’t break.” Her thumbs stroked over his cheeks, slipping down to cup the sides of his neck and trace his jaw. “I want you to...to feel me. I made you wait so long, honey, but you can make up for lost time now. Don’t hold back.”

A thousand expressions crossed his face at once, his hand sliding around the back of her neck to lift her head, pressing his forehead to hers. “Baby,” he rasped, sounding on the brink of some tremulous emotion, “are you sure? I want this to be good for you-”

“This is as much for you as it is for me. If...if we’re really meant for each other, then isn’t it my job to take care of you, too?”

Beetlejuice let out a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, his lips pressing desperately to hers. “How did I get so fucking lucky to land a babe like you?” And with a snap of his hips, he was fully hilted, his eyes rolling back to the whites as she jolted in his arms, her wet warmth squeezing him, gripping him so tight. A string of curses left his lips, some in a strange language she suspected wasn’t from anywhere aboveground, and she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, anchoring herself to him. “Fuck, that’s it, babycakes,” he crooned, his hips rolling, groaning with each delicious slide within her velvet. “Ohhh shit, you take me so well...yeah, fuck, you feel so damn good, sweet stuff. You doin’ okay?”

Oh God, was she ever. It was a little uncomfortable at first; while he was average in length, he more than made up for it in width, and there had been a strange burning as she stretched to accommodate him. But that sensation of fullness, of movement, of joining...was indescribable. It felt like breathing for the first time. Like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Like the ceasing of a lifelong pain she had grown too used to to notice until it was no longer there. “Yeah,” she answered, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m great. P-Please, you can go faster.”

He looked stricken at the glisten of her eyes and the tremble in her voice. “You sure? We can stop if it hurts, babes, I don’t-”

“No.” Her hands shot up to thread through his hair, yanking on it to pull him down into a kiss, the first time she had kissed him. “God, no. It doesn’t hurt, honey, it feels...oh, you feel so fucking good…” To emphasize her point, she squeezed her walls around him, bucking her hips up, and he groaned, shuddering against her. “More, please, I need more of you.”

His mouth left hers, but his lips wouldn’t or couldn’t seem to leave her skin, kissing across her cheek, the delicate shell of her ear, down her throat. “Fuck, say it again,” he murmured into the hollow of her throat as his pace increased, pushing harder, faster, the sense of something on the verge of collapse filling the room around them.

She knew what he meant, and she smiled, combing her fingers through his hair, neck arching as her hair spread across the pillow. “I need you,” she repeated, her body meeting his, rising up as he pushed down, rolling and cresting and crashing like waves against the shores of her bedsheets. “I need you, please.”

Whatever splintering dam had been holding him back finally broke, and he latched his teeth into her throat with a cry, slamming into her with unrestrained passion, marking her at her pulse, her collarbones, even just under her jaw. She was his, his, and no one else could ever have her now. She had called him, accepted him, opened herself to him in so many ways, in ways he never dreamed a beauty like her ever would. Praise dripped from his lips like rain, showering her in attention and bite marks. Her back curved, her body alight with sensation, each nerve electrified as she held him tighter and tighter, curling herself around him and letting herself get lost in him. This was everything she had wanted, everything she had been missing, in the world’s most unconventional lover. Affection, pleasure, desire, playfulness, care and attention. Her heart melted, her entire self surrendering to him; she felt it now, felt the rightness of his claim. She was his, body and soul. She always had been. 

His moans changed in pitch, his thrusts frantic, mindlessly chasing his pleasure as he took her hand, pressing it into the bed beside her head as his fingers wove between hers. “Babe, fuck, I’m gonna come...can I come inside you, baby? Huh? Can I fill you up, sweetness, fill you up and make you come with me? Please, baby girl, I’m so close…” He growled, nipping at her earlobe. “Let me make you mine.”

She nodded, almost too breathless to reply. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, I’m already yours.”

He groaned, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it back before releasing it. “Say it again. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m y-oohh fuck!” She cried out, cursing as his free hand began rubbing her clit, hard and fast, tripling her pleasure all at once. “I’m yours!”

“Again, babes…”

“Yours, Beej, I’m yours!”

“Louder, baby, scream for me!”

“Yours!”

With a shout, he broke, his entire body shivering as he came, cool and so deep within her she could practically taste it. The fingers at her clit didn’t let up, and moments later she was following him, her pleasure crackling through her, spreading like lightning across a stormy sky through her body. Her vision faded, dimmed, but the light of his smile and the sound of his voice remained clear as day, grounding her as the muscles in her body unfurled one by one, her body collapsing against the bed as the pleasure faded slowly. There was the sensation of something dripping down her thighs, something wet and just slightly cooler than her own skin, and a delicious little shiver went through her at the sensation, heightening the little aftershock tremors. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, lowering himself to rest his head on the pillow of her breasts, “that was worth the wait.” His hands cupped them, pressed them together as he buried his face between them. For a few moments, everything was silent and still, his lips skimming her skin in little butterfly kisses as she stroked her fingers through his hair, catching her breath. Then, she heard something, heard his voice, heard a muffled voice murmur something that sounded suspiciously like, “I love you.”

“What was that?”

Lifting his face ever so slightly, but not looking up at her, he said loudly, “I said you have nice tits!” The words tumbled out of him a little too quickly, and the sudden flush of pink in his hair was a sign that he hadn’t meant for her to hear him, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all. Either way, she didn’t press the matter, smiling secretly to herself. His kisses, however, became firmer, his tongue even darting out to flick against her skin, and she moaned, wriggling against him as his lips began to migrate south. 

“Where’re you headed, honey?”

“God, I like hearing you call me that.” He grinned up at her, licking over her navel. “What, you didn’t think I was done with you, didja? No way, dollface, I’ve got five years of lovin’ to make up for.” 

She could have made the argument that they had tons of time to make up for those five years, but as his fingers spread her open to allow his tongue to lap at her clit, the sentence was erased from her mind, her hips jolting up into his mouth. It had been worth it, she decided as his clever, hungry mouth sent her spiraling into one frenzied orgasm after another. All the heartache and tears and lonely nights had been worth it, since it had all lead up to him. For the first time, she felt wanted. Felt loved. Felt truly, finally seen.

[wandlores]

Thirteen and Counting

Pairings: Petunia Evans x Regulus Black | Lily Evans x Sirius Black Words: 13,385 Chapter Six/? - Lily’s POV  You can read all previous chapters here. Trigger warnings: Brief sexual encounters, death mentions, abuse mentions. 

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8 Years Earlier 

Lily’s sweet sixteen had passed by without a word from her sister; it was something they had dreamed of celebrating for her together when they were kids. The bitterness kept rising in the back of her throat whenever she thought about it, but she was thankful Alice was always there as her roommate to keep it off of her mind. She had almost forgotten about her sister completely, it seemed like, or that’s what she tried to tell herself. It was when she saw her sister’s name pop up on her cell phone’s caller-ID that she was startled and sadly reminded.

She considered not answering her sister's call. Fuck Petunia, she thought. Ignoring her for four years meant she did not deserve the light of day. However, she secretly missed her sister too much to not let her phone call intrigue her. She decided to answer. 

“Hello?” 

All she could hear was Petunia’s breathing at first; she could hear Petunia's breath hitch right after she spoke her first word. It was like she was shocked to hear Lily’s voice at all.

“Lily,” Petunia started, no greeting, no nothing. Lily shouldn’t have been surprised, “Aunt Penelope is dead. There was a robbery at her work and she-” 

Lily listened for Petunia’s despair, but there wasn’t any. She just stopped talking. The silence was deafening. Lily realized Petunia was now legally an adult; this meant that it was all her responsibility. 

“I suppose you’re calling to tell me about a funeral then?” Lily questioned. She didn’t want to go, but a part of her was drawn to go. She would secretly do anything to see her sister once more.

“Yes,” Petunia replied, “It’s in a week. I have already made arrangements with Headmistress McGonagall for you.” 

Lily glanced over to Alice sleeping on the bed across from her. She was jealous that she didn’t have to deal with this constant loss that seemed to be Lily’s constant companion. She was never close with her Aunt Penelope; she blamed Petunia for that, too. It was easier to blame Petunia than think about the fact that her Aunt maybe never wanted to give her a chance to be her family, too. 

“I suppose I’ll see you then. You don’t need to pick me up, I’ll take the bus.”

Lily did not hear what Petunia was going to say next, because she hung up the phone to cry, not for the loss of her Aunt, but for the loss of her sister once again. 

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A week had passed and Lily got off the bus down the street from the funeral home. She watched as members of the community filed in for her Aunt’s funeral. She didn’t recognize any of them, she realized. I guess that happened when you never visited home. 

Her black combat boots squeaked across the floor as she entered the building. Older individuals turned to look at her with annoyance, but it didn’t seem to matter when she saw her sister. Petunia’s hair was now past her shoulders; she had always kept it short like Lily’s when she was younger. Lily realized she hadn’t changed much, and she self-consciously tucked a short strand of her red hair behind her ear.

Her sister was beautiful as always; Lily always thought she was the beautiful one. She tried to bury her jealousy down along with her bitterness. It did not work well.

When Petunia caught her eye, she slowly walked towards her. She gave her sister a very awkward hug. Lily did not return it.

“It’s so good to see you,” Petunia told her, “It has been way too long.”

Because of your own choice, Lily thought, but she didn’t say anything. She just crossed her arms and looked anywhere but at her sister so she wouldn’t cry. 

“The ceremony is about to start,” Petunia told her, “I-I would like if you would sit with me.”

Lily wanted to lash out; she wanted to scream no. She wanted to tell her that her and Aunt Penelope were no longer her family, but then she saw that a lot of guests were watching their conversation. Lily already stuck out like a sore thumb as it was, so she swallowed down her anger and just nodded. She pulled her father’s cap out of her book bag for strength. Petunia didn’t comment on it as they sat down.

The ceremony was long, and Petunia gave a very robotic speech. Lily wondered what happened to her sister’s passion. The only thing that was the same about her sister was her blonde hair pulled back into a braid that was now longer and her fiddling with the bottoms of her shirt sleeves like she always had done when she was nervous.

The burial was quiet as well. Petunia did not shed a tear and neither did Lily. Lily wondered when her sister had become so cold; she would think she would cry over her Aunt who had become her constant companion. 

Their Aunt’s friends were the only ones that cried. They came and comforted Petunia as they ignored Lily. It was like she had never existed.

Once Petunia was wrapped up in conversation with one of Aunt Penelope’s old friends, Lily took that as her opportunity to walk away. 

As Lily rounded the corner of the cemetery towards the willow tree where she saw her parents graves, she lit a cigarette that was in her book bag. 

As she took a puff, she was startled when she heard footsteps behind her. It was Petunia. It appeared that all the rest of the funeral guests had left to mourn privately. 

“When did you start smoking?” Petunia asked her. For once, her tone wasn’t filled with judgment, just curiosity.

Lily grunted, “Why does it matter?” If you only saw me, you’d know, Lily thought, but she didn’t say anything.

Petunia didn’t answer her but held her hand out. Lily knew she wanted one too, so she pulled one out of her book bag and handed it to her along with her lighter. She watched as her sister lit the cigarette. She coughed like it was her first time smoking one, and this made Lily smirk. 

They stood there in silence as they looked at their parent’s graves. Neither of them cried; maybe they were both numb to the pain now. Or maybe Petunia was as emotionless as she now appeared. Lily just knew she had cried herself dry throughout all the years of loneliness she endured.

The willow tree covering their parent’s grave was thriving; it made her think of the walks she used to take with Petunia and her mother through the cemetery when their father was at work. It would seem like a morbid way to spend time with your mother to most, but it was some of Lily’s fondest memories of her mum. It was when they let their imaginations run wild as they honored the dead.

“Willows are still my favorite trees,” Petunia told her as she broke the silence, “I wish mum and dad would have named me Willow instead of Petunia. If I had a daughter of my own, I would name her Willow.”

Petunia had never told Lily that before; maybe it was a new development with age. Maybe she came to this spot often while Lily never got the chance.

Lily chanced a glance at her sister; she hoped she would not be looking back at her, but she was. Petunia always had a knack for knowing what Lily was thinking even when she didn’t want her to. It was endearing as a child, but now after years without talking, it was unnerving. 

“I want you to stay at home with me,” Petunia confessed, “If you want to, I mean. I know I haven’t been there, but there is so much you don’t know. If only you will let me explain-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Lily silenced her, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Petunia insisted.

Lily took a deep breath as she put her cigarette out. She put it in a plastic bag in her book bag in order to preserve her parent’s gravesite. 

“Why do you want me home? You wanted nothing to do with me for years.”

Petunia didn’t respond at first. She just flicked her cigarette. 

“Because we can start over.”

Lily should have argued more; she should have refused after all her sister had put her through, but she didn’t. Instead, all she answered with was, “Okay.” 

