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michwritesstuff · 3 years ago

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Late Nights (The Outer Banks: Rafe Cameron)

This song just gives giant Rafe Cameron enemies to lovers vibes! Also, Holy shit, this is my longest work ever! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it!

This takes place season 1, before Rafe kills Peterkin. Let’s just pretend he’s not a psychopath. He’s still the resident bad boy of Figure 8, but not a killer…

summary: female reader (she/her) x Rafe Cameron When Y/N finds herself abandoned by her friends at a house party thrown by no other than Kook King, Topper Thornton, she finds odd company in the form of her classmates and neighbors that she has taken very little liking to. She is surprised to learn that her disinterest in all things “kook-related” has sparked the interest of a particular kook. tw: mention of alcohol/drug consumption, slight smut (18+) word count: 4.1k

Y/N might’ve been a kook, but if it wasn’t for her consistent attendance to Figure Eight events you wouldn’t have known. She hated all the superficial bullshit and quickly found herself befriending a certain group of pogues who she would often run into while working on the Cut. Everything in her life had been so easy for her, and although she was grateful, she couldn’t help but feel guilty about the privilege she received while her friends had spent their life fighting for a chance. Being able to find an ally in Kie was all that Y/N had to look forward to as she continued to find a place for herself among the fight between class divisions in her small hometown.

Summer was coming to an end, and with a few weeks left you couldn’t help but just enjoy the moments with your friends. Sitting on the small boat as the sun slowly set, passing the blunt around while you all tried to keep a serious conversation going before blurting out laughing at some stupid shit JJ had said. You had even found an unlikely friend in the form of kook princess, Sarah Cameron. You had known Sarah Cameron for as long as you could remember, always greeting each other’s families at events and having at least one class together every year. But this was different, you had known Sarah but never gave her a chance to hang out. When John B mentioned her a few weeks ago and started to bring her around you and the other pogues were stunned to say the least. You knew that she was dating Topper Thornton, I mean everyone knew that, but what she had with John B was different, at least from what you had seen. “This was great guys, but I promised Topper I would meet him at his party. Keep up appearances, you know?” Sarah said unsurely. Everyone looked around, nodding in understandment, except John B. “I don’t like him,” JJ spoke up, standing up for John B who continued sulking in silence. “Yeah, him and Rafe are always doing some shit,” Pope also spoke up. “You guys have no idea,” Kiara replied while rolling her eyes at the thought of the kook boys she had known so well. You also nodded in response. “Yeah, well I would invite you guys, but I can’t imagine that going over well.” Once again everyone nodded in agreement, except John B. “What if Y/N goes with you,” he suggested. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus!” you exclaimed back at him. Sarah turned to you with a shy smile, “It’s not such a bad idea. I mean you would know almost everyone.” “Yeah, so does Kie, you don’t see her being volunteered to go,” you exclaimed again. “That’s because they actually like you,” Kie replied, smirking when you rolled your eyes at her statement, she was right. “C’mon Y/N it’ll be fun. You’ll have me to hang out with and if you absolutely hate it, we’ll make up an excuse and leave. Besides, it’d be nice to have someone there that I don’t need to be fake with.” You thought for a moment before slowly nodding your head, cursing under your breath as your friends cheered around you. “There’s our little kookie,” JJ stated, jumping away in defense as you attempted to punch his arm.

The bass of the music pounded in your ears as you walked up the driveway. If even possible it got louder once you finally entered the front door, you swore your eardrums were about to rupture. Finding the kitchen, you reached out for two truly’s, your disappointment in the night continuing as feeling they were just room temperature. They weren’t your first choice of alcohol to get through a night like this and seeing as though they weren’t even cold made it worse. You instantly cracked it open, downing as much as you could on the first sip. You handed the other one to Sarah, bumping your open can to her’s in an attempt to say cheers. She laughed at you, “I’m gonna go find Topper. You’ll be okay if I leave you alone for a few minutes?” You took another sip before responding, “Figured this would happen at some point, yeah I’ll be good.” Watching her leave your eyes scanned the kitchen, deciding you needed to loosen up some more you pushed off the counter, “I need something stronger,” you whispered under your breath.

Making your way through the house you scanned the room for unattended bottles you could mooch off. To your surprise you were pulled by the arm, “Omg Y/N, what are you doing here?” a girly high-pitched voice screeched. You turned around, already ready to use your preppy voice, “Hey Claire,” you responded in a mock happy voice matching hers. Claire was sweet, n just not your cup of tea. The two of you had always been civil, sharing a few classes here and there. “Mind if I?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle of Tito’s vodka in her hand. “Oh sure, just be careful. I’ve gotten fucked up with this shit more times than I could remember,” she laughed while handing you the bottle. You lift the bottle up to your lips, the taste on the rim barely making an impact on your tastebuds. But as you thew your head back and lifted the bottle you took one big swig. The alcohol ran down your throat, a warmth following the path it took as it settled in your stomach. “Ugh, Claire, that shit is just straight rubbing alcohol. How the fuck do you drink that?” you exclaimed, handing her the bottle as you wiped the back of your mouth with your hand. She laughed at your reaction, “Believe me, in a little while you won’t even care how it tastes. Just know that you’ll feel it.” You nodded your head while once again scanning your eyes across the room. A few feet away was a coffee table surrounded by teens. Claire noticed your interest and dragged you over. Looking up from the table was Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother, who on more than one account you had gotten into a heated argument about your choice of friends. The two of you made eye contact as he wiped the leftover residue from the line of cocaine he had just done. Classy as ever Cameron, you thought as you broke eye contact and examined all the other teens waiting their turn. Rafe greeted Claire with a smirk and half-nod before returning his attention to you. “Awww Y/L/N, get tired of hanging around those boring old pogues, and decided to have some real fun?” he mocked while gesturing to the lines set up in front of him. You scoffed at his suggestion, “Keep dreaming,” you responded. Living in your teenage years and drinking was one thing, but if your parents caught you doing drugs there was a good chance you wouldn’t have much of a life to live. Making eye contact with you he slowly lowered himself closer to the table, quickly doing another line before looking up at you again. Is this kid trying to kill himself? you thought to yourself. You reached out for Claire’s bottle, taking another swig before motioning it up to Rafe. “Always a pleasure Cameron,” you stated before handing Claire her bottle.

Leaving the room, you realized that you hadn’t seen Sarah for a while. Wandering around the house in attempt to find her you bumped into Topper. “Hey Top, seen Sarah anywhere?” you asked. “Uhm a little while ago, she said she went to go find you,” he said quizzingly. “Yeah, right. Just kidding, she went to the bathroom. I’ll go find her,” you quickly spitted out. Nearly running you got away from Topper as fast as you could before finding an empty spot on the wall. Leaning back against the wall, you pulled your phone from your pocket and found a few texts from Sarah and one from John B. “Hey Y/N, John B showed up.” “We just left, please distract Topper.” “I owe you one.” You responded back, “ughh ok, I’m on it.” Clicking on John B’s name you read his message, “sorry kookie, had to steal her. thanks!” You rolled your eyes at the dumb nickname him and the others decided for you, their attempt to always tease you about your kook lifestyle. You sent him the middle finger emoji and a yellow heart before turning your phone off and looking around for Topper. Spotting him talking to Kelce you kept your place on the wall. As long as you could see him and he couldn’t see you, there was no reason to suspect anything about Sarah. Besides, after about half an hour you could probably make a break for the exit, and no one would notice.

As you continued to scroll on your phone you were slightly startled by the presence of another human standing near you. Your eyes looked up to a boy standing in front of you. He was tall, but you couldn’t ignore how young and immature he looked. “Don’t even think about it freshman,” you said before he had the chance. He laughed while nodding his head. “Hey, I had to try. Should’ve known a girl as smart as you wouldn’t give me a chance,” he responded. You gave him a quizzical look as you quickly glanced him up and down. He wasn’t too dumb if he knew to compliment your intelligence over any physical feature. He reached his hand out to shake yours, “I’m Nathan.” You glanced at his hand for a second before reluctantly shaking it “I’m Y/N,” you replied. “I know,” he said a little too quickly making the both of you chuckle. “Mrs. Nichol said you were the captain of the mock trial team. She talked to you the other day about me joining,” he rambled on. You laughed at his apparent nervousness. “Oh yeah, well I guess it’s nice to meet you, Nathan. Not exactly the type of place to bring up extracurriculars,” you laughed while motioning to the number of teens, drugs, and alcohol around you. As you did you could feel the stare from a certain kook, no doubt watching your exchange with the boy in front of you. “Probably not, but it did get you talking to me,” he quirked back. Nodding your head in amusement at his reply you responded, “Touché.” As the volume of the music had apparently increased within the last few seconds of your exchange, Nathan leaned forward slightly so he could hear you better. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asked while leaning down. “I can take it from here,” you heard Rafe speak from behind you as he slid his hand around to the small of your back. Confused by the situation unraveling in front of you, you were quick to speak. “Uhm, actually Cameron, Nathan and I were having a lovely conversation about something you couldn’t possibly be interested in,” you stated attempting to distance yourself away from Rafe and closer to Nathan. “Yeah, I—” Nathan attempted to speak before being interrupted, “Seriously, Miller, beat it or practice on Monday will be hell.” You confusingly looked at Nathan and Rafe before finally understanding. Just like you would be Nathan’s captain, so was Rafe. “Water polo?” you questioned. “Yeah, you’ll catch a game?” he asked in return. “Yeah!” you said sweetly before a mocking scoff turned your attention to Rafe, to which your surprise still had his hand on the small of your back, it almost felt natural that you hadn’t noticed it was still there. Looking at him expectantly he pulled his hands away holding them up in an ‘ok I get it’ way. “Can I help you?” you asked expectantly. “Care to go for a swim?” he asked. You looked at him confused, you weren’t sure if it was your light buzz from your shots of vodka talking but he seemed just as surprised as you were as you answered, “yes!”

As he grabbed your hand, you quietly followed as he led you through the house. “I’m gonna need more alcohol before we do this,” you exclaimed as loud as you could, hoping he would hear you over the volume of the music. He turned to look at you for a moment before turning back and nodding, showing that he had in fact heard your request. Walking through the kitchen he left you at the counter while reaching into one of the cabinets, pulling down a full bottle of Tito’s. He motioned you from your spot and you continued to follow. “My parents got this as a gift for the Thornton’s but it’s not really their style.” You nodded understandingly, Topper’s parents didn’t really seem like the type to be chugging back vodka shots, they were more sophisticated. Following him through the house you were confused as you walked past the sliding glass door that led to the pool and the dozens of other teens who had the same idea you two had, or so you thought. “Where are we going?” you asked. Rafe stayed silent as you continued following him. Opening another set of glass doors, he let you exit first before quickly following. On the side of the house was a hot tub that apparently no one knew about, seeing as though you and Rafe were the only ones out here. “What the hell is this, Cameron?” you asked. He looked at you, confusion evident on his face. “You said we were going swimming. We can’t do that in a hot tub.” He laughed before handing you the now open bottle of Tito’s, watching you take a sip he replied, “What, did you plan on working on your breaststroke or something?” He said jokingly. “No, I actually planned on playing mermaids. Maybe it’s you who needs to work on breaststroke,” you responded wittily. He feigned shock and hurt, taking the bottle from your hand. “My breaststroke is amazing, just ask your friend Claire,” he winked as you scoffed in amusement and disgust. After taking another sip he handed the bottle back to you, removing his clothes he stripped down until he was in his boxers. That left little to the imagination as you could see the outline of his dick printed. Feeling your eyes, he gave you a smirk to which you sheepishly took another sip of vodka, shaking as you felt the liquid burn down your throat. Entering the hot tub, he sat with arms spread out to both his sides, resting on the edge. “Aren’t you going to join me?” he asked. You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You handed him the bottle, starting to undress as you felt his eyes drawn to your exposed skin where you had begun to lift your shirt. “Hey! Turn around Cameron,” you exclaimed. He put his hands up in defense, turning his head so his attention was drawn to the bubbles and pressure coming from the jets. Folding your shirt and jeans on to the table nearby you turned back around to Rafe examining your exposed body adorning a basic black sports bra and lace thong. You immediately turned red, not knowing how to react under his intense stare. As you entered the hot tub you slipped when placing your foot on the bench to step in, landing you a little closer to Rafe then you planned. He held your arm as you attempted to steady yourself. “You alright?” he asked. You were able to manage out a “mhmm” as you reached for another sip from the bottle. He gladly handed you the bottle, a lazy smile on his face.

You weren’t sure how you always ended up like this but something about being drunk and outside led to you staring at the moon and stars. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Rafe asked, breaking the silence. You tried to remain calm with his choice of words, not wanting him to know the effect he was having on you. “Just thinking,” you responded quietly. “About what,” you scanned his face for a second, genuine interest radiating off him. “As niche as it sounds, life…I mean doesn’t this all seem so pathetic,” you stated as you continued to stare off into the sky. “Life?” he asked, laughing to mask his confusion. You chuckled along with him, “No, this…pogues vs. kooks. It’s all so fucking dumb. There are so many more problems out there, so many people who need help and we can’t even come together to help people in our own community.” He just hummed as you continued to ramble on, listening to what you had to say. “I can’t help but just feel guilty. I mean what did I do to deserve this type of life. I mean my parents work hard but they’ve had so many opportunities because of their parents and their parents, and it just keeps going. This sort of generational wealth and success…” you quietly trailed off as you realized who you were talking to. “But I mean you probably don’t care,” you said while looking at him. He shook his head with a smirk. “Now I know why Sarah never shuts up about how smart you are.” You looked at him more intently, “what?” you exclaimed. He nodded his head, before turning his attention to the sky like you had before. “I mean, I guess I just never thought of it that way. Kind of blind to the privilege that I have.” “Must be all the coke,” you mumbled to yourself under your breath. He shot you a warning look before chuckling, “might be the coke,” he responded. You laughed along with him before a serious tone washed over him. “I mean it Y/N, you’re just so attuned to the needs of others,” He exclaimed. “Well, you can be like that too,” you reassured him. “Yeah right, there’s not a lot of hope left for me,” he replied sarcastically. “That’s not true. I mean sure you have your flaws, but from what I’ve seen you’re a good friend, loyal and family is important to you. Those are good qualities, and I mean of course you’re not half bad looking.” He laughed at the last part. “Well, Y/L/N, you’re extremely caring, intelligent, and hot as fuck! So, you have that going for you.” It was your turn to laugh and turn red at his comment. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol dulling your senses, but as you looked into Rafe’s eyes you felt yourself being drawn closer. You both leaned in, lips barely brushing each other as your breaths slowed. “Can I kiss you,” he asked. You could barely hear him over the sound of your own heart beating in your chest. “Please,” you nearly whined. Your tone making Rafe swoon as he gently pushed his lips onto yours.

As happy as you were with his gentleness, the alcohol you had consumed throughout the night had made you far hornier than you liked to admit. Leaning deeper into the kiss you gently placed your hands onto his chest before lightly pushing him back to so you could straddle his lap. As you did so, Rafe took a large sip from the bottle, as you looked at him expectantly. He gave you a smirk before bringing the bottle close to your lips, tilting your head back, you let him pour some of the alcohol down your throat. Before you could process the liquid once again burning the back your throat you pressed a heated kiss on to his lips. As your hands moved up from their place on his chest to the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair, his hands move from where he was setting the bottle down to trailing around your waist and landing on your ass, holding you in place. As your tongues continued to fight for dominance, he pulled away slightly. Kissing down your jaw and starting to suck on your neck you slightly grinded down on to him while continuing to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. His hands left your waist, guiding your hips back and forth as you continued to grind on him. As he continued to work on your neck you moaned as he found your sweet spot, “Fuck Rafe,” you exclaimed. You could feel him smirk as he continued. Giving him a break, you leaned forward slightly, changing the angle to which you were grinding down on him and leaving marks over his neck and chest. “Fuck babe,” he stated. “Being so good to me,” he continued as he leaned in for another kiss. “Yes, sir,” you said, testing the waters. You could clearly tell that you were starting to drive Rafe crazy as he moaned into your mouth at your response. Roughly grabbing your hip, he speeded the pace of your grinding. As you continued to litter marks along his chest, he reached a hand up to pull your sports bra down far enough so that your boobs were spilling over the top. The pressure of the band along with the added sensation of Rafe’s mouth on your nipple was almost too much. Along with this you could feel how hard he had gotten under you. I mean, you knew he was big, but this was godly. Your makeout session was quickly abrupted as you both snapped your heads to the sound of the glass doors sliding open. Quickly removing yourself from Rafe’s lap and adjusting your bra, you sat silently, reaching for the bottle again. “What’s up Top?” Rafe asked nonchalantly. Topper looked at you both slyly, clearly knowing what he half-witnessed between the two of you. “Not much, I can’t find Sarah anywhere Y/N. And she’s not answering her fucking calls.” “Yeah, she wasn’t feeling well. Said she headed home; her phone probably died. Don’t worry Top,” you said as convincingly as the alcohol would let you. Topper seemed to accept your answer and reentered the house. Rafe looked at you unconvincingly. “She just left you?” he asks. Avoiding his gaze, you let your hands play with the water. Slowly nodding your head, you responded, “guess so…” “That doesn’t sound like Sarah,” he continued. “Well that’s what happened,” you snapped. Thinking about the conversation you would have to have with Sarah about how you failed to keep Topper distracted and the alcohol finally making its presence in your system known was too much to handle. “Ughh back to reality, I guess,” you groaned out. Rafe pulled you into his side so that his arm was around your shoulder and your head resting on his. “What are you up to now?” he asked. “Figuring how to make it home alive,” you chuckled dryly. He hummed in thought next to you. After a second, he spoke, surprising you in the process, “Stay with me.” “Rafe…” you dragged out unsurely. “Seriously Y/N, that way you don’t have to worry about going home right now.” You looked at him for a second before slowly nodding. Getting out of the hot tub he disappeared for a second before returning with a set of towels. As you both dried yourselves off and gathered your clothes you headed to Topper’s guestroom.

Stumbling around in your drunken state, Rafe grabbed the clothes from your hand. Setting them on a nearby table he turned so that you were facing each other. Reaching down slightly he grabbed your legs from under your thighs so that he was now carrying you. Feeling the warmth of his chest you pressed closer, wrapping your legs around his hips in the process. With each step you slightly bounced against him. The sexual tension from earlier quickly returning. Finally reaching the room Rafe laid down so that you were now on your back while he hovered over you. With your legs around his waist and arms around his neck you gently pulled him in, pecking a sweet kiss on your lips. “I need to shower,” you said shyly. He nodded his head, pulling away slightly so he was standing, and you stayed sprawled out on the bed. “I’ll go get us some water,” he stated as he slowly walked out the room. Leaving the door cracked enough so he wouldn’t bother anyone with the sound of it opening and closing you sat up, finally taking in your surroundings. Getting up and heading to the bathroom you folded your towel, pulling off your bra and underwear as you let the water run until it was hot enough. As you let the water run over your body you stood for a minute, just thinking about everything that had happened that night, you rub your hands down your face, muttering “fuck.” You weren’t sure what was happening, but it was a problem future you would just have to deal with later.

a/n: If you like my work please support by liking/reblogging. Also, feel free to message me about ideas. I haven’t written in a while because I don’t have a lot of time, but when inspiration hits i’ll sit down for hours :)

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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

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Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 1

Summary: Draco meets and accidentally falls in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP). Part 1 of a upcoming series.

Warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of blood, crying, panic attacks

Words: 6.4K words (I made this so longgg)

A/N: my first Draco writing !!! i am sorry ahead of time if there are any misspellings, typing with long acrylics is hard omg. ALSO PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND ME REQUESTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also i do not own this gif.

It was almost satirical how Draco managed to fall in love with someone at what might be, is, the lowest point in his life. It was his sixth year at Hogwarts, the dark mark burned into his left forearm, the restless mending of the vanishing cabinet, the impossible task of killing his Headmaster, the Dark Lord looming over him and his family with promises of torture and death if he didn’t follow through with the orders he was given.

Draco was an empty shell of what he used to be. The playful and mean remarks that would leave his mouth to anyone that stood in his path were gone. The devious twinkle in his eye and the smug smirk that used to grace his face almost 24/7 was reduced to a permanent scowl and red-rimmed eyes. He looked as if he had aged a rough 10 years since the last year he was at school. Everyone noticed it.

Everyone noticed the skipped meals, the lack of sleep, the empty look in his eyes, the falling behind in class. But no one dared say a thing to him. It almost seems as though people were afraid of him now more than ever. The sneer on his face and the reckless and impulsive attitude he held now was like a repellent for anyone that tried to come near. He was completely alone, whether he liked it or not and he decided to keep it that way.

That all changed a few months into the year, however, when you were rushing to DADA, your long house colored scarf getting tangled underneath your feet causing you to trip and lurch forward, dropping all your books, your wand, and crashing into, you guessed it, Draco Malfoy himself. There was a loud cracking sound as you both tumbled onto the ground, a yelp slipping past Draco’s lips as he held his hand in pain.

"Oh, Merlin,” you gasped, Draco shooting you the dirtiest glare. “Draco, I’m so sorry.”

Before he could open his mouth to tell you off and incessantly insult you into oblivion, you reached forward and took his wounded hand in yours, the softness of your hands and tender touch throwing him off guard. He watched you as you examined the damage on one of his fingers.

“It’s just a sprain,” you finalized after inspecting it for a couple seconds. Draco recoiled his hand from yours as if he had touched a hot surface. He moved to get up and you huffed out a “wait, hold on,” as you scrambled around the ground for your wand. When you felt the wood underneath your fingertips, you clutched it and jumped to your feet, gently grabbing onto the sleeve of Draco’s robe who was already trying to retreat.

“Get away,” he snarled, snatching his arm out of your grasp.

“Let me help,” you pleaded softly, “it’ll be quick, I promise.”

Draco looked down at you with annoyance. He was about to leave again until he felt that same tender touch from just a few moments ago. The feeling stunning him again as he looked down at his hand that was now lying palm up in yours.

“Episkey,” you drawled the wand over his injured finger, the both of you watching the swollen and purple bruise beginning to form suddenly fade away.

Draco gave you one last scowl before he snatched his hand out of yours and turned around to leave the corridor, leaving you standing there dumbfounded as he quickly walked away, his cloak floating behind him like the professor, who’s class you now realized you were very late for.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

That night, Draco lied awake staring at his ceiling he had charmed to resemble a starry night sky. His mind wandered off to think about spells he could try to help fix the vanishing cabinet and different ways he could kill Dumbledore without actually having to face him. He thought of his parents, mostly his mom, and how much he wishes he could save her and himself from this life. He thought of this school and how much he missed being an unknowing child who just did his schoolwork, played quidditch and bully the Golden Trio. He missed the two-dimensional life he used to live. Even if he used to be a complete ignorant and snobby arse, he was a happy one at that. Only now he knows that life isn’t what mummy or daddy say it is, in fact, it is so much worse.

He found his mind wandering to his uneventful day of dragging himself through his classes and failed attempts on the cabinet in the room of requirement. He then all of a sudden remembered the klutzy y/h/c girl that tripped into him and sprained his finger. He remembered how soft her touch was and how gentle she was in fixing said finger. That feeling was hard to forget. He hasn’t felt such tenderness since he doesn’t know how long. He recalled his mother’s hug before he boarded the train to Hogwarts, but that was ages ago.

In his ever growing turmoil, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in Draco’s life since he’s returned to school. The coldness he was feeling on the inside was just as apparent as it was in his surroundings. He catches himself wishing he could feel that touch again, something about you radiated warmth, and just as quick as that thought appeared, he pushed it away.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The next day, as Draco was leaving the room of requirement and into the empty corridor, he felt the familiar ache in his chest that began to flow through his body. He had made little to no progress today on the cabinet. He felt a panic attack on the horizon, his breathing becoming staggered and tears pricking his eyes. He hated it. He hated feeling so weak.

He began rushing towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, his tears blurring his vision and just like the day before, he crashed right into someone. Instinctively, he held the other person in place by their biceps so neither of them would fall. But that still didn’t stop how upon impact, the other person’s head had collided with his bottom lip. He squeezed his eyes in pain as he felt the skin break and blood quickly escaping it. When he pulled back, he focused on the figure in front of him and realized it was you. The same klutzy girl he bumped into yesterday.

“Oh no, not again,” you frown, placing your hand on the part of your head that met Draco’s lip.

“You ought to watch where you’re going, you twit,” he snarls, stepping away from you in anger.

“It was an accident,” you responded just as harshly. You take a deep breath and throw the attitude aside. He was bleeding for Merlin’s sake and you felt bad that it was because of you. “I’m sorry, please let me heal you again,” you offer, taking a step towards him, closing up the space he had made.

“I think you’ve done enough,” he backs up, eyeing you down.

“Draco, please, just let me heal your lip and i’ll be out of your way,” you ask again, your soft and guilt ridden e/c eyes peering up at him through your lashes. Draco’s heart flutters, his anger subsiding for a second and he nods.

You step towards him once more and unexpectedly place a warm hand on his face while the other brings your wand up to his lip where it hovers. It was a non-verbal spell you used this time and he felt the pulsating pain in his lip subside to nothing.

Even though he was healed, you both stayed in that position, your hand still on his cheek and his eyes gazing into yours. He didn’t realize it at that moment, but the pain in chest had also subsided, just a little. The tears had gone. His breathing was drastically slower.

“What’s your name?” the question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. You gave him a small smile, your hand falling from his face and he frowns when he feels the cold on his skin from the loss of contact.

“It’s Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N” you answer. “We have potions together this year, actually.”

Draco thought back to that class, now that Slughorn was teaching it he hardly paid attention, especially since he felt he was skilled in it anyways so he would let himself slip into his thoughts and let the whole period pass by in a haze. He feels as though he might have heard your name here and there, but he wasn’t so sure.

“Hm, funny, I’ve never noticed you,” he says, not intending it to sound rude but it did. He watches your face fall and he feels a slight guilt poke at him.

“Well, like I said, I’ll be out of your way now,” you mumble to him, brushing past him softly as you continued your path out of the corridor and out of his sight.

He didn’t know why, but he felt a little sad to see you go. He shook his head, shaking the thought from his mind and instead of the bathroom, he decided to go to his room, no longer feeling like he did before your little encounter.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

As days went on, Draco ended up paying more attention in Slughorn’s class. Not to the chubby old professor, but to you, who he shared subtle glances with throughout classes and half-hearted smiles.

You wanted nothing more than to continue talking to him. To be in his presence. He was like a magnet to you, while everyone else thought the opposite of him. Even Pansy, who usually was up his ass, distanced herself from the ghost of the boy she once obsessed over. You couldn’t lie, the small crush you harbored on Draco had only grown more and more each day. It started about three years ago, during your third year when you had seen him in the hospital wing after his run-in with Buckbeak.

You remember the sheer shock you felt when you had seen him for the first time that year. The slicked back hair was gone, he had grown several inches taller, maybe even a foot taller now that you thought about it. His voice had deepened into that haughty tone you somehow couldn’t get enough of. But just like you, many other girls noticed these changes too and began pursuing him. Something you’d never had the guts to do.

Until now.

The feelings you had been suppressing for the past 3 years had come back in overflow the second you bumped into him the other day. Even worse this time since you’ve actually had a conversation with him now and the fact that he won’t stop looking at you.

Slughorn pulled you out of your thoughts when he announced to everyone to partner up to brew the potion he had been lecturing us on all week. Draught of Peace.

“This is your chance,” your friend besides you sings to you as you looked longingly in Draco’s direction who hasn’t moved from his spot.

“No, he usually works by himself, I don’t want to bother him anymore than I have,” you sigh, slumping down in your seat.

“Y/N, you’ve been in love with him since third year,” she huffs, “besides, maybe he only works alone because no one can stand being near him.”

“Shhh, someone might hear you,” you hiss, slumping even lower into your seat. “I am not in love with him, it’s just a stupid crush,” you whisper angrily to her while she only rolls her eyes.

“Okay, well, have fun working alone,” she smirks, getting up from her seat and scurrying across the room to join another classmate. You gape at her in distress, she returns the same gesture, mocking you. She then points over to Draco and smiles, giving you an encouraging thumbs up.

You rest your head in your hand for a second, feeling the hot blush that had made its way onto your face and focused your gaze onto the table in front of you. You mentally hexed your friend, who thought it’d be a good idea if she were ditch you so you would be forced to look for another partner. Jokes on her, you’re not getting up from this seat.

‘I can’t go up to him,” you thought, ‘he probably thinks I’m some annoying creep who won’t leave him alone. I’ll just work by myself.”

Draco looks over at you, noticing the empty space beside you and the frown on your face as you pushed your Potions book to the side and sat up to get your cauldron ready. You were alone, and so was he. He fought himself on whether or not he should join you. It was a bold move, especially for him. He was used to working alone, but the longer he looked at you, the more he found himself missing the sound of your honey sweet voice and soft eyes. Before he had any more time to argue with himself about it, he gathered up all his things and walked over to the empty spot next to you.

“Do you want help?” Draco asked awkwardly, immediately regretting his decision to move. Your eyes shot up from the potion book, not expecting to see the blond next to you with a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Um, yes, actually, that’d be nice,” you mutter out to him, moving some stuff around on the table so that he would have space for his. You could hardly contain the deep red blush that was already on your face from intensifying at his presence. You swallowed thickly as the realization set in that your longtime crush was right beside you and even offering a helping hand. Which in Draco’s case was extremely rare, almost unheard of. Matter of fact, this is something the Slytherin Prince has never done.

He sets his bag down and his supplies and takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves so that he could get started on crushing the porcupine quills into the moonstone powder. The amount of times he has made this potion by now for himself was sad, but good in this case since he would be able to impress you with his skill.

He worked diligently and quietly and you watched as his long slender fingers worked everything with attention and precision. You were looking up at him every now and then which you now realized was a terrible idea considering you were in the middle of cutting ginger root and you weren’t exactly coordinated to begin with. You felt the sharp blade slide across your finger and a small gasp left your mouth when the pain instantly began once the first drop of blood fell.

Draco looked at you in confusion, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the blood dripping from your hand and your face contorted in pain. You ignored the looks Draco was giving you, afraid that he might be looking at you with contempt for being sloppy.

“Y/L/N, perhaps you should go to Madam Pomfrey,” Draco suggests, now seeing that the cut was very deep as you inspected it. In fact, it was so deep he swore he could’ve seen bone.

“No, it’s fine, I can heal it,” you ignored the sharp pain and placed your hand on the table and pointed your wand at the cut with your uninjured hand. You focused on the cut and closed your eyes, letting your wand do its magic with your unspoken spell. When you opened your eyes, the cut was gone, just a small scar in its place and drying blood around it. “You see,” you smile, turning towards Draco and waving your finger, “brand new.”

“You don’t want dittany for the scarring?” Draco asked with an eyebrow raised.

“No, I don’t mind them and this one is small anyways. They’re like memories to me. Some come from good experiences, some bad. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a little clumsy,” you explain, a small smile on your lips.

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” he sighs, “so you’ve managed to become your own healer because of that?”

“Exactly that,” you hummed. “That’s actually what I’m studying to be. I plan on being at St. Mungo’s once we graduate. I’ve been studying for it my whole life.”

Draco was silent for a moment. He watched as you carefully threw ingredients into the cauldron and stirred them with caution. He noticed that despite your clumsiness, you handled everything you touched with a care and gentleness. It was a calming sight to him for some reason and he faintly smiled.

“I think you’d be a great healer,” he complimented quietly. You looked at him with one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen and his heart swells at the thought of it being because of him. He feels a smile mirroring yours that tries to break through, but he fights it.

“You know, you’re a lot nicer than you let on,” you say quietly, waiting for his reaction from the corner of his eye. Draco wants to give you a snarky remark, just to uphold his cold reputation he’s given himself since his first day back at Hogwarts, but he doesn’t.

Instead of saying anything, he just shrugged and gave you a small smile, turning his attention back to the task at hand. You do the same, choosing to enjoy the comfortable silence that had settled.

When Slughorn came by to check when you finished, he eyed you and Draco and smiled.

"Ahh, Mr. Malfoy, I’m glad you’ve finally decided to partner up with someone,” he gleamed. “Miss Y/L/N here is an excellent potions student such as yourself.”

“Yes, she is,” Draco responded, keeping his eyes trained on the professor. He didn’t want to look at you, feeling embarrassed that he has now complimented you twice in the last 20 minutes. You smiled to yourself, something you’ve been doing a lot of since the slytherin boy sat next to you.

“Well, I suppose you’ll be pleased to know the two of you have brewed an outstanding potion,” Slughorn grins, “both of you will receive perfect marks on this. You can be excused from today’s class now.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you begin gathering your things and turn towards Draco. “I’ll see you next class? Or maybe somewhere around the castle when I accidentally bump into you.”

Draco chuckles and shakes his head, “perhaps. I’ll see you soon, Y/L/N.”

With that, he strides out of the class, you staring at the back of his platinum blond head with a stupid smile on your face.

“You’re welcome,” your friend suddenly appeared next to you, playfully slapping your arm. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen Draco look so... calm.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Weeks had gone by, and several Potions classes. The seat beside you now belonged to Draco and the two of you had in a sense, become friends. Or acquaintances. You couldn’t quite say.

He was still brooding and mostly kept to himself, but he would converse with you here and there about things, almost always school. The two of you continuously getting outstanding marks on everything you produced much to Slughorn’s delight.

Sometimes he would come to class looking disheveled or angry and those were the days where no matter how much you tried to talk to him to at least maybe get his mind off things, he would ignore you. Wouldn’t even look at you. You couldn’t deny how it had hurt your feelings, but you would brush off the hurt and remind yourself that it wasn’t personal. He was obviously going through something, you didn’t know what, but you had to respect that sometimes he just didn’t want to talk. That was hard. Especially because you just wanted to hear his voice or see him give you that rare smile when you would say something he found amusing or you would accidentally drop something off the table with your elbows or knocked over with your hands.

You were rounding a corridor when you saw the flash of blond zoom past you. He didn’t see you, but you saw the pointed look in his eyes and the tears that were pooling in the stormy gray eyes that you adored. You mentally fought yourself on whether or not you should follow him, he looked so upset and all you wanted to do was give him a peace of mind. So you followed him, all through two corridors until he disappeared into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Your heart broke at the sobs that filled the bathroom. They were full of pain and despair. The sound of his rapid breathing mixed in with his cries was more than enough to let you know that he was having a panic attack. You pushed open the door slightly to see him hunched over a sink, his robe discarded on the ground along with his vest and tie leaving him in only a white long sleeved dress shirt.