Present Day 

As Lily now ran through the forest, she thought about the day her sister promised they could start over. She lied then, too. Her sister was as absent as ever as Lily finished high school at home. Petunia was constantly working to support them, but she didn’t even try to explain why she had abandoned her years before, and Lily didn’t push for answers. Lily’s constant high school rebellion was begging for her sister to talk to her, yet she wasn’t there and didn't seem to care. She just worked diligently all hours of the day and provided Lily with cash when she needed it. Lily moved out when she was eighteen and hadn’t seen her sister since until a few weeks ago. The thought annoyed Lily that Petunia only seemed to show up when the world was turning to shit for her, one way or another. 

Lily finally stopped to catch her breath under the cover of a tree. The rain was still falling, and her red hair was stringy and sticking to her cheeks. Her father’s cap wasn’t protecting her face from the storm. She didn’t expect it would, anyway. 

She was suddenly startled when she heard a branch snap behind her. She turned around and grabbed her father’s pocket knife out of her pocket. It was one of the only weapons the whole group had now, she realized.

Sirius walked out from behind a tree a few feet behind her with his hands up. Lily rolled her eyes at the sight of him. 

“Why did you follow me?” She asked him. She was annoyed, she wanted to be alone. Hence, walking off and then running through the trees.

“I was pissed too,” he told her, “And I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“How noble of you.”

For once, he approached her hesitantly, “Look, I’m pissed at my brother and your sister as well, but I don’t think you should be so hard on Petunia. I think she-”

“Like you aren’t that harsh towards Regulus?” Lily argued back, “I don’t need a hypocritical lecture.”

“I do sound like a hypocrite, and I will admit my tactics with Regulus are… intense, but I have my reasons.”

“So do I,” Lily said, “Don’t assume otherwise.”

She crossed her arms from the cold, and Sirius noticed, “Do you want my jacket?”

Yes, Lily thought, but she replied, “No, I’m fine.”

She watched as Sirius took a deep breath and now sat in the rain with his back against a tree. Lily followed suit.

They were silent for a while and just listened to the rainfall until Sirius spoke up, “Do you want to know why I hate my brother so much?”

Lily shrugged. She was ridiculously curious, but she wouldn’t push. She didn’t want to seem eager to know anything about him. Letting people in was not something Lily practiced proactively. 

Sirius took that as a yes, and he began his story, “My brother was a prodigy as we grew up. He was younger, he was looked at as better looking, and my mother was obsessed with him. She hated me and wanted me to live up to my brother’s expectations. Naturally, I rebelled,” he smirked at the comment, “But that did not get her off my back, and my scars are there to prove it.”

Sirius lifted up the side of his shirt and jacket to show scars of lashes. Without thinking, Lily leaned forward to brush them lightly with her fingers. She watched as Sirius’ skin rose up into goosebumps. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and watched her. Gently, she pulled her hand back.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, “I-I can’t imagine.”

Sirius continued on, “My brother never did anything to stop her, he just-he just continued to be the perfect son. I’m just bitter I guess, and then when James died..”

His voice trailed off. 

“Who is James?” Lily asked him.

She watched as a tear trailed down Sirius’ face. 

“He was my best friend, along with Remus and Peter. Peter is gone now too, but James.. he-he died in a car crash. I was driving to pick up Regulus from his violin lessons to try and gain approval from my mother. I-I have truly hated my brother more ever since. The other driver was drunk. It-it wasn’t my fault but I can’t help but blame myself.”

“It was not your fault,” Lily told him fiercely, “Life is unfair and there are circumstances you can’t control. I understand completely.”

The rain had settled down now to a gentle sprinkle. Sirius pushed back his long hair from dangling in his face. Lily noticed how beautiful his eyes were, and she could not look away.

“How do you understand?” He asked her quietly. She could barely hear him. It was like the wind had been knocked out of him. 

“Petunia and I lost our parents in a car crash as well, so unexpectedly. Petunia promised she would always be there for me, and she had been, until I needed her most. She sent me away to an academy and kept my Aunt Penelope all to herself. I only came home once my Aunt died, and even then… Petunia was no longer there. She tries to play a protector now that the world has gone to shit, but she has never protected me. I have only fended for myself and I-”

But Lily did not finish. Her words trailed off, and she just looked into Sirius’ eyes once again. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Lily had forgotten everything; what her bitterness was and why it was there. All that mattered in that moment was Sirius looking back at her and understanding. He was the first person that ever did, and for once, she didn’t feel alone. She knew she had only known him for a short time, but it felt like a lifetime. Lily was not sure what came over her next; she had always been impulsive, but never quite this brave.

She leaned forward and kissed his lips. Her hand cupped his face. He didn’t respond at first, until suddenly his hand was tangled in her hair and her father's hat fell into her lap. She pushed her father’s hat to the side as she now straddled Sirius’ lap. Everything was happening so fast, but it was natural, it was right. The warmth of Sirius’ body pressed against her allowed her heart to beat faster. She had never felt this alive since she had lost her parents. 

He didn’t need to say anything more; he laid down on his back into the dirt as Lily peeled her wet shirt off of her body. His calloused hands rubbed her hips as she unbuttoned his pants and thrusted her hips into his. She watched his lips form a moan and call out for her. Pleasure rushed through her body as she gripped his shoulders for support. It was passionate; it happened quickly. She wanted to replay it over and over again, but now she laid down in his arms and closed her eyes. He gently ran his fingers through her hair. This was the safest she had ever felt.

“That was.. You are.. Incredible,” he whispered into her ear.

She smiled against his chest in a way so he couldn't see her face, “Don’t make me regret it, bastard,” she teased. 

They laid like that for a while until the moon rose and the clouds disappeared. The stars were bright that night after the storm they had endured earlier in the day. 

Lily put her father’s cap back on as they walked back to camp. She kept her distance from Sirius now, and he didn’t ask. She knew he understood. 

When they arrived back to where they left Regulus, Remus, and Petunia all they saw was Regulus pacing frantically and Petunia trying to talk him down.

“What is happening?” Sirius asked.

It was then that Lily noticed Remus was nowhere in sight.

“Where is Remus?” She asked.

Regulus didn’t dare glance at Sirius as he ran his hands through his hair, so it was Petunia that answered, “He went hours ago after you left to find firewood, but he hasn’t been back since. We fear he is lost.. Or worse… dead.” 

[abuskinswarrior]

find our way back... part 2

I had my last class last Friday, which means it’s officially summer!! i have two more classes before i can say i’m a college graduate, but i still get a cap and gown so, i’ve graduated college y’all! 

Tag-list: @pprettyboyreid @genuisgub​ @ataidyl @andiebeaword @dreatine​ @cncopmwhoore​ @sixx-sic-sixx​ @nanocoool​ @kookiescooky3

~~If you want to be tagged on this, let me know!~~

Warnings: fighting, blood, mentions of death

Summary: Persephone goes to a friend to drink, but gets a roped into talking instead.

Words: ~1830

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 

Persephone stepped out of her car rolling her neck. She had been driving for a few days, heading to the one place she knew she was always welcome. She needed two things: a drink and a voice of reason (not that she would ever admit to the second one). She opened the old wooden door, the bell above chiming, alerting the bartender.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment.” He smiled at her, while she looked him over. He had a round face that made his eyes disappear when he smiled. His large clammy hands held the bottle. Persephone didn’t recognize him and he clearly didn’t know her otherwise he wouldn’t have asked a such a stupid question.

“Can I see some ID?” He wiped his hands on his apron, waiting. Persephone scoffed. She wondered what kind of people her friend was hiring. Anybody working here should know who she was, considering she’s been a regular for the last twenty years or so.

“You’re clearly new here, so I’ll let that slide. Get me a whiskey neat.” She compelled him. His eyes glazed over, nodding his head. “And let Isabella know I’m here.”

“He doesn’t have to; I heard your voice.” Persephone turned around. Walking down the steps, a tall redhead was walking towards her. 

Isabella and Persephone met around twenty years ago. Isabella had bought the building Persephone was using to hide her valuables. They had become fast friends, Persephone offering to keep the bar she was running open, by being her number one customer as long as she could keep storing her belonging in the attic.

“Iz!” She gave her a side hug, both of them sitting at the bar. The man handed her drink to her and she took a large gulp.

“Where have you been?” There was no malice or accusation, pure curiosity in her voice.

“I was taking care of some business.” Persephone was being intentionally vague. She didn’t really feel like getting into anything with her friend right now.

“You don’t work.” Iz scoffed at you. “What business could you have possibly been doing?” The wheels were turning in her head and before Persephone could say anything, Iz spoke again. “Oh, don’t tell me you went and saw Spencer.” 

Persephone moved her lips to the side, debating if she was going to say anything. 

“If you killed anyone, you have to tell me.” She whispered to her. Persephone bit her lip, thinking. She wasn’t actually sure if Debbie had died, but she knew that Spencer would definitely make sure she wouldn’t.  She knew that answering these questions would make them head into topics she didn’t want to get into, but if she didn’t Iz would just keep bothering her.

“I didn’t kill anybody.” Persephone defended herself. “It was a close call, but I’m, like, pretty sure she’s not dead.”

“Seph,”

“What?” Persephone motioned for another drink, after downing hers. “It’s not like she was all goodie goodie. She’s the one that convinced her friend to leave, which caused all the murders in the first place, so” 

“So, you didn’t kill anyone this time.” Iz let out a premature sigh of relief.

“What do you mean ‘this time’?” Persephone looked at Iz. She had an inkling to what her redheaded friend was talking about, but if she was going to accuse Persephone of doing anything, Iz was going to say the words.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, no I don’t.” Persephone gripped her glass slightly tighter. “Please enlighten me.”

“I’m talking about Maeve.”

Persephone’s face remained emotionless. “What?”

“This isn’t the first time, you’ve gone off the deep end when it came to Spencer’s love life.”

“When were the other times?” Persephone challenged.

“Uh, Lila, Andie,”

“I could’ve killed Lila for kissing Spencer. I didn’t though.” She pointed her finger at Iz. “Andie, she was a nobody. It wouldn’t have lasted.”

“But you killed Maeve.” Iz stated, rather than asking.

“She was different, and on a technicality, I didn’t.” Persephone got up, pushing her glass to the bartender. “She already had a crazy stalker, I just pushed some things along.”

“Bullshit.” Iz stood up motioning the bartender to get the patrons out of the bar. Persephone was too busy trying to calm her anger before it got out of control. She knew that what happened to Maeve was not ideal, but how was she supposed to predict the future?

“Excuse me?” Iz knew this was a warning. She knew she should have backed down, but she probably had a death wish because she pushed the subject.

“Do you wanna know what I think?”

“Iz,” Persephone took in a deep breath. “I want you to choose your next words very carefully.”

“I think you found out about Maeve and you orchestrated the entire thing to get rid of her, so your precious, baby, Spencer would fall right back into your arms. Because let’s face it, you refuse to believe that he no longer loves you and that maybe, you aren’t all that you think you are!”

Flashback - Spencer’s Apartment, 2013

Persephone had known about someone new in Spencer’s life as soon as the first few letters had gone out. She let it go at first not thinking it was a big deal, but when she started noticing Spencer making frequent trips to phone booths, she got suspicious. She started following him, listening in on the conversations realizing that he was falling for her. She was upset, and had looked her up, easily finding her name and her parents. After a while, she got an address and ‘convinced’ Maeve to meet up with Spencer in person. She knew her stalker wouldn’t be far behind and after that meeting, she knew they weren’t going to last anyway. She hadn’t expected that the crazy bitch would kill her though.

She was in Chicago handling some business when she got a voicemail from Spencer.

“Persephone, you answer your phone, right now. If I find out you had anything to do with Maeve, I will hunt you down.” She furrowed her eyebrows. Maeve hadn’t cut ties off with Spencer yet? Maeve knew after they met face to face, she was supposed to break things off. She called back leaving a voicemail of her own.

“Spencer if this is your way of asking me to come home, you have a weird way of showing it. I’m in Chicago right now, but if you want me home, you’re going to have to say the words.” Persephone was slightly offended that Spencer had even thought she knew Maeve (even if she did know). It wasn’t until later in the evening that she got a call from him just whispering her name, she booked the next flight to D.C.

Spencer’s apartment was a mess. He hadn’t showered in days, he couldn’t remember the last time he fed, and he definitely did not remember calling her.

But there she stood. Outside his apartment.

“Spence?” She spoke hesitantly. The door remained open, an invisible barrier between them. She didn’t dare move.

“Kore,” Spencer breathed the words out before collapsing on the floor. He had no energy to remain upright. Persephone moved quickly, closing the door, placing Spencer’s head in her lap as he sobbed into her stomach while she leaned against the door.

They rested there until the next day when she heard movement outside. She listened in learning it was his co-workers checking in. The doorbell rang, but they both ignored it. Spencer wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Knock twice if you're conscious.”

She looked down at the boy sleeping in her lap. She knocked twice for him, wanting to make sure they didn’t just barge in. Hearing them leave, she shook Spencer, waking him up, half dragging him to the couch.

She wanted to scream at him. Why call her, angry and then call her for comfort, but she couldn’t. Not when he was so clearly distraught. 

“Come on, Little Bug.” She moved the hair out of his face, forcing him to look at her. “Where do you keep your blood? When was the last time you fed?”

Spencer shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Persephone closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She would not let her anger get the best of her. Maybe later, but not now. 

“Tell me about her?” Spencer looked confused, thinking she was tricking her. “I mean it. I’m going to listen, you tell me about her.”

So Spencer did. He talked for a few hours about all the interactions they had and what had happened to her. Persephone watched the small light come back in his eyes when he talked and she could feel her heart crack just waiting to break.

“You fell in love with her.” Persephone’s voice was barely above a whisper. Spencer nodded softly, looking over at Persephone. Throughout his talking, she had gotten further away from him and she was on the other end of the couch, her knees pulled up, protecting herself from pain.

“Not as much I love you though.” He leaned over, brushing a hair out of her face. Persephone closed her eyes, wanting to believe his words. Spencer knew she didn’t believe him, but he didn’t know what to say or do. His mind was loopy, lack of blood getting the best of him. His phone dinged with a new voicemail. He picked it up, listening to it. He looked over at Persephone, but she was gone, as if she was never there.

Present Day

Persephone lost it. She grabbed the cup in her hands, throwing it at Iz who dodged it. Persephone attacked her, pulling Iz’s head back before punching her in the gut. Iz bent over letting out a grunt. Persephone did not hold back, throwing punch and after punch and kick after kick. She had over 500 years on Iz and was the stronger, more experienced one. 

“Maeve was innocent. The only thing she was guilty of was falling in love. I can’t fault her for that. Yes, I wanted her out of the picture, but she didn’t deserve to die. I can blame Spencer for being an adulterous whore, though.” She went to kick Iz, but she caught her leg. She pushed her to the floor. 

Iz broke one of the chair legs, knowing the only way to get the upper hand was to injure Persephone. She moved quickly, before Persephone could get her barrings back. She stuck the splintered wood into her abdomen, breaking it off inside her. Persephone groaned in pain, and before Iz could stop her, Persephone stood up, standing in front of her and broke her neck.

“How about you sleep it off?” She spit out some blood from her mouth, pulling out the wooden leg. She could feel pieces of wood still inside her not allowing her to heal properly. She looked over at the bar, the bartender was standing in fear at the fight he just witnessed. She walked over to him, pulling a bottle of whiskey out.

“Come here.” She waved her hand over. The man slowly made his way over. 

“Please don’t kill me.” His eyes were wide, his bottom lip shaking slightly.

“I’m not.” She took a swig from the bottle. “Now, when she wakes up, you are going to offer your blood to her. Tell her, Persephone isn’t done with her yet.” 

She walked out the door, covering her stomach with her arm, heading to her car. She reclined the seat as far as it would go, before sticking her hand into the open wound, trying to pull out all the splinters. She cursed and groaned, as a few of the smaller pieces lodged further into her body. She knew that if she kept this up, the pieces might make it to her heart and she was not ready to die. She sat up, wiping her hands off with the baby wipes she kept in her car before driving off to the one place that she knew was always stocked with blood.

What she didn’t see, however was the bartender who had instead, left the bar shortly after her, talking on the phone, about her. 

[dragonstoravens]

Babylon Vol. 1: Freeze Frame, Little Victories, Handled

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(Ok this one’s a LONG one, I’ll admit it! But these three chapters-- one Big Boy and two much shorter epilogues-- really go together very well, I didn’t want to separate them. This is one of my favorite parts of book one honestly, so I hope you guys enjoy it too.)

CW: Panic attack

8. Freeze Frame

    There wasn’t really any reason for it, it had just been a very long day. A very long day punctuated, of course, by yet another endless fancy dress event, one Trinity needed out of right now. The problem being that he wasn’t alone at this event. He was used to being the brooding wallflower, the kind of man who was noticed when he needed to be, but who no one would notice if he slipped away. Having Azzy there, even though they’d been to several events together by this point, was a very slight change to his usual strategy that made everything just a touch more difficult. Which meant that, right now, it made everything seem pretty much impossible. Trinity wondered if Azzy had noticed how long it had been since he moved his eyes. Or took a breath. He wasn’t sure himself, and if that awareness was slipping it was really time to go. He couldn’t do this in front of her. 

    “I’ll be right back, dear. Restroom,” he murmured to her, hoping those were the actual words that came out of his mouth. He felt a bit like he was staring at the back of his own head, or watching a vaguely interesting silent film from the back of a drive in theater. He walked away without waiting for a response-- it wasn’t as if he’d hear it, anyway-- making a conscious effort to swing his arms in opposition to his legs as he walked. In his head, he slowly began listing prime numbers, with just enough forethought to pull away from the comm link beforehand. 1. 2. 3. 5. 7. 11. 13? 13. A bead of sweat formed on his temple and rolled slowly down his face. He knew a spot that would be deserted at this time. 17. 19. 23. He turned the corner, and disappeared out of sight from the main ballroom.

    Trinity had left all too quickly. Azure wasn’t used to the crowds quite yet, but something in the urgency with which he left concerned her. The comm had been giving her something like static before it turned off entirely, and he almost never turned that off unless he had to. He liked to know when she was getting nervous. Was the link malfunctioning? She was here, alone, and she didn’t even know where he went. Before she could begin mentally mapping the ballroom out to figure out where the bathrooms even were around here, someone in an all-too-boring suit and his date in a tacky, glittery number walked up. She blinked, plastering a smile on her face. 

    “And to what do I owe the pleasure, Mister…?”

    “Please, just call me James. Where is Trinity? I just saw him around here a minute ago, then he disappeared!” Whoever he was, he seemed friendly. Even if his date was sizing her up something fierce. She ran through her last few events, looking for a James in there somewhere to remember. Maybe she should start sticking around for the tax talk. Oh! This was the one from the security agency. She could field that without fucking it up, he’d mentioned it before. She just had to be really noncommittal. Pretend like she knew anything. That’s how Trinity said he used to do it as a teenager.

    “Trinity’s currently takin’ care of something elsewhere, I’m sure you understand.” She picked her words carefully. “He should be back in a moment, but these things are always so busy, hardly any time to actually get from A to B without some stops in between.” She tried to remember the way Trinity danced his way through small talk to get to the heart of these issues faster. She’d never understood how he did it, but she’d have to try. She tested the comm and got nothing back. “Honestly, I’m sure the borin’ work things can wait until you see him next time. Please, go enjoy yourselves! I’ll gladly let him know y’all came to see him, he’ll be sorry he missed ya.”

    That evasion seemed polite enough for the two of them, as they gave their sincere apologies for not getting to him before he left and went on their merry way. She gave a big exhale, some small sparks shaking off her hands. She shouldn’t stay in one spot or it’d happen again, and this brand of over-polite and accommodating was not her base setting. If she was too formal for too long, she was almost certain she’d begin to chafe. She began a beeline for the refreshments table, eyes always looking out for her date, the stubborn line of her jaw covering for an increasing amount of concern for him. 

    Her shoulder brushed against someone, jostling her from her thoughts slightly. She really only saw a pristine suit and a hand covered in rings. No, that wasn’t something she could handle right now. Too rich for her blood, and literally.

    “Excuse me, my apologies-” was all she offered, continuing on her way. By the time she reached the table, full of wine glasses, she realized too late she’d been followed. But not by the person she’d bumped into. She plastered another smile to her face, picking up a glass and masking her urge to wrinkle her nose at the smell of the wine. She recognized this one: Usually she was with her boy-toy of the week, but today she was alone.

    “Denicia, to what do I owe the pleasure? Where’s that darlin’ blond of yours, or have you broken another young man’s heart within the last week?” She punctuated the sentence with a laugh, making sure it was clear she was telling a joke. Internally, she cringed. She wished Trinity was with her, this was where he’d let out a big breath and quietly note some disheveled detail to pick on to make her leave. She didn’t have the eye for it, nor the vocabulary to really properly pull off that particular exit. That was really more Crim’s thing. Which meant she was stuck.

    “I was about to ask you the same thing, I’ve looked for him everywhere and I simply can’t imagine you’d cut him loose as quickly as I cut mine, Camilla.” The woman gave a smile full of teeth and Azzy wondered if they were fake or if she just had that big of a mouth. No soft chuckle and joke in return. The silence in the comm made her lonely, but she pushed it aside.

    “Oh he’s around. Probably drawin’ up a contract somewhere, you know how he is, always work, no play.” She affected her best pout. This was her least favorite face to put on, the spoiled and slighted lover. If anyone looked at her hands, calloused and scarred, they’d know she was bullshitting, without a doubt, but these people simply weren’t observant or ballsy enough to try and call her on it, and somehow that was worse. 

    “You poor dear, he’ll come around soon I’m sure. Inboxes don’t stay full forever when that’s the pace you work at.” Denicia patted her on the shoulder sympathetically. “I suppose I won’t bother you with my business then, you’ve got a man to locate before he forgets you’re here. Good luck dear!” and with that she whirled around to disappear into the crowd again, leaving behind a thick floral perfume that made Azure gag. She shook out more sparks and gave a long sigh. She had no idea how Trinity had done this on his own for so long. She looked around to see if anyone was watching too closely, and finished her drink in a single gulp. Then she turned, bumping into another someone with way too many rings.

“Oop, my bad, excuse me!”, she offered a small curtsy and continued on her way, beginning her hunt for Trinity anew, wherever he was. A piercing gaze followed her, but with so many sets of eyes on her already, what was one more? She was so, so close to the bathrooms when a man exited. He recognized her, and plodded in her direction. She wanted to groan.

    She knew this one too.

    “Camilla! Powdering your nose I assume? The lady always looks ravishing, I can assure you that from where I’m standing you don’t need to.”

    “Great to see you, Mister Phineas.” She gave a coy smile, keeping an eye on the doors behind him, mentally cataloguing anyone entering and exiting. She prayed Trinity would save her from this one. “Has your evenin’ been kind to you? You seemed to be spinnin’ one helluva yarn when I passed by earlier.”

    Mister Phineas gave a deep belly laugh, and she narrowly kept her smile on well enough to avoid wincing. God, he was so loud. Trinity hadn’t left the bathroom yet, and she wasn’t sure he’d leave her hanging out here if he knew it was Phineas she’d been cornered by.

    “Ah Camilla, that’s more a story for your lad Trinity! Something for us men to share.” He patted her shoulder, and she threw up in her mouth a little. “Where is the boy anyway? I haven’t seen him since the two of you entered.”

    She wanted desperately to just leave. Tell him to fuck off, turn heel and go. He was useless to Trinity by the man’s own admission anyway so a tiny little shock really wouldn’t hurt him too much, with all the insulation he had. Instead of any of that though, she tittered. No point in being violent because someone’s annoying, that would be unladylike at best and evil at worst; her whole reason to be here was making things easier for Trinity. “He’s indisposed, handlin’ some affairs he said just couldn’t wait a minute longer. Shall I pass somethin’ along? I’ve got no idea when he’ll be back around.” She tapped at the comm one more time. Nothing. Ugh.

    “Oh, poor form, leaving a pretty thing like you to wander a wolf’s den like this.” For once she thought maybe Phineas had a point, but she’d never admit that. “I’ll handle my business with him myself, would hate to make you work harder than you need to.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it and she smiled, while internally screaming. He waved and off he went, and she fought the urge to wipe the slime his mouth left on her hand off onto her dress. She looked around.

    Trinity still hadn’t returned. She couldn’t reach him in the comm, and in the minute or so she’d kept an eye on the men’s room, he hadn’t entered or exited. At least out in this hall, she could get a feel for the size of the building. It wasn’t huge, just fancy with a lot of gardens. Trinity wouldn’t leave the building she didn’t think, not if she was going to be stuck here. That left a few stairwell corners and some alcoves she already knew were full of the sort of illicit rendezvous Trinity wasn’t really inclined to. She exited the hall with the bathrooms, knowing full well that’s where the alcoves were and not the stairwells. She took a deep breath and entered the throng, smiling and waving where her attention was drawn but not stopping to converse. Crimson’s voice rang in her head: “If you look purposeful enough, anyone with sense will get out of your way, and anyone without sense should follow suit.”

    So through the crowd she strode, head high, step as sure as she could fake it, a wake of static left behind her every step as she tried to quell her rising concern for Trinity’s well being. Her face was set as neutrally as she could manage, knowing her default was an expression of stubborn irritation. To others, she was a woman on a mission. To herself, she was mentally planning every step she took, desperately praying she’d see him pop up in the corners of her vision.

    She was almost to the set of hallways on the other side of the room when, in her desperate focus to Get To The Other Side Of The Room, she barely registered the bejeweled hand on her shoulder. Internally, she sighed. Externally, she carefully took the hand off her shoulder, barely sparing a long enough glance to be heard. “I’m very sorry sir, I’ve got somethin’ urgent to attend to.”