You wanted to run in and help, but stayed back, realizing that this was something that was extremely personal. You knew he would be livid if you or anyone saw him like this, so broken and emotional. You were about to leave, all of a sudden feeling very ashamed for even following him in here. You watched as he looked up into the mirror, an anger flashing in his eyes as he stared at the reflection looking back at him. Not yours, but his. All he could see was a monster staring back at him. A failure. A weak man. He was disgusted and angry with what he saw and before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled his fist back and you watched it collide with the middle of the mirror where he had been. The glass shattered upon impact, the shards now flying in all different directions and embedding into his knuckles. He fell to the ground on his knees, in pain and clutching his fist as his cries only got louder.

That was when you threw open the door, rushing in to help him, not caring that you were going to have to put up a fight in order to even get near him. Draco’s eyes shot up to meet yours, and just like you thought, he was beyond pissed to see you.

Draco has never felt such humiliation in his life. The beautiful and kind y/h girl he had acquainted himself with, was now looking at him with pity. He grabbed his wand from his pocket, pointing it at you with such quickness that you faltered in your steps.

“Get. Out!” He yelled, his wand shaking violently in his uninjured hand. He would never hex you, but he figured you would fall for his bluff and leave. But you didn’t. You only sat yourself down a few feet away from him and felt your own tears begin to fall. “Y/L/N, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t leave, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” you challenged. “I just want to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” he sneered, his wand still pointed at you.

“You’re bleeding, a lot, Draco,” you point to his bloodied hand that curled to his chest. “You know I can save you a trip to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey’s interrogation.”

After a few moments of silence and a wand still pointed at you, you slowly scoot towards him. Your hand encloses around the one holding his wand and you lower it for him while he watches you. He was still crying and breathing heavily. His panic attack somehow getting worse now and no longer having the energy to fight you. You finally reach him, now knee to knee with him and you place a hand on his shoulder.

“Draco, just breath with me,” you say calmly. “In,” you took a long exaggerated inhale, and after a few seconds, “out,” and let out an equally exaggerated exhale. You did that with him for a while, his pained gray eyes focused on yours the whole time, never breaking eye contact. Once he was calmed down enough and was just left with the post crying hiccoughs, you took his injured hand in yours. There was shards and particles of glass stuck in his reddened and bloody skin.

You reached into your robe pocket and pulled out a set of tweezers you kept with you. You often found yourself getting splinters or tiny rocks stuck in your skin when your hands hit the pavement when you’d fall you try and catch yourself.

“This might hurt,” you warn, starting to remove one of the biggest pieces. He sharply inhales as you try your best to do take it out carefully.

It was quiet the rest of the process, just sniffles and gasps from Draco when you had removed a piece that especially hurt. When you were done, you waved your wand over the gashes and watched as they faded into faint pink scars. You got up, pulling him with you and took him to the sink where you rinsed off the blood from both your hands and his.

He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know what. He just stared at you, dumbfounded and confused. You turned your body to face his and he did the same, eyeing you carefully and still very cautious to any move you made.

“I can leave now, if you’d like me to,” you offer quietly. He stayed silent, wondering if he should just send you off. But he didn’t want to. You had already seen him at his worst, and he was terribly alone, so he just shook his head ‘no.’ You looked up at him and decided to risk it all. “Can I give you a hug?”

Draco was stunned at the question, his heart pounding against his chest. “I suppose,” he managed to let out in a strained voice.

You slowly stepped closer to him and slid your arms up his biceps until your hands met behind his neck. You stood on your tippy toes and pulled him into you, his chin now resting on your shoulder as your hand smoothed the back of his head. You felt him stiff under your touch and as he got comfortable in your embrace, his arms raised from his sides and snaked around your waist, pushing you flush against him. You stayed like that for what felt like forever, and he held you tightly, not wanting to let go.

This was the first time in a long time that he had felt any type of relief. It had been such a constant uphill battle for him, day after day. He took a deep inhale accidentally, but the smell of your perfume and shampoo filling his nose and his mind made him feel at ease. The warmth of your body from underneath his fingertips brought him peace and succor.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair so quietly that if you weren’t so focused on him, you would’ve missed it.

“Anytime.”

That was the day Draco Malfoy became your friend.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Potions class was no longer the only place you would see Draco. Now that the two of you were comfortable with one another and he trusted you more than anyone else, he found himself hanging out with you every day during his free time when he would be done messing with the cabinet.

It would be taking walks around the castle. Sneaking out at night and meeting behind statues to talk. Sitting together at a bench in the courtyard. Skipping stones along the Black Lake. It’s been months of this. Months of friendship he so desperately needed. You had helped him through several more panic attacks and meltdowns, each time coming closer together. He never told you about what caused them. The worst ones were when he found he had almost killed Katie Bell and Ron Weasley, and as much as you begged him to tell you, he kept his mouth shut.

He had spent so much time with you that it was affecting him. But for the better. He found himself eating again at the Slytherin table and his friends were more than excited to have him back. He still wasn’t too buddy-buddy with everyone as he once was, but he joined conversations and shared a couple jokes. He was even sleeping a little more. He was still beyond stressed, but it wasn’t as gut-wrenching. He enjoyed Potions again and even started paying a little more attention in his other classes. His new found energy even helped him greatly progress in mending the vanishing cabinet, finally making a breakthrough in fixing it.

He would lie awake at night sometimes and thank Merlin you crashed into his life, literally. You were like an angel to him, healing his heart with every word and smile and touch you sent his way. It was easy with you. He tried his best to keep his emotions at bay, reminding himself that when he would have to follow through with his task, he would lose you and that thought pained him to no end. But he was selfish, and he adored you with every fiber of his being so he couldn’t leave you alone. And especially not when he needed you most.

Today, you lied in the grass, shoulder to shoulder and staring up at the sky and watching the clouds. You were a little ways from the castle, away from all your other classmates and teachers and it was nice. Finally being able to enjoy time with the Slytherin Prince without people gawking at the two of you.

“My mother used to do this with me when I was a small,” Draco trailed off, his eyes following a particular funny shaped cloud. “She would take me out to the garden behind the Manor, usually when father was doing some work at the ministry. But we would sit against this tall oak tree and I’d be on her lap and she’d have her arms wrapped around me and she would point out the funniest shaped clouds and try to pinpoint what they resemble. Sometimes she’d even joke around and say the weirdest shaped cloud looked like father.”

You giggled at that last part, your heart swelling at the story. He rarely talked about his family, but when he did, it would always be of his mother and a happy memory he had with her, never his father.

“Draco, can I ask you something?” you turn onto your side, your elbow holding you up as you gazed down at him.

“What do you wanna know, darling?” you blushed at the nickname but brushed it aside, knowing he only meant it in a friendly way.

“Forgive me if it’s rude, you don’t have to answer,” you begin, “but do you miss your father? I know it’s none of my business and I’m so sorry the Daily Prophet put your family business on blast like that. I can’t imagine how that must have felt.”

Draco frowned and followed you in turning onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow to face you. You remembered the image of Draco and his mother on the newspaper, bright lights flashing across their faces as all the press tried to get picture of them after the sentencing of Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban. You remembered seeing Draco look so sad, yet strong beside his mother as he looked from her and then into the camera with disdain.

“Sometimes, I do,” he answers, eyebrows furrowed as he thought of his father. “My whole life, he’s expected nothing short of perfection from me. There were no room for mistakes, and if I made any, I would be punished for them. I remember coming to Hogwarts was like an escape, a place where I could finally sort of relax and be a child. I don’t miss his scolding or his coldness. But I miss having a father, I miss going home on that first day of summer and seeing both my parents even if he was going to reprimand me for something later on in the day. He’s been with me my whole life, and now he’s gone, stuck in a cell in Azkaban. He’s never going to be the same. Home is never going to be the same.”

You felt tears prick your eyes as you listened to the boy beside you, a distant look in his eyes as he turned back over on his back to look at the sky in the middle of his explanation. You sat up and he did the same, looking at you with a frown when he noticed you were about to cry. You took your hand in his and held it tightly.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you mumble. “You don’t deserve any of the bad things you’ve been through.”

“I do,” he shrugs. “I’ve been a real git since I’ve been at Hogwarts, you know.”

“You’re different now,” you say. “Sure, you still haven’t lost a little bit of the Malfoy snobbishness and you’re still a bit of a git, but you’re kinder and more gentle. You’re a lot more empathetic and perceptive. I mean, I’ve never spoken to you prior to this year, but your reputation follows and the Draco in front of me doesn’t seem anything like the Draco you were.”

“How you’ve managed to insult me while complimenting me is something I’ve never seen anyone be able to do successfully is astonishing,” he laughs, a smile growing on his face as you laughed with him.

“I’m serious, Dray,” you giggle, “I think you’re a good person.”

“I’m not good,” he thinks to himself. The compliment leaving your lips made him feel foul. He didn’t deserve to have such a kind soul complimenting him to be something he’d never amount to. He frowned and harshly stood up, and you quickly followed. Suddenly afraid that you might have overstepped your boundaries.

“Where are you going?” You ask, fear trembling in your voice. He begins to hurriedly walk off and you chase after him, stopping in front of him so you could place your hands on his chest to stop him.

“Y/N, let me go,” he pleads. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“I think I’ve been around you long enough to know who you are.”

“Not long enough.”

You stare up at him, but he refuses to look at you. His body feels rigid under your touch and it pains you to see him beginning to shut down again.

“I know something has been bothering you this year, and I know it’s not just because of what happened with your father,” you start. “I don’t know what is hurting you so deeply enough to make you hate yourself, but I’m here to tell you that whatever that thing is, it doesn’t define you.”

Draco swallows thickly, the tears already falling down his cheeks. “It does, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you cry with him. “Even if you don’t see your goodness, I do.”

Both you and Draco are crying, the tree you were now standing under was swaying violently in the wind, as if it was picking up on your guys’ emotions. You placed a hand on his cheek, and he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m not good,” he whispers to you, “and once you see that, you’re going to hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Draco Malfoy,” you promise, a complete sincerity in your voice that it makes his heart jump.

Draco lifts his head up and sniffles, he watched you do the same, peering up at him through your wet lashes. He brought his thumb up to smooth the crease in between your eyebrows, letting it fall down to your cheeks where he wiped away the stray tears that had stilled. His hand then landed on your mouth that was pulled down in a grimace that matched his own. His thumb grazed over your lips, the softness of them nearly driving him mad. He wanted nothing more than to feel them against his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you. He didn’t want to drag you into the darkness of his life more than he already has.

“Kiss me,” you said to him, so softly but it rang loud in his ears. You had seen the way he looked at you and how he seemed so focused on your lips. You knew what he was thinking because it was exactly what you were thinking. You wanted this just as badly as he did. “Kiss me.”

Every argument he had in his head vanished and suddenly he closed the small space between the two of you and gently placed his lips onto yours. It was a fluid movement, like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

Your hands found their way in his hair, holding him closer to you and he did the same by gripping onto your hips. His lips were soft against yours, filled with fervor and desire. He was gentle with you, but you could still feel the deepness of his kiss and how it intensified with each second. He had put all his emotions into it, his care, his appreciation, his want, his sadness, his grief, his love.

When he pulled away and the two of you stood there staring at each other with love stricken eyes, he realized he had made a grave mistake.

He realized he was in love with you. He realized that he would never be able to let you go, and you would never let him go. And he knew that with the direction his life was going in, one way or another, you would get hurt and he would lose you, maybe even to death itself.

So in that moment he knew. As much as he loved you and wanted more than anything to be with you, he couldn’t put you in that position where you would be staring evil and death in the face. He wouldn’t tarnish your beautiful soul like that.

“I have to go,” he breathed out. “Please, leave me alone. For good.”

And with that he turned away, leaving you standing under the tree with tears falling down your face, a sob escaping your throat and the sound of your knees hitting the grass below you. He held back his own cries and walked faster away from you, knowing you had finally done damage to yourself that you couldn’t heal, and it was all his fault.

PART 2

4K notes · View notes

writingsfromhome · 3 years ago

Text

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

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“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?”

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #fic #writingsfromhome #friends to lovers #standalone #holiday fic #ignore any grammar or errors pls ty

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reidyoulikeabook · 4 years ago

Text

Sometimes You Just Don’t Know the Answer

4 times you don’t know the answer, and the 1 time you do

This is the 2nd part to Personal Google! (You don’t have to read it to understand this, but it exists if you want to).

Ship: BAU!reader x Spencer Reid

Summary: You’d call yourself a pretty educated individual, and most people wouldn’t argue with that, given that you’re a member of the BAU at Quantico. There’s just something about your best friend Spencer Reid that gets you all tongue tied.

Warnings: Mentions of cases and case-typical violence, mentions of alcohol, Spencer and Reader being idiots again.

Word count: 3k

A/N: The feedback (in asks and the tag reblogs) for Personal Google was so lovely and encouraging and I am very grateful for it! I only made this account a few days ago and I’m already so glad I did :) I hope this is a satisfactory second part and, requests are open!

(This is the Reid I’m imagining here)

“What is up with you and Reid?” Emily’s volume is unmoderated at the best of times but right now it’s like she’s trying to alert the entirety of Virginia to your dating woes.

Dating woes might be a stretch, actually. Somehow, just her implication that something is happening between you and Spencer (even though it isn’t, unless you count two exhausted idiots falling asleep on each other and being too bashful to ever mention it again), is enough to get you feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Nothing,” you shrug, “Well. I don’t know, honestly, nothing I guess? We haven’t spoken about that night.”

Emily’s eyes rake over you, and you can tell she’s waiting for you to continue.

“There’s nothing!” you object, “We just, it was accidental, we fell asleep because we were watching a documentary and we were tired and neither of us fell asleep on purpose.”

She laughs, dry and amused, “At this rate, you’ll be lucky to have sorted things out before you’re 50.”

You scowl, but it’s only because you know she’s right.

***

You don’t have much time to think about your situation with Spencer for a few weeks, considering the rate at which the cases come rolling in. This newest one arrives within about two days of the last one you’d just wrapped up. It’s actually kind of rude, you’ve decided, that the serial killers of America have decided to deny you two weekends in a row.

You’re briefed on the case quickly: four women have gone missing over the past 7 months from a small town in Ohio. There’s no distinct pattern that can be discerned among the victims, the oldest is 60 and white, the youngest is 23 and Asian-American. However, the first three have been found dead in the past two weeks, all within a mile of each other and all killed with the same MO: ligature strangulation.

“So we have no idea how he’s choosing them,” you say.

“No,” Hotch replies, with a sigh.

Meaning that this is probably going to take a while. Spencer senses the way you tense up a little as you absorb that fact. So he goes out of his way to sit next to you on the plane. Once the discussion about the case is done, he nudges you gently, “Did you bring a book?”

You shake your head, “I finished the one in my go-bag. Didn’t have a chance to replace it.”

“Would you like to read this with me?”

You place your hand on his wrist, gently turning it so you can see the cover, “Spencer this is written in Greek.”

“I can translate,” he says.

You move closer to him then, your head resting just against his plane seat and your chin almost jutting against his shoulder.

“Is this okay?”

He nods. The remaining 45 minutes of the flight are spent with him reading to you softly, adding in his own thoughts as he translates and sometimes going off on little tangents. By the time you land you’ve entirely forgotten about your ire with the case. You’re focused only on the characters he introduces you to, who are clearly in love even if they’re too stupid to see it, and the way his nose crinkles a little when he reaches a word with no direct English translation.

Whhat you don’t realise, is that you end up folding into him: head pressed against his chest. Somehow, neither of you notice how you naturally gravitate towards each other. Some pair of profilers.

Hotch sends you in different cars to the precinct, and you’re soon reminded of your frustration as you’re caught up in the hub-a-bub of the case. It’s not until you’re leaving the station, after a long and relatively fruitless briefing with the medical examiners and local PD, that you even have time to acknowledge Spencer properly again.

And even then, it’s only when Hotch says.

"You'll be sharing a room with Reid, alright?"

He’s only really asking as a formality. Nobody questions Hotch’s assignments for them. So why, then, do you feel yourself flush a little.

Why then, do you feel so embarassed replying, “Alright.”

***

There was nothing much to be nervous about with sharing a room, as it so happened. The past day and a half had been a whirlwind since the unsub had snatched a fifth victim. You’d been sleeping in shifts, making sure that some of you were awake at all times to keep working.

You were working on the geographical profile with Spencer, and had taken to driving around to look for landmarks at night, when there was nothing much else to do. There were maps but sometimes it helped just to get things embedded in your brain. And now, at 4am, you’re bursting into the conference room occupied by Spencer and Rossi, because you might just have got something.

"I have an idea,” you say, and before anybody can even respond you’re scribbling hurriedly on the whiteboard.

“Slow down kiddo,” Rossi laughs.

“Sorry I’m just,” you cut yourself off, slightly flustered and tapping your foot with frustration as you try to put the last pieces of it together, “Diana Matthews.”

“Yeah?” Spencer responds.

“She was the one who lived on Lakefield right?” Rossi asks.

Annoyingly, you can’t remember off rote. Spencer sees the pinch of frustration in your brow. He senses that you’re heading for the case file.

So, he answers, “Yeah 38 Lakefield Drive.”

Smiling gratefully at him, you breathe a sigh of relief, “There’s three different stores in the area for this local electronic repair company, Gladston Digital, in this area. Two of them aren’t accounted for on the maps because these are from last year, and one of the ones on Google is pinned to the wrong street, there are two Minister Avenues and one’s on the complete opposite side of town.”

Denoting the map with annotations as you go, you continue, “All of the victims had residences within a mile of one of the three stores. And we interviewed the area manager, Paul something, he manages all three stores. He came to speak to me and Hotch while we were scoping the area.”

“Inserting himself into the investigation,” Rossi notes, “Fits the profile. A stalker like that would want to remain an illusion of control.”

“I just need to get Garcia on the phone to see if it checks out.”

Spencer just watches, slightly in awe, as you make the phone call to Garcia. She manages to cross-reference bank statements and emails, showing that all five of the victims had taken something of theirs in for repair sometime in the year before their disappearance. And he feels something in his gut. Pride? Maybe. That’s certainly a part of it.

But there’s something else in there too. Your eyes meet his, with a flicker of recognition. He realises what it is then: marvel. Your brain works so fast, and that’s not novel to him, he knows you’re intelligent but there’s just something about how fast you manage to put it all together. You conjure something out of nothing, a link that he’d missed. And he’s reminded, again, that he has to try and keep up with you sometimes. He wonders if you know that.

Probably not, he thinks. You’re rambling down the phone and gesturing with your hands, in a way you may or may not have picked up from him, and all he can think is how you look so in your element. And beautiful.

He’s a little embarassed about how normal it feels for that last observation to pop into his head.

***

“To _____!” Prentiss cheers.

8pm has rolled around. Since your revelation 16 hours earlier, you managed to confirm your thinking, apprehend Paul Bader, and save the fifth victim. All in all, a pretty good days work. It’s not just down to you, but everyone’s singing your praises so loudly it’s making you a little embarassed.

Even Hotch sets a drink down in front of you, squeezing your shoulder, “Really good work today ____.”

Fair to say you’ve probably peaked there.

Spencer is sat to your left, sipping at a Mai Tai that you know is going to have him giggly in about an hours time.

“I wasn’t trying to keep you out before,” you tell him, “I was going to come and wake you up when I got back but you were in the conference room.”

He smiles, “I know. It was my shift to sleep.”

“Bet you’re paying for that now.”

“A little,” he chuckles, “It’s worth it.”

"I just didn’t want you to think I was hanging you out to dry. You know, to make myself look good,” you decide to press further: mostly just because the team has sung your praises and that kind of attention makes you shirk at the best of times. Let alone when you’re sat with the guy responsible for creating half the damn profile.

His eyebrows furrow. You worry for a minute about what he’s going to say, but then, “I would never think that about you. We’re a team.”

He squeezes your hand. Maybe that’s your favourite thing about Spencer, really. More than the fact he remembers to get your caffeine just how you like it, more than how gentle he is with just about everybody he encounters, more than his relentless enthusiasm for your questions about whatever pops into your mind. No, it’s his modesty. The way he doesn’t even think for a moment to be prideful or arrogant about his intelligence. He genuinely roots for you in every moment, you think.

“Are you okay?” he asks, “You seem a little..quiet.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned it that you realise you’d let your thoughts run away with you, “No. I’m good. Just thinking about how good of a teacher you are.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I think so. You’ve taught me. I didn’t know the first thing about geographical profiling when I got here two years ago. I could barely read a map,” you laugh, keeping your tone sincere, “You’re a really good teacher Spence. I feel like I learn so much from just being around you.”

“I often don’t give you much choice.”

You smile, “I wouldn’t want you to. Really. I’m always interested in everything you have to say. I think you know that. But I wanted to tell you anyway. So you’re sure.”

He’s incredibly grateful you get pulled into a conversation by Morgan, giving him a moment to process.

A lifetime of being insecure. Of feeling like nobody was interested in what he had to say but not being able to really control whether he said it anyway. All this time being insecure in himself, and you liked it. Complimented him on it, even. Considered him a teacher. He doesn’t think he could articulate, in any of the languages he speaks, the sense of peace that brings him.

-----

The Mai Tai’s do make him sleepy. Buzzed, but sleepy. After being bought rounds by Hotch, Morgan, and Spencer, you’re feeling exactly the same. It’s only 10:30pm by the time you decide to make your departure for the night. This is much to the chagrin of Emily, who lolls against Rossi’s side demanding that you stay.

“Some of us have been up since 4 this morning, breaking their backs to keep this country safe,” You tease, putting on a melodramatic air just for affect, “Besides, you’re going to regret this when you have to be up and back on the jet in the morning.”

“You will, especially since you still owe me that report,” Hotch teases, with a smile.

Emily rolls her eyes, “You two are no fun.”

She’s joking, goading you, but unfortunately for her you have a sleepy Spencer nuzzling against you which is a far more pressing matter to deal with.

“Come on Spence, let’s get you to bed,” You say, gently wiggling out from under him and offering him your hand.

He pouts at the momentary loss of contact. It’s subtle. You catch it though. He links his fingers through your own, holding your hand properly, and you try not to read into it too much. He’s tipsy. He’s tired.

Ignoring the deliberately obvious eyebrow-wiggling from Morgan, you make for the lift.

“You didn’t have to come to bed just for me,” Spencer says, “I feel bad for taking you away from the others. I’m not that drunk, I could get myself to bed.”

You shake your head, “I wanted to go to bed with you.”

His eyes snap to you, a grin playing on his lips.

“I mean, I wanted to go to bed. And we’re sharing a room. So I’m going to bed with you. As in we’re going to the place where bed is, together.”

He’s just enough tipsy to be confident enough to jest, “Sure.”

You roll your eyes, “You sound like Morgan.”

“What did Morgan say?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what Morgan always says whenever anybody goes off together.”

“That they’re having sex,” He giggles, tipsiness shining through again.

“Yes, Spence, that they’re having sex.”

“But we’re not.”

The elevator dings as you arrive at your floor, saving your brain from delving into the implications of what he’s just said. And whether that was a disappointed or netural tone.

He hasn’t let go of your hand. He walks to the door with you, still keeping your hand in his. It’s hard not to let yourself read into it now. How holding hands with him could be such a casual thing. Hard not to imagine walking through bookshops with him, one hand in yours and the other picking books off the shelf he thought you’d like. The domesticity of it sickens you.

Then he lets go to cross to the bed.

“Aren’t you gonna put your pyjama’s on?” You ask.

“I wasn’t gonna sleep yet,” he says, “I was gonna...”

He looks bashful, suddenly, self-consciously licking his lower lip, “I was gonna ask if maybe you wanted to watch something with me. You can pick. I always pick.”

“This an excuse to get me in bed with you again, Spence?” You tease, just past tipsy enough not to care that this is the first time you’ve even acknowledged that night.

"Yeah, the Pearl Harbour ruse doesn’t work twice,” he jokes.

You wish you could find the courage to tease him more. Unfortunately, the liquid courage seems to have run out, and the topic somehow feels too delicate to touch.. Instead, you change quickly into your pyjama’s. Together, you pick something to watch, settling down. You’re suddenly thankful for the single bed, the necessity to be cozied up against him as you watch. To feel his chest, every beat of his heart. You swear it’s beating fast. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

***

Just like last time, you wake up huddled against Spencer. Unlike last time, there’s no Emily banging the door down to drag you to the police station. No, it’s quiet.

You can’t see what time it is because there’s a Spencer between you and the clock. Your phone is in your back pocket but it’s hard to find any motivation whatsoever to move when you’re like this: face pressed into his chest, his head resting atop of yours so a single curl of his hair tickles your nose, his hand on your hip holding you against him.

His eyelashes flutter, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah. I just woke up.”

He smiles, “Me too.”

“Looks like we did it again.”

“Looks like we did,” his voice is quiet.

“Do you want me to move? If I’m...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

His free hand comes up to your chin, tipping it so you’re looking him directly in the eyes. His pupils are dilated. In the dim light it’s hard to place the look on his face exactly. But it’s soft.

"C-Can I kiss you?” the question spills quickly from his lips, like he’s afraid he’ll change his mind if he doesn’t get it out fast, “I just. I don’t know if that’s what you want too, I’ve just really-”

"Kiss me, Spence. Please kiss me.”

The smile on his face would have made you fall in love with him, if you weren’t already. And then he kisses you. Barely. Your lips are just grazing against one anothers. You tilt yourself upwards, towards him, giving him a better angle. Then he really kisses you, capturing your lips in his. It’s sweet, it’s soft, it’s...it’s everything. It’s everything, how his hands tangle themselves tentatively in your hair, how he kisses you so deeply, drinking you in.

His hand cups your cheek, then he’s pulling back, just a tiny bit, to mumble against your lips, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

The only appropriate way you can think to verbalise your agreement, is closing the gap between your lips again. There’s an urgency to it this time. Your lips move quickly, passionately. He swipes his tongue across your lower lip and you let him in, your tongues delicately dancing together. He’s good. He’s good and you don’t even notice the morning breath or faint taste of rum, it’s just Spencer.

When you finally come apart, you’re out of breath.

“I didn’t think you’d ever do that,” you say, “I was worried I was reading this whole thing wrong.”

He frowns then, that little nose crinkle appearing again, “I thought I was too obvious.”

“So did I. Maybe it’s best if we don’t tell Hotch how bad we are at profiling each other. He might rethink his decision to take us on.”

He laughs, “Not being able to profile when somebody’s in love with you might be a cause for concern. There are several obvious phyical signs of love, including dilation of pupils when looking at the object of your affection, heart rate synchronisation.”

“How am I supposed to know if our heart rates have synchronised?”

He smiles. Pressing a finger to your lips, he dips his head in the small chasm between your two chests. In the silence, in the early morning quiet, in the absence of all distraction you can hear it. The steady thrum of your hearts, pounding away at identical paces. The sound that told you that some part of you had always known.

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

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#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #imagine spencer reid #reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x you #bau!reader

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reidingmelodies · 4 years ago

Text

The Date Jar: February

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: 3.5k Includes: Mentions and consumption of food, brief discussions of a case (no specifics are given) A/N: Part of The Date Jar series, but can be read as a stand-alone piece as well :)

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

‘Time to let that inner creativity shine! Plan a date for $20 or less (and tell me all about it xoxo)’ Your brows wrinkled at the phrase, fingers twirling the yellow popsicle in your hand as you looked out the window.

It was February 3rd, you were missing Spencer, and your mind was a blank slate when it came to date ideas.

Spencer had been called away on a case eight days prior, his and your moods worsening with every second spent away from the other. It was a bad one, there was no doubt about it. It was obvious in the way his voice was tinged with exhaustion each time he managed to call you, in the way he made it a point to text you that he missed you every day regardless of the time, in the way he never answered questions about his day, all too eager to hide the disparity of the case from you to keep you from worrying.

But he was the love of your life- worrying came with the job description.

So, when you got a text from Penelope in the late evening hours warning you that the team was on their way back and Spencer would probably need a little extra loving that night, you didn’t hesitate to drop everything in favor of prepping for your reunion with Spencer.

Cups of tea were made (because even though you knew he’d prefer coffee what he’d really need was chamomile), your softest blankets and comfiest pillows were brought into the living room, and Dr. Who was playing softly on the television in front of you. The lights were dimmed, a pair of pajamas resting on the cushion awaiting his return, two containers of Jell-O situated on the coffee table.

Now, all you needed was his safe return.

Somehow, in your waiting, you had ended up in front of the window, popsicle stick in hand while you thought of ideas for your monthly date. The task was simple, but the opportunities were endless, and you were stumped.

Spencer had insisted that you pick the date jar stick for February without him present, an idea you were vehemently against until he proposed video chatting once he was back in his hotel room so you could do it together (you really had to thank Penelope for her tech influence on him).

Sure enough on the night of February 1st, you got a video call at 11:57 PM, your eyes bleary with sleep as you hit accept.

And all too soon, your eyes were bleary with tears as you caught sight of Spencer’s face.

You missed him, plain and simple. You were used to spending time apart but being accustomed to something certainly didn’t make it any easier to accept.

The ten-minute chat was the epitome of bliss, both of you purposely avoiding talk of work in favor of brainstorming twenty-dollar dates.

A bookstore? There’s no way you’d only spend twenty dollars. The park? We wouldn’t spend a dime. A diner? Too typical.

You knew an idea would come to you sooner than later, especially when Spencer was home and safe in your arms and your brain could rest.

For now, there was an overworked, exhausted man in dire need of a hug making his way into the apartment, and all thoughts of the date were abandoned in favor of him.

The door opened, Spencer’s slouched figure making his way into the entryway. The bags under his eyes were prevalent from across the room, his rigid expression making way for a slight grin when he locked eyes with you.

Your legs swiftly carried you home, your arms making their way around his neck as he dropped his satchel in favor of holding your waist.

You stayed like that for what could’ve been five minutes or two hours, all too content swaying to the beat of Spencer’s heartbeat, his lips pressed against your hair.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured, breaking the silence and squeezing you impossibly closer in the process.

“Missed you too, Spence. More than you’ll ever know”.

A lingering kiss was placed on your head in response, Spencer’s arms slightly pulling back as he moved to examine you. You did the same, taking note of the permanent frown etched on his features.

“What do you need, baby?” you whispered, hand gently moving to trace his cheek.

“Just you,” he responded, sleep evident in his voice.

You nodded, grabbing his hand and directing him towards the couch. Wordlessly, you handed him his pajamas and he changed into them right then and there, determinedly unwilling to be without you for the foreseeable future.

He collapsed onto the couch when he was done, forgoing the heap of blankets at the end of the sofa and opening his arms for you instead. You quickly obliged, your head settling against his chest as his fingers mindlessly traced along your spine.

“It was a rough one,” his voice was low, your ears straining to hear him, “we weren’t able to save the last victim”.

You nodded solemnly, heart instantaneously breaking for the victim, for their family, for the team, for Spencer. He was telling you as a means of an explanation rather than a means of a conversation, a fact you were well aware of after spending one too many nights like this, your arms wrapped around each other as though you were lifelines unwaveringly keeping the other afloat.

And so, you settled closer to him, head resting against his chest, legs heavily intertwined until his deep breaths filled the entirety of the room. And when you were convinced he was asleep, at peace, and most importantly safe, you allowed your own eyes to close, your body finally resting serenely for the first time in eight days.

***

You awoke the next morning to a pillow underneath your head where Spencer had previously rested, your body jolting up in fear that he was prematurely called on another case. But your worries were quickly put to rest at the sound of humming coming from the kitchen, your body filled with a mixture of relief and excitement at the sound.

You rose from your spot on the couch, body stretching in a useless attempt to make away with the aches that accumulated during the night.

It was worth it though. You’d sleep on a pile of rocks for Spencer if the situation called for it.

After your failed attempt, you made your way to the kitchen, eager to see your lover in daylight hours.

His back was to you, his blue flannel pajama pants and oversized white t-shirt looking oh so inviting as you burrowed yourself into his back, his posture instantly relaxed at the feel of your warmth against his.

“Morning, Y/N”.

You smiled into his shirt, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Morning, Spence. What are you up to?”

“I figured I’d make you breakfast, but then I remembered I don’t have the greatest track record in the kitchen, so I settled on toast with jam instead,” he shifted his body so you were face to face, your expression lighting up with mirth at the sheepish look he was sporting.

“Mm wise choice, we don’t want a repeat of last time”.

He groaned, remembering how your neighbors called the fire station when they smelled smoke coming from your apartment a few months prior. He was trying to surprise you with a homemade meal in celebration of your promotion, but instead, you came home to an apologetic Spencer, a concerned neighbor, and a stern firefighter. Not quite the celebration you were hoping for.

Cheeks still red but desperate to change the subject, his hand found yours in an instant.

“Thank you for last night, Y/N. I’m sorry you had to deal with that”.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spencer- that’s what I’m here for. You’d do the same for me, right?” At his nod you continued, “then it’s settled. We’re a team- I was just fulfilling my half of the bargain”.

He chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes at you. “Only you would call our relationship a bargain”.

“Mm well it was the best deal I’ve ever gotten- walked into a museum and came out with a bookmark and a boyfriend! I mean c’mon Spence, even you have to admit that’s a bargain”.

His lips softly met yours in response, and you watched as he pulled away slightly, leaving your foreheads brushing. “I love you. And I still feel bad I bought the last copy of the book you wanted that day”.

You closed the gap once more, letting your lips linger for a few seconds, pulling away when the grumble of your stomach interrupted the otherwise quiet room. “I love you, too, babe. And don’t feel bad- now that we live together, I can read it every day if I want to. It was all part of my master plan”.

His eyebrows rose, fingers wiggling in your direction as he moved to tickle your sides. An uproarious laugh left your lips in response, immediately jumping backwards and retracting your statement.

“Okay, okay I lied! The book was just a bonus”.

He smirked, pulling you against him and letting his fingers dance along your sides for a moment, both of your laughs echoing throughout the room.

The impromptu tickle session was cut short at the sound of your stomach grumbling once again, his newfound mission of making you toast and a cup of coffee taking centerstage. He released you with a gentle kiss on your forehead, your figure immediately moving to stand by his side. Your fingers moved along his arm, gently toying with the sleeve of his white t-shirt on the ascent and fiddling with his wrist on the descent.

Toast made and coffee poured in matching ‘I ♡ Vegas!’ mugs, you and Spencer found yourself situated at the kitchen counter, dangling feet bumping into each other at every opportunity.

His eyes were skimming over his book while yours were tracing the mug closest to you, smiling in recollection at the memory of Diana sending them to you a week after your first visit along with a note saying she wanted to get you something as colorful as the rainbow you saw out her window.

Wait. That was it.

Your eyes turned to Spencer, taking in the way his white tee shirt hung from his frame. He had dozens like it in your bedroom, the shirts a trusted go to when he had to pack pajamas in a rushed go bag.

It wouldn’t hurt to add a pop of color to a few of them.

Penelope said you had to spend $20 or less on a date- and if you used clothes you already had, you were almost positive you could buy tie dye materials and have money to spare.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” his question cuts through your thoughts, your eyes meeting his to find nothing but love.

“You have a lot of white tee shirts”.

With that, love made way for utter confusion.

“Um…yes?” His brow furrows, watching as you moved the mug into his line of sight before jogging towards the living room.

Your return was marked with his fingers tracing the sides of the mug, every inch of his being determined to figure out what had you so fascinated.

Plopping down next to him, you place the date jar stick next to the coffee, moving your legs until they rested against his calves.

“What if we did tie dye for our February date?”

“With my clothes?”

Your features soften, taking his question as a sign of hesitation. “Only if you’re okay with it, otherwise we can find some on sale? Or we can always do something else if this isn’t’-”

You trailed off as his left hand found your cheek, looking up to find his eyes already on you.

“We can use mine, love. I think it’s a great idea, and I wear them to bed anyway so it’s not like anyone really sees them,” he watched as a smile overtook your features before continuing, “we can do some of yours too! And maybe some plain white socks? I think we both have some buried in our drawers”.

“Oh and we can do a pair of your boxers!” you added, positively giddy at the thought.

Spencer, on the other hand, was not.

“My boxers? Isn’t that weird?” His lips were pursed, his hands protectively moving to cover his thighs.

You smirked, right hand moving to cover his. “I don’t think so, it’s not like anyone’s gonna see them besides me, baby- unless Penelope hacks into my photo album again”.

You both shuddered at the thought, heat rushing to your cheeks as you remembered the shrieks she let out the last time she looked through your photos (and the ‘atta boy’s’ Derek graced Spencer with).

You shook your head, willing the memory to a far corner of your mind before squeezing Spencer’s palm.

“So, babe, what do you say? Tie dye for our date?” You watched as his lips curled into a smile, his teeth swiftly biting his lower lip before he responded.

“Only if you dye a few pairs of your underwear, too”

That was already a given, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Spencer”.

***

You went to the store for supplies the following Saturday while Spencer mess proofed your living room floor. $18.65 later, and you were armed with a tie dye kit, two squeeze bottles, pancake mix, and a basic food dye set. The kit only cost $9.99 and sticking with the theme of the day you figured colorful pancakes were the way to go.

Surely, there wouldn’t be another kitchen incident if you were there to help Spencer.

You walked into the door, instantly greeted by a plastic tarp placed on the floor and covered in an assortment of tee shirts, underwear, socks, and pillowcases. Spencer was amid the pile, face beaming as he placed a white bedsheet on top of the pile.

“I figured we may as well go all out, right? Go big or go home or something like that?”

You laughed, nodding your head in his direction while you walked into the kitchen. “That’s the spirit, Spence!” Pancake supplies placed on the counter, you grabbed the tie dye kit and two glasses of water before taking your rightful seat next to your boyfriend on the floor.

“Ready for this, babe?”

He enthusiastically nodded, inching closer to you to help set up the dyes. “Mm-hmm. Did you know that the origin of tie dye traces back to the 6th century, with the first recorded instances taking place during both the T’ang Dynasty and the Nara Period?”

You looked up at him, admiring the way he licked his lips while he awaited your answer, his fingers fiddling with the top of one of the bottles of dye.

God, you were so in love with him and the infinite amount of knowledge he seemed to possess.

“That’s really cool! So, what did they use as their dye?” You questioned, eyes solely focused on your favorite view- his face lighting up every time you asked him to elaborate on one of his fun facts.

“Well, it’s quite interesting, actually,” he began, “they used natural dyes and essences from things like berries, flowers, and leaves”.

You grinned, adding the final bottle of dye to the pile that had accumulated at your feet. “Maybe next time we can try that method”.

He nodded in agreement, placing a kiss on your forehead before reaching for a tee shirt.

“Okay, so where do we start?”

He observed as you put rubber bands around one of his tee shirts, blotching up the fabric in a series of places to allow the dye to spread. Pink, purple, and red dye was splashed across the material, your glove covered hands coming in handy as you twisted and folded the shirt with each splash.

Once you were satisfied with the design, you laid it on the corner of the tarp, leaning up to give Spencer a quick kiss on his pursed lips before reaching for the next item. He followed suit, and together you worked to the sound of giggles, bundles of socks, underwear, and shirts joining the line of finished products.

Taking a break, you watched as he mixed every color on one of his tee shirts, the colors bleeding together until they resembled the color of mud.

“Spencer!” his name came out of your mouth in a breathy huff, your smile uncontained as your hand moved to pick up the material and observe it for yourself.

Secretly, he knew it looked awful, and he was sure whoever roomed with him on the next case would agree.

But, he also knew he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face- even if it made him the most unfashionable agent in the FBI.

“I for one think it’s gorgeous, Y/N”.

“Everything looks gorgeous on you, babe, so I’ve gotta say I’m inclined to agree”.

All this time together and his cheeks still flushed every time you complimented him.

“Can I ask you something?” The serious tone of his voice was enough to drop the smile off your face, especially when you noticed the wrinkle that had developed between his eyebrows as he awaited your response.

“Anything. You can always ask me anything, baby”.

He took a deep breath, moving to take one of his gloves off as you mirrored his action. Uncovered hands clasped together, you squeezed his hand between yours, giving him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

“Do you- do you think we’ll do this with our kids one day?” His voice was quiet, and if the room wasn’t as still as it was you would have missed the question.

It was something you had discussed in passing before, midnight pillow talk turned into discussions about future children and Punnett squares as you daydreamed of a life with the pitter patter of little feet. Children that were made from love and taught to be kind to others, shoot for the stars, and make their mark on the world. But, this was the first time the discussion breached daytime hours.

You pulled the other glove from your hand, motioning him closer to you as you grasped his cheeks, your eyes fully situated on each other’s.

“There’s nothing I want more, Spencer. You’re gonna be the greatest dad one day, I just know it”. He closed the gap between your lips at your statement, his kiss swimming with love, respect, and excitement.

You broke apart when the need to breathe became too strong, resting your forehead against his while your fingers played with the strands of hair resting at the nape of his neck.

“I have something else we can do with our future children in the kitchen, actually,” you began as you stood, leaving the mess of tie dye materials for later, all too eager to get a move on with your plans for the day.

Spencer followed suit, mind swirling with possibilities. “Is this a good thing to do with our kids or a bad thing?”

You laughed, sneaking a peak over your shoulder at him. “It’s a good thing! At least I think it is. You’ll probably hate it”.

“That’s reassuring”.

You laughed, clutching his hand in yours as you approached the kitchen. “Ta-da! I got some stuff to make rainbow pancakes, I figured we can layer the bottles with colors and try to make tie dye pancakes for dinner to stick with the theme”.

“You and I have very different ideas of fun- do you not remember the kitchen incident?” He shook his head with a chuckle, his actions contradicting his words as he gathered bowls to mix pancake mix and dye.

You worked together in the peaceful glow of the afternoon sun, your fingers leaving trails of colorful batter on each other’s faces with a mixture of kisses and belly laughs in between.

He bit his lip in concentration as he worked to make the perfect pile of pancakes, each slightly burnt around the edges and raw in the middle but a massive improvement from having to call the fire department. His consisted of circles, ovals, and squares while you wrote out ‘I ♡ U’ in a sea of colors, turning the pan towards him so he could see your creation.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he sealed his words with a kiss, leaning closer as you took the opportunity to let out a confession of your own.

“I can’t wait until the day we tie dye our entire house with our hypothetical children and feed them rainbow pancakes for dinner, Spence”.

A life full of love and a house filled to the brim with happiness- it was all he ever wanted, and in this moment with you, streaks of red pancake batter splattered across both of your cheeks, he knew he was already there.

“I can’t wait either, Y/N”.

Young Spencer Reid would be proud.

***

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ackerfics · 4 years ago

Text

the parent trap — levi ackerman (ii)

part one | part three

— levi ackerman x female reader (modern au | the parent trap au)

—warnings: fluff (dad! levi) and an original character that was annoying to write

— summary: altair came home, only to find a thorn wedged in his little family.

— word count: 5.5k

— authors note’s: i finally have a sort of banner hhhhsdjwhd i figured that i should make one for every character that i’ll be writing in this blog so that i won’t run out of gifs. this is long overdue but i was writing this while having breaks from our backlogs the past week. happy reading !!

Levi Ackerman never liked waiting but when it comes to the only living memory he has of you, he was willing to stay under the harsh glare of the Sun’s rays.

He was only standing among the other people waiting for their family members and friends for about thirty minutes and he was already cursing California’s weather. He needed some rain once in a while. As he looked down on the asphalt, the white plane he was anticipating finally landed, the steps rolled down and various people started trickling out. Though his face remained stoic, Levi still craned his neck to get a glimpse of his boy (curse the people standing in front of him, making him realize he’s smaller compared to them), hair the same cut as him and a bright grin that matched the bright California Sun. Eight weeks was a long time and the sight of Altair Ackerman adjusting the duffel bag over his shoulder was making his heart melt.

Was his little boy growing so fast? Because Levi swore there was a new air surrounding his son, the older man watching Altair looking at him all star-struck.

With a small smile, Levi spread his arms wide and called out, “Come here, brat." He was already anticipating the barreling boy heading straight for him. With a grunt, Levi wrapped his son in a tight hug, lifting him from the ground and planting a kiss on his forehead. Weird, the little boy of eleven always whined about his kisses, saying that he was already nearing his puberty and that he didn’t need them anymore. Levi brushed the thought from his mind, thinking that Altair probably received the kiss because of homesickness, and placed his son on the ground.

A few seconds passed by and the young Ackerman only stared up at his father like he carried a thousand Suns on his shoulders. Tears were slowly building up in his eyes, wrapping his arms around Levi’s waist and nuzzling his head against his father’s toned stomach. Levi smiled gently, placing one of his hands on Altair’s hair, ruffling it until they’re tousled. “You miss me that much, Al? Well, I kind of agree. Sending you off to the other side of the country was my biggest regret this summer.” When Altair looked up, Levi couldn’t help but smile. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

“So, Dad, how’s everybody at home?” Altair asked, staying close at his father’s side while the black-haired man wrapped his arm around the little boy’s shoulders. “How are Petra and Uncle Eyebrows doing?”

Levi had to hold back his small scoff of laughter. “Petra is fine, she’s doing a number on the house because you’re finally home. Eyebrows will be visiting tomorrow but there’s a package from him waiting for you in your room as we speak.” He pushed the button of his car keys, unlocking their Jeep Wrangler and walking away for a moment to place his son’s bag in the backseat. “In short, they’re great and they can’t wait to see you.” He glanced at his little boy, who was standing patiently, and instantly thought that the summer camp mellowed out his brazen personality. Nodding his head towards the car, the two of them immediately set off to their part of town. “A lot has been happening around here during the eight weeks you were away. So don’t be surprised at what you’ll find at the house when we go back home.”

“A lot has happened to me, too, Dad,” Altair stated, his eyes focused on the cityscape passing by. He turned to his father with a half-smile. “I feel like I changed to be a more rational person.”

“Wow, summer camp was a good thing for you, huh?” Levi answered, silver eyes on the road ahead. “To think you said that. You must be getting old. Please don’t, I much preferred you to be my little boy for as long as it will take. What got you thinking this way when you’re at camp?”

The little boy shrugged. “Nothing, it’s just, seeing you for the first time,” he saw how Levi glanced at him so he quickly picked up, “in a long while made me realize a few things, Dad.”

“Wow, you sound so grown-up. It’s almost like you’re a new person.”

Altair froze for a moment before laughing. “By the way, Dad, you look taller to me earlier, too.”

“You didn’t have to go there, brat.” A comfortable silence enveloped the father and son until, “Oh, I forgot to mention, there’s some Oreos in the dash. You’re probably hungry after the flight.”

The raven-haired boy didn’t think twice in opening the compartment in front of him, gleefully clutching the pack of Oreos his father bought for him. After thanking Levi, Altair stuffed his face with the decadent biscuits that the former couldn’t prevent his small laughs from coming out. His son was a tough cookie but when it comes to his favorite treats, he instantly turns into a gushing, excited kid his age.

It reminded him of you actually.

As the tall buildings turned into lush green sceneries, his mind drifted to the memories he always clung to at random times. This time was one of those random moments when his mind was filled with thoughts of you. The divorce hit him like a thick wall but he couldn’t deny that he agreed to it because he knew you were happier with that. Who knows? You could be married to another person in your home country and Levi didn’t have a clue, mainly because he had to put up this façade that he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore. He felt guilty seconds after telling Petra to take down any framed pictures of you around the house because he couldn’t fathom looking at your beautiful face again. But as they entered the emerald sea of tea trees, Levi played the memory of when you first met. It was by chance, really — he just happened to be at the same place at the same time with you during college. He remembered how you effortlessly carried yourself without a care, how you listened to your friend blabber about certain topics.

For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes away from you.

It was safe to say that Levi felt an arrow passing by his chest and suddenly, all he could think about is you.

“The plantation is absolutely breathtaking, Dad.”

Altair’s voice interrupted his thoughts, his eyes glancing at the little boy who was in a trance while staring into the tea trees. He slightly furrowed his eyebrows at the use of vocabulary. While watching his son grow up, he never once heard him exclaim his awe of things that way. There are exceptions, of course, but not that much. It almost sounded like how you would always describe Levi’s eyes, sending the gray-eyed man’s heart thumping in his chest at the mere thought of it. He tried calming down his fast heartbeat but to no avail as he kept picturing you with the softest eyes, feather-like hands, and voice suited for a lullaby that were always the subjects of his dreams at night. Those dreams were mainly the reason why he chose not to sleep, spending the early morning hours in the kitchen while indulging in his son’s favorite combination, which is disgusting but tastes so well together. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and responded a hum to what his son said.

“You sound like you haven’t seen the plantation in forever,” Levi joked, missing how Altair once again froze, the latter’s eye twitching as he squirmed in his seat.

“Uhm, I think it’s because I’m so used to tall trees the past eight weeks, Dad.” Altair laughed lightheartedly, dismissively waving his hand. “But,” he prolonged the word, “if there’s something at camp that stresses me out, I’ll just picture our plantation in my mind. It sort of gives me peace for a couple of minutes until a brat comes up to me, challenging my position as the fencing champion for one week.”

“A fencing challenge?”

“Yeah, Dad, he was pretty awesome,” Altair shrugged.

“So you made a friend?”

The little boy turned to the dark-haired man with an expression of disbelief. “Your tone sounds like you don’t believe me. Have you no faith in your son, Dad?”

Levi scoffed a laugh. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m genuinely curious about this brat you’re talking about and how he challenged you for the title of fencing champion in the summer camp. I don’t know,” he shrugged, one hand raised in the air, “does he even treat you well? Or was he scared because of how you look at people? You got that from me apparently. I just don’t want my brat being shunned by others, okay? I was actually worried the whole time you’re away. Worried for the people there, that is. Because they’re missing out on this amazing boy.”

The older Ackerman’s rambles made Altair chuckle. There was always something when his dad took off in the worried state — it made his heart warm and he couldn’t help but answer the main question posed by Levi. Altair hummed under his breath, eyes set on the roof of the car, phrasing his answer so that it wouldn’t reveal too much. Stuffing an Oreo in his mouth, he muttered. “Actually, he was courteous, Dad.”

The dark-haired man glanced at his son, shaking his head at how the crumbs clung to the side of Altair’s mouth. Taking one of his hands from the steering wheel when he saw they were the only ones driving under the canopy of trees, Levi reached out and quickly cleaned his son’s face free of Oreo crumbs. Going back to focusing on the road, he slightly smiled, voicing out his question, “'Courteous’?” Levi turned to his son, who was conspicuously grimacing and hiding it by eating another Oreo. “What, all of a sudden you’re so proper?” The man’s gray eyes flickered to his son’s fingers. Taking the boy’s hand, he examined them for a moment before going back to the road. “You’re still biting your nails, huh?”

Altair perked up, his voice becoming pitchy, covering it with a cough. “Dad, you noticed!”

“What do you mean by ‘noticed’? You’ve been biting them since you could chew. The number of times we had to tell you to stop is ingrained in my brain so why would I only notice that now?”

The onyx-haired boy turned his body so that he would be directly facing Levi. Blinking, he escaped his dad’s question with a, “But I’ve decided to stop it, Dad. I finally realized how horrid it is as a habit, Dad.”

“There you go again. ‘Courteous’, ‘horrid’. I’m pretty sure I didn’t send you to finishing school.” Levi smiled. “And why do you keep saying ‘Dad’ in every sentence? Not that I don’t like it but I just noticed it since your plane landed.”

Altair chuckled lowly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was doing it, Dad.” When Levi made a full laugh, the little boy grinned. “So sorry, Dad.” The two shared a few laughs before Altair cleared his throat. “Do you know why I kept saying ‘Dad’? You want the truth?”

“’Cause you missed your old man so much?”

A sad smile painted the gray-eyed boy’s lips, making sure that Levi didn’t turn his head to catch his melancholic mood. He chose to look out the window to avoid tearing up while staring at his father’s side profile. “Exactly. It’s because my whole life,” he cursed at the slip-up, “I mean, you know, for the past eight weeks, I was never able to say the word ‘Dad’ at all. Not even once. If you ask me, a father is an irreplaceable person in a kid’s life. The friend who challenged me to a fencing competition had no father to take care of them, to see them take their first steps or hear their first words. It got me thinking that there are probably kids my age who didn’t see their fathers even once, let alone call someone ‘Dad’. I mean, there’s this whole day dedicated to celebrating all the fathers in the world. I couldn’t imagine a life without you, Dad. I couldn’t imagine not saying ‘Hi, Dad!’ or ‘How’s the tea shop, Dad?’. Something will always be missing if I didn’t have you.”

Levi’s heart melted, his insides turning into a gushing mess at the words of his son. He couldn’t even imagine his life without his little him, following around like a lost duckling when he was a toddler learning how to walk. He couldn’t imagine his days without his boy reaching his chubby arms just for him to lift his cuddly body in his arms. He couldn’t imagine his nights without reading a bedtime story to a drowsy Altair, eyes looking at him as if every story is worth listening to. The first part of Altair’s little monologue reminded him of the other bundle of joy that the nurse gave him when you gave birth all those years ago. He swore that day that he will shower equal love and affection on his two brats but it turns out, it wasn’t meant to be. The other half of Altair was far into the sea with you and there was a time that he wanted to visit, however, the strength never came into him. But for now, he was thankful that Altair got home safe and sound, no scratches and face lighting up with precious emotions.

“Holy shit.”

Levi laughed at the curse. “Now you’re sounding like your old self.”

Altair’s eyes widened at the arch welcoming the car to the estate. Your name was in bold letters, vines of vibrantly colored flowers making the entrance even more magical. The little boy glanced at Levi and he could see how the older man’s eyes turned soft at the name, his shoulders drooping slightly as if he finally entered into an ethereal place. Facing forward, Altair had a conclusion. Levi Ackerman, his father, is still very much in love with you, his mother. His insides were buzzing with excitement and he couldn’t wait to phone someone from across the sea at his discovery. The plan was coming together and he didn’t even start a thing.

The house was more than what was described to the gray-eyed boy. Every wall was covered with groomed vines, splashes of color can be seen because of the flowers growing between the greens. It looked like a manor in those romance movies he watched a few years back. A balcony above the main doorway overlooked the driveway and front yard. The air was so clean that the little boy rolled down the windows and took a deep breath, the therapeutic yet faint smell of tea wafting through the perimeter of the house. Without another word, Altair stepped out of the car once Levi parked it at the side of the front yard. His eyes were full of stars as he looked up at the two-story building in front of him, the maroon of the bricks and the green of the vines calming his pounding heartbeat in the best way possible. A bark from the balcony made him crane his head, the fur of a golden retriever catching his eye.

He was finally here — he was home.

“Oh, my God, he’s home!”

A shout came from the inside of the house, shocking Altair from eyeing the canine on the balcony. He could faintly hear Levi snickering behind him as the older man took out his bag from the backseat of the car. A woman of short strawberry blonde hair was running towards him, under the arched front door, and then engulfing him in a warm hug with her thin yet firm arms. This must be Petra, his nanny and head maid of the household. He reciprocated the embrace, nuzzling his head on the woman’s neck. She smelled of spice and a hint of orange and Altair found himself craving some juice in an instant. Pulling away from the woman, he found out how pretty she is. Freckles dotted her cheeks, eyelashes framing warm brown irises, and a smile that can blind him at any second.

“Look at you!” Petra tried measuring Altair’s height with a hand, exclaiming, “Oh, you grew! We miss you so much!” Patting the boy’s shoulders with her hands, she leveled her stare with Altair. “Don’t you dare let your old man talk you out of going back to camp, okay? You need adventure every once in a while.”

“Okay.”

“You hungry?”

Altair shrugged with a smile.

“I made cornbread, chili, and I squeezed some orange for some juice, too.” Petra noticed how Altair kept staring at her with a sad smile, piquing her interest. “Hey, bud, why are you so quiet? Is something wrong?”

“I think he needs to take a shit from all the traveling,” Levi interjected, the orange duffel bag on his shoulder and one of his hands inside a pocket of his jeans.

“No!” Altair yelled, cheeks aflame with heat, and eyes flittering between the two laughing adults. “I don’t feel like taking a shit … it’s just, I,” he paused, inhaling tea-scented air, “I just miss home so much and I’m happy to finally be here.”

With Petra’s arm wrapped around Altair’s shoulders, the two followed Levi into the house. The strawberry blonde woman kept glancing at the little boy at her side, sensing something amiss from how he acted. There was something not clicking for Petra and it flared, even more, when Levi’s dog, Captain, came running from the second floor to give Altair a welcoming. Only it wasn’t that warm and cuddly welcome the boy received from the two adults, it was full of barks and growls from the golden retriever directed towards Altair. Pushing the doubts from her mind, Petra had to intervene since Captain showed no sign of stopping and Altair was stuck on the wall.

“What is wrong with you, you goofball,” Petra scolded the dog, gently putting her hands on the canine’s head and ruffling his fur. “This is Altair.”

“I think it’s because I smell like camp,” Altair murmured, stepping away from the dog with small steps until he found himself in the living room. Behind him, Petra was telling the dog that it seems like he doesn’t recognize one of his owners and Altair took everything inside him not to flinch at the remark. However, the interior design of the living room caught his eye and the worries building up inside his mind vanished in an instant. There was a huge fireplace in front of an arranged long couch and armchairs. Paintings were placed immaculately around the room, matching with the color palette of browns and beiges. Overall, it looked like a manor and Altair was in awe that he spoke in a British accent, forgetting his crafted persona. “Wow, this is better than the pictures.”

“Kiddo, what do you want to do first?” Petra called out as she entered the living room. She straightened one throw pillow on the long couch before turning to the little boy who schooled his features into a blank one. “Do you want to eat and then unpack, or we could unpack and eat? Or we could eat while we unpack.”

“You mean I can eat in my room?”

Petra furrowed her brows, crossing her arms across her chest. “Well, yeah, that’s a definite possibility.”

“Al,” Levi shouted from the kitchen, hands occupied with a bowl of chili and a spoon. “When you’re done, come on down. I want you to meet someone.” Levi glanced at Petra, who was pursing her lips, knowing who this person Altair’s going to be introduced to. The gray-eyed man narrowed his eyes slightly as if telling his friend to not tell the boy before him. “The chili’s good, Petra, thank you.” He then turned around to get some more chili for the guest, brushing off how Petra rolled her eyes.

“Okay, Dad!” Altair yelled.

“Okay, Al,” Levi replied, a smile can be heard in his voice.

The little boy’s eye followed his father until he went out the patio with two bowls of chili. Everything blanked out when he saw Levi placing one of the bowls in front of a woman dressed in a tight-fitting dress. Altair couldn’t see the face of the woman but he could tell she was way younger than his dad. Levi kept standing at the other side of the table, with the woman leaning forward, probably trying to impress his father.

“Hello, handsome,” the woman said in a sultry voice.

“Hello,” Levi replied in a flat voice, hands gripping his bowl of chili.

“So did you tell him?”

“I was getting to that but he was tired and he needs to unpack. It won’t hurt to be patient since you’re only a guest here.”

The woman scoffed. “And chili? Really, Levi?”

“Mr. Ackerman.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Tch.”

Altair leaned towards Petra’s side, dropping his voice in a whisper. “Tell me what?”

“We’ll talk about this in your room, Al,” Petra whispered right back, steering the boy to the stairs but not before glancing back at the two people on the patio. She hoped Levi will take care of this situation before it gets worse. “Even though your father told me with a glare to never tell you this first, I might have to because we don’t want you snapping at that woman. It’s best to keep a clear mind when around her.”

Altair dropped his duffel bag on the floor when they finally entered the safety of his room. There was a wrapped parcel with a card saying, ‘welcome home’, and Altair concluded that this was Erwin’s gift. Petra and he sat on the floor, the woman opening the bag and taking out the topmost items. She handed the camera to a distressed Altair, pursing her lips at how the boy’s thoughts can be seen in his eyes. While she was taking out some of his clothes, Altair stood up and went to his window overlooking the wide backyard. The little boy’s eyebrows met again in a glare that mirrored his father’s too much as he looked down from his window, distaste, and confusion evident on his scowl. Petra sighed, knowing that if Altair wasn’t told what the truth is, he will be in one of his moods where not even a plate of chili and a pack of Oreos can quell his snappy attitude.

“Trust your dad, kiddo,” the strawberry blonde tried for a casual tone.

“Who’s that?”

“That woman is Cynthia Maryland from San Francisco,” Petra answered, patting her lap from imaginary dust, and crossed the room to stand beside the boy. “She was this publicist, or so she claims, and tried to strike a deal with your dad regarding the ongoing popularity of your tea shop and its branches. That is why I told you to watch what you say to her, just a snap of her fingers and she will paint the tea shop and your family in a bad light. But it seems like she’s selling something other than tea.” The two of them watched the Cynthia woman try to wrap her arm around Levi’s, the latter snatching his limb at the speed of light and walked ahead, ignoring the whines of the young woman as he relayed the ideas that revolved around her work. The message that Levi wasn’t interested in her didn’t reach the brunette woman, following him with eyes filled with faux adoration that made the two grimace. “Ugh, disgusting. She’s taking the word desperate to another whole level.”

Altair narrowed his eyes. “I think the word desperate has her picture on the internet. Why is she so adamant?”

“Of course, it is. Look at it this way; your father is this grumpy, middle-aged, short man and that woman is a young, pretty thing begging for his time of the day. Who in their right mind would try to suck up to him these days? I mean, not that I was describing Levi as this unattractive man but I saw her in the city bank last time I was out for groceries, and let me tell you, that woman is a snake trying to check your dad’s worth. Al, do you think there’s really something going on between them?”

“So she wants him for his money?”

Petra nodded, ruffling the boy’s hair affectionately. “That’s about right, kiddo.”

“Does he like her?”

“You have to hear from your dad about that.”

And that was what Altair wanted to know, giving Petra a quick wave and running downstairs to where the woman had his father in her clutches after changing into some swimming shorts and a shirt. There was no way that this was happening. His father who didn’t bat an eyelash on any woman the past eleven years was giving this stranger attention. Everything in the plan will be in shambles if this goes on. The poor boy’s mind was a mess and it became worse when he stepped out into the pool, the sight of his father standing beside the lounging chair with the young woman lying on it like she owned the house. His father’s back was to him so he couldn’t discern what expression he had as he stared down at the woman flaunting her figure for all the plants in the poolside to see. The woman was talking about something until Altair caught her eye, the little boy controlling himself from flinching.

“There’s the little man of the hour!” Cynthia gleefully announced, waving her hand high in the air.

Levi turned around and his hardened gaze became soft at his panting son. Glancing at the woman on the chair with unreadable eyes, he murmured, “I’ll be back with the new brew. You can keep my son company while he swims.” He tenderly ruffled Altair’s hair as he passed by the boy, giving him a rare, breathtaking smile. “Behave, Al.”

The woman grumbled along the lines of not introducing her to Altair but she quickly changed her face into a kind one as she faced the boy. Upon seeing the blank expression on the gray-eyed boy, Cynthia tried to liven up the atmosphere. “Hey, sweetie,” her eye twitched when Altair visibly scrunched his nose in disgust, “my name is Cynthia Maryland and I’m a special friend of your father’s.” She sat up in the lounge chair, straightening her posture to make an impression on the kid. With an award-winning smile, Cynthia continued, “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting the famous Altair Ackerman that everyone has been talking about. I actually looked forward to this all summer!”

“Really? Well, here I am.”

Cynthia cleared her throat at the still icy look Altair was giving her. “You’re so adorable. The way your father talked about you, I was expecting a sweet little toddler but here you are, already nearing adolescence. The way he talked about how you’re the most special person in his life right now, it’s so heartwarming and probably the reason why I like him.” Altair rose an eyebrow at this. “Enough about me, the spotlight is on you, young man.”

“I’m nearing twelve.” Altair tilted his head. “How old are you?”

Cynthia giggled. “Twenty-four.”

A fake gasp rang through the air. “Only thirteen years older than me. You’re practically my older sister. You know, I never had a sibling. Must be nice to be recognized by Dad and be well-acquainted with the rest of the family members before you get adopted. It’s a good thing Dad’s the one adopting you. He takes great care of our dog so I’m sure he’ll take care of you like he takes care of Captain, too.”

“Excuse me?”

A ringing phone broke the conversation, the noise coming from Cynthia’s glittery purse. The brunette suppressed a groan of annoyance, schooling her features in a close-lipped smile while taking out her phone. Altair didn’t think twice turning around and sitting at the edge of the pool. His eyes never strayed from the blue waters, ears perked up to eavesdrop from the pesky woman. If a stranger saw him at the moment, one would think he was thinking of murdering the pool but he never strayed his gaze from the water, his low laugh of disbelief ringing through the vicinity at the woman’s words. It seems like she was telling someone off and that she was taking care of things perfectly in the Ackerman estate.

“I’m sorry to inform you but Levi will be out of the country at the date of your visit. I’ll call you later, bye.” Cynthia sat up on the chair, placing both of her elbows on top of her knees, and leaning forward to regard the little boy who swiveled his head too quickly when he heard his father going out of the country. “So, Al, how was camp? Was it fabulous?”

“Dad is flying out of the country? For what?”

Cynthia laughed, glancing at her phone. “Oh, no. I just had to tell a little white lie to get him out of something. You know, Al, I have never heard a man talk about his son the way that Levi talks about you. You two are incredibly close but seeing the two of you together, well, it’s like he has a little him.”

“Well, we’re closer than close.” Altair stood up from the side of the pool and took his shirt off, leaving him in his swimming trunks. Glancing at the woman, who was faking a smile, he responded with a fake one as well. “We’re all each other has like always.” He made a cannonball in the pool, splashing water everywhere. There was a shriek of surprise from Cynthia, screaming about her designer dress and make-up, to which Altair didn’t hold back his smirk. Emerging to the surface, he shook his head before planting an innocent smile on his face. “Sorry. Did you get wet, Cecilia?”

“It’s Cynthia!”

“Oh, my bad, Cindy.”

Cynthia groaned in aggravation, her kind façade dropping. “And it just splashed on my clothes. Don’t worry about it, Al.” She tried making herself presentable again with a strained smile. Her hand raked through her curled brown locks, ruffling them for a little volume and flipping them over her shoulder. She walked towards the side of the pool, her heels clanking against the stoneworks. It was Altair’s least favorite sound now, along with her horrendous giggles that were too high and pitchy. He’d rather prefer your soft laughs that seem to sound like fairies but that thought was interrupted when Cynthia crouched in front of Altair, her smile hiding something sinister behind those bloody red lips. “Hey, guess what. I know your dad has been lonely—“

“He’s not lonely,” Altair cut off with a blank face.

“I know he’s not lonely,” Cynthia rolled her eyes. “But your mother has been out of the picture the moment you were born. It appeared to me that she couldn’t handle the responsibility of taking care of an infant so she left.”

Lies.

“Levi told me one time while we were riding about out how lonely he was without someone to lay in bed or to make love with.”

Disgusting.

“So I expressed my feelings for him because the more time we spent together, the more time I fell in love with a man like your father. He was everything.”

Do you mean, he has the money?

“I was genuinely surprised when he told me he felt the same way and before you knew it, we were dating. He told me while on a date last week that he wishes for you, Al, to have a mother’s love and affection, and with it, he proposed to me.”

Bloody woman, she’s ruining the plan!

“I would like to be a great mother to you, Altair Ackerman. I would shower you with all the love your mother couldn’t give you because she’s too selfish.”

A static noise rang around Altair, his eyes murderous on the smug woman by the pool.

“I have the new brew—Al, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Levi slid his sharp eyes on Cynthia. “What did you tell my son?

Her grin was like the devil. “Nothing, Levi, just the truth.”

Altair only looked down with gritted teeth and teary eyes, murmuring along the lines of, “Mum is not selfish. She’s every good thing here.”

That night, Altair locked himself in the bathroom, his phone in hand. Dialing a very familiar number, he waited for the other person to pick up with half-lidded eyes. When his voice answered the phone, Altair immediately dropped his American accent. “It’s me. We have a major problem here. A pest made herself known. What’s your situation over there?”

#aot #snk #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #modern au #i hate writing whiny bitches hhhhswujd #levi #rorywrites

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cacoetheswriting · 4 years ago

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champagne problems, ch.1

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter One: Bloodsport: You announce your engagement to the team, shattering Spencer's heart. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, this series is going to be a real slow burn babyyy

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Today was like any other day.

You woke up at your usual time to the sound of your alarm. You had coffee, and a quick bite to eat while aimlessly scrolling through the social media apps on your phone. You showered, brushed your teeth, got dressed, did your makeup. And when it was time to leave, you walked out the front door locking it behind you, hopped in your car, and drove to work.

Today was like any other day. Except that it wasn’t.

Today wasn't like any other day because while you carried out all of your menial morning tasks, you felt a little heavier. Rather your hand did.

It was your birthday a couple of days ago. And while you had planned to spend with your boyfriend, Ethan, the universe had other plans and you were stuck out of town on a case. You weren’t mad about it, it was your job after all, and Ethan understood. His work hours were also unreliable.

Plus you got to celebrate with the other people that mattered the most to you in world; your team. It may have not been they day you had envisioned, because who wants to spend their birthday at a gloomy prescient looking over gruesome crime scene photos, but your team made it special. Takeout, gallons of coffee, and shortly before midnight they surprised you with cake - which Luke slipped up was all Spencer’s idea.

Little did you know the surprises would continue upon your return home. Ethan, down on one knee in the middle of your living room, surrounded by candles and about a dozen bouquets of roses.

You took a deep breath before getting out of your car, and heading inside the building. Knowing your sudden engagement would come as a shock to the people you worked with, your second family, you were quite anxious about telling them. You were worried about how they would react. They didn't really know Ethan. They only met him a total of three times throughout the duration of your relationship meaning all the information they possessed was what you had told them - which in reality wasn’t all that much.