    “Urgent?” The man lifted a perfect dark eyebrow in a bone-pale and starkly handsome face, and pulled his hand back slowly from where it had been draped in the air after she’d removed it from her person. The nails were painted blood red, and gold and silver rings glinted in the light. His voice was far more polite than any of the others she’d talked to, soft and smooth as silk, but she still really didn’t have time for that. 

    Did I fuckin’ stutter, sir?   

    A slight static from the comm answered her unspoken question, then nothing. 

    “I’m afraid so. I assure you,” she tossed over her shoulder and began walking away, more static in her wake. “I’m a horrible liar.”

    He only blinked. “I believe you.” The words were quiet, but followed her down the hall anyhow. He turned with a flash of purple-- was that a purple velvet suit, really?-- and was out of sight, finally. She fought the urge to stick her tongue out or give a loud sigh or do something, anything to vent the frustration she felt at being stopped again, but she managed to keep it together. She wandered the thinning crowds in the hallway, ascending a set of stairs with purpose to a floor that seemed almost deserted.

    “Trinity?” She called softly, not wanting to alert anyone to his disappearance. If he wasn’t here, she’d look like a crazy person, and she already had enough of that. She stayed quiet and listened over the din of the event downstairs. She didn’t hear anything, but there was a slight shadow down one of the empty hallways, unmoving, but vaguely human shaped. She strode towards the shape, slowing as she went. 

    “Trinity?” she called softly from a few feet away.

    It was him, she could see as she approached. He stood, leaning against the wall in the deserted hallway, perfectly still and unmoving. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. His face was expressionless, gaze vaguely fixed at a point across the hall where the wall met the floor, eyes frozen in place. He hadn’t blinked since she’d been watching him, and her eyes started to water in sympathy. He didn’t react to her presence. After a long moment, he blinked. The movement began and ended in only his eyelids.

    She stopped only a few feet from him, just outside his periphery. She reached a hand out, hesitant. She had no idea what was going on, he’d completely shut her out this whole time. No warning, just silence. If she was honest, she’d been pushing the thought that maybe she’d messed up somehow away all night. But she couldn’t find what she’d done, and it wasn’t like Trinity to give a punishment like the silent treatment. He’d call in a drone strike, or something. Ruin her credit score. Tease her mercilessly until she apologized. She turned off the cybernetics in her arm, reaching for his shoulder.  

    “Terra to Trinity, pagin’ Hotshot. We need you back here on the ground, buddy.” Her voice came out softer than she’d known it could ever be. He was so still. She frowned, glancing around them. No one. He was certainly good at finding hiding spots. She moved into his line of sight. “Trinity, what’s goin’ on?”

    As she got close to him, she could see why it looked like he wasn’t breathing. He was taking incredibly shallow breaths, so much so that his chest and mouth didn’t move at all, and the breaths were coming far faster than was healthy. He didn’t respond to her voice or even to her touch except to blink again— the only hint that any stimulus was reaching him. She’d never seen him do anything even close to this before, he was always so well put together she’d begun to think he was a robot designed exclusively to chat easily with the rich and powerful. She couldn’t piece together what the hell was going on. Was he having a seizure? It didn’t look quite like the ones she’d seen Cadet have, but maybe there were more kinds. Or maybe it was something else. Had something happened to him? She wouldn’t know until either he could talk or passed out, and who knew when that would be. If he was having a seizure she’d know soon enough, and then maybe she’d be able to help. But in the meantime?

    She plopped onto the ground, back resting against the wall as she stretched out to lounge right there on the floor. Her arm was pressed lightly but firmly against his leg. Something to anchor himself to, if he needed to for some reason. She gave an exaggerated yawn. 

    “Yeah I don’t blame you for bein’ quiet, this is stressful. I was downstairs on my own for a fraction of what you usually deal with and I’m already done with it.” She spoke as though he was going to respond, giving his silence some time to fill the air in response. “I ran into Phineas and he left some of his mouth slime on my hand. I think he got….rounder.” She puffed her cheeks out and made a noise one would attribute to a Large Formless Blob. “I think it’s all the shit he talks, he’s swallowing some. The methane’s inflating him AND his ego.”

    She chanced a look up at him before she continued. “I think that probably he’s the worst. He’s just so damn loud. It’s nicer up here. Quiet and you can actually breathe a little without catching someone’s four thousand credit perfume in your mouth. Have you noticed how overdone the smells are? I was thinking about makin’ a little particle-incineratin’ barrier for my nose just to come to these things without havin’ to leave with a headache.”

     A slightly louder inhale and exhale this time. Maybe something… or maybe not. Still, his chest moved a little with the breath, just the slightest twitch. He blinked. She grinned and continued in her lounging, gesturing dramatically. “I mean, how many innocent flowers died in the making of that migraine? How much you wanna bet they don’t even like the smell themselves? It’s the luxury of it all. Poor posies never imagined it would end like that, slathered on a high-falutin’ neck for the drama.” She was trying to be funny, in the hopes he’d maybe smile. She also tried to keep her voice low enough that only he could hear her, even from her ridiculous position splayed out on the floor. She made an attempt at keeping a cadence to her inflection as well. Something easy to follow, soothing.

    His head made a robotic movement, up and down almost imperceptibly as if mimicking the idea of a nod. It seemed like more of an automatic response, something cultivated to try and convince people there was nothing wrong, rather than an indication he understood or processed what she was saying. Not that it would convince anyone, it was the least natural motion she’d ever seen from him, but at least it meant he could hear her. 

    She took a deep breath and moved a little, stretching out in front of him now, right at his feet, still making sure some part of her touched him. She looked around. Still no one, not that it mattered much. This was the most comfort and fun she’d had all night, which really said something about the company they kept at these events. She smiled up at him. “And some of these people are tacky as hell. I have no idea who let them out of the house lookin’ like that. Though I guess honestly I’m not sure who let them out in general, they don’t know how to act right.” She rested her head on a gloved hand, stabilized by her elbow on the floor. She hummed a little in thought. “I wonder what the market would be like for a little robot that tells you when you’ve got a few too many rings on. Absolutely ridiculous, you jack off with that hand?” She lifted her head and counted on her fingers. “I think more than like three per hand is pushin’ it. How do you even lug your own limbs around? Do something useful that’s not stoppin’ me when I’m busy.”

    He actually stopped breathing for a moment at something she’d said in there. Hard to say which part, she’d said a lot of shit. She could ask later. If she remembered. For now she was just looking for something, anything to talk about. “...Yeah, you’re right, it is a little rude not to even try to act like I care.” She continued as if he’d responded to her. “Like I said, I got no idea how you did this on your own for so long. It’s awful. I can only imagine how much more you’d rather be home, curled under a blanket or something. Some hot cocoa instead of this weird champagne with alien fruit in it. I’m not even sure what it is. Do you know of any green fruits with a rind like an orange and the texture of an apple? Tasted awful, and I even double checked, you are supposed to eat it.”

    She was about to barrel on, but some instinct told her to wait. After a moment, Trinity twitched at her side, seeming to struggle for a big enough breath to speak. “Zmenclok.” His voice was empty of all emotion, a blank monotone without inflection. “Antrian fruit.”

    She nodded thoughtfully, a wave of relief crashing over her to hear him speak at all. “The Antrians are a strong people then, because that was the worst fruit I’ve ever put in my mouth by a long shot.” She examined her nails, as though she really cared much. “Left a smell on my hands, I’ve washed them twice already.” She’d also tried to burn the smell off with electricity, but that also hadn’t worked. “I wonder if instead of water soluble sugars, it’s made of something else? That would explain why I hated it, humans might not actually be compatible with the chemical makeup. We’ll know when the bathroom lines reach out to the cars, I suppose.”

    “Uh… huh.” It was almost a sound of agreement, or at least meant to sound like one, with about twelve of those fast, shallow breaths between the syllables. When she glanced up at him, his eyes had gone unfocused and cloudy.

    He could kind of talk, which was good. She didn’t want to push her luck by drawing attention to the state he was pulling himself out of. So she just kept going, starting with a very long, deep inhale and sigh. Maybe he’d get the hint. She usually did when Crim did it, but everyone’s different. “Y’know, I talk a lot of shit, but I do have fun at these sometimes. It’s not the worst thing to look nice and eat weird food. Can’t say I’d recommend the “whole spoonful of just Gensoran caviar” thing but it’s a great story since I’m at these things all the time lately anyway.” She thought for a moment. “The dancin’s pretty alright too. I get some of my best thinkin’ done when I’m not hangin’ upside down, it turns out. I sent off a blueprint to my shop back home, they’re doin’ the rough fabrication for me so I can get the fine tunin’ out of the way on my own. I used to drive ‘em all nuts, gettin’ way too precise.” She had a faraway look in her eyes. She really didn’t think he’d notice. “I kinda miss my mechanics. With just Kelly to watch all of ‘em, I’d hope they can focus hard enough to get anythin’ done.” 

    He might have attempted to follow her example of a deep breath, but he didn’t make it far. His breathing got harsher as she spoke, but no slower or deeper. “A-Az—ure.” He could barely get the word out through his tight, shallow, breaths. His hand closest to her flexed, opening like he was searching for something to grab onto, and she could feel his leg start to tremble against her. He swayed on his feet, unsteady. He was moving now, but it seemed like his frozen state had been compensating for the lack of oxygen he was getting. Any clarity he’d been grasping for answering her questions was fading, and as it did that odd static fuzz picked up through the com again. Somehow, the sound was almost frantic, making her tense up as it invaded her mind.

    She shoved the static away. She could have a secondhand panic at home, with Crim or Perry or something. Priority one: Trinity Jericho does not pass out on the floor of the balcony level stairwell in a ritzy ballroom. Priority two: Trinity Jericho does not get his panic revealed to the general public. In one fluid motion, she got to her feet. Somewhere, a violin bow began a slow trek along its strings. She caught the hand that had been flexing in her own, her other wrapping around his waist as she stepped in close. The same way he��d kept her upright countless times while she was still stumbling around in heels like a newborn giraffe. She was a lot shorter, but her cybernetics kicked in a little to help. Someone walked up the stairs and she gave them a shy smile, brain endlessly working. They passed by with little thought given to the couple dancing in the empty hallway. She thought into the comm, as soothingly as she could.

    Lean in. I’ll lead this time. I promise you’re not heavy. Breathe, Trinity.

    She wasn’t completely sure she was reaching him, but once he had something supporting him at least he could stop fighting so hard to hold himself upright under his own power. Almost his full weight dropped into her, and his head fell to her shoulder. She could feel tiny, hot puffs of air against her neck, as he fought to slow his breathing. His face was still blank of all emotion or expression, but the comm registered his terror— he couldn’t stop, couldn’t control it. His hands twitched, tightening around hers. She gave him a gentle squeeze back.

    Breathe with the music. In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four.

    She continued counting for him, keeping time with the lazy tune playing on the floor below as it floated up to them. She took no real steps, but kept a slow, steady, easy sway. She did the breathing herself, trying to drown his static with her own soothing patterns. Eventually, the rhythm of the swaying and the music started to break through the static— he managed a deep breath in, struggling to release it again as it caught in his chest, until he finally let it all out with a choking exhale. The next time he tried, it was slightly smoother, and he staggered in place. He would have fallen if it weren’t for her arms holding him up. His chest heaved in and out a few more times, and his legs trembled slightly. 

    “I’m. Fine. O—ok.” The words were robotic and clipped.

    “That’s a lie, but you can talk now so I’ll take it.” She continued their swaying, keeping her breathing deep and slow. Her head turned to hide her mouth in his shoulder, away from anyone nearby who might be able to read lips and was piecing it all together. There was no one, realistically, but at this point she also just enjoyed the warmth. “I think I got cornered by every friend you’ve got at these damn things while tryin’ to find you. We can probably dip as soon as you’re ready. They can wait. You can go home, Hotshot. You don’t have to stay on this time.” 

    “Yes. I want to go… soon.” It was like he was reading a teleprompter. They swayed for a bit longer, as his breathing evened out, and after a moment, he tapped her on the shoulder, like he was trying to get her attention. “Can… we sit.” 

    " 'Course we can sit." She slowed them to a stop and let him onto his own two feet as gently as she could, easing him to the ground after that. She flopped down beside him with much less care and ceremony. She nestled herself into his shoulder, just in front of him enough to suggest she was ready to support his weight sitting, if he needed it. "Better?"

    He braced himself against the wall as he slid to the floor. In the back of her mind, through the comm, she could hear what sounded vaguely like numbers, prime numbers, she realized after a moment. Soon enough, they stopped, and he took in another trembling breath. “Yes. Better.” He still didn’t sound like Trinity. It was hard to hear him sound so... absent. “I’m. Coming back.” He paused. “Know where I am. Sorry I… left.”

    She leaned into him gently, lounging as casually as you can in a floor length gown. If he'd been mentally present, she'd have looked like a really old Terran lounge singer. All she was missing was a piano. Her mouth curved into its standard lopsided smile. "If you were just dealin' with what I think you were, I can't say I blame ya for dippin' out. Not exactly fun, Crim's told me." She rolled her shoulder a little. "I wasn't kiddin', you know. I managed to excuse you from the clutches of three of our favorites for the night. We really can just go home once you're back to basics."