Sitting down at your desk, you kept your hand on your lap. As usual you were the first to arrive meaning you had some time to figure out exactly how you were going to go about this. Your gut feeling was to tell Spencer first. You owed him at least that much giving everything the two of you had been through.

But once again the universe had other plans.

“Good morning sunshine!”, Garcia chimed as she crossed the bullpen. “It is so lovely to see your beautiful beautiful face. How was Scottsdale?” She asked stopping beside your desk. “You know, apart from all the murder.”

“Uhm, it was-”

“Wait! Before you answer me.” She interrupted while reaching into her handbag. “I wanted to give you this.” Seconds later she retrieved a gift, wrapped perfectly in glittery pink paper with a bright bow tied around it. “Happy Birthday!”

“Penelope, you didn't have to.”

“Shush now, of course I did.” She smiled. “Come on. Take it, take it.”

Which is exactly what you did; completely forgetting about the two carat diamond that now graced your ring finger.

The shriek that came out of Garcia’s mouth was enough to make you remember. But before you could snatch your hand back, hide it on your lap once again, she grabbed it and the ever so present smile on her face widened even more.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!”, Garcia was jumping now, her hand still gripping yours as she examined the ring. “When did this happen? How did this happen? Oh I have so many questions!” Another excited shriek escaped her lips. “I’m going to hug you now, and then you’re going to tell me everything!”

Garcia let your hand fall before bending down slightly to wrap her arms tightly around you. “Congratulations honey, this is so exciting!” She swayed the two of you side to side.

“What’s exciting?” Luke’s voice caused the two of you to break apart.

“Well newbie, you should invest in a tux.” Penelope beamed.

“I have a tux.” Luke furrowed his brows, slightly confused. “Wait, what?” He glanced between you and Garcia, waiting for an explanation.

Taking in a quick breath, you got to your feet and lifted your hand to show him the ring. “Ethan proposed last night.”

Luke’s jaw fell open. “Holy smokes! Congratulations Y/N!” Dropping his bag to the floor, he pulled you into a quick embrace. “That’s huge news. I’m so happy for you.”

Penelope cleared her throat. “I think you mean we are all happy for her.” Luke chuckled and rolled his eyes at the blonde. “Yes, yes.”

One by one the team arrived. One by one you shared your news, and one by one they each congratulated you.

Matt joked about giving him a hefty amount of notice so he could organise a babysitter. Luke asked how you’d feel if his date was Roxy. Dave offered his house as a possible venue; ”Won’t be the first wedding I host kid.”. While Tara, JJ, Emily, and Garcia were deep in discussion about organising your bridal shower.

In the midst of all the chaos you hadn't even realised that one person was missing. The person who’s reaction might not be as cheery as the rest of the group currently huddled around you.

Spencer was late for work. He cursed under his breath while waiting for the elevator. He didn't like to be late. Which is why it didn't happen often. Not because time-keeping overall was important to him. No. He made sure to arrive early each day because it was the only time of day he got to spend with you. Alone.

It was the only time of day he had you all to himself.

As selfish as it may seem, it was the truth. Although he would never admit it to anyone because that would mean admitting his true feelings. And he couldn't do that. He had his chance. He blew it. Maybe he would get another in the future, he secretly hoped he would, but for now those interrupted mornings with you had to suffice.

The brunette agent immediately noticed the team gathered at your desk. He thought the worst, but was quickly reassured you were okay when your honey-like laughter filled the bullpen. The sound was music to his ears. If he could, he’d listen to you laugh all day.

“So are you going to keep us guessing forever?” Tara asked intrigued. “How did Ethan do it?”

Garcia clapped her hands. “Yes, tell us. Was it romantic? Oh, who am I kidding of course it was romantic. All proposals are.”

Proposals? Spencer shook the thought away. No, he must have heard that incorrectly.

“Did he get down on one knee?” JJ asked with a smile.

“I gotta give it to Ethan though cause that ring looks expensive. Being a surgeon must be nice.” Luke noted, causing Garcia to smack his bicep. “What?” He retorted shrugging his shoulders. “It’s just an observation.” “Keep your observations to yourself newbie.”

“Why don’t we let Y/N breathe for a second?” Rossi chimed in. “I’ll treat everyone to lunch later and she can tell us the story then.” He suggested, glancing between the team. Everyone nodded in unison and scattered; just as Spencer approached.

The second your gaze landed on him, you noticed the solemn look spread across his face. A sick feeling spread through you and you quickly wondered just how much he overheard.

“Good morning doctor.” You greeted him, your lips pursed into a half-smile.

“Good morning.” Spencer replied without looking at you.

“How are you?” You asked as he took off his bag and placed it on the desk beside him. “I wondered where you were this morning.” You added, making conversation.

Spencer didn't respond. He couldn't bring himself to say anything. He couldn't even bare to meet your eyes; which were currently burning a hole into the side of his head.

While he thought he misheard Garcia say something about proposals, he definitely heard JJ’s question and Luke mention Ethan, and the ring. Spencer usually stirred away from making assumptions, but this time all the evidence was there. He didn't have to ask. He knew. You were engaged.

“Can-” You cleared your throat. “Can we go somewhere private and talk? I have something I need to tell you.”

“I can’t now.” He rasped. Before you got a chance to protest, the brunette doctor turned on his heel and rushed away.

The reason he dashed away was you. Your engagement. He figured it out, overheard it, and now he needed to process this new information. You should have let him go, do it alone. You knew you shouldn't have followed him, that it would only make things worse, but you couldn't help yourself. There was a time where you thought Spencer was the love of your life. That the two of you would be getting married. And even though that didn't work out...

You grabbed his arm and using all of your strength you pulled him to a halt. The brunette doctor ran a hand through his already ruffled hair as you stepped in front of him.

“Spencer, can we talk about this?” You asked, your hand falling back down to your side. “There is nothing to talk about Y/N.” Spencer huffed. “You’re engaged. I’m happy for you.” There was a distinct hurt in his voice.

“This isn’t how I thought you would find out. I wanted you to be the first one to know but-” “It doesn’t matter Y/N.” He interrupted.

“It matters to me Spencer.”

“Why?” He asked in an ominous tone. His eyes darkened. “We broke up a long time ago. You don't owe me anything.” “Our breakup has nothing to do with this.” You protested. Spencer scoffed. “I don’t believe you. You’re not chasing down any of the other members of our team.” “Yeah, because they’re all genuinely happy for me.”

“You don't think I’m happy for you?”

“I know you're not.”

Silence. Heavy-sitting, unbearable silence. The two of you simply stared at each other as if fighting an inaudible argument. Blood pressure rising, your heart was now hammering in your chest and you were sure he was even angrier than you.

Perhaps that last sentence came out harsher then you intended it to, but in your eyes it was the truth. Spencer had every right not to be happy for you. In fact, a large part of you expected him to react badly which is also another reason why you wanted him to be the first to know.

You were right of course, you just didn't know it.

The pain in his chest was insufferable. The jealousy, the anger, the sorrow. All of those feelings mixed inside of him and spread through his body like wildfire. He thought he was heartbroken before, back when you first started dating Ethan, but he was dead wrong. His head was spinning. He felt nauseous. It was hard to breathe. This was heartbreak.

See, Spencer was there when you and Ethan first met. Which in his mind made all of this so much worse. The team was working a local case, and the brunette agent got hurt. Not severely, but it was enough to make everyone worry so you volunteered to drive him to the hospital. While Spencer got checked out, you went to fetch him some jell-o. When you returned about twenty minutes later, you weren't alone anymore.

You never told anyone the full story. Just that the surgeon spotted you in the cafeteria, and asked you out for coffee. Honestly, there wasn't much more to it than that. Well, apart from the tiny detail that your initial thought was to decline Ethan’s offer because you were secretly hoping to get back together with the brunette agent.

The only reason you said yes to Ethan all those months ago was because he was a surgeon, and with both of your hectic schedules combined you never thought it would progress any further than that one coffee date. But it did. And overtime you moved on from Spencer, and learned to love the surgeon. The feeling isn't quite the same, but Ethan makes you feel good and at the end of the day that’s all that matters. Right?

“What do you want me to say Y/N?” Spencer asked, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Do you want to hear how I think you’re rushing into this? Do you want me to tell you I think Ethan is bad for you? That you can do better?” Pause. “It’s not like my opinion will change anything.”

You opened your mouth to say something but no words came out. Spencer sighed. “You’re engaged now. You’re going to marry Ethan, and I’m respecting your choice.”

The look that spread across Spencer’s face was pure sadness. He tried not to show it, but you could read him like an open book. He was in pain. He was in pain and there was nothing you could possibly do that would in any way help him or make him feel any better.

“We both moved on Y/N. You deserve to be happy, even if I think the guy is a jerk.” Spencer stated. It was harsh, he knew that, but in his defence it wasn't entirely true. Yes, he thought Ethan was an ass but it was primarily because Spencer loved you still, and he knew he would continue to love you until the end of his days. In his eyes, Ethan didn't deserve you.

And Spencer tried to get over you. Once he knew that you and Ethan were serious, he really tried to get over you. Yet nothing he did worked; it is as if you are imbedded deep in his soul. If he was a selfish man, he would let you stay there forever making it your permanent home. But Spencer Reid wasn't selfish, far from it. And now you were engaged to someone that wasn't him. He had to cut the cord. Even if the feeling was going to crush him.

“The only thing we share now is our work Y/N, nothing more.” And with that the brunette doctor walked away leaving you feeling lost, confused and slightly hurt.

You at least thought he considered you a friend.

Loving you is a bloodsport. Fighting in a love war.

A/N: starting off the new year right with this angsty mini-series. honestly, i couldn't get the idea out of my head over the holidays so i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i am currently enjoying writing it! hope you liked the first chapter. i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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ayybtch · 4 years ago

Text

You’re Worth A Perjury Charge

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part of A Mutual Weirdness

Summary: Bucky finds a kitten outside of your apartment and brings him inside. You make him be a responsible adult and take the cat to the vet to find out if it's microchipped, but Bucky is so head over heels for his newfound furbaby he’s willing to risk legal repercussions.

Word Count: 2,422

Warnings: None! Bucky being absolutely adorable with a cat

A/N: So I didn’t previously have a tag list for this series, but I started one for my Wanda fic and a couple people asked about it for this so I’m starting one! Let me know if you’d like a tag! Additionally, you don’t have to have read the part before this but it’s a little funnier if you have given that the script is flipped between them.

“Uh, Bucky, what the hell is that?” you ask, eyes wide at the wet ball of fur poking out of Bucky’s leather jacket.

Bucky looked down at the little white cat, smiling as it meowed softly. “I found this little guy by the trash cans downstairs. It was raining so I couldn’t just leave him there.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “If that’s where you found him, how do you know he isn’t one of my neighbors’ cats? I get wanting to get him out of the rain, but the heart eyes you’re giving him makes me think you want to keep him.”

Bucky frowned at you, “Of course I’m keeping him. Look at him, he’s soaking wet and looks half starved! Clearly, he’s not being taken care of if he does belong to someone, so really I’m just doing everyone here a favor by taking him in.” He glared at you as you started to laugh.

“Oh, I can just see the headline now: ‘Former Winter Soldier Locked in Cat Custody Battle’. Some little old lady who just adopted this cat - ” you laughed too hard to speak for a moment, “- is going to go berserk and sue you for everything you’re worth just because you like her cat.”

Bucky huffed and opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the cat meowing. The smile on his face as he stared down at the little bundle of fur made you melt, though you did your best to hide that fact from Bucky.

Bucky nodded along attentively as the kitten continued to meow. “I know, she’s being so inconsiderate of your well-being, isn’t she? She’s worried about some little old lady suing me over you. Well, guess what? She can sue me all she wants, I’m not letting you go. Even if I have to lie to a judge and say ‘I plead not guilty in case of the missing cat. Please ignore the gentle meows coming from inside my jacket - ” He paused again as the cat continued to meow. “Mhm, you are absolutely right. You’re worth a perjury charge.”

What on Earth was happening here? You are the animal crazy one, not Bucky. Yet here you are, being the reasonable and responsible adult in a situation involving an animal. The irony of the situation hit you and you couldn't help but chuckle.

Your laughter eventually died as you noticed the heart eye expression on Bucky’s face. He was already completely enamored with the kitten. Sighing, you knew you needed to find a middle ground and fast.

“Bucky, baby, would you at least be willing to take him to go see a vet? We owe it to whoever might own the cat to see if there’s a microchip. If there’s not one, we can get a check up on the little guy while we’re there and make sure he’s good to go.”

Bucky stared at you suspiciously for a moment before responding. “What do you mean ‘good to go’? You don’t mean to get rid of him, do you?”

You shook your head. “No baby, I just want to make sure he’s okay so you have a happy, healthy kitty in your life.” You almost didn’t get your sentence out before he was squishing you into a hug. A small gasp escaped his lips and he pulled away abruptly.

“I could’ve squished the baby! Are you okay?” Bucky pulled out the cat and examined him anxiously. A small squeak left the cat, confirming he was okay.

While he agreed that a vet visit was in order, the new challenge was figuring out when to take the cat. Bucky refused to take him back into the rain, claiming it was going to make him sick. You conceded and agreed to let the kitten stay until the weather broke. That was all Bucky needed to start trying his hardest to convince you that he should keep the cat regardless of what the vet said. Every time the cat did anything cute, Bucky was gasping and pointing out how cute he was. He almost started crying when the cat pounced on a random sock laying next to the coffee table, swearing up and down he had never seen a more precious sight in his life.

The number of pictures Bucky was taking of the kitten as he explored the apartment was hysterical. Any time he took an exceptionally cute picture, he immediately sent it to you. You currently had 18 unopened messages from Bucky, each one a different picture of the cat. You finally had to put an end to it once the kitten curled up on a pillow in the living room, settling down for a nap.

You tugged on Bucky’s hand and led him over to a barstool and gestured for him to sit. You made two sandwiches, handing one to him once it was done. The two of you ate in silence. It wasn’t until you were almost done eating that you spoke.

“You know, it’s kind of refreshing having you be the one that’s animal crazy for a change.”

Bucky smiled at you sheepishly. “What can I say, you’ve rubbed off on me.” His voice was teasing as he spoke, but the slight blush on his face suggested this was all just as unexpected to him as it was to you. A second silence fell over you, but this time he was the one who broke it.

“So what should we name him?” he asked, pulling out his phone and scrolling through the new pictures on his camera roll.

You sighed and put your head in your hands. “Baby, I know you’re excited but remember what we talked about. We don’t know if he belongs to anyone yet. Let’s not go getting ahead of ourselves.”

Bucky sighed and nodded slightly.

Four days later, the two of you walked into the vet’s office hand in hand. It was the earliest appointment you were able to make without it being an emergency and you were worried that the extra few days did nothing but increase Bucky’s attachment. The kitten was adorable, you couldn’t deny it. There were times you thought about how nice it would be to finally have a little furry companion but you refused to keep an animal that could belong to someone else.

Once the three of you arrived, you were checked in promptly by the receptionist and were led into the exam room by an overly peppy vet-tech a few minutes later. Once inside, she gently grabbed him out of Bucky’s arms and made kissy noises at him as she began her portion of the exam.

Watching the kitten refuse to hold still during the weighing process was amusing to say the least. He kept moving around and trying to jump off the scale. It took several attempts, but she was finally able to record his weight. She fared a little better while taking his temperature given she was holding him, but the kitten still wiggled trying to escape her hold.

“I wonder why he’s being such a spaz right now. He had no issues with me holding him yesterday. At least, none that I noticed.” Bucky paused and turned to face you, confusion written on his face, “Did he give you a hard time when you held him?”

The vet-tech chimed in before you had the chance to respond, “He’s probably just decided you’re his person. Cats are a lot like people in that they pick their person and trust them to do things they don’t trust anyone else with. He doesn’t know me, so it makes sense he’s being a little fussy.” She set the kitten back on the exam table and he jumped into Bucky’s lap.

Bucky stared down at the little bundle of fur that was now purring as he rubbed his face against Bucky’s stomach. His expression was a mixture of shock, joy, and love.

For the first time since Bucky had walked in with the cat, you truly contemplated helping Bucky keeping him even if he was microchipped. He was going to be crushed if this cat belonged to someone else. Your stomach twisted at the thought. If we can’t take him home, we’re immediately going to the animal shelter and Bucky can pick out as many cats as he likes, you thought.

A knock at the door pulled your thoughts back to the room. A new woman in a white lab coat walked in with a smile on her face. “Good morning everyone, I’m Dr. Brown. I hear you guys were lucky enough to find a cat, is that right?”

Bucky nodded and looked down again at the cat with a smile, “Yes ma’am. I found him in the alley next to our apartment.” He carefully picked up the kitten still laying on his lap and handed him out to her.

Dr. Brown smiled again as she reached out to grab him. “Why hello there handsome, how are you doing today? I’m gonna check to see if you’ve got a microchip which won’t be too bad, but I may have to give you a couple of shots -” her sentence was cut off by loud meowing from the kitten, almost as if he understood what she was saying.

She chuckled before continuing, “I know, I know. Shots aren’t fun for anyone. But let’s find out about your microchip and finish the rest of the exam and see if they’re needed before we start complaining too much.”

Bucky reached out and gripped your hand tightly as she set him down on top of the exam table. She held a small rectangular device just above his shoulder blades for a few moments before setting it down and continuing with the exam. She spent the entire time talking to the cat as she went about the exam. She checked both of his ears and his mouth before moving on to checking on the various limbs in his body. Once the exam was complete, she turned to face the two of you.

“Well, good news on all accounts. Mister Man here is a perfectly healthy kitten. He looks to be about 16 weeks and is in great shape all things considered. He does not have a microchip though, so that leaves us with some options moving forward.”

You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding in. Bucky remained silent, though his grip on your hand grew slightly tighter. Dr. Brown didn’t wait for a response before continuing.

“If you want to keep him, we’ll microchip him and start giving him his first round of shots today since we don’t know if he’s had any so far. We’ll also send you home with a little goodie bag with some treats, a small toy, and a packet with some basic information about caring for a new pet. If you don’t want to keep him, you guys are free to go and we can take him to a shelter from here. Fostering is another option if you’re not interested in keeping him but also don’t want him to go to a shelter.”

Bucky, who almost seemed to be in a daze after hearing there was no microchip, was suddenly brought back to life. “We’re keeping him,” he said firmly. The smile on his face was contagious and soon everyone in the room was smiling just as wide.

“Very well then, let me go get what I need so we can finish up here. I’ll be right back,” she said. You waited for her to leave the room before turning to face Bucky.

“Well, since he’s officially yours now, I think it’s finally time for you to start thinking of names.”

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah, about that... I kind of already named him. I decided on a name after you went to bed the first night he was in the apartment with us.”

You faltered for a moment, unable to hide your shock. “O-okay. What are we calling him?”

“Alpine. It seems like a good name for a cat.”

Twenty minutes later, you and Bucky were walking out of the vet's office feeling lighter than you did when you first walked in. Bucky was beaming as he looked down at Alpine, who was now officially his according to the paperwork stuffed inside his jacket. His joy was contagious and you were starting to feel the same sort of excitement Bucky had been feeling ever since he came across the poor thing in the alley.

“So what do we do now?” you asked, moving closer to Bucky. He wrapped his free arm around your waist and thought for a moment.

“Well, now that there are no foreseeable perjury charges over a cat in my future, I think it’s probably time to focus on my newfound fatherhood.”

You groaned as he spoke, “Does this mean I’m going to have to put up with Dad jokes from now on?”

The shit-eating grin on Bucky’s face answered for him.

The walk back to the apartment was quick. The two of you spoke occasionally, but mostly enjoyed the quiet comfort of just being close to the other. Once you arrived at your apartment building, the doorman greeted you. You were ready to wave and keep walking, but Bucky held you back.

“Hey man, could you get a picture of the three of us? We just adopted this little guy and I’d like a picture to commemorate it,” Bucky asked, letting go of you to pull out his phone. The doorman nodded and took the phone.

Once he was done, Bucky thanked him and the three of you finally made your way back to the apartment. As soon as he was inside, Alpine jumped out of Bucky’s arm and made his way to the couch. He curled up in what was now officially his spot, making your heart swell. You turned to see if Bucky noticed, but he was too focused on his phone.

“Already sending pictures of Alpine to Steve and Sam to brag about your newfound fatherhood?” you teased, arms wrapping around his middle as you spoke. He shook his head no and remained focused on the phone. Just as you were about to ask what he was doing instead, Bucky turned his phone around so you could see his screen.

You were stunned, completely unsure of how to respond to what you were seeing. Slowly, you opened your mouth and tried to find the words, “Bucky, please explain to me how our cat already has a verified Instagram account?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #a mutual weirdness masterlist

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readerinsertfanfiction · 4 years ago

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RIGHT BEFORE ANON CLOSES 😅 in good old tradition in anon ok - how about an angsty short fic/prompt about Tobirama being forced to race his heavily injured and bleeding s/o to safety?? 👀 all the desperation. maybe a happy ending? or an open one. hopeful, but not quite there yet. idk - HOWEVER feel free to ignore if it doesn't strike your fancy 😭😅 - tobione 😌

Kek, I can always count on you, Tobi1! 😊😊😊 Especially for that Tobirama angst 👀👀👀

It has been a loooooong while since I wrote any Naruto, so let’s go!!!

Fandom: Naruto

Character: Tobirama Senju

Prompt: Grievous injury

He tried to be practical about it. Shield off his emotions like had always been told to do since childhood. But it was undeniable that there was something within him that ached when he saw you so heavily bandaged, fading in and out of consciousness and groaning in pain before passing out in pain once more. In the back of his mind Tobirama knew that the possibility was always there. Lurking, sleeping in the back and waiting to jump forward. ‘Occupational hazard’ you had called it jokingly, very well knowing that it was much bigger and greater than that, but neither really willing to pronounce the possibility that it was so near, so very real.

The only thing that was warming his hand was your blood gushing from your wound that he was trying to hold close. The only thing that kept him moving was your ragged breath in his ear as you tried to stay awake, talking to distract yourself from the pain and from the fatigue that was threatening to take you away.

“Remember that mountain field we saw the other day?” you tried, unable to really dig up any pleasant memories, but some lingered nonetheless. Tobirama had no idea which field you meant, or what mountain, if it was a mission or if it had been travel, but he left you to talk as he responded with a grunt, “I want to go back there, to that river nearby with the fresh water and the little fishes,” you continued and his other hand clenched around your shoulder as he hastened his step.

The memory you had described still hadn’t come to him, but help had. One step slower, a moment later, it had all depended on those few seconds in which he had found the medics. The calm relaying of the story, of what happened and what was needed, his own cool maintained had helped winning the few seconds that had ultimately helped you. But he wanted to scream, Tobirama wanted to cry and be unreasonable, but there was nothing within him that would allow for such emotions to come out.

“The worst is behind us,” his brother had said, to reassure him. You would survive and that was all that mattered, all that should have mattered, but it didn’t to Tobirama. You surviving was the goal that should not be celebrated, that should have been a guarantee, something as natural as breathing instead of this anxiety inducing panic that he constantly felt whenever you opened your eyes and gasped for air and bit the insides of your cheek.

You still hadn’t recovered when Tobirama had to leave for the next mission. With your consciousness barely there the man was forced to leave you in your bed, forced to leave without your goodbye and well wishes. For once the man dreaded going out alone. For the first time Tobirama believed that he felt something akin to fear. Without your blessing he felt bare and vulnerable and small. For once he felt weak and unsure of himself. The thought of you possibly not greeting him like usual once he returned terrified him as well.

But there you stood. The mission had been easy enough, easier if Tobirama had been able to focus, but it was done and over with now and no one was harmed. The man had suspected that his brother had deliberately assigned him an easier task, to keep his mind off the worries that plagued him, to keep him safe and Tobirama had half the mind to chew him out. But when he saw you at the entry, smiling modestly as you raised your arm to wave, Tobirama had lost all that anger and annoyance and replaced it with surprise and elation.

One, two steps, no a leap, perhaps a rush. It didn’t matter for none of it felt fast enough, and the male had caught you in his arms. Pressing your warmth against his he let himself go for once, for the first time as he let the memory of your blood warming his hand be overwritten with this new warmth of yours, alive and strong and… coughing.

“Tobi,” you hit him on the shoulder, gasping for air and a chuckle on your lips, “you’re suffocating me,” you tell the man, hitting him once more to get him to release you. The man only eased up, gentling his touch as red eyes examined you, making sure that the grievous wounds that had nearly taken you were healing up correctly, making sure that you weren’t out when you weren’t supposed to be moving. You certainly weren’t allowed or even able to when he had left and healing took so long…

“I’m alright, I’m not frail,” you told the man as if reading his thoughts and in a way you had, for who was more aware of what went on within that great mind of his that so stringently held onto all of the rules and codes to which he lived by?

#tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama x reader #naruto tobirama #naruto #naruto x reader #tobirama senju x reader

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easily-infatuated23 · 4 years ago

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The Parent and the Professor

a/n: i love the idea of reader being a professor! let me know if you want a part two :) letters are in italics

pairing: Draco Malfoy x Professor!Reader

word count: 4k

warning: mentions of war and not feeling worthy

summary: Will a broken friendship be rekindled when Scorpius’s favorite teacher writes a letter to his father?

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

I have always had a passion for teaching and inspiring young minds. So, it wasn’t surprising that I was ecstatic to start my fourth year teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at my alma mater, Hogwarts. When I first started working there, I was haunted by the memories of the war. Everywhere I looked I could remember a different face of a friend or teacher laying dead. Seeing the students happy faces made the memories easier to bear. Just the knowledge that they could safely live out their childhoods in such a magical and special place softened the lingering pain.

One of my favorite parts of teaching at Hogwarts was teaching the children of the people I had grown up with. For some, I knew so much about their parents from those early silly childhood days that simply seeing their faces made me laugh and reminisce. Of all the children of friends I had taught thus far, the most gifted was Scorpius Malfoy. It wasn’t such a shock that he was so clever, his father had been a very gifted student when he applied himself. I had been apprehensive when I first read Scoripus’s name on the attendance sheet. His father Draco and I had actually been very close friends for the first 6 years of schooling. We were both in Slytherin and he was one of the few people who didn’t tease or berate me for not being a typical Slytherin. Yes he would get annoyed when I stood up for Hermione when he called her a ‘mudblood’ or when I would challenge his pure-blood views but he always was kind to me.

That all changed in the beginning of our sixth year. He started pushing everyone away and yelling at me almost any time he saw me. I tried to continue to be kind to him but my attempts were swatted away like flies. Once the war began, I understood why he had become distant. He was given an impossible task with no choice as to whether or not to complete it. The worst moment came when he walked to the side of the Death Eaters and The Dark Lord. I was one of the few people that knew he did this for the sake of his parents and not for the Dark Lord. He redeemed this action when Harry Potter was revealed to be alive. He threw him his wand and ran back to the side of good. We locked eyes for a moment before he ran through the castle to safety. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since. He did make a sort of “apology and amends” tour going to almost every individual in the Wizarding World and showing he was a changed man and that he no longer held his past ideals. The one person he left out on that tour was me.

I never understood why. I figured he either thought our friendship was beyond fixing or maybe because he knew I would forgive him and understand. More likely, I guessed he couldn’t stand to face me. But none of that mattered now. It was all just a slight pain in my heart whenever I saw Scorpius. As the school year began, Scorpius Malfoy excelled in my class. He was always the first to raise his hand to ask or answer a question, always the most engaged and eager to learn. One day after class I noticed he was lingering by the door. “Can I help you Mr. Malfoy?” I asked. He nodded and approached my desk. “I was wondering if you could assign me as Athena’s tutor. I know she asked you for one and I want to volunteer”. He looked down at his shoes, trying to hide a blush I figured stemmed from a small crush on the student called Athena. “I was going to assign it to you any way but because you asked I will also add ten points to Slytherin for taking the initiative”. He looked up and smiled. “Thank you Professor!”. He ran out of the room so giddy, calling to his best friend Albus to tell him the news. “What a sweet kid” I thought. Later that night I took a break from grading tests and thought about my old friend Draco Malfoy. Perhaps I should write him. But just to tell him what a gifted student his son was. His wife had passed away four years ago and I figured it must be lonely being all alone in the large estate he occupied known as Malfoy Manor. Maybe this would re-open a line of communication between the two of us. It had been a long time since I had seen him and frankly, I missed him. He probably didn’t think of me though. Sighing, I picked up my quill and penned a formal letter to my former friend.

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

-I couldn’t bring myself to write Draco-

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I wanted to inform you that your son has done exceedingly well in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class and has quickly become my prized pupil. He has even volunteered to take on extra tutoring responsibilities. He is a sweet young man and it is a privilege to have him in my class.

Sincerely, Professor Y/L/N

I examined the letter for a long time, constantly frowning at it and wondering if I should just ball it up and forget about it. At last I found the nerve to seal the letter and before I could stop myself Harvey, my owl, was flying away from my cottage. “Too late now” I murmured. My letter went unanswered for nearly two weeks. I spent the entire first week feeling anxious and most of the second week resigned to the idea that Draco had truly decided I was unworthy of a response. After all, it had been many years. On the Friday of the second week, I stayed up late grading some last minute essay submissions when I heard a tapping at my window. I turned to find an unfamiliar owl outside. I opened the window and took the letter. After a sufficient amount of pats and snacks were given to the owl, I settled in to see if the letter was what I had been waiting for. It was the first thing I saw, the green snake seal on the back confirmed it. Draco had responded to my letter. I flipped it over to see my name scrawled on the front in handwriting I used to be more familiar with. I stared at the letter for a long time before finally opening it. I gently removed the seal and unfolded the letter, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would leave my chest.

Dear Professor Y/L/N,

I appreciate your kind words about my son. He has spoken fondly of you and of your class, he says it is his favorite. Congratulations on being the longest serving Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in twenty years. It is quite a feat. I hope you are well.

Sincerely, Draco Malfoy

My heart skipped a beat. He matched my formality but he still slipped in something to make me blush. I sighed. I hadn’t been expecting some long rambling dramatic letter explaining why he never came back to me, despite my efforts, but a small clue or hint would have been something. I thought writing the letter might give me more closure but I was horribly mistaken. Now, all I wanted to do was write him back and find some way to see him. I had done my best after the war but he pushed me away more. That night was a sleepless night for me. I felt like a sixteen year old again, debating if I should write him back or not. If I did decide to write him back, how long should I wait? Ultimately, I decided it was best to leave it there.

Two months later, Quidditch season was in full swing as Slytherin was playing Hufflepuff in a match leading up to the finals. I was never one thrilled by the idea of Quidditch, but Scorpius had begged me to come so I attended. He had followed in his father’s foot steps and was the Seeker for the Slytherin team. When I got to the parent and faculty section I was stunned to see none other than Draco Malfoy. I quickly looked away and tried to pretend I hadn’t seen him. I jogged up the bleacher stairs and sat next to the Divinations teacher. For most of the game I pretended to be watching the match but in reality, I kept glancing at Draco’s platinum blonde hair, half hoping he would turn and see me and half hoping he would leave without knowing I was there. Eventually, I was able to relax and enjoy the game. Scorpius lead the team to a win and the Slytherin student section went wild. I could have sworn I saw Athena blow him a kiss. I guess those tutoring sessions had helped him as much as they had helped her grades! I couldn’t help but look down and chuckle to myself, this little bit of childhood romance warmed my heart. When I looked back up my gaze was meant by the piercing blue eyes of Draco Malfoy. I couldn’t tell if the look on his face was that of shock or fear but before I could give a slight smile he looked away. Now this truly felt like we were sixteen again.

Everyone started to rise and leave the section talking and making merry. I rose from my seat and before I could begin to descend, Draco rose suddenly and turned to me, walking in my direction. I froze. “Hello Professor Y/L/N” he said, not meeting my gaze for long. “Mr. Malfoy” was all I could manage to croak. “I was so pleased to receive your letter about Scorpius, he doesn’t always tell me what’s going on when he’s here”. “Yes,” I smiled “he is a wonderful student. You must be very proud of him”. Draco gave a small but sincere smile. “I must admit, I didn’t expect to see you here” I said. “I was able to get a few weeks off from work so I decided to come down and watch the match. It has been nice to see the place so..” he paused. “Free” I finished for him. He smiled and met my gaze again. “Yes thats exactly what I was thinking.” There was a few moments of silence. It wasn’t as awkward or terrifying as I had anticipated. “I should go find my son” he said finally. “Yes of course it was good to see you again”. I meant this whole heartedly. “Perhaps I can see you again soon and we can talk while there is less noise” he said. A little surprised but happy I replied yes. Before turning to leave he squeezed my hand and gave me his signature smirk before turning and descending down the bleachers. Was my friendship with Draco Malfoy finally going to be rekindled? I hoped so. Before turning and walking out of sight he called back to me, “I’ll write you”. I nodded. I would never have expected this to happen and I had no idea what to expect next.

Another week went by before I heard from him. His owl found me in the middle of a lesson, I opened the window and thanked the owl. I tucked the letter into my robe pocket. As I shifted my attention back to the class I saw Scorpius’s face twist with confusion then look at Albus Potter. Shit. He clearly recognized the owl. I decided I would talk to him after class. Once the lesson was over I called Scorpius to my desk. “I saw you looked confused when your father’s owl delivered me a letter so I thought I owed you an explanation”. He said nothing but simply looked at the floor and shifted uncomfortably. “Your father and I actually used to be very close friends in the early years at Hogwarts,” I began. He looked up at me puzzled. It was clear his father had never mentioned that detail to him. “I wrote to your father telling him what an exceptional student you were and then we ran into each other at the last Quidditch match, congratulations by the way, and we discussed possibly meeting to catch up. I didn’t want you to simply see the owl and then have your brain spin in circles thinking of possible reasons for the letter”. He nodded and finally spoke. “Yeah I was really confused at first. I must admit I am a bit more confused now though. He has never spoken about you before. When I told him you were my favorite professor he seemed to not know who you were”. Ouch. “Well we were going through a hard time back then, I don’t blame him for forgetting” I managed, trying to keep my composure. “You may go” I finished. He jogged out of the room glancing back one more time before finally leaving. Maybe he thought I died. Rationalizing wasn’t helping. I climbed the small staircase in my classroom and entered my office, locking the door behind me. I opened the letter and read its contents.

Dear Professor Y/L/N,

It was pleasant running into you at the Quidditch match last week. If you are able, perhaps you would be kind enough to meet at Malfoy Manor for lunch on Saturday at 11:30. I fear we have much to discuss and would prefer to do so in private.

Sincerely, Draco Malfoy

Saturday, at the Manor. It would be a difficult place to be. Although I was a Slytherin, I had befriended Harry Potter and the rest of his trouble-making trio. I enjoyed their company. It provided a break from the constant berating from the rest of my house. However, due to this friendship I had been taken and held hostage along with Luna Lovegood in Malfoy Manor for a few weeks before the final battle. I had been hit with every curse short of killing me. Draco had been forced to witness but did nothing to help me. I understood why he couldn’t but just once it would have been nice to see him stand up for me. But, alas, I figured I wasn’t worthy of any help. Returning to the Manor was something I never thought I would do but his letter let on to a promise of answers to questions I had been harboring for so long now.

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

I accept.

Sincerely, Professor Y/L/N

Short and sweet. Now came the long wait for Saturday. Once the day arrived I was more nervous than I had previously anticipated. I pulled on a pair of black slacks and a fitted white long sleeve shirt. Over the top I chose to wear my brown striped blazer. I put on my favorite silver earrings and necklace with an ’S’ charm. When we had been young, Draco gave me a silver ring for my birthday that was shaped like a snake. I had worn it everyday since then without thought. When I went to reach for it today, I paused. Wearing it had become part of my daily routine but he didn’t know that. Would he think I wore it just for him? I shook the thought out of my head and wore it anyway. If I didn’t wear it I was worried I wouldn’t feel complete which would make me more nervous than I already was. I pulled my light brown hair into a half-up-half-down look and applied some light mascara. I was never one to wear makeup but I hadn’t slept much on Friday night so adding some definition to my face and leading the attention to my green eyes became a necessity to attract attention away from my dark circles.

At 11:29 I gathered all the courage I could and apparated to Malfoy Manor. I knocked timidly on the front door. Even the frigid fall wind couldn’t cool my skin as I blushed in anticipation of the meeting. When he opened the door I was overwhelmed by the scent of apples and cologne that had once held a permanent residence in my nose. “Professor, please come in” he said cordially. I nodded and entered into the place that had housed my nightmares for so long. But somehow it was different. The decor wasn’t as sterile as it once was. It actually looked more lived in and closer to a home than a prison. He noticed my slight surprise. “We’ve redone the place a bit so it probably looks much different compared to……last time” he mumbled. I put on my bravest smile and turned to him. “Yes it is quite lovely Mr. Malfoy”. “Please, you can call me Draco. ‘Mr. Malfoy’ is awfully formal don’t you think?”. I looked at him, a slight smirk waved across his face. “Alright, as long as you call me Y/N” I replied. He led me to the kitchen where a small round table was set and had sandwiches on the plates. “I figured since it was just the two of us there was no need to use the dinning room. Can I take your jacket?” he asked. I nodded and unbuttoned my blazer, handing it to him. As he took it from me, I saw him glance at my right hand and saw the serpent ring coiled around my middle finger. He quickly took the blazer from me and said nothing.

As we sat down to eat there was a few minutes of uncomfortable silence before I finally broke and turned to him. “I am sorry but I have a lot of questions and I won’t leave without answers”. He sighed. Nodding, he turned toward me and I began. “Why didn’t you find me after the war? I wrote to you and tried to reach out but you ignored me. When I told Scorpius we had been old friends he looked at me as if I was lying. Why? Did you completely erase me from your life? If thats the case its your decision but I would like to know why.” I paused, waiting for him to speak. “After the war, I was so ashamed that I never stood up for you and how badly I had hurt you when I shut you out, I didn’t feel worthy of your forgiveness. I ignored your letters because I thought you would be better off not ever having to be reminded of the pain that I caused you.” He couldn’t meet my eyes. I exhaled sharply and buried my face in my hands before I finally replied. “Then I guess you never knew me at all”. He looked up, a stunned expression on his face. “Of all the people in the world you should’ve known that I would be the one to forgive you the most. I understood why you did what you did and why you couldn’t help me. You as much as the rest of us were fighting for the lives of us and our families. Had it really been your choice, I don’t think you would have complied.” He stood up and walked away from the table. “I know” he finally said. “I realized all of that a few years ago but at that point I thought it was too late.” He leaned on the kitchen counter with his back to me. His head was dropped and his shoulders were shaking softly. “Its one of my biggest regrets.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Well, we’re here now. If you have anything else you want to say, nows the time.” He turned back to me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never helped you, I’m sorry I didn’t find you after the fighting was over, I’m sorry I didn’t defend you better at school, I’m sorry for all of it.” His words sounded desperate but genuine. It was like he couldn’t find the breath to properly support his list of apologies. “Stop” I said suddenly. I walked in front of him and grabbed his shoulders, lowering my head until he was forced to meet my gaze. “I forgive you. Completely and totally. I just want my friend back.” He chuckled through a cry before pulling me into a tight hug. His hands were around my waist and mine around his neck. I moved my right hand to the back of his neck and stroked his hair, like I had when we were kids whenever he was upset. He chuckled again softly and held me tighter. “Ok as nice as this is I think you are gonna squeeze all the life out of me!” I joked. “Oh I’m sorry” he breathed as he let me go and pushed me away slightly.

After this first meeting, I saw him almost every weekend. We would meet and reminisce and catch up on our lives. At our third meeting he asked me about the ring. “I see you still wear the ring I gave you. I thought you would have gotten rid of it”. He held my right hand and looked at the ring. “Draco, truthfully, I was worn this ring every single day of my life since you gave it to me. It’s a part of me”. This seemed to please him as his cheeks flushed a light pink. By our sixth meeting me we were sharing a bottle of wine after dinner when he decided to play an old record of songs played at the Yule Ball. “Oh my goodness I can’t believe you actually have this!” I laughed as he purposefully did his worst dance moves. “This was one of my favorite nights at school, how could I not!” Before I knew it, he scooped me up and we were dancing the awful and silly choreographed dance we all had to learn. He spun me around in his living room as the music played. Our shadows were dancing on the walls from the light of the fire. “I don’t think I have laughed this hard in years!” I remarked. “Me too” he replied with a chuckle. Just then all of the sudden the laughter stopped and I realized this was the closest I had been to him since we were in school. This only lasted a few moments before Scorpius appeared at the door. We quickly broke apart and Draco took a step froward. “Yes son?”. “Uh, I just wanted to let you know I was going to Albus’s house to spend the night..” he stared at me with a look of confusion on his face. “Oh yes thats fine, have fun and be safe”. He quickly left the room and hurried out the front door before either of us could offer an explanation. “Oh gosh that was so embarrassing” I said, sitting on the couch and hiding my face in my hands. “He probably thinks that we kissed or were about to” I said, the sound muffled through my hands. Draco sat down next to me. “Weren’t we?” he asked timidly. I sat up and looked at him. “I don’t know, my mind kinda went blank” I chuckled. “Mine too” he smiled. “Can I kiss you?” he asked finally. I smiled and nodded. He smiled back and reached his hand out until he touched my face. He brushed his thumb over my cheek as it made its way to brush over my lips. With his other fingers positioned under my chin, he gently pulled my face closer to his, tilting it slightly upwards and to the right. He kissed me gently moving his hand back to my cheek. I hadn’t expected him to be so gentle but I was so happy I sunk into it easily. Scorpius would get an explanation later, right now, I just wanted to live in the moment I never realized I wanted.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x professor!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter #harry potter au #hogwarts #slytherin #malfoy manor #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #scorpius malfoy

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panda-noosh · 4 years ago

Text

the normal one {Leo Valdez x Reader}

Words: 14k

Summary: Your sister is the demigod. You’re just the unlucky one who got dragged into her mess.

Genre: angst??

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - omg happy first day of nano y’all.

---

You never knew your sister was a demigod.

Of course you didn't; it's not the kind of thought that crosses the mind of a logical individual, though it seems obvious now that you're being greeted with the proof.

Emma has never been particularly normal. She's three years older than you, and yet she carries herself like she's been through years upon years of unforgiven trauma, glaring at anyone who dares even speak to her. You used to just describe her as grumpy, not-a-morning-person, just leave her alone and you'll be fine.

Now, you're beginning to think it might not be as simple as all that.

Your day starts off pretty normal; you wake up, greeted by the sunlight streaming through the curtains you once again forgot to close over the previous night. You look down, not surprised to see you're still dressed in a pair of jogging bottoms and a loose white shirt instead of the pyjamas your sister has been trying so desperately to make you wear at night. You got ready, brushing the knots from your hair before marching downstairs.

Your mum is in the kitchen, whistling to herself, frail hands forever trembling around the pot of boiling oatmeal; you and your mum don't really talk that much. She favours Emma over you, and she's never found much point in wasting breath on the child she doesn't necessarily like. She'll smile, feed you, let you have a roof over your head, but neither of you pretend like your relationship with each other is permanent. One day you're going to move out, and your mum is never going to contact you, never going to step foot in your house, never going to give you a house-warming gift.

You're fine with that.

Emma is sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. It's not even that weird of a sight, considering you've always known Emma to be into the dramatics. You sit across from her, folding your arms over the table before whispering, rather loudly, "Rough night?"

Her head jerks up, revealing her wild, bloodshot eyes. "What?"

You laugh, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl in the centre of the table. "You look like shit, Em. Where have you been all night?"

Her jaw twitches, and she doesn't respond, which is a pretty normal reply for her, especially at this time of day.

"Whatever," you mumble. "Can I borrow that fancy deodorant you bought back from that summer camp you go to?" Emma nods. You grin, banishing the conversation all together as you stand and skip upstairs.

So, yeah. The day was starting off pretty normal. Not a single worry in sight. You would go to school, mope around classes for a few hours, come home and stress eat over a pile of unfinished homework that was probably due multiple days ago.

Instead, you have to deal with the boulders being thrown through Emma's bedroom window.

The first one hits just as your grabbing Emma's fancy deodorant from her bottom drawer. There is no warning, no low whoosh sound that would give you a chance to step away and make a run for it - no. Instead, it goes straight to the shattered glass and bloodied arms. Instead, it goes straight to the boulder smashing against your hand, crushing your fingers against the wall.

You are stuck, legs crumbling beneath you. You should be slipping to the floor right now, probably unconscious, maybe dead, but your hand, trapped between the biggest rock known to man and the wall, keeps you upright. Blood leaks from gashes forming on your fingers, dribbling down your wrist, your arm, dripping onto your knees. You stare at the scene in shock for a moment, unable to register what on earth has actually just happened.

And then Emma is screaming your name, thundering up the stairs, and you're crying out, trying to form words but they get lodged in your throat, replaced by the overwhelming pain and realisation that you're going to die, you're going to fucking die on your sisters bedroom floor because there is so much blood, and there is no way in hell you won't be drained before the end of this day, probably within the next ten minutes, probably within-

The door opens. Emma barrels inside, wielding a golden sword that honestly just makes you think of course she has a golden sword.

"You son of a bitch!" she cries out, darting to her bedroom window. She stands upon the sill and waves her arms at the sky. "You got the wrong L/N, you idiot! Get back here and finish me off if you're so tough!"

"Emma," you croak, tears flooding down your cheeks. "Little help here."

"It's the giants." She leaps off the window sill and swivels round, darting to your side. Something has changed in her, something you've never seen before; she seems stronger, her eyes a little brighter yet still eerily dark at the same time.

She crouches beside you and begins manoeuvring your trapped hand back and forth. You hiss, throwing your head back as blood spurts down your arm, staining your shirt. Emma grits her teeth, keeping her eyes peeled on her work. "They've found me," she continues muttering. "We need to get out of here - all of us. You, me, Mum. They know where the house is. How did they find out where the bloody house is?"

"Can you shut the fuck up talking crazy for one second?"

Emma pays you no mind, taking a tiny knife from her back pocket and wriggling it between the wall and the boulder. "I'll have to get in touch with Chiron, tell him I'm bringing a few mortals with me to camp this summer."

You grunt. "I'm not going to some hippy-Christian summer camp with you."

"It's not a hippy-Christian summer camp." Emma swats your head, forcing you to look away from the blood dribbling down your arm. "It's a place that will keep you safe, alright? So don't argue."

"Don't tell me what to - AH!" The boulder falls, crashing to the floor. Tables rattle, things tumble off shelves, and your hand is freed. You pull it to your chest, but Emma doesn't let it go unaided for long - she grabs your wrist and tugs it back, examining the damage; your nerves have clearly been ripped, fingers cold from lack of feeling. Gashes have been made into the back of your hand, fingers torn to shreds.

She shakes her head. "I'll get Will to have a look at this."

"No, you idiot, you'll call 999 before-"

"We have to go now. That giant will be back soon enough, especially once he realises I'm taking you guys with me." Emma doesn't even give you a chance to respond before she's grabbing your good hand and dragging you from her bedroom. You hiss in pain, stumbling behind her, but there's really no point in arguing. When Emma has her mind set on something, she goes for it no matter what objections people put in place. Mum always said she gets that from her dad, but you've never met the man, so you wouldn't know.

Speaking of your dear old mother, the woman doesn't even give you a second glance when Emma drags you into the living room and shoves you onto the sofa next to her; she's frozen in fear, fingers pulled to her lips as she bites on the nails, a habit she's had for as long as you can remember.

She shakes her head, dazed. "He's coming back to me. He's sending signs."

Emma groans. Looking over, you see her with a phone pressed to her ear, big and bulky with an oversized antennae peeking from the top of it. "Mum, that wasn't Dad sending signs. That was a giant trying to kill me."

You blink, certain your blood loss is contributing to this wild conversation somehow. "A giant? Your dad?"

Emma raises a finger, telling you to be quiet. Mum whimpers at the movement and goes back to chewing her nails, gazing steadily out the window. She looks terrified, but her knee is bouncing in that way it always does when she's excited. You've given up trying to understand her. In fact, you've given up trying to understand your entire family.

So you just sit there, trying to fight off the black spots dotting your vision and the blood dribbling through your fingers; you don't know why Emma hasn't called 999 yet, considering you're basically on the verge of unconsciousness, but your throat is too dry to ask. Instead you listen as she says, "Leo! Where are you? Are you close?" and then she sighs in relief, and within three minutes, there's a knock on the door and she's barrelling out of the living room to grab it.

You look up, dazed, when she returns with a small curly haired boy in tow. He's a bit scruffy, you have to admit, but in a cute way, like a bunny with a bit of dirt on its nose.

"Not really the time for guests, is it, Em?" you grumble, before falling face first into the floor.

---

You wake up, and immediately wish you hadn't.

Emma always messes things up - always.

Her life has to be so damn dramatic all the damn time, and you're getting pretty damn sick of being dragged into it. All you want to do is sit in bed with a nice blanket and a cup of tea, maybe practice a bit of witchcraft, maybe sink into the dirt and become one with nature.

You don't want to be hunted down by rabid, murderous giants, that's for sure.

You also don't want to be trapped in a hospital bed at some hippy-Christian camp you don't even know the name of. But that's exactly what has happened.

When you open your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of white, cloth walls and multiple eager faces gazing down at you. Most of them have blonde hair and the brightest eyes you have ever seen, and then there's that curly haired boy, and Emma herself, and there's a guy who is half horse-

"Oh god, this is death. I've died."

"She's awake!" the curly haired boy - Leo, you remember - cries, throwing his hands in the air. "Good job, Apollo kids! Another point for you!"

"Shut up, Leo." One of the many blonde haired kids steps forward and places the back of his hand against your forehead; in any other situation, you might have pulled away and told him to step back, but the feel of his skin against your own is surprisingly soothing. It's almost against your will when you melt into it, eyes gliding shut. Your hit with images of you and Emma as children, running through fields, her punching that guy in the nose because he called you short that one time, and-

He snatches his hand back, startling you back to reality. "The fevers definitely going down," he says, turning to Emma.

"Uh, excuse me," you chirp, raising a timid hand. "She's not my legal guardian, I'll have you know." You glance at Emma. "Where is my legal guardian, by the way?"

Emma rolls her eyes, and that's answer enough.

"Ah. Frollicking in the leaves again?"

Emma hums. "I left her to it; we have bigger things to worry about than her love life."

"That's a bit morbid, Emma," says Leo. "Love is a magnificent thing."

"So is me not dying," you say, before turning back to the blonde haired boy. "Can I leave?"

The boy blinks, staring at you like you have two heads. It almost makes you uncomfortable, but his eyes are so pretty, and the way his palm felt against your forehead-

Leo shoves to the front. "Will here is gay, Y/N. Stop staring."

You look away, flustered. "I wasn't even staring."

"Yeah, you were. I see that look of lust on people all the time - I get it a lot, to tell you the truth."

You look at his curls, the oil on his tattered overalls, the dirt smothering both his cheeks, nose and hands.

"I'm sure you do, big guy. I'm sure you do."

Will sighs, shoving Leo out the way again. "I'm gonna do a final check up before I let you leave; I can't give mortals any nectar or ambrosia, so the healing process might take-"

Awkwardly, Emma coughs. The entire tent goes silent, turning to her with raised brows and narrowed eyes, but all you can focus on is Will's strange choice of vocabulary. Nectar. Ambrosia. Those don't sound like common prescription pain meds.

"Emma..." Will drawls. "What have you-"

"I'll talk to them," Emma mumbles. "Can you guys just give us a minute?"

You grab Will's hand. "Please don't leave me alone with her."

Will gives you a timid smile, squeezing your hand gently before he, Leo and all the other blonde haired strangers exit the tent, leaving just you and Emma to your own devices.

And honestly, Emma's your best friend. She means the world to you. She's the one person in that god forsaken house that actually pays you any attention, and it doesn't even matter that she's the favourite, that Mum basically licks the ground she walks on for a reason you have yet to pinpoint. You love Emma with all your heart, but right now, you would rather be anywhere but in her presence.

You pull the quilt up to your chin and say, "I'm very confused."

Emma pulls a stool over and takes a seat. "I know. I should have explained. I need to explain."

"Yes, you do."

She hollows out her cheeks, which only makes your fear spike - you've never seen Emma act like this. She's usually so brave, bold, confident. She doesn't do a single thing without planning it out perfectly beforehand, and yet here she is, looking completely stumped. You almost feel bad for her until you remember the way she completely ignored your pleas for her to call 999 when you were fairly certain you were bleeding out.

"Well?" you push. "Go on, Em. I'm listening."

Emma sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face. "Do you have any idea where we are right now?"

"Absolutely none. There was a guy with a horse body-"

"That's Chiron. He's a centaur."

You blink. "Okay."

"This place is called Camp Half-Blood; it's where I go to every summer."

"Well, I assumed."

"It's a camp for Half-Bloods. Demigods. People who are half-god, like. . . like me. Like Leo, and Will, and probably loads of other kids, too."

It's starting to get jumbled now, a string of words that don't form to make a coherent, sensible sentence.

You don't even respond, simply staring at Emma until she is forced to continue.

"It sounds insane, I know, but I'm not lying. I'm a demigod, Y/N, daughter of Ares."

It goes silent, because of course it does. What are you even meant to say to that? The logical part of you says to just call her out on her lies, ask her where the hell you actually are and where Mum is and why she brought you here in the first place. But the other half recognises that Emma being the daughter of a war god kind of makes perfect sense.

In your conflicted state of disbelief, you say neither of those things. Instead, you look at Emma and say, "Mum hooked up with a god?"

Emma breathes a laugh, closing her eyes. "Yes, little one, she did."

"And she couldn't have done the same thing when she was conceiving me?"

Emma winces. "I don't want to talk about Mum conceiving either of us, thank you very much."

You shake your head. "So that's why she's always hated me."

"Mum doesn't hate you-"

"I'm the repair kid. I'm the one who-"

Leo pops his head in the door. "Did someone say repair kid?"

Emma looks up, giving Leo a tired little wave. "You can come back in now. Y/N's all caught up."

"Oh, happy days!" Leo marches in and reaches for your good hand, giving it a vigorous shake. "Leo Valdez, son of Hephaestus. Nice to properly meet you."

"Y/N L/N, child of - uh - that guy from McDonalds.

Emma stands up quickly, grabbing Leo's shoulders as his eyes narrow. "Alright! Now that we've got the niceties out of the way, I think it's time we let Will back in here so he can do his final check up. Sound good?"

"Sounds fantastic," you mumble, sinking down into the pillows. "Bring the nice looking blonde boy to me now, please."

----

Camp Half-Blood kind of looks like a dream scape. But a really bad one.

A nightmare-scape.

There's sword fighting, and teeny tiny girls in green dresses that get wildly offended when you call them Tinkerbell. There's people riding around on winged horses like it's no big deal, and you're almost certain it was raining when you left the house earlier, so why is it sunny and warm right now?

Leo is the one who greets you when you're finally allowed to step out of the tent - the infirmary, apparently, run by the kids of Apollo. All of them were really nice. They all had really nice hands.

"You're looking fresh," Leo says, tucking his hands in his pockets as the two of you stroll across camp together. "Will and his siblings really know what they're doing, huh? I had my doubts, with you being a mortal and all. I don't know how often they work on people like you."

You shrug. "It was just a bit of nerve damage in my hand."

"You passed out."

"I blanked. It happens to the best of us."

Leo's lips twitch. It shows you just the briefest hint of dimples, and you hate that it immediately turns your tough-guy demeanour to mush. It seems like you have a soft spot for demigods. You look away quickly, tucking your hands - bandage and all - into your pockets. It's this movement that seems to tilt Leo's attention to the clothes you're wearing, all of which are smothered in your own blood.

Pleasant.

He grimaces, stopping dead in his tracks. You would continue walking, being an independent mortal and all that, but you don't know your way around this place, and you'd rather not accidentally walk into a fighting arena. So, you stop and look back at him. "What's wrong?"

"You need a change of clothes, my friend."

You blink. "No, I don't think-"

"They might be a bit big on you, but I have the perfect pair of overalls you could borrow. Come on. To Bunker 9 we go."

He starts walking away before you even have a chance to protest. It really puts the fear of god - gods? - in you, because at that very moment, a winged horse slams into the floor at your side. You squeal, immediately sprinting after him, and the bastard doesn't even turn back to look at what has just startled you. He merely grins, cocky and annoying, and says, "Yeah, stick with me and that won't happen."

You grunt, knowing he's right.

The two of you arrive at Bunker 9 in no time. It's like an old bomb shelter, with tin walls and a door that looks like it's about to fall off it's hinges. You make a joke about why Leo can't just fix the hinges, considering he's a machine expert and all that, and Leo rolls his eyes and says, "I'm busy enough as it is."

The room lights up without a switch needing to be flipped, which you think is pretty cool.

"My school used to have lights like that," you point out, gazing up at the ceiling. "They were motion censored."

"Mm. They're handy little things until you haven't moved in fifteen minutes and they switch off whilst you're still standing there. The amount of times I've nearly put a screw through my finger." He shakes his head, tossing aside discarded tools in his search for the overalls he promised you. "Mental."

You pluck at a random copper wire hanging out of a drawer. "So, is this like. . . your dorm room?"

"Hm?" Leo looks at you. "Oh, no. I don't sleep in here - I sleep in the Hephaestus cabin. I'm the head counsellor, so I have to keep an eye on things, you know."

You raise a brow. "Is your bed more comfy in the Hephaestus cabin?"

"That, too." He blushes, lowering his eyes back to his search. "But honestly, my job is pretty important. I've got to keep that place running, keep all my siblings in check."

"I'm not being funny, if Emma tried telling me what to do, I would tell her to piss off."

Leo scoffs. "Yeah, I got that vibe off you."

"So how do you do it?"

Leo pauses, glancing over his shoulder."How do I do what?"

You push yourself up onto the counter, ignoring the saw dust that now litters your hands and the back of your already ruined jeans. "How do you get them to listen to you? You don't look to be much older than I am - surely you have older siblings in that cabin of yours. It can't be easy getting them to fall into line, too."

Slowly, Leo turns. He leans against the chest of drawers he has been digging through, regarding you with a single raised brow. His gaze is hard, but you keep the eye contact, smiling just the tiniest bit.

He doesn't respond with words. Instead, he stretches his hand out, palm towards the ceiling, and uncurls his fingers, revealing a bright orange flame dancing in the centre. It doesn't make you jump as it probably should have; instead, you are mesmerised, caught in the slick movements of the tiny ball of fire.

You slowly reach out. Leo slams his hand closed and pulls back. "You can't touch it."

"I wasn't going to."

"You were fully going to touch it."

You scowl, folding your arms over your chest. "What was the point in showing me that?"

He turns on his heel, going back to digging through the chest of drawers. "That's why I'm head counsellor - no other child of Hephaestus can do that." He glances at you. "You don't think it's weird?"

"Well, yeah - very weird." You shrug. "But who am I to judge? I can do this thing where I dislocate my shoulder, and that's pretty weird, too."

Leo blinks, mouth opening like you've caught him off guard. He swipes his tongue along his lower lip before he turns away and mumbles, "Yeah. That is pretty weird."

Bunker 9 is doused in silence after that. Leo rummages through his drawers as you inspect every nook and cranny of the place, running your fingers along the tin walls, picking up tools you have never seen before; you can feel Leo watching you from the corner of his eye, probably making sure you're not stealing anything. Honestly, the golden screwdriver set is pretty tempting, but you wouldn't want to risk getting on a demigod's bad side.

Finally, after what feels like far too long, Leo pops his head up, grinning broadly with a set of overalls in his hands. "Found them!" He tosses them at you with no warning; you just barely manage to catch them. "They got shrunk in the wash, so I was gonna rip them up for hand towels in here, but I'm sure they'll be more useful for you."

You pull them into your chest. "They smell like oil."

Leo spreads his oil stained hands. "Yeah, well, that's how life is, love. I'll let you get changed - I promise I won't peak!"

Laughing, he leaves Bunker 9; his footsteps stop there, though, and there's a glimmer of relief when you realise he isn't just walking away and leaving you to your own devices.

You get changed quickly, bundling your blood stained clothes into a ball and shoving them beneath your arm - you don't know where you can possibly wash them, but you refuse to leave this camp in Leo's old overalls. First of all, they're much too big on you, pooling over your feet despite Leo's own small stature. The striped shirt he gave you to put underneath it has oil spots embedded in it, too, which just makes you look like even more of a slump. Nonetheless, you throw open the door to Bunker 9 with your arms outstretched and call out, "How do I look?"

Leo peaks his head around and freezes.

You drop your arms, rolling your eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. This isn't a romance movie."

His nose erupts into flames. He yelps, swatting the fire away before he awkwardly coughs and says, "Good. You look good."

You grin. "Thank you. Do you have any idea where I can put these?" You offer up your pile of clothes. Leo takes them from your hands and tosses them over your shoulder, back into Bunker 9. You frown. "Do you have a washing machine in there?"

"It won't take me long to rig one up. I'll have them washed before you leave, don't worry." He offers his arm, grinning yet again. "Now, how about we go up to the dining pavilion and get some food? I'm starving!"

----

Leo did not know one of his best friends was related to such an attractive individual.

It wasn't really that big of a shock when he walked in and saw you sitting there in the living room, looking dazed and out of it with blood dribbling from some pretty severe cuts in your hand. Emma had rang him and filled him on all the details, so there was no surprise at the scene. And plus, Emma's not exactly ugly. She has that rough look to her, sure, but Leo would probably date her if she asked him. Again, it wasn't much of a surprise when he walked in and saw you there, all pretty with the innocence only a mortal could have.

But then he got a glimpse of your personality.

No. Scratch that. He got an entire bucketload of your personality, and he was still craving more by the end of it.

He tried his hardest to fight off these feelings, because he's felt them before - with almost every person he finds attractive, in fact. He gets it lodged in his head that he can impress them, that this is the one and he can make it work if he just tries hard enough. It's kind of hard not to think that way - hopeful, desperate, almost - when all his friends are hooking up and getting boyfriends and girlfriends, generally just having the time of their damn lives. And Leo is just. . . making machines.

But then the two of you went and had dinner together, and he found himself asking if you wanted to go for a walk along the lake before you would have to go to bed. You had agreed, and the conversation had continued, and Leo has never laughed so much in his entire life.

You tell stories of these little memories you have with Emma, enjoying the embarrassing little details you add in whenever you can. Leo struggles to imagine the daughter of Ares being anything close to the Emma you're describing, but he can tell in the passion of your words you're not telling lies.

"What about you, though?" he asks.

Your hands drop to your side, smile curving. "What about me?"

"Well, you're going on about Emma and all the cool stuff she used to do - what about you, though? What have you been up to?"

It's a pretty simple question in Leo's mind; with his ADHD brain, he is able to come up with a million different answers on the spot.

You, however, look at him with a raised brow. He stares right back.

Finally, you crack and say, "Uh. . . I've been doing some school work, I guess."

Leo blinks. "You go to school?"

"I do indeed. I'm studying psychology, but it's really difficult, so I might drop it."

Leo nods like he understands, even though he doesn't. All he really remembers of his school days is him sitting in the back of the classroom plotting his next escape. "Interesting," he says. "Does Emma go to school?"

"She's doing an apprenticeship at some mechanics place. She dropped out when she turned sixteen."

"Naughty."

You shrug. "She does what she wants. I would love to drop out, but Mum would flip." Leo glances at you; the mention of your Mum seems to be something a little heavy, as your smile immediately dips, your shoulders slumping. Leo knows he probably shouldn't pry, but he's Leo, so he does anyway.

"Is your mum tough on you?"

"No. She's not tough at all. She's not light, either. She just. . . lives with me, I guess."

"She just lives with you?"

You inhale, looking out over the lake. For a moment, Leo thinks you might start crying, but then he shakes that thought out of his mind, because you don't seem like the type to cry in front of a stranger, and that's really all Leo is, which is why he shouldn't expect you to open up to him right now, not if this is something you don't want to-

"Mum only had me because she wanted to see if she could get over Emma's dad." You wince. "Ares, I guess."

Leo pauses. His fingertips start glowing, a sign of his anger, but he shoves them in his pockets and dispels the flames before you see them. "That's horrible."

You shrug halfheartedly. "It's fine. She was crazy about the guy from what I've heard - it's why Emma's her favourite. She's the only piece of him she has left, really."

"But that doesn't mean-"

"You don't have to tell me she's a bad mother, Leo. I know. I've known from day one; I've just gotten used to it." You pick up a rock and toss it into the lake. "Honestly, we're better off out of each other's hair anyway; put us in a room together and make us talk, we'll probably burn the house down."

Leo doesn't know how to respond; he's never felt like that. Ever. Even with his dad, there's always been some level of affection there, even though his dad is a Greek god who only pops in when he wants something; Hephaestus has never straight-up ignored him, never made his favouritism clear.

Leo finds he wants to punch something, and not even the steady whisper of the lake can calm him down. He walks a little bit behind you as the silence settles, you picking up random rocks and tossing them into the water, apologising profusely when the eighteen tentacled octopus pokes its head up and yells at you.

Your calmness makes it even worse, though, because that lets Leo know that this treatment is something you've grown used to. You've never known any different.

----

Three days in, and Emma still insists on keeping you at Camp Half-Blood.

"You're not leaving until that giant is dead, and that might take a while."

You drape your arm over your forehead, still sprawled across her bed in the Ares cabin. It's a pretty musty cabin, to be fair, but you won't mention that when all of Emma's siblings are glaring daggers at you. "Do you have any idea how many assessments I'm missing? Mr Wrightchuck is gonna be furious with me, and I do not have the mental energy to deal with his shit right now."

Emma throws a pair of shorts at you. "Shut up and fold those for me."

You grunt, sitting up and getting to work; you've decided to make yourself at least a little bit useful around here. These people were nice enough to offer you accommodation, even though it's clear being around mortals isn't exactly their everyday routine. The amount of times you've hissed in pain because of your hand and been offered a chunk of ambrosia is uncountable.

"So," Emma starts suddenly, taking you by surprise; she hardly ever initiates conversations, preferring to brood in her own head when she can get away with it.

You look at her, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the bright pink laundry hamper she stole off your Aunt Grace. She's not even looking up, lips pursed, eyebrows raised as if expecting you to fill in the blanks from that single word.

"So, what?" you push. "What did I just say, Emma? I don't have the mental energy-"

"You and Leo have been hanging out an awful lot these past few days."

You pause. That certainly wasn't what you had been expecting to hear.

"Uh. . . I suppose. He's a cool guy. Cool fire, and stuff." You wriggle your fingers, imitating flames, though Emma's sideways glare makes you mumble an apology and drop your hand to your side. "Is there something wrong with Leo and I being pals?"

"Leo's a very. . . hopeful boy," Emma replies. "He tends to get lost in his own fantasies sometimes."

You blink. "What, like kinks?"

Emma groans, throwing some socks at you. "No, you idiot! When he likes someone, he tends to get a little carried away. It's quite sad to see, actually."

"What does that have to do with me and him being friends?"

Emma glances at you; you recognise that look. It makes your stomach curl, heat rising to your cheeks. You look away, coughing awkwardly into her shirt before you mumble, "No. No, absolutely not. Leo doesn't like me that way."

Emma shrugs, grin spreading across her face. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm just saying, if you don't like him that way, try and break the illusion as soon as possible. It's easier to just rip the bandaid off."

"You're heartless."

"I'm a daughter of Ares, Y/N. We don't bullshit people. We say it how it is."

You scowl, snatching another set of trousers from her wash pile and getting to work, trying to ignore the thump of your heartbeat, which suddenly seems to have sped up a fair bit.

----

You lose track of how long it has been since you last saw your mother.

This happens sometimes, these long stretches of time when neither of you will acknowledge the other person; it's easier that way, just pretending she doesn't exist, just pretending the house is empty besides you.

You've been caught up in camp activities these past few weeks. Your hand is starting to heal, the nerves tingling, which Will says is a good sign. You've been talking to other campers, learning more and more about the world Emma has kept hidden from you for so long, a world that fascinates you, a world you will never want to be properly part of.

Now, however, you see her. Sitting on her own by the lake, knobbly knees pulled into her chest, dazed eyes locked on the swirling water in front of her. The little sea creatures have long since hidden, probably put-off by the presence of a stranger, but your mother doesn't seem to care. She just sits all on her own, long hair billowing out behind her as the moon begins to rise in the distance.

You lean against a tree just a little bit behind her and say, "Are you not cold?"

She doesn't even flinch, like the voice of her child has no effect on her whatsoever. Instead, she digs her fingernails into the dirt and grabs a handful of stones, lobbing them into the lake.

You sigh and crouch down next to her; she smells of sweat and dirt, a sure sign that she hasn't been taking much care of herself these past few weeks. "Let's go back to the Big House, Mum. You're gonna get hypothermia out here."

"He will protect me," she replies. "He's always protecting me."

"You mean Ares? Emma's Dad?"

"He's protected me from day one; he loves Emma and I. He's just busy."

You swallow, staring at the side of her face. "I'm sure he does, Mum. But he's clearly running a little late right now, so he's asked me to come make sure you get wrapped up before the wind eats you alive." You gaze at the trees. "Which I'm pretty sure is a thing that actually happens here."

Finally, your mum gazes at you, lower lip trembling. "I just want him to talk to me."

You freeze; it's most unlike your mother to talk like this, especially to you. She rants and raves about Ares to Emma, but she barely pays you any attention when it comes to things like this. You don't really know how to handle it, whether you should comfort her and tell her Ares loves her - this Greek god, surviving somewhere on Mount Olympus, overlooking the entire world. Yes, of course he still loves her. Of course he does.