    He nodded stiffly, before letting his head loll back against the wall, as if he couldn’t quite hold it up on his own. “Panic attack. No reason. Just too much.” He pressed his hands to the cold tile of the floor, seeking something to feel. “In… a minute. I want to leave. Soon, I can… fake it. Enough to get out.”

    She nodded back, eyeing another set of people making their way up the stairs. She sat up straight, shielding him from view, leaning in a little farther than she might normally, even for what she was here to pretend to be. "Take your time, Trinity." She whispered quietly. He couldn't really keep up an act right now, so she was going to have to put up twice as much. Sorry about this. I'm going to touch you, I'll try to make it as little as I can. She settled her arms around him, head on his shoulder. Her face said adoration while her eyes betrayed the thought involved as she tried to keep the touch as minimal as she could.

    A shudder ran through him as the sounds of the other couple reached them, and his green eyes stared through Azzy instead of at her even as she leaned in close to shield him from their view. His breathing had begun to speed up just slightly, but he managed to at least keep it steady and deep with the help of a quiet chant of prime numbers that slipped into the back of her mind from his, clearly a strategy he had to keep focus and not fall back into whatever empty place he’d been before. 

    The passersby soon left their immediate vicinity, and Azzy pulled away from him slowly. With Crim, there was a 50/50 chance she'd be forbidden from moving and letting him go after a panic attack, so she wanted to give Trinity the option, if he could tell that's what was being offered. She searched his body language for what he needed, other than an opportunity to leave. She briefly wondered if just breaking down a wall and making their own door was that bad of a plan. 

    Trinity made no move to keep her in place, and his body language, like his face, was so still and blank that she couldn’t glean much of anything from it. She wondered what in his life had taught him to panic like this— silent and so absolutely contained that he nearly ceased to exist entirely. She took a deep breath, letting herself also slump against the wall and, for the first time since she found him like this, she looked away. Her eyes remained fixed on the stairwell, quietly willing the partygoers below to stay away as she continued to count the beat of the current song. She took herself away from being pressed to him entirely, giving him some few inches of space. Her part in this was done. All that was left was to wait it out. He’d pulled away from the comm again, closing his thoughts off, but she could hear him breathing steadily behind her as he pulled a bit more fully back to himself. 

    It took a few minutes, but eventually she heard movement behind her as Trinity shifted, clearing his throat. “Alright. I think I should be ready to go now, as long as we don’t have to stop and talk to anyone.” His voice moved up and down in a manner very similar to its usual inflection, but somehow after witnessing what she just had she could tell that it was all very intentional. It wasn’t his real voice, just a very clever approximation that would probably fool anyone who didn’t know him very well. With luck, it would be enough for them to make it out of the building. She got the feeling that it wasn’t going to get any better than this as long as they were still in the place where it had happened.

    She stood and brushed herself off, rolling her shoulder and setting her jaw in its usual stubborn position. She offered him her hands to pull him to standing. “I’ve got it on the way out. Smile and nod like I’m sure you were plannin’ on anyway.”

    In response, he simply smiled. Very convincing, except his eyes were still faraway and empty. “Of course. I’ve had to do this a couple of times before.” He didn’t say ‘alone,’ but she knew what he meant. It was maybe as close to a thank you as he could manage to get out right now. She gave a slightly sadder smile in response. She’d always been easy to read. It made her easy to talk to. Eyes becoming steely, she pulled him up. 

    “Okay, let’s go back to hell.”

    “Already there.” He gave that same empty smile and followed.

    She took his hand in hers and led him down the stairs. The difference from the lazing, relaxed person who’d just sat with him and held him literally upright, to the person leading him through the throng of the rich and forgettable was astounding. She’d never walked this tall at an event before, each step falling exactly where she’d intended it to. In her head, she tracked where she’d entered from, where there were the fewest people they knew and where there were the fewest people in general. She kept an eye out for people who’d been looking for him, breezing past Phineas without him sparing either of them so much as a glance. The usual easy gracefulness she was trying for was replaced with a purposeful stride, static in the air where she stepped.

    She really just wanted to leave as soon as possible. Her brother’s voice rang in her head once more: “People with sense will get out of your way”. She hoped he was right, Trinity needed some fresh air at least. She wove through the crowds, exchanging passing pleasantries through kilowatt smiles and an ever so slightly played up drawl. Trinity barely had to look at who she was speaking to. 

    Somewhere along their way, so close to the exit, she turned a bit quickly, bumping into someone in a purple suit with an overabundance of jewelry. She heard the tinkle of breaking glass and the splash of liquid scattering from the broken cup. The man she’d just spilled wine on looked up from the tablet he’d been occupied with, his face, which might have been familiar had she bothered to think about it, written over with genuine surprise. Trinity’s hand tightened on hers, and she could feel his pulse pounding where his wrist pressed close to hers. She gave a quiet noise of surprise before collecting herself and trying to mind her manners without getting trapped by conversation. “My bad, s’cuse me sir-” She quipped out as she pushed past, pulling Trinity with her without a second thought, stride still sure. Was his breathing starting to speed up again? All the more reason to get out as fast as possible.

    When they finally made it through the doors with no further issues and reached the empty stretch of driveway the car had been called to, Trinity dropped her hand and took a few more breaths to calm himself down again. He didn’t always trust what he saw in this state, but…

    “Oh God,” He muttered, his voice dropping back into its low monotone. “Tell me he’s not following. I can’t…” words failed him, and he rubbed his hands together, trying to generate some feeling. He prayed the car would arrive soon. She looked behind them. No one.

    “No one followed us, Hotshot. What’s got you bent outta shape again? I said excuse me.” Her words were callous, but she sounded genuinely concerned. She thought she’d done well, and he certainly seemed like he had more important things to worry about than her being a little rude on accident.

    “I know.” He took in a breath too fast, and forced it to exit more slowly. “But he’s too observant. I can’t let him see… this. You-- you know how he is, don’t you.” It should have been a question, but the phrase didn’t go up at the end to indicate it.

    She raised a brow, moving to touch his shoulder lightly, hoping to steady him on his feet a little better and give him something to ground with. “Tacky?” She, again, sounded genuine, making a little joke to lighten this bizarre mood they’d cooked up.

    He turned to face her, and somehow her response shocked an actual expression out of him, his eyes slightly widened. “Azure. That man was…” a very slight twitch of the corner of his mouth, like this was something he really didn’t want to address. “My employer.”

    Her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ the moment the final syllable was out. It closed a moment later, and her brow furrowed, guilt all over her features. “That really is a problem then, ain’t it? Shit Trinity, I’m sorry. I was just tryin’ to get us both outta there. It’s not like its exactly my forte, bein’ in crowds.” She ran her hand through her curls, bunching them up at the base of her neck. Her hands sparked some but she didn’t shake them out. “Still I’m...shit, I’m sorry.”

    He took a few calming breaths, trying to look reassuring, but he was clearly still struggling to be expressive. “It’s alright. He… didn’t notice anything. Won’t bother with it… once it’s not interesting anymore.”

    Azzy bit back her Sounds like a real peach to know comment, only to realize a moment later she still had her comm in, and the sardonic tone was not subtle. She cleared her throat. “As long as you’re fine. I don’t exactly have a lot to fear from ‘im, so if you think you’re fine then you probably are.”

    “I’m not afraid of him.” He sighed slightly and glanced down the road impatiently, waiting for the car to arrive. “But showing weakness is dangerous.”

    Somehow, Azure managed to say nothing for long enough to choose her next words carefully. “Guess it’s good I didn’t see anythin’ then.” Her mouth molded the words in such a way that when they left her mouth, they carried the clear reminder she was technically a vigilante by trade as well as a cybernetic engineer: She was offering him the option to ask her to forget. To ignore the whole night, act like it had never happened. Nothing gained, nothing lost. Just a black box of a night she’d never bring up again.

    He looked at her, putting together her meaning. After a moment, he gave a slow nod of his head. His eyes held hard steel that said he understood, and a flash of gratitude that she assumed was the last indication she’d get that anything happened, before he turned away again. 

    “I appreciate your company at these events, Azure. It certainly serves its purpose.”

    She simply nodded in understanding as the car finally pulled up the drive, jewelry glinting in the moonlight and features placid. Face blank. Like nothing had happened. She glanced around to make sure there wasn’t anyone outside, before opening the door for him. A friendly gesture. 

    He smirked at her, this one closer to genuine than she’d seen all night, as he got into the car. “What a gentleman. Come on, you have to get back to the ship.”

    She rolled her eyes and got in the car herself. “The lady’s in a rush to be rid of me. Forsooth, my heart. It breaks.” His smirk reflected back at him. He smacked her shoulder lightly as she got in, and the car finally pulled away from the event, headed for home.

9. Little Victories

    Azzy’s feet hit the cold metal of the ship over and over, shoes in one hand and excessive skirt bunched high in the other as she ran clear across the entire crew quarters level from the entrance, leaving a trail of static in her wake. She’d long since abandoned any idea of propriety now that she was back on her own home turf. Her run stopped at the end of the hall, where hers, her brother’s, Periwinkle’s, Indigo’s, and Smalls’ cabins were clustered. Breathless and eyes alight with excitement, she knocked on Perry’s door, finally doubling over to pant and wait for them to answer.

    The door opened on Perry’s confused face. “Azure, what—?”

    Azzy stood up straight once the door opened, beaming if a little embarrassed by her own energy. “I want you to guess what I did today, you’ll think it’s hilarious.”

    “Ok, well…” they blinked at her, clearly baffled. “You were off the ship today. With a ‘friend,’ wasn’t it?” It was an affectation— many of the people on the ship had figured out at this point where Azzy went when she was planetside and who she was with, and Perry specifically had probably known since date number two, but it was an unspoken rule to pretend they didn’t. 

    Azzy rolled her eyes at the implication. Trinity was a friend, and a good one. Even if he was, by every account, very shady. So were all of them, so who were they to talk? She pushed the retort back in favor of continuing to beam. “I ran into Fate. Quite literally, I might add. Spilled wine on him, heard the “oh!”, all of it. Ruined his shirt, I guarantee you, maybe that awful purple suit too. Not sure he knew it was me, because I sure as hell had to be told who he was. Why didn’t you tell me he was so tacky?”

    Perry blinked, expression caught somewhere between abject terror and the sort of expression one might make after being smacked upside the head with a brick— and then he laughed out loud, the sound ringing down the halls of the ship. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned all those goddamn rings at least once.” She grinned, sharklike. “Bumping into him, spilling on his shirt, and worst of all, not knowing who he was? That sounds like his worst nightmare.”

    Azure loved seeing her friend smile. Made her all fuzzy inside. She grinned back. “I think I might have blown him off a few more times before that too. I was tryin’ to find my date and he just kept puttin’ himself in my path. Like I didn’t have better things to do. I’m a livin’ taser, he’s lucky he wasn’t fried. I was already anxious as hell, it was more than possible.” She gave a little yawn. “Anyway, I’m beat. Have fun eatin’ puddin’ with my brother.”

    Perry’s soft chuckle followed her down the hall as she left.

10. Handled

    It didn’t hit Trinity until much later that night what exactly Azure had done while he’d been… incapacitated. He knew he was still far too anxious to sleep, no matter how exhausted he was, so he’d taken the advice he vaguely remembered from while Azzy’d been chattering to him earlier that evening and wrapped himself in a blanket on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate. There was no need to wake up his sister this late-- he’d just sleep tomorrow. 

    He’d already had the cocoa made when he remembered that it was Azure who’d mentioned it in the first place, and as he’d sat and slowly unraveled his tangled, panic laden memories of the night, he’d begun to piece together everything else she’d said and done. The first thing was how she’d handled finding him in that state. Others who’d stumbled upon him in the past had done everything from trying to shake him out of it to calling an ambulance, and not one had actually been helpful. He knew his attacks were strange and unfamiliar even to people who had ones of their own, but she’d simply waited, using sound and touch to bring him back until she could see what he needed. In some ways, he barely knew her, and yet she’d helped him out of it more quickly and painlessly than anyone except perhaps his sister ever had. How had she known, and honestly, why had she bothered? He’d almost believed she would just leave once he disappeared for long enough.

    The next fact that rose to his mind as he considered everything else she’d said was the reason they’d been able to leave so quickly in the first place. Not only had she expertly hidden his compromised state from passerby while he recovered, but she’d been on her own in the crowds the whole time he’d been gone. He had no real concept of how long that had been, but it was impressive at any amount. Not only had she been able to wade through the masses of humanity successfully, she’d apparently expertly handled each business partner or contact he’d been meant to speak with tonight, to the point that not a single person had accosted them or vied for Trinity’s attention on the way out. Even the run-in with Fate, as stressful as it had been at the time, he was sure had been purely accidental. This one night alone had given Trinity more confidence in Azzy’s ability to conduct herself well at these events, more than any dancing improvement or small talk or perfect dinner etiquette. More than that, it was yet another example of something she absolutely didn’t have to do, but did anyway, for a reason he couldn’t puzzle out.

    The final piece to the puzzle was her very last gift to him as they waited for a car-- an unspoken promise to forget this moment of weakness, never to bring it up again. It was easy to forget the real business she was in sometimes, that she traveled with a ship of vigilantes with checkered and secretive pasts and plenty of issues of their own. It was unlike him, but somehow he felt he could trust her with that weakness. Not only did he believe her when she said she would treat it as though it never happened, but he wasn’t afraid of it coloring her interactions with him. Even subconsciously. His memories of the night were still hazy and sorting through them was exhausting and painful work, but if he knew one thing, it was that he could trust Azure. If he’d thought it before, now he was sure. 

    Trinity pulled his blanket tighter around himself and took a sip of cocoa. She was right, this was much better than being in a crowded ballroom. He should do this more often.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone @charlottedotexe

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites

[smilexcaptainx]

Park Incident | Ransom Drysdale

Wanna be part of my Imagines Tag List?

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Teen!Reader

Requested: Anonymous

Request: I have a test to study for but this idea popped into my mind and I thought of you immediately. I would love an imagine with Ransom Drysdale with a teen!reader where he’s been given the responsibility to watch over his little cousin (the reader) the two despise each other and constantly bicker at each other. Ransom takes her to a park and she runs away from him, only to run into trouble. Luckily, Ransom is there to save her in time, and soft Ransom shows and the reader teases him. OOF! THANKS ILY

A/N: I love you too and I hope you enjoy!

Warning(s): Language

Word Count: 1.8K

masterlist

 This morning contained an abundance amount of time trying to get you to even step foot in the same house as your worst enemy, also known as your cousin, Ransom Drysdale. The two of you never got along ever since you were little, and the more you grew up, the worse it got. Ransom couldn't stand you because of the bratty attitude you always threw his way. He never wanted anything to do with you, and you felt the exact same toward him.

 Your mother thought that having Ransom watch over you while she went out with friends would draw you two closer, but it did the complete opposite. The very moment you entered the house and into the line of sight of Ransom, it was constant insults, offensive comments and humiliation at each other from there. Your mother always claimed that you and Ransom reminded her of her relationship she had with her father.

 Ransom would always take offense at that comment. He hated being mistaken as your father. He was your cousin and even calling you his cousin made him want to gag. He didn't want to be related to you period. Once your mother had left, you locked yourself into a bedroom upstairs and demanded that Ransom shouldn't even come near you. Hours passed and Ransom interrupted your relaxation time in your bedroom with a loud knock and request to go to the park.

 Coming from Ransom though, it was more of a command than a request. You had to admit, you didn't want to spend anytime with Ransom, but a headache was forming from staring at your phone for hours. You tossed your phone to the side and got out of bed. You walked up to your bedroom door and unlocked it. You swung it open and walked straight past Ransom without saying a word.

 Ransom sighed in annoyance and followed you down the stairs, telling you that you had to wear a jacket. You ignored him and continued your way to the door.

"Alright, listen here you little shit, you need to wear your damn jacket!"‌ ransom called out, picking up his speed after you. You placed your hand on the door knob, but Ransom got a hold of your shoulder and spun you around to face him. "You better get your damn jacket or I'm not taking you to the park."

 You knew Ransom wasn't going to leave you alone so you just did as he commanded, obviously with tons of complaints and trash talk regarding him while doing the task. Ransom opened the door once you had your jacket on and you two walked over to his car. Ransom expected you to sit in the passenger seat in the front, but you willingly took the back.

—

 The park had the sweet aroma of grass, just as you expected. You felt better being outside, you just wished that it wasn't with Ransom. You two walked side by side in complete silence. Ransom sat down at a bench that was nearby and you sat down beside him. Ransom pulled out his phone and started playing a game, as for you, you forgot your phone at the house.

"Why don't you go play in the jungle gym over there?" ransom asked, not even looking up from his phone. "You'll fit right in with those kids."

You rolled your eyes. "Anything to get away from you."

 You stood up and walked over to the jungle gym that held kids five and up. You were definitely the only teenager present. Once you made it to the park, you turned around and saw that your "guardian" wasn't even paying any attention to you. You took that as a sign that he didn't care, and decided to abandon the park and go look for something more exciting.

—

 Ransom didn't realize how much time had passed until a caller ID appeared on his phone. It was your mother. Ransom swiped answer.

"What?"

"Have you and (Y/N) eaten yet?"

"No." ransom answered in a monotone. "Why?"

"Well, I promised her that you would take her to her favorite fast food restaurant," your mother spoke through the phone. Ransom rolled his baby blue eyes, as if he was supposed to know what it was. "I'm not going to tell you because you're going to have to find out through her."

"Whatever."

"How is the park going for you two?"

"(Y/N) is just playing over at the jungle gym with other random devil children," ransom said, stretching his other arm that wasn't holding the phone. "I'm sure she's having the time of her life over there."

 Ransom stared at the jungle gym packed with crying kids, but the longer he gazed at the park, he didn't see the teenager that he brought with him to the park. Ransom's mouth slowly was gaping as your mother babbled words into Ransom's ear, you weren't there like he said you were.

"Ransom?" your mother's voice asked, pulling him back into reality. "Are you still there?"

"Bye."

 Ransom cut off your mother and slammed his finger on the hang up button. He shoved his phone into his pocket and flew up off his seat.

"(Y/N)!" ransom screamed out, jogging up toward the play area. "(Y/N)!‌ Where are you!"

 The adult ran through the jungle gym of little children, scaring some and making others think he was playing hide and go seek with someone named (Y/N). Ransom's head kept spinning, his eyes intensely searching for you and his mouth screaming your name. You weren't there. You were gone.

"That little shithead!" ransom shouted, ignoring the surprised gasps of the mothers in reaction. "(Y/N), I know you're out there somewhere!‌ I swear when I find you, I'm going to—"

 Ransom immediately fell silent when his ears caught the sound of a group of giggling girls. He snapped his head toward the sound and saw a group of girls surrounding something. He knew it was a long shot, but they seemed to be the only teenagers around, he thought they might know who you were, and if not, he wouldn't stop searching.

 Ransom started a light jog toward them, but his eyes noticed something when he got closer.‌ Through the little space between two girls, there was another girl on the ground, and he knew straightaway who it was. You were the one on the ground, and you seemed to be what the girls were laughing and giggling at. Ransom's blood boiled with anger through his and he picked up his speed.

—

"P-Please," you whimpered, your body shaking from all the pain coming at you at once. Kick after kick and getting drenched in their spit. You covered your head, hoping they wouldn't get to that part and your eyes were shut tightly. It was hell. "I-I'm s-sorry."

"You should be!" one of the girls spat. "You're just a—"

"Get your damn hands off of (Y/N)!" a familiar voice rang through the air. The kicks stopped, but you still didn't want to uncover yourself. You didn't feel safe yet. "That's my daughter you're beating up."

 Daughter? Could it be? Ransom had finally used that term on purpose? He said it so smoothly, so naturally, it rolled right off his tongue, it was as if he had always wanted to say it.

"Well, your daughter started it." a different voiced girl lied. "She was calling us words that I can't repeat."

"That's the biggest load of shit I've ever heard," ransom retorted sarcastically. "but it's not as big as the piece of shit I'm looking at right now."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said," his eyes scanned all over the group of girls. "you all are pieces of shit. Now leave my daughter alone."

"And why should we do that?"

"Because if you don't," ransom took a step closer to the girl. "I'm going to be giving you and all the rest of your bitches the discipline you all didn't receive growing up."

The blond one of the group chortled. "You touch us and you're going to jail old man."

Ransom smirked. "Who said I was going to touch you?"

 A shriek poured out of the blonde one's mouth as you performed the action of the sweeping your leg at her feet. She fell backward on top of the brunette and it was domino falling from there. As they were all piled on top of each other, balling like a group of babies, you climbed up to your feet and jumped over them over to Ransom. His sly chuckle of amusement erupted from his lips as he ran off with you back to his car.

 Ransom hurried into the drivers seat and while he was buckling up, he saw something he thought would never happen. You got into the passenger seat. Ransom was so in thought, he didn't realize where he was until you looked at him.

"Ransom!"‌ you called out. "GO!"

 Ransom blinked and whipped back forward, shoving his keys into the car. He slammed his foot on the pedal and you both were off. Not even a few minutes passed and you exploded into laughter.

"I can't believe that just happened," you laughed joyfully. "those girls always torment me at school, but now," you smiled. "now they'll fear me knowing that you're my father—" you paused as that word came out of your mouth. "I um, I mean—er, cousin."

"Around them, it's father," ransom assured. "I'm glad that we were able to escape in time though. I‌ didn't want to get attacked with teenage girls mother's shoes," ransom said. "not again."

You chuckled at that memory. "I remember that." A comfortable silence fell in the car, soon being broken by you again. "The thing is, the Ransom I know would have left me to get beat up. Hell, he would have even joined them on beating me up." you thought out loud. "Why save me Ransom?"

"Because you're still my little cousin (Y/N)," ransom answered, his grasp on the steering wheel hardening. "and seeing them do that to you...It sparked something in me I've never felt toward you before."

"Sympathy?"

"No (Y/N)," ransom replied, a small eye roll following after. "the feeling that it hurt me seeing you get hurt. I mean, it physically hurt me."

"Love?"‌

 You knew that word would put silence in the car, and it did, but Ransom soon replied.

"Yes (Y/N)." ransom confessed. "I...I love you okay? I couldn't bear seeing those girls—"

"I love you too Ransom," you said quickly, hoping it was fast enough for him not to understand it. "I'm also sorry for all those days I was a complete asshole to you. I guess I never really thought you liked me, but after that whole situation, it's clear that you do."

 Ransom didn't respond with any words but with a nod. You nodded toward him and then looked out the window. The urge of calling him one more word soon came to mind You slowly turn your head toward Ransom with a mischievous smirk spreading across your lips.

"Father."

"No." ransom scolded, pointing his finger at you. "That is not going to become a thing."

"Whatever you say," you said with a shrug. "Dad."

"Bastard."

"Asshole."

The End

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[survivingthejungle]

little lies v

FINE I FINALLY DID IT.

also god he’s so pretty. i think id let him do anything to me

“Tommy. You never want to be with me anymore,” you sighed, a pout on your lips. He was leaving that morning to go to a meeting of the board of Shelby Company Limited, and refused to let you accompany him. “It’s business, little bird. You don’t need to worry yourself about my business. You just stay here and do what you do best.” He was buttoning his vest on over his shirt, followed shortly after by his jacket. Once he was by the door slipping his shoes on, you knew there was no way you’d convince him to take you with him. “What do I do best?” you wondered, genuinely interested. You were bundled up under the covers, only your face being visible since the room was too cold for you to want to leave your warm cocoon. You had clung to Tommy all night, like a sloth or a koala to a tree branch, and you dearly missed his warmth. He looked at you and winked quickly. “Look pretty and steal hearts.” You frowned at him, creasing your eyebrows before throwing the covers back over your head and turning your back to him. “What’s that attitude about, eh?” “You don’t take me seriously,” you grumbled. “I don’t wanna talk to you anymore.”