But the other half of you just doesn't want to lie. You don't want to get her hopes up any more than they already are, because anyone with a brain will be able to see that Ares has long since forgotten about the mortal woman he apparently fell in love with, and the daughter they created together.

So, you grab your mum's hand and drag her to her feet. She slumps against you like a child having a tantrum, and you have to basically lift her off the floor to get anywhere. Nonetheless, you eventually have her standing, and together, you walk up the hill, back to the main camp.

It's dark, probably past curfew, but campers are still walking about. Mostly the Apollo cabin, never off their feet with the casualties they have to tend to in a day, though there are other campers enjoying a late night cup of hot chocolate by the fire, laughing merrily. They don't notice you walking up the hill, don't notice your mum mumbling to herself, words you can't even grasp being right beside her.

"The Ares cabin," your mum suddenly blurts.

You pause, nearly stumbling over your own two feet as your head whips around to the direction she is now staring, eyes wide.

"Yes, Mum," you grumble. "That is the Ares cabin - now, can we keep moving before my fingers fall off?"

"Is that where you've been sleeping these past few weeks?"

You narrow your eyes. "What? Yes, Mum, it is; Emma lets me sleep with her, now can we please-"

"He isn't your father."

You stop dead in your tracks; oh no. You've heard this line of speech before, and it's never pleasant. Mum gets angry, enraged, when she thinks you're trying to take on the same status as her beloved Emma, daughter of the war god. She likes to keep you in your place, which is a good few tiers below everybody else, apparently.

"I know that," you say quickly. "Emma was just nice enough to lend me her bed so I didn't have to sleep in the Hermes cabin - you know I don't know my way around here, so-"

"He wouldn't like you sleeping amongst his children. He told me."

"He what now?"

She shakes out of your grip, gritting her teeth. Her eyes are wild, dilated beyond anything you've ever seen, and when she next speaks, the words are a cry. "He told me!" She shakes her head, gripping the strands of hair between trembling fingers. "He's so mad at me, Y/N; he told me it was disrespectful to have a child with another man. He said he would burn you to the ground if you stepped out of line. He said he would kill you, just to teach me a lesson for going behind his back!"

You blink. You're used to this. You're meant to be used to this, but holy mother of god - gods? - you don't know what she's on about. You've never heard her talk like this. You've never heard her speak of your death before, and the words coming from her mouth are so eerie, so fucking terrifying that you stumble back, hands trembling, tears rushing to the surface.

"You crazy bitch."

She laughs, loud and clear so the entire camp's attention turns directly to her. "That's what he said! He called me insane, and then he said he loved me and gave me a child - and that child certainly wasn't you."

"Mum, what are you-"

"He talks to me sometimes, you know." She nods, hands still buried in her hair, tugging her eyes back so she looks demented. "In my head, he talks. We have little conversations, but he's been so much more talkative since we arrived here, like this place really is my home." She releases her hair, eyes dimming. "But you're not meant to be here; he told me that, too. He said Emma and I were welcome amongst his kind, but not you - not a bastard like you."

You look around; all the demigods are on their feet now, staring at the scene in confusion. It's embarrassing, absolutely mortifying to suddenly be the centre of their attention, especially under such circumstances.

"Okay," you croak out. "Okay, that's fine - I'll go, then. Leave you and Emma here. I don't mind, Mum. You don't have to get angry."

Mum's nostrils flare. "It's not me who's angry - it's him-"

"Well, tell him that he doesn't have to get his godly bollocks in a twist, because I'm leaving." You raise your hands in faux surrender, taking a few tentative steps back. "I'm leaving, and you'll never have to see me again."

The words hurt, but they're the truth - especially now. Mum doesn't respond, merely stares as you take a few more steps backwards, turn on your heel and dart towards the Ares cabin, fighting desperately to push the tears away, because crying is stupid.

This is just your mum being. . . your mum, just as she's always been. Sure, her words tonight were a little harsher than you're used to, but her neglect has given you thick skin, thick enough to take her words on the chin.

You see the Ares cabin, and run right past it towards the lake. You nearly slip in the mud on your way down the hill, catching yourself before finally crumbling to the floor against a tree by the lake side.

You'll take her words on the chin, but you'll cry over them first.

----

When Leo hears the news, he's pretty sure his blood turns to fire.

He's half-asleep, but that doesn't stop his understanding of Will's words, his descriptions of the scene he just witnessed at the camp fire.

And the thing is, after hearing all the things your mum has done to you, Leo isn't even surprised to hear it's finally boiled over.

Doesn't make him any less angry.

He storms out of the Hephaestus cabin wearing nothing but his pyjamas. He feels the heat beneath his skin, threatening to break the surface as he forces it down, gritting his teeth. He's half tempted to turn to the Big House to give your mum a piece of his mind, but his main concern at the moment is you, and where you've gone, and where you plan on going, because according to Will, your last words to her were "I'm leaving, and you'll never have to see me again." That's a horrible thought. Leo doesn't want to think about that.

He heads to the lake, because according to Will, that's the direction you were running, and Leo knows how much you like the lake; it calms you down, you said, and he stored that piece of information in his brain for weeks, as if in preparation for this very moment.

He stops at the top of the hill and gazes down, lighting up the darkness with a ball of fire cupped in the palm of his hand. You don't flinch at the sudden intrusion, instead curling into a tighter ball against the roots of a tree, burying your head in your knees. The sight breaks his heart. He swallows, slowly waddling down the hill, careful not to fall in the dirt.

You don't look up when he finally arrives at your side. "Y/N."

"Who told you?"

Leo crouches. "Will. He said you seemed upset."

"That's literally nobody's business."

Leo sighs, slumping against the tree beside you; his shoulder brushes your own, and for a moment, you stiffen against his side. "You don't have to tell me what happened if you're not cool with that," he says. "I'm not being nosy or anything."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm really not. I just wanted to make sure that witch didn't hurt your feelings too bad." He pauses. "What did she actually say?"

Your head snaps up, eyes blood shot, lips dry. "Ah, see! You are just being nosy!"

He swats your arm, scowling. "Be quiet, no I'm not; but how am I meant to help you if I don't even know what happened?"

"I never said I wanted help, Leo. My mum not caring about me isn't something that can just be helped." And you didn't even realise those were the words you were going to say, because they sound so heartbreaking, so self-pitying, even though they're the truth. You've always just brushed your mothers behaviour off as normal, the only hand you've ever been dealt, but phrasing it in that way, claiming she doesn't care . . . something about that makes your heart break.

Your lower lip trembles before you can stop it, fresh tears springing to the surface. You remember holidays, catching Emma wrapping up gifts of her own to give to you, just so you could wake up to something on Christmas morning. You remember making your own Halloween costume because your mother spent all her money on Emma's. You remember thinking it was okay, because it was all you ever knew.

You're older now, though. You can recognise mistreatment when you see it, but it's still a blow to the chest realising that you were on the other end of it, that you're a victim, whether you want to deny it or not.

Leo notices your sudden change of emotions and immediately lurches forward. His fingers are hot, almost scalding when they make contact with your arm, his brown eyes burning holes into your own. His eyebrows are furrowed when he says your name in a whisper, just your name, like nothing else needs to be said.

You close your eyes. "I'm fine."

"I wish you'd stop saying that. It's starting to grate on my skull, and I can't afford that kind of damage."

You let out a breath of a laugh, just because you think it's appropriate; in truth, you find none of this funny. You want to curl up and cry. You want to leave Camp Half-Blood and everything it stands for, start a life away from demigods and Greek gods alike.

What's stopping you?

Leo's hands heat up on your arm, forcing you to look at him again. He's closer now, head tilted, all amusement flushed from his features, which is a sad enough sight on it's own. It's been two seconds, but you already miss that sparkle in his eyes.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Talk to me."

And you do. You don't know why, but you do. The words pour out like a broken faucet, a complete mess of incoherence's that Leo - and only Leo - would ever be able to understand. He nods along like the words are making sense, like these sentences aren't just complete gibberish.

When you finish explaining everything that happened down at the camp fire, you gasp, starved for air. Leo grabs your hand and tugs you forward, cupping your face in his attempts to calm you down; you didn't realise the tears had started pouring, didn't realise you're breathing heavily, totally lost, unable to catch a breath.

"Calm down," he mumbles. "Y/N, calm down. I'm here. I've got you, pal, I've got you."

You close your eyes, leaning into his palm. He traces his thumbs along your cheeks before slowly, slowly, slowly running his hand over your ear, tucking a strand of hair back. His eyes never leave your face, despite the state you know you are in, how awful you must look.

"I'm sorry," you choke out. "I didn't mean to. . . to get so worked up."

"Don't be stupid," he replies. "Did she really say all that to you?"

"She's not in her right mind out here. She thinks she's one of you guys, that she can be part of the group just because-"

"Because she slept with Ares?"

You laugh, exhausted. "Yes, exactly."

Leo rolls his eyes, finally letting his hands drop back to his sides. "Honestly, everyone and their grandfather has probably slept with Ares. She's nothing special, and she needs to get that through her head." He pauses. The air crackles. "But - uh - you're, you know, special. Very special."

You blink, certain you heard him wrong. The words don't really make sense in this context, so you're trying to disentangle them.

Finally, you crack and say, "What?"

Leo rubs the back of his neck, glancing awkwardly over his shoulder. Over the hill, everything is silent as Half-Bloods sleep, unknowing to the panic attack that has just captured you, unknowing to the magic Leo has just cast to calm you down.

"I said you're special," he mumbles. "In a good way, I mean. Like, a really good way."

Your heart thunders. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome." He looks at you then, chirping up. "But seriously, don't let her get to you. She's just a love sick psycho who doesn't know when to back down. Clingy ex-girlfriend and all that."

He changes the topic so swiftly it nearly gives you whiplash. You stare at him for another moment, and just when you're about to open your mouth to continue the previous, deserted conversation, Leo stands and reaches his hand out. "Shall we go before Hedge thinks there's some funny business going on?"

You nod dumbly, taking his hand only because you don't know what you want to say in response to what he has just said - he called you special, and he said it like it was just. . . normal, like it was something you could slip in without any further questions being asked.

You try and let the subject drop as Leo leads you back into camp. He walks you to the door of the Ares cabin, and it is there that he turns to you and says, voice low, "You can sleep in my cabin if your mum is in there; Chiron won't mind, and I won't either."

"No, it's okay," you reply. "Mum's staying in the Big House; I'll just slip in next to Emma." You glance at him, his eyes meeting yours because he never looked away. He looks so sweet beneath the lantern light, flames dancing across his skin like they were always meant to be there, like Leo has lived his life in fire and came out smiling every time. "Thank you, Leo; you really didn't have to help me tonight."

He scoffs. "Don't be daft. Next time you have any issues, I want you to run to me instead of the river naiads, you hear?"

You smile and nod. "I hear."

And so, Leo and you bid each other goodnight, and you watch as he walks across camp, past the Hephaestus cabin, right in the direction of Bunker 9. Half of you wants to go after him, question him on his use of the word special earlier on, but you don't. Your limbs are heavy with exhaustion, and so you turn on your heel and head into the Ares cabin, unable to stop the tiny smile that forms on your face.

----

Bunker 9 looks very nice in the morning.

"Oh, the tin is just glistening!"

Leo yelps, dropping a spanner on the ground as he whirls around. His overalls are covered in oil, along with his face, arms, legs, and every other body part that is presented to you on this fine Monday morning. In your hand is a plate of steaming cinnamon buns that Leo's eyes immediately fix upon, his startled expression quickly being replaced by one of pure hunger. You're almost certain you see his mouth salivating.

You tug the plate back, holding one arm out. "Not so fast, Fire Boy."

He frowns. "What did you just call me?"

"No cinnamon buns for you until you tell me how many hours of sleep you got last night."

Leo raises a brow, a tiny smirk making an appearance. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope. I want the details, Valdez, or these cinnamon buns are all mine."

"That's really unfair, and very unnecessary. A body like mine was made to work off two hours sleep."

Your eyes widen. "Two hours? Leo!"

"Can you just hand me my breakfast already?"

You groan, but a promise is a promise. You set the plate down on a nearby toolbox before pushing yourself onto the counter, legs swinging. Leo dives for the plate, nudging your knee with his hip as he grabs the first cinnamon bun he can see and stuffs it in his mouth, nearly swallowing the thing whole.

"Watch you don't choke."

"Why are you so protective this morning?"

"Two hours sleep, Leo? That's awful."

He shrugs, fingers hovering over the plate as he searches for his next victim. "I'm used to it. I'm not even tired! It was a really refreshing two hours."

"You get worse, you know."

Leo rolls his eyes, looking up at you. "And how many hours of sleep did you get, Sleeping Beauty?"

"More than two hours."

He clicks his fingers. "I want the details."

You roll your eyes, swatting his hand away. "I had six hours, if you must know. I'm refreshed and ready for my day!"

"So am I."

"Liar."

"And what?"

You laugh, and Leo smiles, making the noise louder than it really is.

"But no," he continues. "Don't you go worrying about me, dear. Ol' Leo Valdez can handle himself."

"Ol' Leo Valdez needs to take a nap."

"A nap? Sounds cowardly." He grabs the spanner from the floor, spins it in the air, catches it with an ease that makes your breath catch. "How about I show you the new updates I've made to Festus?"

Festus, Leo's pride and joy, the one thing in the world he will talk about for hours upon hours on end; you've sat there and listened to him every single time, absorbing every word, even if you don't understand it. He talks about circuits and updates and tools you have never heard of, but he says it all with such enthusiasm it's almost impossible not to get involved. And even though you know you should be stubborn, insisting on him getting into bed right this instant, you want to see him in that state again. You always want to see him in that state, eyes glittering with passion, hands moving all over the place, smile brighter than anything.

He doesn't need an answer. You simply smile at him, slightly exasperated, and he says, "Alright!" before spinning on his heel, the very beginning of his lecture.

You listen to him talk like how you would listen to lo-fi music. Your legs swing back and forth, back and forth, a tiny smile gracing your features. Leo shows you different parts, illuminating the inside of Festus's new helmet with fire ignited in his calloused palm. It makes his grin impossibly brighter. It makes his curls that little bit darker. It's him.

Finally, he spins and says, "Cool, right?" and even though you were mildly distracted the entire time, you nod and say, "Very cool. As always."

"What are you doing here so early, anyway?" He strolls over, casually plucking another cinnamon roll off the plate and taking a bite.

"I saw you heading to Bunker 9 last night and just assumed this was where you slept. I thought you said you didn't sleep in here?"

He shrugs. "I sleep in here when I'm stressed; gets me away from the ruckus of everyone else, you know."

You raise a brow. "You were stressed?"

"Of course I was stressed." He looks at you, exasperated. "Do you not remember anything we discussed last night?"

You blink; it's not that you had forgotten - there's no way you'll be forgetting that night any time soon - but you thought for sure Leo had. Yes, he'd been there to help you through it, and he was the reason you went to bed smiling, but you were still a mortal, and your problems surely could never be as big as his. You genuinely sat in front of him and cried about feeling neglected by your mother when his own mother is dead, and his Dad doesn't even talk to him, too busy producing other godly children. But here he is, head tilted and eyes slashed with worry. You almost want to look away, but the colour in them has become so noticeably entrancing these past few weeks that you find it nearly impossible to do so.

"I didn't mean to stress you out," is all you can manage. "I was just ranting."

"You were crying."

"I was - I mean - like - yeah, I guess, but you don't have to stress."

Leo narrows his eyes. "You really are dense, aren't you?"

You open your mouth, ready to chastise him for saying such a thing, but your words are swallowed by the loud clang clang clang of the door opening. Leo stares at you for a second longer before glancing over his shoulder, sharing your shock at the sight of Will popping his head in the door. His lower lip is pulled between his teeth, movements slow and timid.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," he says. "But we kind of need Y/N up at camp."

Those words are terrifying. They jolt you and Leo into action almost immediately; you slip off the counter, stumbling over a few discarded wrenches and old toolboxes. Leo catches you before you can fall, but neither of you comment on your suddenly linked hands before following Will out the door, curiosity getting the better of you.

You hear the commotion before you see it.

The sound of your mothers shrill voice is all-too familiar, and it echoes now. Bouncing off trees, sinking into the dirt, giving you a blistering headache that immediately makes you want to turn around and pretend you never heard it. But there's a crowd, an ocean of demigods, all with weapons and angry expressions trained on the woman who raised you - the woman who tried raising you - and despite the anger you once felt towards her, you pick up your pace, rush into the scene and say, "Ay! Get that spear out of my face!"

The demigod - you don't even know who she is - stumbles back, gaping at you. You don't give her the time of day, instead pivoting on your heel towards your mother.

There she is, stood in the middle of the clearing with her arms above her head, screaming up at the sky. Blood coats her elbows and knees. Chiron and Emma are beside her, but it seems like both of them have given up trying to make her see sense; they simply stare, Emma with tears in her eyes, Chiron looking like he's on the verge of booting her out of camp right this instant.

Leo stumbles to your side and grabs your arm. "What's wrong with her?"

You touch your mum's arm. "Mum, you're being proper embarrassing right now."

She spins. Her hair is matted, the product of having not been washed in weeks. Her eyes are dark, lips chapped and bitten, utterly destroyed. You've seen her when she's having one of her episodes, but this is worse. This is the worst you've ever seen it. It breaks your heart, even though it shouldn't. It was only last night she was basically calling you worthless, a mistake, the reason her little affair with a Greek god didn't work out.

You swallow. "Mum. . . It's me."

"Emma?"

You bite your lip, trying to ignore how much that hurts. "Uh. . . not quite, but nearly. Emma's over there."

"Don't get me involved in this," Emma spits, roughly swiping a hand across her cheek. "I don't want anything to do with her."

Your heart judders. Your mother's eyes narrow, like she's taking a little longer to process her first childs words. You decide to step in before she has a chance to.

"No, Mum, I'm not Emma, I'm Y/N. I'm here to - uh - take you home."

As soon as you say it, you want to curl in on yourself. It's a truth you've been trying to avoid these past few weeks, the idea of finally breaking away from camp and heading back to your shitty apartment with your shitty mother to live a shitty life of online classes and pretending everything is normal and okay. Behind you, Leo mumbles, "Sorry, what was that?" which hurts your heart even more. "Yeah," you continue, taking another timid step towards her. A branch cracks beneath your foot, and your mother flinches, looks up into the sky like the sound of a god appearing will be nothing more than a simple crack.

"Yeah, Mum, we're gonna go home, and you're gonna get some rest, okay? You look exhausted."

"Exhausted," she mumbles. "Home."

"Home, yeah. Remember home? We liked it there. Things were normal there."

Mum's nostrils flare. "Normal-"

"But our house is also where Ares thinks we are right now!" you barrel on. "He's got our address in his little address book - he doesn't actually know we're at Camp Half-Blood right now."

Her shoulders deflate, eyes brightening. "Oh. You're right. He's probably visited so many times and we haven't even been there! He's going to be so angry!"

"So, so angry." You wrap your arm around her shoulder, gently drawing her away from the crowd of angry demigods, of sobbing sisters and confused centaurs. You meet Leo's eyes only once, and it's enough to shatter your being, enough for the burning of tears to erupt through your senses. You want to turn and run to him, tell him you're sorry, promise to never leave him, but the feelings are so extraordinary and so weird, unfamiliar, that you can't.

You turn your gaze to the floor and guide your mother through the crowd towards the Big House, uttering words about home and comfort, and going back to a life you want to abandon for good. You pretend it's all okay, because that's all you've ever known.

----

Leo finds you that same night.

You left your mother in Chiron's care. She fell asleep immediately, and you were free to do what you wanted after that, but the thought of parading through Camp Half-Blood after being in the centre of such a weird scene made your stomach curl, so you stayed by her side until you were positive most of the campers were in bed, sleeping.

Except Leo, of course.

He sits down in the grass, shoulder brushing yours. You don't look over; you know it's him just from the scent of oil, and the way he cracks his knuckles, and the way he awkwardly coughs into the darkness. These are all little things of him you have memorised. Each one makes your heart ache.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he speaks. "You don't have to do all that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Stick up for her. Make her comfortable.

" You shrug. "I know I don't."

"So why do you do it?"

"Because she's my mum."

"She's barely your mum. She doesn't even do the bare minimum for you."

True. Painfully, awkwardly true.

You shrug again. Leo sighs, tilting his head back. When you glance over, you see him gazing up at the stars, jaw clenched in a way that throws off the soft features of his face you have grown so used to seeing. You don't like it.

You reach over and poke his cheek in an attempt to make him loosen up. He closes his eyes. "I don't get it."

"What?"

"Why you have to be the one taking care of her when she's never taken care of you."

You swallow thickly. "I'm not. . . I'm not taking care of her. I'm just-"

"Then what was that back there?"

"That was me trying to make sure my mum didn't get a spear shoved down her throat. It's basic human decency, Leo."

He purses his lips, like this is something he has never heard of.

You sigh, slumping back against a tree. "I don't hate my mum, you know; she's done some fucked up stuff to me, but I don't hate her."

Leo stares at you. His eyes are lazors, flames, beams pouring into the side of your head, and you want to look at him, but you think it would be a very bad idea right now.

Neither of you say anything for what feels like forever, which is a big deal when sitting with someone like Leo Valdez. The only noise filling in the silence is the steady drip of rain drops rolling down the leaves, bouncing against the lakes surface. A few ocean creatures peak their heads up, examine the scene, duck back beneath the water.

And then, "Are you actually leaving?"

You bite back a sob. "You didn't expect me to stay here forever, did you?"

Leo doesn't respond.

"She's not well here," you continue, tilting your head back. The moon waves at you. The stars smile. "She was bad at home, but being here - around this kind of thing - it's going to drive her insane."

"She's a grown woman."

"Ares messed her up." It's the first time you've said it out loud, the truth. Your mother was okay before she met that man. You've heard stories from your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, of the days when your mum was winning medals for her skills in ballet, the days she was getting awards for her academic success, the days where she played mediator in a house full of people who could never see eye-to-eye on anything. You listened to them with only half-interest, because you never fully believed them. You had lived with the crazy side of her for too long by that point.

But it's true. Ares waltzed into her life, promised her the world, gave her this child with skills beyond human comprehension, gave her a taste of real love for the first time in her life - and then he left.

"Why do gods think they can just get away with that?" you find yourself asking before you can stop. "Mess with people's lives like that. Why do they think that's okay?"

Leo sighs. "They run the world. They can do whatever they want."

"That seems really unfair."

"Yeah, well, it's also unfair that you have to give up your own happiness for your mum."

You close your eyes; there it is again, the topic breached. Leo doesn't understand that this is all you've ever known - caring for her, making sure she's okay, being ignored and neglected because you're not the gods child. He doesn't understand that this has been your life from day one. You were never given a chance to mind it. You were never given a chance to know anything else.

"You know, I think this place could really benefit with someone like you."

You look at him. "You're just saying that."

He shrugs, picking up a pebble and lobbing it at the lake. Always keeping his hands moving, never being still. "Maybe. Maybe I'm just a little desperate for you to stay." He looks at you. "Is that weird?"

You swallow, unable to respond, because you want to tell him no, no of course it's not weird, please keep talking and I'll stay, I'll stay here with you, I'll never leave, I never wanted to leave in the first place.

Leo looks down at his hands, fingers fiddling with the threads dangling from his overalls. "Sorry. I - I didn't mean to - like - put you on the spot or anything. I just care about you. A lot. And I hate seeing you upset. It bothers me."

The way it says it, words spoken through gritted teeth, makes your heart stutter. Oddly, it reminds you of those days spent laughing in Bunker 9, calling him stupid as he tried so hard to keep you amused, like he wanted to keep your attention as firm as possible so you wouldn't get up and leave. For once in your life, someone wants you to stay.

And it's sad - heartbreaking, even - that you have been cursed with these circumstances, that the mere notion of staying at Camp Half-Blood is so beyond reality; you're no demigod. Even if your mother were to head home on her own, do you a favour for once, the chances of Chiron being allowed to let you stay are incredibly, incredibly slim. You won't entertain the idea. You won't get your hopes up like that. You won't play to your own feelings, because that has never done anything for you, nothing but leave you in a state of despair.

And so, you keep quiet, staring out over the lake with Leo by your side, his hands working, his mind probably racing, your heart a steady thump in the distance.

---

The next day, you are ready to leave.

You packed all your things the night before. You said all your goodbyes the night before. You and Emma got into a brutal argument the night before, and now you're stood before her, trembling from head to toe as you patiently wait for Chiron to lead your mother to Thalia's pine tree so the both of you can finally be let go.

Emma stares at you. She's been doing that since last night, her hands balled into fists, jaw strong, so she looks a little bit like her father; you can say that now. You hate him. You think you'd punch him in the face if you ever saw him.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this for her."

"I never understood why you hate her so much - you're the one she actually cares about."

Emma grits her teeth, looking to the ground in that way she so often does when she's trying not to punch you square in the face. "That's not the point."

"You don't even deny it any more," you scoff. "You've just come to terms with the fact that she basically worships the ground you walk on. How about you start understanding how lucky you are rather than giving me grief for taking care of her?"

"Taking care of her?" Emma bursts. "She's your mother! She should be taking care of you!"

"Right, but that's not the way things have turned out, so we might as well cut the shit now before-"

"Leo spoke to me, you know." You freeze. Your mouth stays open, eyes widening; Leo is the absolute last thing you want to talk about right now, not after last night, not after hearing the hint of heartbreak in his voice when he realised it was too late, you were too far gone, there was no keeping you.

Emma nods, even though you haven't said anything, even though you can do nothing but stare at her in complete shock and bewilderment. "Yeah, Leo Valdez, the boy you're head over heels in love with."

You splutter. "What?"

"Oh, don't play dumb! I've seen the way you are with each other. I've seen the way you look at him. I've seen the way he looks at you, and for fuck sake Y/N, you shouldn't have to give all that up for someone like her!"

"That person you're on about is our mother!"

"And what? That means you have to put your entire life on hold for her?" Emma drops her sword in a move close to desperation, startling you when she barrels forward and grabs your shoulders. She holds you at arms length, eyes like fire. "You're my only little sibling, Y/N; it's my job more than anything else to look after you, and I'm not going to sit back and let your selflessness ruin your whole life."

You blink, and only then do the tears make an appearance. You think of Leo, even though you hate it, even though you've already said your goodbyes to him and you should just leave it at that. He hugged you, and you hugged him, and you apologised and he told you there was nothing to be sorry for - it was the perfect potential ending, but you don't want it to be over.

Emma is right; you're jeopardising your own happiness for this woman.

Emma stares at you, the tears leaking from your eyes. Her own lower lip trembles, but she's Emma, so she won't start crying. Not properly.

You inhale shakily, ducking your head down. "I can't let her go home on her own, Em. She'll never make it. She'll never agree to go if she doesn't have someone with her."

"So I'll go."

You freeze. "What?"

Emma tilts her head forward, catching your eye. "I said, I'll go. I'll take her home, get her settled, and then I'll get someone to come take care of her - a professional. Someone who should have been there for her a long bloody time ago. You can stay here for a while."

Your heart thunders. You're certain you've heard her wrong, because this isn't right - none of this is right. Emma's the demigod. She should be the one staying here whilst you get shipped off back home with your mother. That's how things have always been, how things were always meant to be. But when you look back at your older sister now, there is no glimmer of amusement in her eyes; she's being serious, more serious than you've ever seen her before.

She squeezes your shoulders, curling her stubby nails into the fabric of your hoodie. "I mean it, Y/N. If you want to stay here-"

"I do," you croak out. "I really, really do."

"For Leo?"

You blink.

Emma grins. "For Leo." She pats your shoulder, nearly knocking you off your feet. "Go, before her and Chiron make an appearance. I think Valdez is-"

But you don't let her finish. You know where Leo is even without her input, and so you throw yourself into her arms, squeal a thank you in her ear before sprinting off down the hill towards Bunker 9.

The gods should be yelling at you right now, casting lightning and rain and every other deadly element down upon you, because this must be so far out of the rule book. This must be going entirely against everything they have ever set up, every rule they have laid out - a mortal in one of their demigod camps? A mortal hanging around their children like their even close to being equal. Complete blasphemy.

But you don't care. Not when you round the corner to see the door to Bunker 9 already wide open, little flashes of Leo Valdez skimming past the entryway.

You pause in the trees, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of what he is doing, and it is only then do you see the spanner smash against one of the windows. The glass doesn't shatter, but it shakes and it makes a loud noise, and it's followed closely by Leo yelling out a curse that would get him blown to smithereens if his father were to hear it.

You sprint towards the door. "Leo?"

He spins around, eyes widening. He grips his hand, blood seeping from one of his fingers, dribbling down his wrist and landing upon his boots. He doesn't seem to care, though, simply staring at you in shock.

And then, "Y/N?"

You throw yourself forward, grabbing his wrist. The blood from his gets caught beneath your fingers, but you don't care. You stare at it, shaking your head, whispering his name over and over, and all he can do is stare at you, dumbfounded, before he exclaims, "Hey, wait!" and stumbles back, yanking his hand from your grip in the process.

"Leo, let me have a look at that-"

"You shouldn't be here right now!"

"Okay, Leo, yes, we'll discuss that later, but please, let me look at your hand. What the hell did you even do?"

You reach for him, but he's like a wild animal, startled and afraid. He stumbles back, nearly tripping over a toolbox discarded on the floor. You notice the mess that wasn't there this morning, the tools laying everywhere, sheets of torn paper thrown left, right and centre, broken glass littering the hard floor.

"Jesus, Leo," you gasp. "What have you been doing in here?"

"Why are you back? Why aren't you away yet?"

You lift your gaze, narrowing your eyes. "If you want me to go, you can just say so." And right now, looking at the scene around you and the state of Leo's hand, and his startled expression, you don't even feel bad that he very well might just ask you to turn and leave. Your mind is preoccupied, wanting nothing more than to grab him and force him to shut up so you can pay some attention to the gaping wound on the tip of his finger. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. He's staring at you, unable to move, small of his back pressed against the workbench. The blood welling in his fingertip looks to only be getting worse.

"Leo," you say softly. "Please, can we talk about this later?"

He doesn't respond, but he doesn't run away when you take a step towards him, either. His eyes never leave your own as you reach for his hand and pull him towards a chair in the corner, slowly pushing him into it. You softly ask him to reach into that magic toolbelt of his to pull out some medical supplies, and he does so with trembling hands, never saying a word, never really needing to.

You get to work in silence, trying to ignore the thumping of your own heart, the tremble of your own hands, the desperate need you have to just apologise over and over and over for scaring him so bad, for startling him to the point where he can't even form a full sentence, to the point where he was willing to run away from you.

You clean the wound and bandage it the best way you can, remembering all those times as a child when you would cut yourself by accident and your mum would be too dazed or too neglectful to take you to the hospital or do anything about it herself.

Leo watches your hands working wonders until it's all finally complete and you step back, admiring your handiwork with a pleased grin on your face. "Not too shabby."

Leo swallows. Finally you take the time to look at him, his pale face and startled eyes; he looks like he's on the verge of tears, which really isn't the reaction you were hoping to receive when you walked back into Bunker 9.

You fold your arms over your chest, nibbling your bottom lip as you say, "I'm staying."

Leo exhales shakily. "I don't get it. Last night you were so adamant-"

"I know. I know I was, but I never wanted to go in the first place."

"So why-"

"Emma made me realise some things." You push yourself onto the workbench behind you, the very same spot you always found yourself sitting when Leo is working away on one of his projects. You used to sit with your legs pulled beneath you, watching him work in silence.

He stares at you. "I fully prepared myself to never see you again."

You wince. "I'm sorry."

And then he's scrambling out of his chair, stumbling between your legs, grabbing your hands, tugging them into his chest, all in that order. You gasp at the touch, the rough fabric of his plaster rubbing against your wrist, the forever warm touch of his skin so familiar yet you crave it so badly.

He's shaking his head, mumbling "No," on repeat beneath his breath

. "Leo. . ."

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad," he says. "So don't apologise to me again, alright? I don't want it. I don't need it - all that matters now is that you're here, and you - you said you're staying." He looks up, almost timid. "Did I hear that right?"

You nod, dazed; he's not mad. He's happy. He's smiling, and his eyes are doing that thing again where they glint and they crease into crescents, and he looks so cute, so happy, so like the Leo you've come to know and love so deeply. It makes your heart stutter. It makes this entire thing so, so worth it.

He grins. "Oh gods, Y/N, you scared the shit out of me. I nearly tore this place to the ground-"

"I can see that," you croak.

He winces, glancing awkwardly over his shoulder. "I didn't mean to - It was honestly an accident, but-"

"It's okay, Leo." His head snaps back round.

"It's okay?"

"It's all okay."

You reach forward, winding your arm around his neck, dragging him closer. His curls flood through your fingers, his eyes fluttering closed for a split second before he opens them again and says, "Can I kiss you?"

You nod, because of course he can. He does just that, pressing his lips to yours delicately, so, so delicately, like he's afraid you'll shatter. His hands are tender on your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle, mindless circles into the fabric of your shirt, and it's all so slow, all so gentle, but your heart is exploding into constellations, sprinkling over your being in a way you have never experienced before.

For someone who is never still, never calm, never quiet, his kisses are like a warm summer afternoon spent wading along a beach. They are aquamarine waters and birds chirping around a morning sunrise. They are everything and nothing and more than enough but never enough all in the same breath.

He pulls away first, uncertain, glancing nervously into your eyes as he slowly releases you. He takes a steady step back, rubbing the back of his neck, and it takes everything in you not to pull him back in.

Instead you laugh, swinging your legs back and forth like a giddy child. "Don't look so sheepish or I'll think you've poisoned me."

"I'm not very good at that," he mumbles. "Machines don't usually need kissed, so I don't tend to do it that often."

"I'd hope not." You grab his hand, pulling him back between your knees. "I'm sorry for scaring you earlier."

He opens his mouth, ready to protest your apologies once again, but you cut him off with five fingertips pressed to his lips. His eyes cross over as he glares at them, making you giggle. "I know you said I shouldn't apologise, but I shouldn't have been so. . . hasty. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you. I should have let you speak-"

"I don't say very interesting things."

"You say the most interesting things." You drop your hand, intertwine your fingers with his. "But I'm staying, Leo. I promise." He exhales shakily, like this is what he has been waiting to hear for a while now; it breaks your heart, rejuvenates you at the same time, and you realise suddenly just how awful it would have been to pack up your stuff and head home, to live a life without Leo Valdez in it.

---

Your mother looks a little better. A little healthier. A little happier.

Emma sits beside her, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, a denim jacket over the top. She looks happy, too, a little exhausted, but you never expected anything less. She's still smiling, though, and when her face appears in the Iris message, she lets out a happy sigh of relief.