He silently sat down on the edge of the bed, causing it to dip and roll you next to his side. He put his arm on your other side, effectively trapping you, and pulled the cover down from your face. You were glaring mad at him. “Go away and do your stupid job.” “My, you’re feeling quite brave today, is that it? Givin’ me orders, bein’ a brat.” His face got closer to your own and your breath hitched. His eyes were so intense and demanding that you almost felt as if your resolve was just vanishing away. He leaned closer and kissed your cheek, but when he pulled away, he didn’t move far. “I just hate when you leave me alone.” You got a sad look in your eyes. “I’m sorry.” “Oh, my sweet girl.” He sat up and pulled you to sit up with him, cradling you to his chest. You clung to him tightly and pressed your face to his chest. “Don’t cry, eh? Too pretty to be cryin’ over this old man.” “You’re not that old,” you noted, seriously, and he chuckled. You felt his chest rumble and your heart leapt. “Aye, whatever you say.” He tilted your chin up to look at him. “I’ll be back here before you know it. I promise.” “Pinky promise?” you asked, eyes wide and genuine. You were so innocent, so delicate, he thought, that at times he was afraid to touch you; afraid you might shatter like a glass doll. But your doe-eyes made him weak, and when you looked at him like that you could convince him to do almost anything. It was a wonder than you hadn’t realized that yet. He kissed your nose. “Pinky promise.” You locked fingers and grinned, and his heart swelled. — “You know, when this business began I did some research on you,” Jessie Eden spoke. She was calm, cool, and collected, as always. “It turns out I know someone who used to know you very well. Kitty Jurossi.” When Tommy remained silent and stoic, she continued. “You were in love with Kitty’s sister, Greta Jurossi, before the war. Do you remember Greta Jurossi? Her parents were Italian. They didn’t approve of a Watery Lane Gypsy, but you won them over. With your charm. Sweetness.” Tommy scoffed lightly. “Very, very thorough research.” “Greta died at the age of 19. Of consumption. And Kitty said you were at her bedside for three months. Every day, holding her hand. And after she died, you went away to war. Kitty said that the sweet boy who left never came back.” “No one came back.” “Here’s the funniest thing— I’ve heard from people around that there’s another young girl you’re involved with. Say she’s 19 as well. Doesn’t look much like Greta, but she’s very young, very impressionable, very trusting. And I worry for that young girl, Thomas. I worry that she thinks she’s hanging around the Tommy before the war, and that she doesn’t realize all the shit that you’ve gotten yourself — and her — into. And it seems to me like that’s something you’re trying to keep from her.” Tommy stood up from his seat abruptly. “Is that true?” He strolled over to the gramophone and put the record on, faint music breaking up the tense silence. If Ms. Eden was threatening to reveal information about him to you — things you didn’t already know, things he didn’t want you to know — it was going to be a difficult night. — Tommy returned later than usual that night— in fact, he returned quite early in the morning. You were sound asleep in his bed. He noted that you had been sleeping in his room nearly every night since he had moved your family from the quaint little cottage you’d been in. You had donned one of his shirts in lieu of your nightdress, because it smelled like him and he still hadn’t come home and you were so tired and you missed him so much but you didn’t have the energy to keep your eyes open any longer… Your mouth was hanging open slightly, and Tommy’s eyes were drawn immediately to your lips. Your breathing was full and steady and he watched as your chest rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell. He shrugged his jacket, vest, and shirt off, leaving himself only in his undershirt and dress pants. On second thought, and after removing his shoes, he changed into a pair of sleep pants, as well. He slipped into bed behind you, trying carefully not to stir you, and laid over the covers as well, hoping that he wasn’t disturbing you so much that you’d be woken up. Unfortunately, it was in vain, because the second he was beside you, you were awake. “Tommy?” “Get back to sleep, love. I’m right here.” “What time is it?” “About three.” You flipped around to face him and his arm cradled you to him, the other one coming around behind you to hold you close. “You keep lying to me.” “Alright. You caught me. It’s quarter past.” “No, Tommy. I’m being serious. You promised me you’d be back tonight and now it’s three in the morning and you just got back. And you’re never here. I never see you anymore. I miss you and you’re always gone.” He sighed heavily and pressed his nose to yours. “You’re right, dove. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with work and with the Italians. I’m trying my best to keep you and my family safe, and sometimes, that means I’m not gonna be around often, eh?” You tucked your head under his chin. “I know. I know. But I miss you. I’m all alone all the time and there’s nothing to do.” “I’ll try to fix that. Yeah? But you’ve gotta be patient, alright? Now, I’m sorry I didn’t come home earlier tonight. I had a lot to take care of, but I made you a promise, and I didn’t follow through.” “And it was a pinky promise,” you reminded him. You took pinky promises very seriously. “And it was a pinky promise. You’re right. And I let you down. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, Tommy. You didn’t mean to.” You nuzzled into his chest and smiled softly. “And you’re here now. So I don’t have to worry about you for now.” “Don’t you worry about me, little bird. It’s my job to worry about you. Not the other way around, eh? Now go back to sleep, silly girl.” “Don’t call me girl,” you protested. “Old man.” Tommy smirked at your sass and pinched your backside in response, causing you to squeal and jerk in response. This rose a chuckle from him. “Stop being mean to me,” you demanded. “Or I’ll go back to my room forever.” His arms came back to sneak around you as he tugged you tighter to him, effectively trapping you. “No you won’t, brat. Now go back to sleep.” “Goodnight Tommy.” You leaned up to kiss his cheek. He kissed your forehead in return and let his mouth rest on the crown of your head. “Goodnight, my (Y/N). Goodnight,” he whispered. — The next morning, not long after the sun rose, so did Tommy. Once he was mostly dressed he took a moment to relax, standing next to his window and watching the lifeless street down below. You hadn’t woken up yet; unless you decided you wanted to watch a sunrise, you never woke up before nine in the morning. He hated to leave you and your warmth, but there was always business to attend to. Suddenly, interrupting the silence, came a single gunshot. You woke up. “What was that?” you asked, still sleepy but very exasperated. You looked intently at Tommy. Tommy, who had all the answers. Tommy, who you thought knew everything. “I dunno,” he mumbled, peeking out the window to see if he could make out where it had come from. “Stay here.” With that he rushed out of the room and into the street, where he saw his youngest brother Finn coming to search for the source of the shot as well. You pulled up a chair by the window and watched as they both entered into the neighboring house, which belonged to the oldest Shelby, Arthur. You had been over there your fair share of times, keeping his wife Linda company and babysitting their sweet little son. After what felt like hours, but was really only minutes, Tommy returned upstairs, seemingly exhausted and done with the world. He sat down on the edge of the bed and you came over to him, tucking your legs underneath you and linking your arms around his left. You rested your head on his shoulder and his right hand came up to stroke your hair. “Is everything okay?” you wondered, genuinely concerned. He let out a frustrated sigh. “My fuckin’ brother’s losin’ his mind.” Your heart broke; you really liked the Shelby family and you knew that he was very close with his siblings. For him to admit that and have to deal with it so directly couldn’t have been easy for him. “I’m sorry, Tommy. I wish I could help,” you told him. “I wish I could, too, little bird. But I’ve got bigger problems to worry about at the moment.” He paused for a split second. “Like getting rid of these fuckin’ Italians.” “I like Italians,” you admitted absentmindedly. “They have good food.” Leave it to you to brighten Tommy’s mood when he was in such a dark place just a moment before. He let out a faint chuckle. “Why don’t you go down to the shop today with Finn, eh?” he suggested. “Get yourself out of this house for a bit.” Your eyes lit up. “Yes!” You disappeared from Tommy’s side and rushed to your room to get dressed, returning to him almost no sooner than you’d left. “I like hanging out with Finn. He’s fun to mess with,” you grinned. You seemed like a fae to him in the moment, getting worked up about being able to tease and taunt someone all day. “Ah, well, don’t mess with him too much. He’s in charge of you today ‘till I get back.” “Boo,” you pouted. “Does he know?” He stood up from the edge of the bed and walked over to you, grabbing your chin while you were in the middle of slipping a shoe on. “Yes; so don’t piss ‘im off. ‘Cause then you’ll have to deal with me.” Your heart fluttered with the butterflies in your stomach. “Be good for me today, little bird. D’you understand?” “Yes Tommy,” you spoke softly, staring into his lovely eyes. There was something about them that was enchanting. When he asked or told you to do something, you had a difficult time even trying to disobey. “That’s my girl.” He leaned down and kissed your nose and you smiled big for him in response. “Now get out of here, you’re gonna make him late.” — You followed Finn into the shop, nearly jogging to keep up with his fast pace. “Slow down, Finn!” “Walk faster, (Y/N),” he retorted. You stuck your tongue out at him and he mockingly did the same. He swung the door open and led you both inside. Once he caught sight of Polly, he spoke up again. “The rule is that the door should always remain locked until nine A.M.” You rolled your eyes. “Stick in the mud,” you mumbled. Polly rolled her eyes as well and stopped him before you could go to Arthur’s office. “Right. Boy. Boy, where are you going? And why’s the girl here?” “Well Arthur’s not coming in today. He’s taking the day off. So…” “So what?” Lizzie goaded. “So, today, Tommy said that I’m in charge. And that I had to keep an eye on (Y/N) today, too.” “Sorry,” Pol said, though she definitely wasn’t, “You’re in charge?” “Yeah. That’s what he said.” She stood up, yanking the phone plug out of the socket and placing it at Linda’s temporary desk. “Alright, sweetheart. Ladies, let’s give our boss a first day that he’ll never forget.” You grinned mischievously at Polly and she gave you a knowing wink. — Three hours later and you were being dropped off at Tommy's office by a driver that Lizzie had called for. Finn was being eaten alive by his aunt and sister-in-law, and she knew that Tommy'd listen to whatever you had to say. You didn't even stop to greet him properly when you walked in. "Lizzie wanted me to tell you that sending Finn to the shop was a mistake." His concentration was broken and he looked up at you, slightly startled that you'd shown up out of nowhere. "They found out he was a virgin and are 'arranging a girl' for him this afternoon," you admitted, only blushing faintly. "She wanted me to get out and come tell you before they could start picking on me, too." "Oh, Christ," he mumbled. You came around his desk and sat on the edge, facing him. "I don't have the fuckin' time for this today." "I'm sorry. She just wanted me to deliver the message." "Don't be sorry, bird. Not too busy for you, eh?" He stood up and grabbed your hand, leading you toward the door while he slipped his coat on. "Come on." "Where we goin'?" you asked up at him. "Somewhere I've not been in a long time," he answered cryptically. — It was some sort of creek, or very backwoods river. There were a series of arched tunnels leading out to it, and you sat on a haystack under one as Tommy stood at the edge of the water. You were swinging your feet and kicking at the pebbles on the ground, shivering slightly. There was a croaky-sounding bird that kept chirping across the water as fog drifted downstream swiftly. Before you could speak up and ask where you were, he broke the silence. "We used to come here. She'd wait for hours, for me. When I couldn't make it. And I'd wait for her when her family kept her in." There was a sad, melancholic tone to his voice, and he was almost whispering. "Who?" you wondered. "Some girl," he admitted. "Some girl before France." You had almost forgotten that Tommy had fought in the Great War. That was a long time ago, you figured, when you were still little. And Tommy was there in France, thousands of miles away, nearly getting killed every time he breathed or took a single step. He turned around to you and walked towards you, taking a final drag of his cigarette and throwing it to the ground. "I've not been back here since." He rested his hand on your arm and stood in front of you, looking down. "Wanted to come back here with you." Then his hand was pushing the stray hairs back from your face, tilting your chin up, and kissing you softly. Your head went fuzzy for a moment before your senses came back to you. You pulled away. "Are you kissing her or me?" you asked sadly. His hands rubbed up the sides of your arms which felt as if they were about to freeze off. "You," he whispered. Then he grabbed your face in both of his hands again and kissed you once more. "Always you." — After you'd been returned home by Tommy, he had a list of demands for the company to take care of at the shop. "I want Shelby Company Limited to increase non-taxable charitable contributions to local charities by twenty five percent. As of now," he announced. Lizzie took note as Polly, Linda, and Finn just stared. "I'm gonna build two new institutes for destitute children. One in Saltley, one in Digbeth. I've already identified the buildings. Two former workhouses. Lizzie?" She looked up at him. "I want you to be in charge of the project." "Why?" she asked, dead-faced. "Because… I promised someone I'd change the world." — Later in the night, Polly Gray decided to go to a bar by herself with plans to meet someone; plans of which her family could never learn. When the mystery gentleman in question appeared, they kept their interaction civil and inconspicuous. "This is public enough, no?" he drawled, thick New York accent making him stand out among the crowd. "Yes." "So?" he chided. "The boy in the hospital is out of bounds." Her son. Michael. The one they'd almost lost again. "And I will ask you to spare Finn and Arthur." He looked displeased but was not averse to cooperating. "In return for what?" "Tommy Shelby. And the girl, by association." "What makes you think I want that girl?" "Oh, please, Luca," she scoffed. "Men like you and Tommy always want girls like her." This arrangement clearly struck his fancy, but he was not trusting of any of these Birmingham folk. "And, uh, why should I trust you?" "Because you know our history," she responded cryptically. "You know what happened between us." "You are an unlikely Cassius," he muttered, taking a sip of his drink. "John was a good boy," she started. "Arthur tries. Tommy's different. You take Tommy. Spare the rest. I don't care what you do with that girl, but it seems to me as if you've taken an interest in her." — The next morning, the hospital was ambushed by Luca Changretta and a few of his gang. There was a dramatic scuffle between him and Michael, but he fled the scene before Tommy finally rushed in. "Tell your mother… we have a deal," he instructed Michael before he left. "Michael? What happened, eh!? What happened?" Tommy hounded his younger cousin. Michael was sitting on his bedside, still visibly shaken up. "They heard you. Uh, they heard you coming," he panted. "Look, the gun misfired! They ran away." "Johnny!" Arthur growled. The two of them and Finn left to keep searching for the Italians while Tommy stayed behind. "You came just in time," Michael stuttered. "You alright? You alright?" "I'm fine," he whispered. "Fine." Tommy nodded haphazardly and put his fist to his mouth, contemplating whatever it was that was going through his mind. His gaze was locked on the window and he seemed to be in a trance for a moment. Then he looked up having a sudden realization and raced out again, heading down to the betting shop. — You were out on your own that morning, getting produce from the market to bring back to the Shelby home. You and your mother wanted to make them dinner as a thank you for taking care of you all in their difficult situation. She stayed home at your request, because you missed having your alone time; and also because she hated going to markets. She was the type of woman that would always prefer to grow her own at a fraction of the cost it took to buy it. The streets were busy, dark, cold and dirty, but you paid it no mind. You were certainly standing out among the crowd of people flooding the market. The people who lived in this dull, gloomy town wore dull, gloomy clothes— there was a lack of color, of spirit, of life. That sort of thing never appealed to you or matched your personality, so you had gotten dressed that morning and gone out in a long purple skirt adorned with blue, green, pink, and white embroidered designs all along the bottom and moving upwards. Your shirt was a simple white long sleeve, with lace across the chest and at the hem. You covered your back and arms with a maroon cotton shawl, with a few purposefully placed holes to create patterns. It had long fringes on the end and you found yourself swinging them often. You'd also slipped on a pair of thick socks underneath your old, battered, lace-up brown boots that you would usually wear when you helped your parents do outdoor work. You grabbed your mother's coin purse — she had insisted — and were soon in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of Small Heath life. After about an hour or so, you had a decent amount of groceries to show for it. That was when a hand tapped your shoulder. "'Scuze me, bella, couldn't help but notice your hands were a little full, there." You whipped your head around to find the source of the voice, and were met face to face with a tall man who had a prominent nose, sharp features, and a toothpick sticking out of his mouth. He had a cross tattoo on his neck that half stuck out from his shirt collar. He was very handsome, very tan, and very American. He seemed very familiar to you, but you just accredited that to the fact that his accent was similar to your own. “Mind if I give you a hand?” "Oh my God," you responded, "You're from America?" He smirked. "New York, sweetheart. What part of the states do you hail from?" Virginia. "My family and I are from Virginia." At that moment, your senses caught up to you. You were in Small Heath, Birmingham, on Tommy Shelby's turf; Tommy Shelby, who was in the middle of a vendetta against the Italian Mafia. The Italian Mafia that came over from New York. Then you realized: he was the man from Tommy’s office the other day. He was the one leading the vendetta against the Shelbys. Your throat constricted and your breath got caught, and suddenly you couldn’t breathe. "Um, thank you for the offer," you stuttered out, walking away from him quickly enough that you could get away, but not so quick that you'd be considered rude. "But I really have to get back home. My mom's waiting for me. It was nice meeting you." "What, don't you have a name, bella?" he called after you. Of course, he was already well aware of your name, but he wanted you to give it to him yourself. If you had heard his question, (which you did,) you wouldn't have let on that you did. You were out of the market in a heartbeat and nearly ran all the way back to the house on Watery Lane. Not a moment after you'd put the groceries down, a ringing came from the telephone in the kitchen. You picked it up since no one else was around to answer it. "Hello?" It was Tommy. Thank God. Apparently the Italians had paid his cousin in the hospital, Michael, a visit, and he was worried that they might have been targeting you next as well. "Are you alright?" "Yeah," you gulped. "Um, but I think I just met one of your Italian friends."

[misssophiachase]

Yes for AH Klaroline mini prompts! How about...Klaus & Caroline take turns each week planning date night. This week is Klaus' turn & he comes up with something creative/out of the box.

Yes! Thanks, anon, I love this. It kind of took on a life of its own and is longer than expected, so I hope you like what I did : )

Can’t Buy Me Love

Los Angeles, CA

“You really didn’t need to buy me this dress, Klaus,” Caroline murmured, running her hand along the turquoise, silk fabric. “And a limousine too? What have I done to deserve all of this?”

“Just being you,’ he grinned, stroking her arm as they sat in the backseat. She gave him a look which clearly said he’d been entirely too cheesy for her liking. “Oh come on, I thought it was romantic.”

“You’re just trying to change the subject and not answer the question, mister,” she smiled, poking him in the chest.

“Has anyone told you that your aversion to surprises is quite pronounced?”

“I like to know where I’m going and what I’m doing, what can I say?”

“Yet you came up with this idea of weekly surprise dates, love.”

“I like doing the surprising, I’m not so good at being surprised,” she admitted. 

“You don’t say?” He laughed pulling her closer and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“And I’m not sure that pizza and bowling from last week compares to what you have planned.” Klaus hadn’t enjoyed himself that much in a long time, he realized it didn’t matter what he was doing as long as it was with Caroline.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Forbes, I loved bowling.”

“Only because you won and still haven’t let me forget about it,” she teased, snuggling into him further. 

If someone had told Klaus Mikaelson he’d be so so deeply in love with this girl after six weeks of dating he’d have laughed. They met in a somewhat unconventional manner and she’d continued to surprise him every day.

6 weeks earlier 

“This is my taxi! I hailed it first,” she argued, hands on very cute hips. 

Klaus didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone who could wear denim quite like she could. Her blonde waves were flying about in the breeze and her blue eyes wild and expressive.

“I think you’re mistaken,” he shot back. “I hailed it, hence why it pulled up at the curb next to me.”

“It only did that because it couldn’t stop where I was standing,” she huffed.

“Excuse me, does someone want to get in my cab already?” The driver asked gruffly through the open window. 

“I know who can settle this,” she smiled confidently. “Who did you stop for, sir?”

“Whoever is going to get in the damn cab,” he growled, thumping the steering wheel impatiently.  

“Someone doesn’t want a tip obviously,” he commented, a smile tugging at his lips. “How about a compromise?”

“I’m listening, cab stealer.” Klaus was struggling not to laugh. 

“We share the cab, you know, as long as you’re not heading to San Francisco or Portland,” he teased. 

“Well it certainly feels like we are given how long this is bloody taking,” the driver complained. Klaus raised his eyebrows at her and held open the door.

The cab ride didn’t end at either of their planned destinations, it ended at a restaurant and then dinner ended with him dropping her at home, a chaste kiss on her cheek. 

Klaus gave the cab driver an impressive tip, not because of his questionable customer service skills, but because he was the reason they met. Although, they still argued over who hailed the taxi. 

“Klaus!” She said, interrupting his memory of their first meeting. “Your cell is ringing.”

Klaus pulled it from his pocket and consulted the called ID. Of all the times for him to call. Klaus considered not answering but thought better of it given he was known to keep calling incessantly until he answered.

“Kol.”

“Evening brother,” he singsonged. 

“You sound extremely...”

“Happy? Yes, that’s because I am, Niklaus,” he laughed. “I wanted to be the first to tell you that I am getting married.”

“Yes, I know you’re getting married, Kol,” he replied. His brother had been dating Bonnie Bennett since college and they were set to be married in the fall. 

They wanted something small and intimate but the only person who seemed to want a huge wedding was their overbearing mother. She’d taken over every facet of the planning and was stressing out both the bride and groom and in turn the siblings. 

“No, we’re getting married tonight,” he announced. Klaus was in shock, to say the least. 

“Are you drunk?” Caroline gave him a curious look. Klaus hadn’t had the chance to tell her much about himself, let alone the rest of his crazy family. 

“Not yet,” he teased. “We are in Vegas so there’s never a bar too far away.”

“You’re in Las Vegas, right now?”

“That’s what I said, keep up, big brother.”

“Mother will kill you and then she’ll resurrect you and do it all over again, you don’t want to be messing with her, especially on this.” Now he truly had Caroline’s attention. This wasn’t how he imagined things going.

Klaus was a private person, mainly because he hated any unwanted attention. When he’d met Caroline, he’d allowed himself to relax and have fun. That included not telling her too much about himself because, call him stupid, but he wanted her to like him for him. 

“At least we’ll be married in our own way when she does kill me.” Before Klaus could reply about not having a eulogy written yet, his phone beeped indicating an incoming call. 

“Kol...”

“Answer that, it’s probably Rebekah. Bonnie called her and let’s just say there were threats about turning up and stopping the whole thing.”

“What did Bonnie expect taking away her Maid-of-Honour rights? At least tell me where you are.”

“At the Bellagio for now but we have a date with Elvis in a couple of hours. Cheerio, Niklaus.” He’d disconnected before Klaus could ask if he was drunk again. 

“Niklaus!” He hadn’t realized the line had connected until her demanding tone came through the speaker. 

“Hello to you too.”

“Don’t test me, Nik,” she huffed. “Kol and Bonnie are going to ruin all of mother’s plans in one night.”

“Are they drunk?”

“Probably, who knows with Kol. I always maintained he was dropped on his head as a baby. It would explain a few things.”

“Well, I’m not sure what we can do...”

“I’ve charted the private jet to take us to Vegas, wheels up in twenty minutes. I’ll see you then.”

“Excuse me? No, I can’t go to Las Vegas tonight, Rebekah,” he insisted, noticing Caroline arch her left eyebrow, clearly unamused he was thinking of going to Sin City with some girl named Rebekah. 

“What’s more important than stopping this wedding?”

“Way to guilt trip me,” he muttered. “I’m on a date if you must know, one that I’ve been planning meticulously for the past week.”

“I could care less, Niklaus,” she drawled. “Bring her if you need to but I expect to see you in fifteen minutes. Elijah will meet us on the tarmac.” Before he could make another excuse she’d disconnected. 

“So, should I be worried that some girl named Rebekah wants to take you to Vegas because your mother is scary and someone named Kol and Bonnie are getting married tonight? Oh, and someone’s drunk but I’m not quite sure if that’s me at this point.”

“I take it you heard all of that,” he joked.

“It was a little difficult not to,” she shot back. “This isn’t like one of those scenarios where you get your friend to call so you can make an excuse to escape, is it?”

“Hardly,” he drawled. “Let me explain. I did have the perfect date planned, dinner at that Italian place you’ve been talking about followed by the theatre.”

“Sounds wonderful but why do I sense there’s a but coming?”

“That was Kol my younger brother on the phone. “Uh, first call, the second was my younger sister Rebekah.”

“I’ll admit knowing she’s a relative is making me feel somewhat less jealous and less likely to hit someone. But what the hell is going on and why is there a wedding in Vegas?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he explained.

“Your family is weird?” 

“You have no idea,” he said knowingly. “I come from one of the richest families in the United Kingdom, Europe too.”

“How did I not know this?”

“Our family isn’t as well-known or as closely followed in the US which is probably why I choose to live here. Let’s just say we do things a little differently. I honestly wanted to tell you but...”

“But?”

“I know this is going to sound silly but I wanted you to like me for me. I’ve been out with so many women blinded by the money and status, not so much by me,” he murmured. 

“They obviously are blind,” she smiled, running her fingers along his crimson lips and resting them on one of his pronounced dimples. “Number one, I’m the girl who takes you out bowling and really loves pizza and number two, I really can’t stand caviar and that French stuff which is apparently a delicacy.”

“Truffles?”

“No the other one.”

“Foie Gras?”

“We could be here all night,” she laughed. “Although it seems like there’s more to this story and not so much time to tell it.”

“My brother Kol is supposed to be marrying his college girlfriend Bonnie in the fall. My mother has planned this whole huge thing, I’m talking 500 people and swans and doves and...”

“I’ve never been very partial to birds,” she offered, sending him a sly smile. “So, it’s over the top?”

“That’s an understatement,” he murmured. “Kol and Bonnie are overwhelmed because they wanted something small and it’s gotten completely out of hand.”

“So, they decided to elope to Vegas tonight? 

“Apparently so.”

“Now, I get the whole drunk part,” she quipped. “Although, between you and me I don’t really blame them for wanting something just for them.”

“When you come from our family doing something like that will get out and into the tabloids at home which wouldn’t be good for anyone. So, Rebekah wants us to get to the private jet and fly to Las Vegas now,” he mumbled, thinking just how ridiculous it all sounded. 

“Then what’s the plan?” 

“Stop the wedding somehow, I don’t know I think she’s working on the fly between you and me. Rebekah, anger and the threat of not being maid-of-honour is a dangerous combination. Although Elijah will be on the flight he’s the most level-headed.”

“Another brother?”

“Well, he’s not like the rest of us so who knows?” He joked. 

“Wow, so let me get this straight,” she murmured. “In the last five minutes, I’ve gone from knowing not much about your family to meeting all of your siblings at once?”

“Don’t think you’re going to be able to top that surprise next date night, love,” he smirked, pulling her closer. “I really am sorry I didn’t tell you any of this before.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled, placing a lingering kiss on his lips. “But only because I love you, Mikaelson.” 

“Watch out, Forbes, you go around talking like that I might want to marry you in Vegas.”

“And upset your mother? Between you and me, she sounds pretty scary,” she replied. “I do have a friend who is a hotel manager and lives in Vegas, she might be able to help track down the bride and groom to be.”

“Always so resourceful, love.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Fast forward three hours and Kol and Bonnie did get married at the Little Elvis Chapel. They managed to find them just in time to hear the vows, turns out Caroline’s best friend Katherine was able to disseminate which Elvis chapel it was. 

After a fun few days in Vegas all together, they returned to normal life. Well, as normal as you could be if you were a Mikaelson or dating one. 

The ceremony was kept under wraps and Kol and Bonnie did go ahead with the planned wedding, happy that they still had something for themselves. Caroline attended with Klaus and Elijah invited Katherine as his date after they hit it off in Vegas. 

Although they are now married with kids, Caroline and Klaus still have their traditions and try to out-do each other every week for date night. They went paintballing last week and Klaus is thinking of horseback riding on the beach this week.

Next week, who knows?