"I thought you two would fuck it up."

"Go to hell, Emma," says Leo.

You chuckle, leaning back in your seat; it's been two weeks since Mum and Emma went back to the flat together, two weeks since you agreed to spend the rest of your summer at Camp Half-Blood, working on a relationship with Leo Valdez. It's been a grand two weeks, yes, but you still have responsibilities back in the real world.

"So, how's it going?" you ask. "Mum, you're still going to therapy, aren't you?"

"Yes," Mum mumbles, sounding more like an anguished teenager than anything else. "I've told you both already, I don't need it - I got over Ares years ago. I have my own family now - he can go to hell."

"Tartarus," Leo corrects.

"Whatever."

You grin. It's been so long - so long - since you've heard your mum mention you in the same context as Emma, including your name in the same sentence as the word family. Leo must notice your sudden shift in mood, as he chuckles, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back. He does that sometimes, letting you know he's there, like you'd ever forget. You reach behind you and tangle your fingers with his, subtly placing your joined hands in your lap.

"A few more weeks," you tell her. "That's all you have to endure, and then they're putting you on that trial, aren't they?"

"Apparently," Mum replies. "I was thinking of coming to visit you."

You and Emma share a look - the last time your mother was at Camp Half-Blood, things didn't exactly go well. The energy of this place drove her insane, reminded her of days with Ares, reminded her she'd been abandoned by the one man she ever loved.

Leo cuts in. "Oh, no! I was hoping Y/N and I could come out there and visit you guys for the week!"

Your head whips round. "You were?"

"Well, yeah." Leo rolls his eyes, faux exasperation. "I did tell you about it. I haven't been back to your house since the giant threw that boulder through your window." He rubs his finger along your scarred, damaged knuckles, forever torn from the boulder that destroyed all your nerve endings. "I think it would be a grand old time, personally."

"I agree," Emma chimes in. "And it would be less stressful for us - we can just wait here for them to arrive, and you still get to see Y/N!"

Mum hums, thoughtful, and for just a second, you're certain she's going to revert back to her old ways. She's going to call you scum, pretend you don't exist, make you feel like shit all over again; judging by the sudden grip Leo has on your hand, he thinks the exact same thing. You thought this was over with. You thought your Mum had gotten better, that she finally realised you are her child, too, and-

"I guess it would be a lot less hassle."

Leo exhales. "Great! It's a date."

"For you two, maybe," Emma grumbles. "Look, we have to leave in two minutes, so this is goodbye."

"Jeez, Em, tell us how you really feel."

"See you in a few weeks, assholes!" And before you or Leo can respond, the Iris message is flickering to a close, leaving you and Leo alone in Bunker 9.

It's silent for a few seconds. Leo grips your hand, running his thumb along your knuckles, and it suddenly feels so, so hard not to cry.

"She's getting so much better," you choke out.

Leo's head snaps round, eyes widening at the crack in your voice. "Hey, no. Don't you start crying on me, okay? This is a good thing! Good!" He cups your face, forcing you to look at him. He has that goofy look, his eyebrows stitched together, his lips pursed; it makes you laugh every time.

You reach up, wrapping your hands around his wrists just to keep the feel of him against you for a little longer. "I'm not going to cry. I'm not a bitch."

"It's all good here, Y/N," he says. "I always told you it's all good here."

And with his hands on your face, his eyes gazing into your own, the sweet weather of Camp Half-Blood flourishing outside, you know he's telling the truth. It's all good.

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thebookreader12345 · 4 years ago

Text

Identity Loss - Chapter Two

Chapter One Chapter Three

“Sam, is she gonna be okay?” William asked the older doctor who was examining me. I had no idea what was going on, but I went with it. What I did know though was that Sam, or Dr. Abrams, was the head of Neurosurgery. And because he was checking my head, that must have meant I had gotten a head injury, only I couldn’t remember how.

“She seems fine. Nothing looks to be wrong. I’m guessing the amnesia is from the head trauma. Either that, or it’s from the lack of oxygen she received when Mr. Wilson tried to choke her,” Dr. Abrams responded. Who was Mr. Wilson? And why was he trying to choke me?

“Is it permanent?” William questioned.

Dr. Abrams shrugged. “All cases are different. Sometimes memory loss is only temporary. But there are cases where the amnesia was permanent. What I’m saying is that I don’t know, which, by the way, sounds so weird coming out of my mouth.”

William sighed. “Okay. Thanks, Sam.” And with that, Dr. Abrams left the room leaving me alone with William.

“So, William,” I start, only to be cut off.

“It’s Will,” William interrupted. “You always call me Will. Everyone does.”

“But the coat says William,” I point out.

“Y/N, can you stop arguing with me? Please? I’m having a rough day,” William stated.

“You’re having a rough day? I can’t remember a damn thing about my life except for my name,” I argue.

William ran a hand through his curly ginger hair and took a seat next to my bed. “I know. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”

“It’s okay,” I admit. “If I were in your place, and you couldn’t remember me, I’d be a little pissed too. So, Will, mind telling me about my life?”

“It’s a lot,” Will reminded me. “You sure you’re ready?”

I nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be. And I’ve got nothing else to do, so why the hell not.” Will laughed softly, and seeing him smile brought a small sense of joy to me. It was weird though because I didn’t know him at all. Well, amnesia me didn’t know him, but the real me, whoever she was, did.

“Okay. I guess we’ll start at where we are. This is Chicago Med. It’s where you work as an ED doctor,” Will told me.

“Doctor, huh? I must’ve been smart,” I exclaim.

“Smarter than me, yeah, which is really hard to admit, but it’s true,” Will claimed. “So there’s that. And then there’s uh, there’s your relationships.” Will then stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts, and I was on the edge of my seat. Was I popular? Did I have lots of friends? Was there a boyfriend in the picture? A husband? Kids? My thoughts were all over the place, yet somehow I managed to calm myself down. “Your best friend’s name is Maggie Lockwood. She’s the charge nurse down in the ED. There’s also Natalie, another ED doctor who you’re really close with.”

“And?” I question, urging him to continue.

“And then there’s me,” Will added.

“So we were friends then?” I ask. Will hesitated, which seemed pretty weird to me, but then again, I couldn’t remember anything, so maybe he acted like this all of the time. Finally though, he spoke up.

“No, we weren’t friends. We were uh, we were engaged,” Will murmured and nodded to my left hand. I looked down at the arm encased in a sling, and that’s when I saw the engagement ring that sat on my finger. It looked beautiful, even in the terrible hospital lighting, and I especially loved how the jewel glittered in the light.

“You don’t really seem like my type,” I joke, which broke the silence. “But then again, I don’t know anything about myself, so maybe you are.”

Will cracked a small smile. “You’ve still got your humor. That’s good. Look, I’ve got to get back to work, and even though I really want to stay, Ms. Goodwin will have my job if I do something wrong again. But, if you need anything, anything at all, you tell one of the nurses to call me and I’ll come right up.”

“Okay,” I say and watch as Will stood up and made his way to the door. “Oh, and thank you, Will, for everything.” Will gave me another smile, and with that, he left my room. Throughout the day, Will stopped by every so often to check in on me, and it was nice seeing a familiar face. Well, I probably knew all of the nurses and other staff milling around in and outside of my room, but I didn’t know their names, so they were basically foreign. And then, that night, Will came back into my room. He didn’t have maroon scrubs on this time, and he had a satchel slung over his shoulder. “What’s that?” I ask and point to the satchel.

“Your things,” Will replied and set the bag down on the edge of my bed. “Now, get dressed. I’m taking you home.” Will waited outside of my room while I replaced my hospital gown with the clothes in the bag. It was just a pair of jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and some boots. Maybe this is what I was wearing the day of my accident. As I put on my new clothes, my mind drifted to the fact that I was going home. I had no idea where “home” was, and the dozens of possibilities flew around my head. Did I live in a house or apartment? Was it more modern or contemporary? Were there any pets? Once I was dressed, I met Will outside of the hospital room.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” I declare.

“All right then. Lets go,” Will spoke and led me out of the hospital. The drive home only took a few minutes, and I enjoyed the ride. I loved looking out the window, admiring all of the buildings that we passed. The old me probably knew this route by heart, but the new me was excited to see everything. Soon, we pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex, and I climbed out of the car. Inside of the building, Will and I ascended the stairs to get to the second floor, and we walked down a hallway, stopping at the door at the very end. Will fished his keys from his jacket pocket, and then he unlocked the door, pushing it in. I stepped inside first, dropping my bag and shoes off by the door before taking it all in. It was so weird seeing the place where I lived, but not remembering anything that happened here. The good news was, the place looked homey, and from where I was standing, I could see that there was a bedroom and a bathroom down past the kitchen on the right, and another bedroom at the end on the left. I started in the living room first since it was right in front of me, and ran my hand along the back of the couch as I looked around. As I was taking everything in, something on the end table caught my eye. I walked over, and upon seeing that it was a picture frame, I picked it up to examine the photo inside. To my surprise, it was an engagement photo. In the picture, Will and I were kissing in front of Lake Michigan with the Chicago skyline in the background. I stared at the picture, desperately trying to remember that afternoon, and when I couldn’t remember a single detail, I sighed and set the frame back down on the table. “You want to order some pizza?”

“Uh, sure,” I respond. “What do we usually get?”

“Your favorite is sausage and green peppers,” Will reminded me as he put his stuff away. “Make yourself at home while I call in the order.” I nodded and took a seat on the couch, but it was hard, knowing that I had a life before this, a great life, and I couldn’t remember a thing about it. After about half an hour, the pizza arrived, and we ate dinner in complete silence. It felt like we should have been talking about something, maybe work, but because I had amnesia, there was nothing to talk about. “You can have the master,” Will told me once it was time for bed. “I’ll take the guest bed.”

“That’s okay,” I protest. “You should have the better bed.”

“I insist,” Will pushed. “Seriously. After everything you’ve been through, you could use the rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, Will retreated into the smaller bedroom. In the master bedroom, I dug through the dresser to find some pajamas, settling on some flannel pants and a tank top, and once I had changed, I climbed into bed. It was weird though, having this big bed all to myself, and all I could think about was wanting Will to be snoring softly next to me. So, I got out of bed and walked to the other bedroom. Peaking my head inside the doorway, I saw that Will was in bed staring down at his phone, and he glanced up when I entered.

“Hey. What’s up?” Will asked.

“It was uh, it was kind of weird being in there alone, so I wanted to come ask if you’d sleep in there with me. I know it’s probably awkward for you because I can’t remember anything, so if you don’t want to, I understand,” I admit.

“No. It’s cool. I’ll stay in there with you,” Will stated. Will and I then made our way back into the bigger bedroom and got situated. Now that Will was here, I felt more at ease.

“Thanks for doing this,” I murmur and turn to face Will.

“No problem. Goodnight, Y/N,” Will muttered and turned away from me.

“Night,” I mumble softly. I tried to fall asleep, but my mind was wide awake, and all I could do was think about Will. I had my doubts about him at first, but now I could see why the old me fell in love with him, and it was because I was slowly falling for Will all over again.

______________________

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#one chicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #chicago med #chicago med x reader #chicago med imagines #chicago med imagine #will halstead #will halstead x reader #will halstead imagines #will halstead imagine #x reader #imagine #imagines #multi chapter #multi chapter fic #romance

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swan-of-sunrise · 4 years ago

Text

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Eight)

Summary: Din, (Y/N) and their passengers are trapped on a frozen planet and must quickly repair the Razor Crest if they have any hope of surviving.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Eight The Ship (Previous Chapter)

Jolting awake, Din pushed himself off the ship’s dashboard and groaned; the last thing he remembered before being knocked unconscious was the ship falling through the ice that he’d landed on. He was still disoriented when he glanced down at his armor and noticed the thin layer of frost coating the beskar. He reached up and flipped several switches but before he could determine just how much damage the ship had sustained, a small whimper behind him made him quickly turn around; the Frog woman was curled up on the floor of the cockpit, violently shivering as her arms wrapped around herself to generate warmth. He knelt down and helped her back into her seat as she began to quickly croak at him and gesture towards the cockpit door. Her eggs, he suddenly remembered, they were in the cargo hold when we crashed…

“I’ll find your eggs, don’t worry,” Din promised her. “Gotta get you some blankets, keep you warm…” He hurried out the cockpit doors and jumped down into the cargo hold; there was a gaping hole in the side of the hull, through which snow and freezing-cold air was blowing, and different wires and cables hung limp from the ceiling. Storage containers were strewn across the whole floor, all covered in frost, and he found himself muttering a quiet “Damn it.”

It was then that he remembered the child and his partner, and he hurriedly opened his sleeping compartment only to see the child’s hammock empty. Fear clenched at his heart as he turned back to the cluttered floor. “Kid? (Y/N)?” The Frog woman’s frantic croaking echoed down and Din called up, “Hang on, I’m looking for your eggs!” He carefully began stepping through the mess and, after hearing a small noise, bent down and threw a tarp to the side to reveal the child, an egg in his hands as he stood before the open container. “No!” He quickly closed the lid and picked up the container of eggs to examine it. It was the second time he’d caught the child eating eggs, and he was worried that the passenger would eventually notice their absences. “I told you not to do that.” The Frog woman spoke out to him again and he answered. “Found them!”

“M-Mando?”

Eyes widening, Din set the container down inside the sleeping compartment and locked it before hurrying over to where the captain’s weak voice had come from. “Dank farrik!”

(Y/N) was at the end of the cargo hold, hidden behind a storage container with her left arm pinned underneath another one, and her lips were nearly blue from the cold. “I tried…I tried moving it, but-”

“It’s okay, alor’ad, I’ve got it.” Careful not to jostle her arm, he lifted the container and set it down behind him, his heart dropping in his chest when he realized that her shoulder was bent at an unnatural angle and that she was shivering uncontrollably. “Osik…I’m gonna help you up now, okay? I need to push that shoulder back into its socket as quick as possible and I’ve gotta get you warm…” He leaned down and wrapped an arm around her waist, helping her stand before walking her over to another storage container. “Just sit here for a second, I’m gonna bring the Frog lady down here…”

Once he helped the Frog woman down the ladder and returned her eggs to her, he handed her a blanket and hurriedly fastened another over the hole in the hull in an attempt to begin warming the space. Then, he fixed (Y/N)’s dislocated shoulder and used the spare bandages from the med pack to bind her arm into a makeshift sling; she stifled her cry of pain behind her free hand and squeezed her eyes shut, but not before Din spotted the tears in her eyes. He knew first-hand how painful that kind of injury could be, so he didn’t judge his partner for what others would perceive as weakness. Once he was finished tending to her wound, he carefully wrapped a blanket around her and went to dig his spare heater out of the wreckage, turning it on and urging his companions to sit near it as he prepared a little dinner for them. (Y/N) quietly accepted her tray of food, her smile polite but her eyes betraying her anger towards him; suppressing a sigh of frustration, he turned away from her to glance at the Frog woman.

“If you hadn’t guessed, we’re in a tight spot; the main power drive’s not responding and the hull has lost its integrity. I suspect the temperature will drop significantly when night falls, and I’ll have a better idea of our prospects at that time.” He lowered himself onto the floor and leaned against the wall, making himself as comfortable as he could given the circumstances. The Frog woman began croaking urgently at him, gesturing to eggs while she did, and Din hopelessly answered, “I’m sorry, lady, I don’t understand Frog. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning.” He looked over at (Y/N), who was picking half-heartedly at her tray of food, and continued. “I recommend you both get some sleep.”

The captain didn’t acknowledge his words but when he crossed his arms and glanced back down, he noticed the child waddle his way over and cuddle against his side beneath his cape. Well, at least there’s one person who’s not angry with me, Din thought dejectedly to himself; (Y/N) was right, he shouldn’t have run from the New Republic rangers, but he’d panicked. He didn’t want to put any of them in danger, but that’s exactly what had happened anyway.

Before he fell asleep, Din watched as (Y/N) quietly set down her food and stood, removing the blanket from around her shoulders and placing it on top of the Frog woman’s eggs before settling down on the floor opposite him and wrapping her uninjured arm around herself.

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

“Wake up, Mandalorian.”

Din quickly jolted awake as the all-too familiar voice rang through the cargo hold, his blaster in his hand before he could fully register what he was looking at. Zero, the droid pilot from the prison breakout job, was still in pieces and secured to the wall of the ship, but a wire was now attached to its head and its opposite end was being held by the Frog woman; when she croaked again, Zero’s voice emitted from the head. “This cannot wait until morning. Do not be alarmed, I bypassed the droid’s security protocols and accessed its vocabulator.”

As (Y/N) and the child began to stir, Din holstered his blaster with more force than necessary. “What the hell are you doing? That droid is a killer.”

“These eggs are the last brood of my life cycle.” The Frog woman explained, resting a hand on her egg container sitting beside her. “My husband has risked his life to carve out an existence for us on the only planet that is hospitable to our species. We fought too hard and suffered too much to resign ourselves to the extinction of our family line. I must demand that you hold true to the deal that you agreed to.”

“Look, lady, the deal is off,” He growled in frustration, gesturing at the wreckage around them. “We’re lucky if we get off this frozen tomb with our lives!”

The Frog woman was unperturbed. “I thought honoring one’s word was a part of the Mandalorian code. I guess those are just stories for children.”

Across from him, (Y/N) visibly flinched at her words and the child looked up at him with near-pleading eyes; Din finally capitulated, easing the child off his lap before clambering to his feet, grabbing his toolkit and storming outside to assess the ship’s damages. The ship was in a bad shape but as he continued to examine it, he determined that it could thankfully still fly, albeit with a fair amount of patches and repairs. He was busy rewiring some of the broken cables near the engine when (Y/N) slowly approached him, a look of apprehension on her face as she knelt on the snow beside him.

“It’s, um…it looks a lot worse than it is. If the repairs go well, we can be out of here as soon as tomorrow.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Good, good. I…well, on the off-chance that we don’t, I just…I wanted to apologize for using your Creed against you when we first met.” His brow rose in surprise at her words; out of all the things he’d been expecting her to say, that certainly hadn’t been one of them. “It wasn’t fair of me to throw it in your face to get what I wanted, and I’m sorry.”

Din was at a loss for words; almost from the moment he swore the Creed, people had ridiculed his way of life and would often try using it against him to gain an upper hand on him. It had bothered him at first but he’d eventually grown used to the jabs and insults, learning to ignore or shrug them off. (Y/N) was the first person he’d ever met who bothered to apologize to him for her words.

Seeing her begin to rise, he shook himself out of his astonishment and grabbed her wrist to halt her; she looked at him with widened eyes, and he cleared his throat before speaking. “Thank you. I’m sorry as well. I shouldn’t have run from those rangers, and I apologize for not listening to your warnings.” His partner’s usual cheery smile brightened her face at his words and Din blushed beneath his helmet, quickly turning back towards the ship and gesturing at the hole in the hull. “You should get some rest, alor’ad. Your shoulder-”

“Feels perfectly fine, Mando. I can still help you with…” She trailed off, looking past him and furrowing her brow in confusion. “I think the little guy’s trying to tell us something.”

Looking in the same direction she was, Din’s eyes fell on the child, who was babbling and pointing at something on the other side of the ship. With a sigh of exasperation, he called over to him. “How about you come over here and give us a hand? Make yourself useful.” Instead of waddling over to them, the child walked behind the ship and out of sight. “Hey, kid!” He exchanged a look with (Y/N) and they both got to their feet, hurrying off after him. “I said, hey! Where are you going?”

“Come back here, little guy!” (Y/N) added; they turned the corner and made their way over to where the child had stopped.

Din knelt down beside him, instantly noticing the fresh footsteps in the snow. “When did she go?” According to his helmet’s thermal scan, it hadn’t been that long. With a small sigh, he picked up the child and stood. “It’s not safe for her to be out there alone. C’mon, let’s go.”

They slowly made their way through the icy caverns, careful not to make too much noise as they followed the Frog woman’s footsteps. Beside him, (Y/N) had drawn her blaster and was holding it in her good hand while Din kept a tight hold on the curious child in the crook of his arm. They turned a corner and found themselves standing within a massive cave; icicles the size of mudhorns hung from the ceiling and strange-looking objects rested all along the snow.

The familiar sounds of croaking caught Din’s attention and he looked over to see the Frog woman sitting in a glowing hot spring, with all her eggs floating at the top of the steaming water. “There you are,” He exhaled in relief, hurrying over to the hot spring with (Y/N) close behind him. “You can’t leave the ship, it’s not safe out here.” He set the child down at the edge of the water and knelt. “Let’s gather these up…”

Their passenger made a sound of protest as he began carefully putting her eggs back in her container; while he worked, he noticed (Y/N) sit down by the edge of the spring and give the Frog woman a sympathetic smile. “I know that it’s cold, but night’s coming fast and we can’t protect you out here; in the morning, Mando and I are gonna start working on repairs and we’ll be off this planet in no time. When we get back to the ship, I’ll look through my clothes for anything that’ll keep you and your eggs warm, okay?”

Because of the stunt she’d pulled earlier with the decapitated droid, Din knew that the Frog woman had understood the captain’s soothing words and with a nod of her head, she began helping him gather up the floating eggs. He glanced over at (Y/N) and couldn’t help but take note of how the faint glow from the hot spring illuminated her features; without thinking, he blurted out, “You’re good at that. Talking to people, I mean, making them feel comfortable. I just usually tend to scare them off and-No! No.” Din scolded the child, who’d taken advantage of his distraction and tried reaching for an egg. The child, looking a little more than miffed, walked away and he continued placing eggs into the container.

“Well, you haven’t managed to scare me off.” (Y/N) remarked, the corner of her mouth curving into a teasing smile. “You must be slipping, Mando; I thought that bounty hunters, even former ones, were supposed to terrify everybody they come across.”

Just as Din was about to indulge in their usual playful banter, the child’s cry echoed throughout the cave and his head whipped around in alarm; the child was running as fast as he could towards them, fear evident in his large eyes, and it didn’t take long for Din to realize why. The strange-looking objects that were strewn across the snow were beginning to shudder and hatch, and pale spiders of differing sizes began to emerge.

Quickly standing, he hurried over to where the child was and picked him up before backing away from the hatching creatures. His eyes widened in panic as more and more eggs began to break open, covering the floor of the cave with an ever-growing crowd of spiders. While he closed the lid of the egg container and slung it over his shoulder, the Frog woman hastily threw on her clothes and (Y/N) ushered her out of the hot spring; an echoing growl made the three of them look up and Din’s jaw dropped when an enormous spider, easily the size of his ship, crawled out of a deeper part of the cave.

“Go, go, go! Back to the ship!”

All three of them sprinted out of the cave and into the maze of icy tunnels, closely pursued by the swarm of spiders. While they ran, (Y/N) aimed her blaster and began shooting at the spiders behind them and Din, seeing spiders beginning to appear in front of them, drew his blaster and fired. A tunnel beside them was quickly blocked off when the massive spider shot a web at its entrance, so they quickly hurried down another; the Frog woman leapt past both Din and (Y/N), who were forced to holster their blasters so they could run faster from the advancing spiders. Although he couldn’t see it, he could hear the largest spider pursuing them from above, the impact of its legs shaking the frozen ceiling of the tunnel. A sharp cracking noise above alerted him to danger and his free hand shot out to haul the Frog woman back just as the spider’s long leg broke through the ceiling and was pulled up.

“Take her and get back to the ship, I’ll buy you some time!” Din yelled to (Y/N) as they ran.

The captain frantically shook her head. “No, I’m not leaving you behind!”

Thinking fast, Din pulled out three bombs and threw two of them on either side of the tunnel, then threw the third at the ceiling where the largest spider was. The bombs exploded, causing the tunnel to cave in on itself and he turned to watch the creature’s lifeless body crash to the ground before running after (Y/N) and the Frog woman. His partner had drawn her blaster again and was shooting at anything that moved; Din quickly did the same but once it became apparent that there were too many spiders to shoot and kill, he holstered his blaster and pushed (Y/N) and the Frog woman behind him before igniting the flamethrower on his vambrace.

White-hot flames shot out towards the swarm of spiders and instantly burned them to a crisp, but as the three of them continued to run, even more of the creatures began pursuing them. The broken-down ship finally came into view as he and (Y/N) continued firing their blasters at the spiders, and Din silently prayed that they’d be able to get the ship into the air in time to escape the swarm.

“Cover me!”

(Y/N) continued shooting spider after spider while Din turned and handed both the child and the egg container over to the Frog woman; he’d just ushered their passenger into the ship when the captain let out a cry of alarm, and he turned to see that her good arm had been webbed to the side of the ship. A smaller spider leapt towards them and on instinct, Din caught it in his fist and crushed it before throwing it aside; seeing the spiders inching closer to them, he helped (Y/N) wrench her arm free before pushing her into the ship and following after her. He continued blasting at the spiders as they followed them into the ship, scrambling up the ladder and shooting at the creatures as they emerged from the hole.

Seeing that his efforts were useless, Din stepped into the cockpit and tried closing its doors but the influx of spiders kept them from closing all the way. Desperate, he began shooting at the spiders through the crack in the door and (Y/N) quickly did the same, firing at the spiders that were lower down. The child’s fearful cry rang out over the sounds of their blasters firing and Din looked over just in time to see the Frog woman shoot at several small spiders that had been attacking him with a small blaster; their gazes met and he hurriedly nodded in thanks before turning and using his flamethrower to take care of the rest of the creatures. The door finally closed, but the danger hadn’t yet passed; the spiders had begun crawling over the outside of the ship.

“Strap yourselves in!” Din dropped down into the pilot’s seat, pressing buttons and flipping several switches; his hands flew over the various controls as he prepared the ship for take-off, and they were soon joined by (Y/N)’s good hand. They shared a brief glance before resuming their work, and he muttered under his breath to her, “This better work.”

“From your mouth to the Maker’s ears,” The captain replied, reaching over him to press a final button and letting out a sigh of relief as the ship shuddered to life. “We’re good to go!”

“I’ve got limited visibility, so it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.” He called out as they both pulled on the ship’s main lever; after a long moment, the engines began firing and the ship began to slowly rise. It continued to rise and as spiders began dropping off of it, (Y/N) glanced over at him with a hopeful grin that he couldn’t help but match underneath his helmet.

Their happiness was, predictably, short-lived. Something large and heavy landed on the top of the ship, slamming it back down into the ground; the force of the crash sent (Y/N) toppling onto his lap and while she struggled to right herself, Din watched through the ship’s viewport as the enormous spider he’d assumed had died prepared to pierce its leg into the cockpit. Quick as a flash, he wrapped his arms around his partner and pulled her closer to him just as its leg slammed into the space where her head had just been. Another leg slammed into the cockpit before being pulled out; all four of them watched in dread as the massive creature peered at them through the viewport. Somewhere behind him, the child whimpered in fear and he felt (Y/N) tense in his lap as the spider suddenly latched its mouth onto the viewport above them.

Its attack was stopped by an onslaught of blaster bolts and moments later, part of the spider’s carcass slid off the front of the ship. The sounds of blasters firing continued, illuminating the cockpit with red-tinted flashes; with her eyes widened in shock, (Y/N) turned to him and shakily asked, “Who the hell could that be?”

“I don’t know, but let’s find out.” He loosened his hold on the captain and let her stand before getting up; he made sure that the Frog woman and the child were unharmed before drawing his blaster and cautiously making his way down into the cargo hold. The entire space was covered in sticky spider webs and spider carcasses, and he was quick to shoot at one that was still crawling; with a brief glance at (Y/N), the two of them raised their blasters and slowly emerged from the ship to see their saviors.

“Son of a mud-scuffer, you’ve gotta be kidding me…” Din breathed out, watching as the two New Republic rangers sat atop their X-Wings and expertly shot down spider after spider that was still on the ship.

They soon stopped and watched as the two of them stepped forward, and the man on the right called out, “We ran the tabs on the Razor Crest. You have an arrest warrant for the abduction of Prisoner X-Six-Nine-Eleven.” Din kept his eyes on the two rangers but he could sense that (Y/N) was shooting him a look. “However, onboard security records show that you apprehended three priority culprits from the Wanted Register. Security records also show that you put your own life in harm’s way to protect that of Lieutenant Davan from the New Republic Correctional Corps. Is that true?”

“Am I under arrest?”

“Technically, you should be, but these are trying times.” The man glanced over at (Y/N), who had already holstered her blaster. “We also ran the credentials that you gave us, Captain (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of the Alliance Starfleet. According to your service record, you saved the lives of thousands of civilians during your years of service to the Rebellion; the New Republic owes you a great debt of gratitude.”

Clearing her throat, (Y/N) replied, “Thank you, Ranger.”

“Let’s say I forgo the bounties on those three criminals…” Din interjected, realizing that his partner was uncomfortable talking about her service record. “Can you two help me fuse my hull so I can get off this frozen rock?”

“Let’s say you fix that transponder, and we don’t vaporize that antique the next time we patrol the Rim?”

Fair enough, Din thought to himself as they watched the two X-Wings take off. They made their way back into the ship, where the Frog woman and the child were waiting for them. “All right, we’re gonna repair the cockpit enough for us to limp to Trask. There’s nothing I can do about the main hull’s integrity, so we’re gonna have to get cozy in the cockpit.” His words brought back the memory of (Y/N) sitting in his lap and he was thankful that his helmet could mask his growing blush. “It’s the only thing I can pressurize. If you need to use the privy, do it now. It’s gonna be a long ride.”

With (Y/N)’s aid, the repairs were quickly completed and he said another silent prayer as he sat down in the pilot’s seat; the Frog woman was already strapped into her seat, her canister of eggs resting in her lap. (Y/N) dropped down into her own seat with an exhausted sigh and rested her feet on her storage container; since they couldn’t fix the main hull’s integrity, she insisted on moving her things into the cockpit to keep them safe.

“Okay, the repairs are all done,” Din informed the Frog woman, holding the child in his lap as he pressed the final buttons. “Let’s see if we can get this thing going once and for all.” He slowly pulled on the ship’s main lever and the ship shook itself to life; they continued to rise and in no time, they were leaving the frozen planet’s upper atmosphere. He breathed out a sigh of relief before turning to look at (Y/N). “Wake me up if someone shoots us, or if that door gets sucked off its rails.”

(Y/N) bit back a smile at his bad joke, but the sounds of the Frog woman’s concerned croak made the captain quickly look over at her and shake her head. “It’s okay, ma’am, that’s not gonna happen…”

“I’m kidding. If that happened we’d all be dead,” He continued, watching in amusement as the captain threw him an exasperated look and continued to reassure their passenger. “Sweet dreams.”

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

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading!

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain Osik-Shit

Chapter Nine

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @zukoyonce @itsnottilly

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #din x reader #mando x reader #grogu #the child #baby yoda #frog lady

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noladyme · 4 years ago

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My Only Sunshine - Chapter 8 FINAL CHAPTER

Liv is as human as they come – faults and all. After a dark experience in her past, she is determined to live life on her own terms, and never let anyone claim her as theirs again. This becomes an issue, when she meets a 1000-yearold vampire, who is dead-set on claiming her as his own.

CHAPTER 7

I had my first shift back at Merlotte’s a few days later; having needed to wind down a bit. I hadn’t called or texted anyone to let them know exactly when I’d be back, so when I arrived at work, my friends rushed over to greet me. I noticed Sam examining my exposed skin for fang-marks , and was happy Eric had helped me rid of them. I couldn’t take a telling off from Sam right now; still too raw from my trip to Dallas. When he was satisfied, I wasn’t hurt, he gave me a warm hug. Sookie was next, and gave me a secret empathetic smile. “I just want to get back to work”, I said. “Back to normal”. “Did something happen to you in Dallas, cher’?”, Sam asked. “You look like you’ve been through it”. “No… nothing like that. Just jet-lagged from vamp-time”, I smiled. He nodded disbelievingly. “Any more… pictures show up here?”. “No. Nothing”, he replied. I sighed in relief. “Good. I’ll just go do, what you pay me to do, now”. I walked off, feeling both his and Sookie’s eyes on my back as I went.

I was happy to be back in flats, as I didn’t have any vamp-blood to heal my blisters. The lack of heels didn’t stop Jason from checking out my ass, as I came over to serve him and his crew their food. “Hey Liv! I hear you’ve been in Dallas. You running away from us permanently?”, he asked. “Nope. I’m in Bon Temps for the long haul”, I smiled. “Good, ‘cuz I’ve been thinking… You and I never did go on that date…”. I patted his cheek. “And we never will, Jason. You’re too much man to handle, big guy”. He leaned back in his seat, and smirked at me flirtatiously. “Nah, I think you can take it”. “Never gonna happen, Stackhouse”, I called over my shoulder, as I walked away.

Just after sundown, Bill showed up. After having kissed Sookie, he took me by surprise, by leaning in to give me a half hug. “I am glad to sae you unharmed”, he said. “We’re you really that worried?”, I asked. “I’ve been fine”. Bill lowered his voice for discretion. “But that phone call. Eric said…”. I felt tears forming in my eyes. “Liv doesn’t want to talk about that, Bill”, Sookie said. “But…”, Bill tried. “Please…”, I croaked. “Sook’, can you take care of my tables for a minute? I need some air…”. Sookie nodded, and patted my back, before I slipped out the back door.

The night was chilly for once; and I felt goosebumps form on my exposed arms and legs. I was feeling ridiculous for crying, but couldn’t help myself. Bill came out to join me. “I am terribly sorry. I didn’t realize I’d cause such pain to you by speaking of…”. “It’s fine, Bill. You couldn’t know”, I said, and accepted the handkerchief he handed me. I took a deep breath, and leaned my back against the wall next to the dumpster; grabbing a cigarette from my fanny pack, and lighting it. “Can I ask you a vampire question?”, I said. “Of course!”, he responded. I chewed my lip nervously. “What does it mean when a vampire wants to make a human theirs?”.

Bill thought for a moment. “Well, when a vampire wants to lay claim to a human, so that no other vampire can; he or she will do so by simply proclaiming it”. “You don’t ask the human?”, I said wonderingly. “Not usually, no”. “But what about what the human wants? What if they don’t want to belong to the vampire?”. Bill shrugged. “After the great reveal, consensual relationships between humans and vampires are much more common… obviously. In Sookie’s and my case, if she wanted to discontinue our relationship…”. He seemed pained at the thought. “Well, I would let her go. But she would still be mine, when it came to other vampires wanting to feed from her, or have… relations with her. I’ve claimed her…”. “Huh…”, I muttered.

“I take it Eric has claimed you…”, Bill said, distaste clear in his voice. “No”, I said. He frowned in confusion. “Why?”. I took a draw from my smoke, and looked at him earnestly. “Because I said no”. Bills jaw literally dropped, and I saw more of the white in his eyes than I ever had before. “And he… accepted that?”. I nodded. “Are you sure we are talking about the same Eric Northman? He is the kind of vampire who takes what he wants”. “Not me… I guess he didn’t want me that bad”, I muttered, and took another draw from my cigarette. I wasn’t sure about the truth of my own words. Eric had asked me, which was apparently out of character for him; but I didn’t dare let myself believe that there was a deeper meaning to his behavior.

Bill seemed unable to come up with a proper reply, and instead decided to pat my shoulder. Suddenly, he froze in place, looking towards the trees. “What’s wrong?”, I asked. “I don’t know…”, he said quietly. “I saw something”. I felt the hair at the back of my neck stand up straight. “What kind of something?”. “I am not sure… It’s probably nothing. No need to worry. Please tell Sookie I will be back to escort her home”. He was gone within a second, only leaving a gush of wind that made the smell of the dumpster hit my nose. I cringed, and went back inside. After relaying Bills words to Sookie, I got back to work.

As late as it was, there were fewer orders for food; as people had turned to alcohol instead. I went back and forth between the bar for a few hours, serving gin & tonics, beers and whiskey sours to the good and less than good people of Bon Temps. After a while, I finally felt able to push my trip to Dallas to the back of my mind; and focus on just being present where I was. Just before last call, Sam came up to me with a tray with two pink drinks. “Watermelon margaritas…”, he shrugged. “Never made one before, but the guy in the corner insisted on it. Wanted you to bring them”.

I spun around, and looked towards the corner booth; where Thomas was seated, smiling at me. My hands began shaking. “Liv? You ok?”, Sam asked. “You know him?”. “He’s… someone I knew back in San Diego”, I breathed. “Do you need me to take care of it?”. I shook my head fervently. I didn’t know why Thomas was here, but whatever his reason was, I didn’t think he remember having attacked me; and I didn’t want to cause a scene. “I got it…”, I said, and took the tray; walking over to the table.

I set down the drinks in front of Thomas. “Nice to see you again”, he said. “Will there be anything else?”, I asked coldly. “Just some company, if you don’t mind…”, Thomas smiled. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m at work”, I replied. “But I got your favorite drink, Liv… And I sent you those pictures, to remind you of the good times we had”. I met his eyes, which were cold and hard. I looked over my shoulder at Sam, who’d returned to serving the patrons at the bar. “Your vampire friend is gone. My vampire friend took care of that. Now sit down, before I have to do something rash”. He lifted his jacket slightly, letting me see the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

My heart beat 1000 miles per second, and I slowly lowered myself to sit across from Thomas. “What do you want?”, I whispered. “I want to talk to you about what happened that night…”, he replied. “You remember”, I said. Thomas nodded. “How?”. “The vampire friend I mentioned… His blood makes me able to do things, you can’t even imagine”. I shook my head, almost in pity of him. “How much is he plying you with?”. “Enough to make it close to impossible to glamour me”, Thomas grinned. “You know how it is. You can’t be glamoured either. That tall vampire saw to that”. “No… that’s different. Thomas, you have an addiction… a sickness!”, I sighed. “You have to know this is crazy!”.

He jolted forwards, and grabbed both my hands over the table; making it look as if we were holding hands, when in reality, he was hurting me. “What’s crazy is you throwing away a perfectly good guy, and letting some vamp feed on you instead”, he hissed. “You were going to rape me”, I whimpered. “You wanted it! You were practically throwing yourself at me for weeks!”. “No, I wasn’t… I said yes to one date, that was it. I was just being friendly…”. He let go of my hands, and sat back again. “You’re such a fucking slut, you know that? You led me on…”. He grabbed the gun from his waistband, cocked the hammer, and moved it under the table. I felt the barrel press at the inside of my knees. “You probably put out to that vampire in Dallas, didn’t you…? How much did he pay you?”. “Don’t do this, please…”, I whimpered.

Sam rang the bell. “That’s it, folks. Drink up!”. Sookie walked towards Thomas and me. “Don’t say anything. I swear I’ll shoot you, and everyone else in this shithole…”, Thomas hissed, and then suddenly smiled brightly at my approaching friend. Once at the table, Sookie looked questioningly at me. “Who’s your friend, Liv?”, she asked. I smiled as brightly as I could at her; willing her to hear my thoughts. “This is Thomas”, I said. Sookie. He’s dangerous. Listen to his thoughts, please!. “We knew each other in San Diego, and reconnected in Dallas”. Sookie’s eyes flickered, and she stuck out her hand to Thomas; who grabbed it with his free left hand. “Hi there, Thomas!”, she smiled. I saw confusion ghost her face, before she looked back at me. “Liv, could you come help us close up? We’re kind of swamped…”. I hoped she was trying to get me away from Thomas. “Actually… I was hoping to take Liv with me, now. You know, catch up…”, he smiled. “I really need to…”, I began. I felt the barrel of his gun bore into my bare skin. “Come on… We didn’t have a chance to really talk in Dallas”, he said, with an edge to his voice.

Sookie looked down towards the tabletop for a nanosecond. “Do you mind doing us a solid here, Sook’?”, I said. Let us go, Sookie. Please let us go. He’ll kill everyone in here. “I’ll do your prep for you tomorrow”. Sookie nodded. “What should I tell Sam?”, she asked. “Just tell him I’m catching up with a friend”, I smiled. I could see Thomas was getting agitated, and sighed deeply. “We should go…”, I said. Eric… I want Eric. Sookie blinked. “I’ll see you tomorrow”, she said. “Uh huh…”, I croaked. “I will!”, she said, and walked away.

After being satisfied Sookie was far enough away, Thomas slipped the gun into the back of his jeans. “We’re going to walk out of here real calm. Don’t even think about trying anything. I got enough V in me to rip you apart in a second”, he hissed through a smile. Once he got up to stand, I followed, and he put his arm around me; holding on to me tightly. I was too afraid to even look at Sookie or Sam, so simply followed where Thomas led me. I prayed that Sookie had understood my thoughts.

Once out of view of the bar Thomas pushed me towards a black chevy of a newer model, and just as I thought he was about to open the door for me to enter; he struck me over the back of my head, and I was out cold.

---

I don’t know how much time had passed when I woke, but it was still dark. I was lying on the backseat of Thomas’ car, which he’d parked down a gravel road somewhere I didn’t recognize immediately. He was leaning against the car, having one of my cigarettes. I tried to crawl for the door on the opposite side of where he was standing, but he noticed me moving, and opened the door; dragging me by the ankle, out of it. I hit the ground outside; the gravel cutting in to my skin.

Thomas fell to his knees next to me. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you just now!”, he smiled, and stroked my cheek. “That’s not how I want this to go”. I raised my hand to the back of my head, and felt a bump there. “You knocked me out”, I rasped. “I just needed you to go with me, without causing trouble”, he said, and raised me into a seated position. “What are you going to do to me?”, I asked. “You know what I’m going to do… You and I are going to finish what we started a year ago”, he said. I felt tears trickling down my cheeks, as I shook my head. “No…”. “Yes”, Thomas said. “You’re mine”. There was no mercy in his voice. I didn’t have anyone to save me this time. I didn’t have Eric. God, I wanted Eric there, to protect me – to hold me. I shook myself from the thought. If I wanted free, I’d have to help myself.

Grabbing a handful of gravel, I flung it at Thomas’ face. He covered his eyes, and cried out; and I managed to get on my feet, and run down the road. With a roar, Thomas got on his feet, and ran after me. “Get back here, you stupid cunt!”, he growled. I turned, and ran away from the road, through the trees; in hopes that I could find somewhere to hide. I was dizzy and heaving for breath, and knew that sheer speed wouldn’t be what got me away from my attacker. Stumbling over some branches, I fell to my knees, and cried out in pain, as a sharp rock cut in to my palm. “Don’t rouse them ‘gaters!”, Thomas yelled after me, with a mock Louisiana drawl. “Don’t want them getting to you before I do”.

I got on my feet again, and got back to running. Soon, I was recognizing the area. I knew I was near the cemetery between Sookies and Bills houses, and headed in the direction I thought might be right to get to the vampire’s house. Once I saw the fence surrounding the cemetery, I almost cried in relief.

I heard a loud pop, and felt a sharp pain in my thigh; before falling to the ground, just at the entrance to the graveyard. Before long Thomas was stood over me, his gun in hand. He’d shot me. “Why do you have to make this so difficult?”, he growled, and kicked me hard in the stomach. I curled up, heaving for breath. “Stop. Please stop…”, I pleaded. Thomas grabbed a hold of my head, and I put my hands around his wrist, so he wouldn’t tear it at the roots. He dragged me into the cemetery, and threw me on the ground in front of an old gravestone. “No…”, I sobbed. “You like fucking dead people so much, I’ll let you die next to them as well”. He pounded his fist into my chest, making all air leave my lungs. “You’re not even worth it, you bitch”. Blow after blow hit my body, as I struggled to get oxygen into my lungs. Every time Thomas’ fist hit me, he followed it with angry slurs and insults. I tried screaming for help, but in the end, the pain was so extreme I couldn’t make a sound anymore. I was beginning to feel cold, and saw that the wound in my leg was bleeding profusely. I was losing a lot of blood, very fast.

I laid on my back, looking up at the stars, as Thomas continuously pounded at me; when I heard a roar, and Eric came out of the darkness – grabbing Thomas by the neck, and tearing him away from me. Thomas was knocked out when his back hit a nearby gravestone, and Eric ran over to me. “Liv…”, he breathed, and put his hand on my bruised cheek. I coughed up some blood, and he turned me gently, to let me spit it out. “Eric?”, I heard Bills voice call out. “She’s here!”, Eric replied. “She’s hurt bad, but I can heal her… I should have come sooner. I’m sorry, Liv”. His eyes were pained, and I tried to reach for his face. “Don’t move. Just let me…”.

He was grabbed from behind, and thrown away from me. Rose had arrived out of nowhere, and was now doing her best to do some damage to Eric, by biting in to his neck. Eric roared in pain, and Bill came running to help Eric. The two male vampires soon had the upper hand in the fight; but apparently, the plan hadn’t been to win the fight – merely to distract them.

I felt myself get lifted from the ground, and was soon looking in to the eyes of Stan. “Stand down, Northman!”, he growled. Eric immediately released the hold he’d had on Rose, and spun around to face Stan. His eyes were wide in rage and what seemed to be fear. “Stan, let her go”, he said. Rose edged away, to go check on Thomas. “I don’t think so”, Stan said. “This gash cost me my sheriff’s position”.

“Your human is alive”, Rose said, from where she was standing over Thomas. “Fuck him. I don’t need him anymore”, Stan said. “You sure? ‘Cuz I could eat”, Rose smirked. “Knock yourself out”, Stan said. Rose was about to lift Thomas, so that she could bite him, when her chest burst open. She turned in to goo within seconds, revealing Godric behind her; still holding on to her heart. Pam was a few paces behind him. “Sorry we’re late”, she smiled. “Godrics plane just landed”.

Godric took a few slow steps towards Stan. “Stay back!”, Stan said; spinning me around, so my back was to his chest. He grabbed my head, and tilted it to the side. I didn’t have the strength to fight him off. “I’ll snap her neck”. “Not before I rip your head off!”, Eric hissed. Stan simply laughed coldly. “Stan. This isn’t the way…”, Godric said. “You will not get back in the good graces of the authority by killing this woman”. “Fuck the authority. Fuck all of you… Kneeling to lesser beings? You should be ashamed!”. “No one is kneeling”, Godric said. Eric, Pam and Bill gave each other a look, and began flanking Stan and I. “We are simply coexisting”.

Stans grip around my chest was so tight, that I began sobbing in pain again. “See that? They’re weak… below us!”, he said. “She was important enough for the magister to want her to stay alive”, Godric said. “And why is that?”, Stan asked. “What is she? She does smell interesting”. He lowered his nose to a cut over my brow. I heard Eric growl, and Stan chuckled in response. “I told you I would have a taste!”. “I’m going to kill you”, Eric roared. Stan knew his time was up. He was outnumbered; and at least two of the vampires present, had hundreds of years on him. “Then I might as well go out a happy vampire”, he said. Stan sunk his fangs into me, and sucked. “Nej!”, I heard Eric cry out in an agonized voice.

Stans bite wasn’t sensual as Erics had been. It was like being torn open, and literally eaten alive. My neck was burning from the bite, and my eyes rolled back in my head in agony. Then suddenly, he dropped my body to the ground. Everything became foggy. I could just make out, as Pam, Bill and Eric attacked Stan. I thought I saw Pam and Bill hold Stan down, as Eric grabbed his head, and tore it clean from his body; before he became the same kind of goo that Rose’s had.

I was hardly breathing – couldn’t even feel any pain anymore – and I knew I was dying. A pair of strong arms cradled me, and I forced myself to focus on Erics face. “I have to heal her”, he said. “It’s too late, Eric… she lost too much blood”, Bill said with a pained voice. “I’m so sorry, Liv…”. Eric met my eyes, looking like he’d never be happy again. “Stay with me”, he breathed, and pressed his lips to mine. “Snälla Liv… mit solsken…”. I wanted nothing but to embrace him. Make him smile again. “Y-yours…”, I rasped. “Yours…”. A bloody tear escaped Erics eye, and a pained smile forced itself to his lips. “Mine…”, he whispered, and stroked my temple; when his expression became determined.

Pam came over, and put a hand on his shoulder. “The sun will be up soon”, she said. “We have to go”. Eric looked at her with hard eyes. “Dig a hole”, he said. “Eric…”, Bill said warily. “Are you sure…?”. “I said, dig a fucking hole!”. Bill and Pam disappeared from sight, and Godric put a hand on the top of Erics head. Their eyes locked for a second, before Godric disappeared in the direction the others had went.

My breathing had become a rattling, and Eric pulled me impossibly closer to him. “No… not yet. You have to drink”. Extracting his fangs, he bit in to his wrist, and put it to my lips. I didn’t have the strength to suck; so simply looked into Erics eyes, as his blood flowed into my mouth, and down my throat. Before long, the wounds closed, and Eric bit into his skin again; repeating the process.

I used my last ounce of energy to lift the corners of my lips into a soft smile; losing myself in Erics blue eyes, before everything went black.

“Min Liv… mit liv”.

---

I couldn’t move. I was held down by some unknown force, and everything was blackness. My face was pressed against something both firm and soft, leaving very little room for me to breathe; which I realized was futile anyway, as there wasn’t any air to be had. Someone was holding on to me firmly but gently, and I knew the embrace. I’d been in it before.

With the tiny bit of air in my lungs still there, I tried to speak. “Eric…”. It came out as a peep; but must have woken him, because I felt him move. Panic began to take me over, and I tried to move myself. I needed air, soon. Eric used all his strength to break through what was holding us down – dirt, I realized. We’d been buried. Just as I was about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, Eric grabbed my wrists and pulled me out of the ground after him.

I took a deep heaving breath, and then coughed. Eric was wiping the dirt out of my face, so I could meet his eyes. “Liv…”, he breathed. He was dirty, just like me; but it didn’t take away from his beauty. The dim light of the moon, made him almost shimmer over me. Eric held me against him, and stroked my cheek smilingly for a few seconds – kissing my forehead – before a confused expression took over. He began running his palm over my exposed skin, his cool hand in sharp contrast to my warmth, as he seemingly examined me. “What happened?”, I croaked. Suddenly Pam was next to us, almost looking happy to see me; before she also frowned – her eyes wary. “Where’s Godric?”, Eric demanded. “In the house”, Pam said. Eric got on his feet, and picked me up in his arms. Without speaking, he carried me out of the graveyard, and towards Bills large house. “Eric, what’s happening?”, I asked quietly. He didn’t respond, but simply carried me over the threshold as Pam opened the door; and in to the living room.

Sookie, Bill and Godric were seated there, and all got up to stand, when Eric entered the room with me. Bill parted his lips and widened his eyes when he saw me; whereas Godric looked like he was looking at something completely normal. “Liv!”, Sookie cried out, and ran towards Eric to greet me. Bill grabbed her arm and held her back. “Careful…”, he said.

Eric set me down on the couch, and put a hand to my chest, seemingly feeling my heart beat. “Why is she alive?”, he asked. Memories from the night before came back to me, and I drew a deep, ragged breath, when I realized what Eric had tried to do. “Because she can’t be turned”, Godric said. “You cannot make her vampire”. “But she was dead…”, Eric began. “I’m here, you know. Please stop talking about me like I’m not!”, I said. Godric smiled warmly at me. “You most certainly are here”, he said. Pam stifled a grin, and I turned my face to look at Eric. He sat down next to me, and looked at me like I was the strangest creature he’d ever met. “You tried to turn me…”, I said. “So, why am I still human?”. Eric looked bewildered. “I… don’t know”, he admitted. “You were dead. I heard your heart stop”. I looked down at my chest, as if I could see the heart in question. Eric turned to look at Godric. “Vad är hon?”.

Godric sat back down, and looked across the faces of the room. “Liv is something no one else in this room, maybe in the world is. Human”. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to find the words to respond to that. “That makes no sense at all”, I finally said. “There are humans everywhere. Are you telling me I’m some kind of weird subspecies?”. “Quite the opposite”, Godric smiled. “You are as human as it is possible to be. Your blood is like human blood was, before they dabbled in magic; and before they interbred with fae-folk and shifters. When they were purely human”. “But vampire blood heals me, just like everyone else”, I said. “The healing components of our blood is merely biology…”, Godric said. “Glamouring; bloodbonds; the visions, strength, and pleasures having our blood can give; and becoming one of us… That’s magic”. “And I am completely magic-less. Magic-resistant, even”, I muttered. Godric nodded. “That’s kind of… sad”, I said. “I think it’s remarkable”.

Bill cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Godric. That does not explain why Liv is alive”. He was still holding Sookie back from coming over to greet me; seemingly worried I’d suddenly sprout fangs, and give in to bloodlust. “As Eric said, she was dead. I also heard her heart stop”. “Erics blood is ancient; and he comes from a strong bloodline, both on his human and vampire side”, Godric said matter-of-factly. “He cannot turn Liv, but he was able to bring her back from death”. Eric smirked smugly; feeling very happy about himself, obviously. I couldn’t help but smile a little at him. “How?”, Bill asked. “I cannot say for sure”, Godric said. “But I suspect that the humanity in Liv fought back against being turned vampire; and as the magic could not take hold in her, she simply rose as a human again”. “That still sounds kind of magical”, Pam said. “Maybe… Or maybe it was just the very strong curative properties in Erics blood that healed and jolted her back to life”. “What if she died again? Could Eric just bring her back human?”, Sookie asked. “Let’s not test that theory. Being buried alive was not fun”, I said, shuddering.

Eric smiled at me, and picked a stray clump of dirt out of my hair. When he saw Bills smirking reaction to his caring gesture, he drew his lips back in a sneer. “Mine!”, he growled. I’d said that, before I died. I had given myself to Eric, and there wasn’t a chance in hell, he was letting go now. Godric smiled affectionately at his child.

My throat was dry, I was tired, and I wanted to wash myself off from dirt and grit. “I want to go home…”, I breathed. Eric nodded. “Pam, fetch the car, so we can go back to Shreveport”, he ordered. “Thank fuck. I’m not spending another day in Bills smelly cubby", Pam said. Grabbing a hold of Erics wrist, before he could whisk me away, I shook my head. “No… I want to go home, to my house”, I said. Eric recoiled at my words. “You said…”. “I’m still my own, even if I did say yes”, I said quietly. “Please, take me home…”. After a moment, he gave me a stoic nod; before looking at Godric, who had gotten on his feet again. “I’ll not leave before we have a chance to say farewell”, Godric smiled. “Pamela can entertain me with tales of your debauchery, in the meanwhile”.

I got on my feet, and took three long strides towards the ancient vampire; wrapping my arms around him. He froze in place, completely taken of guard. “Thank you for everything, Godric”, I said, and kissed his cheek. As I stepped back, he held his fingertips to where my lips had left their mark. Eric, Pam and Bill all stood mouths agape and wide-eyed at my gesture. For a moment, Godric almost looked like a human, just a young man in his late teens; almost blushing. He must have had some of Bills TruBlood. “I’ve not been embraced like that in more than 2000 years”, he smiled. “Thank you”. It was my turn to blush.

Eric put a gentle hand on my shoulder, and after a final smile towards Godric, I let him lead me towards the front door. Sookie ran after us, Bill not holding her back this time; and I let my friend hug me warmly. “You heard me…”, I smiled. “Not clearly”, she said, as she stepped back. “But I knew something was wrong, and when I took that guys hand, his mind was screaming about what he had planned”. She swallowed hard, and I saw her eyes well up. I squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Sookie…”. She wiped her eyes, and smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work, right?”, “I’ll consider letting her go”, Eric said. I rolled my eyes at him. “See you then”, I smiled at Sookie, and walked out the door; Erics hand on my lower back. We walked down the steps of the porch, when Sookie called after me again. “Liv? I did hear one of your thoughts clearly…”. I looked back at her. “What was that?”. She smiled warmly, before looking at Eric, and back at me again. “Why do you think I called him?”, she said. “You take care of her, Eric Northman!”. Eric gave her a curtly nod, and she went back into the house.

Once standing in the driveway, I sighed heavily. “Shit. My car is still at Merlotte’s”, I frowned. Eric brushed his thumb against my jaw. “Come here”, he said quietly; and whisked me into his arms. Before I knew what had happened, we’d lifted off. Looking down at the disappearing ground, I let out a terrified squeal. “Eric! We’re flying”, I said, and clamped my arms around his neck. “I know”, he said. “Why are we flying?”. “Because it’s faster than walking”. He sounded amused at my frightened whimpers, but when he looked at my face, his eyes softened. “I’ve got you, Liv. I’m not letting go”. He brushed his lips to my forehead. My eyes widened, as I saw we were heading towards a group of tall trees. “Eyes on the road…! Or in the air… whatever”. Eric chuckled, and I hid my face in his chest, as we narrowly escaped hitting some branches.

I didn’t open my eyes for the rest of the flight.

---

I felt firm ground under my feet, as Eric set me down on the ground gently. Opening my eyes, I saw that we were stood in front of my small house. “Thank you”, I whispered. “You’re welcome”, Eric replied. “I still don’t understand why you insisted on coming here. You’ll be much more comfortable at my house”. “You have a house?”, I asked, as I grabbed my hide-a-key from under a stone near the mailbox. My key-ring was still in my car, back at Merlotte’s. “You thought I slept at Fangtasia every day?”. He sounded amused again. “I have a house… A few actually. The one in Shreveport isn’t the largest, but it has room for you”. I unlocked my door, and shook my head smilingly. “What…? You’ll make Pam give me one of her shoe-rooms?”, I joked, and turned to face him in the doorway. “Not that she needs both of them; but that won’t be necessary. There’s a spare bedroom, if you want your own… for when you insist on sleeping”. There was a frisky tone to his voice.

Still trying to wrap my head around the need for a room specifically for shoes, I went into the house. Eric followed me inside, and brushed his hand over my bottom. “Dirt”, he smirked, when I gave him a chiding look. “Pack whatever you need, and come with me”. “I can’t do that”, I said. “But I’ll take care of you. You won’t have to live in this… house”. It was clear to me, that Eric would have rather used a word like shack or even sewer. “You don’t have to work for Sam Merlotte and Bill Compton”. “I’ll just be your live-in fangbanger?”, I said. “Liv, no… I…”, Eric began. “I like working, and making my own money. I like Bon Temps”.

I unfastened the dirty fannypack from my waist, and dropped it on the coffee-table, next to the check and note which were still laying there. “If you like making your own money, why haven’t you cashed this?”, Eric asked, and picked up the check. “It didn’t feel right”, I muttered. “I didn’t really do any of the work you hired me to do. Unless you count the sex and the blood; but that wasn’t part of the original deal. Even if you did say…”. Eric looked down at the check, apparently not wanting to meet my eyes. “That’s not what this was for. And you did do your job”. He reached out the check to me. “Please take it”. I took the piece of paper, and put it in the drawer of the dresser my small tv was stood on.

I picked at some of the dirt under my fingernails, from our burial. “You’re fidgeting”, Eric said quietly. “I do that”, I said. “Does it still bug you?”. “No… It never did”, he replied. He took my hand, and merged his fingers with mine. “I hurt you… But you have to know, I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t bring you to Dallas to get you in bed… I hoped for it, but I didn’t expect it”. “I know”, I muttered, and looked through my lashes at him. He seemed vulnerable; a strange contrast to his usual suave demeanor. I brushed my lips against his knuckles. “And it’s not like I didn’t want it to happen also. I wanted you… want you”. “You have me… And you said you were mine”. “I did. And I meant it. But I’m still…”. “Your own as well”, he smiled softly. “I understand”. “Do you?”, I smirked. “No…”, he admitted. “But I know that if I want you as you are, with everything you are, I’ll have to accept it…”.

“When Thomas had me, all I wanted was to see you…”, I said. Anger ghosted Erics face. “You will never have to see him again!”, he declared. “What happened to him?”, I asked. He shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that”. I frowned at him. “What did you do to him?”. Eric gave me a reluctant look. “I can’t spend the rest of my life not knowing, whether he’ll pop up in my life again. I won’t feel safe…”. “He won’t”, he said, and put his free hand on my cheek. “Is he dead?”, I asked in a whisper. Eric shook his head with a sour expression. “Godric wouldn’t let me kill him… But when he hit that gravestone, he broke his back. He won’t be walking again”. I gasped, and shuddered. “He broke his back? Really?”. His sour expression turned a bit more content. “Well, Pam might have broken it in a few more places, before she dropped him off at the hospital… He can’t get you again; and he doesn’t have Stans protection anymore, so he won’t talk”.

I sighed, and leaned forwards; letting Eric embrace me. He buried his large hand in my hair, and held me tightly but gently with his other arm. After a while, he moved his hand from my hair to my chin, to tilt my head backwards; and in a fluid movement melded his lips with mine. “You taste like… graveyard dirt”, I said against his lips. “Come on…”.

Taking his hand, I led Eric into my small bathroom. I began removing my clothes, and dirt and grime scattered over the floor from them. Eric pulled of his leather jacket and top, before unlatching my bra for me. I smiled over my shoulder at him, and pulled it down my arms. While I pulled down my panties, Eric removed his pants and underwear; and followed me in to the small shower cubicle. I turned on the water as warm as I could handle, and began rubbing the dirt from my arms. I felt Erics hands stroking my back as he stood behind me, and smelled my apple scented bodywash, as he lathered it across my skin.

Tilting my head back, to get the dirt out of my hair, Eric leaned over my shoulder, and kissed my exposed throat. “I’m happy you’re still human. I prefer you warm and alive”, he breathed. His hands travelled to cup my breasts, and my nipples perked at his fingers’ ministrations of them. “Then why did you try to turn me?”, I asked. “Because I would rather have the ghost of who you were, than losing you completely”. He spun me around to face him, and hunched down to meet my eyes. “Are you angry that I did?”. I put some bodywash in my hands, and began washing his chest. “No… If I was about to lose you, and there was a way to keep even part of you with me, I would”. I looked down to avoid his gaze. Eric put a hand on my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere”. His voice made me feel warm all over. “You make it sound like you’re mine, like I’m yours”, I whispered. I got no response, and the warmth I’d felt a second ago, was switched out with fear. Fear of rejection; fear that Eric didn’t actually feel about me like I did about him. I hesitantly met his eyes, and saw that he was smiling warmly at me. “Are you?”. It came out almost as a peep. “Yes”. There was no reluctance in Erics response; and before I had a chance to react to it, his lips were on mine.

The cascading water washed over us, as our mouths and tongues explored each other. Eric held on to me, as I rose to my toes, to wrap my arms around his shoulders. My feet were slipping, but I was never worried about falling. I was safe in Erics arms; and it seemed like he felt he was safe in mine. When his hardness stroked against my belly, he let out a soft moan. I looked down, and wrapped my hand around him; gently stroking him up and down. One of Erics hands went down to my bottom, sliding between my cheeks; his long fingers finding my folds. Tightening my grasp on his cock, Erics moans became louder, and turned in to grunts of pleasure. He was stroking his fingers back and forth between my folds, but soon had to focus his attention on remaining standing; and put his hands against the wall instead. With one arm around his shoulders, I held myself standing on my toes, and plunged my tongue into Erics mouth; muffling his sounds as I pleasured him. I wanted to use both my hands on my lover, so got down on my soles again, and took a hold of his testicles. They immediately tightened in my cradling hand. “Liv… I’ll…”, Eric groaned. “I know. But I’m pretty sure you can go more than once”, I said, and dove in to rake my teeth over his nipple. Eric growled, and grabbed the back of my head, hungrily devouring my mouth in a kiss. While I massaged his balls, Eric began thrusting in to my hand. “Come on…”, I breathed and tightened my hold on his cock. “Min…”, he croaked, and thrusted harder. I stared deep into his eyes. “Yours”, I said; and at my words, Eric came with a roar.

I gently washed both our bellies from Erics juices, while he looked on with bemused eyes. His hand stroked against my hip, as I stepped out of the shower after having turned off the water. Snaking an arm around my waist, he bent down to give me a slight kiss; before a wicked expression came across his face. Before I knew it, I was across the hall, on my bed. Standing over me was a 6’4 blonde Viking-prince; who looked like he’d just stepped out of the ocean. I let out a noise, that sounded like something in between a giggle and a moan, as he stood there in all his glory. “You’re kind of magnificent…”, I said. “Yes”, Eric agreed, smug as ever. He knelt down on the bed, and crawled over me; kissing his way up my torso, until he reached my lips. “And you are… glänsande”. “I don’t know what that means, but I’ll… Oh, fuck!”.

Eric had plunged two fingers into me, and was thrusting them upwards; pressing against my g-spot. With a suckle of my lower lip, Eric took his leave from my mouth, and ducked down, to suck my clit into his mouth. Flicking his tongue over my pebble, it only took him minutes to have me unfurl. My legs were shaking, and I was whimpering in extasy. I arched my back, and came.

It took me a few moments to come down to earth; moments which Eric used to kiss his way up my convulsing body, while tracing the curves of my hips, belly and breasts with his fingertips. He was sporting a self-satisfied smile. “What are you so smug about, sheriff Northman?”, I chuckled. “You’ve had 1000 years to perfect that. Making me come is a walk in the park for you; not a battle you’ve won”. “I’ve won many battles. Making you scream out in pleasure is the one I’m most proud of”, he smirked. “I wasn’t screaming…”, I said, and stroked my fingers over his shoulders, and down his back. Eric pushed my legs further apart, and placed himself between them. “I’ll have to return to the battleground, then”, he said, and pushed into me.

We found our rhythm immediately, rolling our hips against each other. When I took a hold of Erics now beautifully tousled hair and pulled at it, he growled; and thrusted harder in to me. I sucked and nibbled at his neck, and when he threw his head back in pleasure, I kissed his adam’s apple; feeling it bob up and down under my lips, as he swallowed to wet his mouth. “Bite me…”, I breathed. “No… You lost too much blood last night”, he said. I frowned in disappointment. “Don’t worry, you’re still going to scream”, he smiled.

Leaning down to suck my nipple into his mouth, Eric then grabbed my thighs, and got up on his knees. As my butt was resting on his thighs, and my back was still on the mattress; my hips where tilted in just the right angle to feel every inch of his hardness moving in and out of me. Eric began moving with ferocious thrusts, hitting my front wall perfectly. He held on firmly to my hips, and looked down at himself disappearing and reappearing from my warmth; clearly enjoying the view, from the look of his face. I grabbed on to Erics wrists to ground myself, and not suddenly fly off the bed, both metaphorically and literally. Sounds of groans; moans; and skin slamming against skin, from Erics hips hitting my backside, filled the room – sounds that were almost hypnotizing to me, and drew me closer to my undoing.

I squeezed my eyes together to keep my composure from Erics delicious assault on me; trying to keep some kind of control of myself. “No, look at me”, Eric demanded. “Let it happen. Just let go, sunshine”. I opened my eyes, and looked up at him; and as he pulled almost all the way out, and slammed back in to me, Eric got exactly what he’d aimed for. I screamed out my orgasm. Eric was laughing warmly, and moved backwards on his knees; pulling out of me as he did. He leaned down, and kissed me passionately. “Another battle won”, he smiled. “Uh huh…”, I croaked; still panting.

I was still laying with my legs spread. My thighs were quivering, and I grabbed on to the sheets below, feeling aftershocks go through my core. Eric looked down at my clenching warmth, and stroked a hand up the inside of my leg. His index finger went in between my folds, making me jolt from overstimulation; and then down over my taint, before stopping at the tight ring of muscle at the bottom of it. “You know, I’d really like to…”, Eric began. I crawled backwards on the bed, and held up a finger to stop him. “Nope... no. I don’t think I’m quite there yet”, I said. “Believe me, it can be quite pleasurable”, he said matter-of-factly; and traced the puffy skin there. “Yeah, I’m sure you love it… But I haven’t tried it before”.

Eric removed his finger, and took my hand to pull me up to sit; giving me an earnest look. “I would never want hurt you. Not in any way that you wouldn’t want me to, at least. You seem to like it when I get a little rough”, he said smilingly, and stroked my cheek. “If you don’t want that, I won’t do it. I want you to trust me”. “I do…”, I said quietly. “And I do want to… yield to you”. I bit my lip, and blushed. Eric searched my eyes for something undefinable. “Turn around. All fours”, he said. A shiver ran down my spine. “Eric…”, I croaked. He raised his brows at me, and smiled calmingly. “I haven’t finished yet. I want to do that inside you”, he said. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. You can ask me to stop at any time. Please trust me”.

I turned around, and got on all fours in front of Eric. He stroked my cheeks, before grabbing himself, to stroke against my folds for a few moments. When he entered me, I let out a pleased sigh. He felt so good from any angle; and I’d always enjoyed a good doggy-fuck. Erics movements were softer than they’d been before, and he was careful not to thrust too hard. One of his hands travelled down in front of me, stroking circles on my clit, while the other massaged my butt. As I was losing myself in sexual bliss, and fire began building inside me again, Eric moved his hand from my cheeks; and he let his thumb travel down between them. He found my ring again, and stroked it as he did my clit. The sensation was heaven. It wasn’t that no one had ever pleasured me by stroking that spot before; but the way Eric was doing it was simply masterful. He began pushing at my hole, never entering me, but still making my muscle work. It spread a tingle across my lower back, to go with the one streaming from my clit. Topping that of, was his hardness excavating me deliciously. It was so wrong that it was right.

“Fuck it… Do it!”, I rasped, earning a soft chuckle from Eric; before he pushed his thumb into my anus. I whimpered in pleasure, and fell down to my chest, unable to hold myself up. Eric fucked me with both his cock and his finger, and stroked my bundle of nerves; and the sensation of fullness inside me, made me begin to clench around him. I had tears in my eyes, and moved my butt back and forth to meet his thrusts. “So warm and tight. You feel so good”, Eric groaned. “Take me with you…”. Heat exploded from my core, and I pulled Eric along with me into extasy. I heard him cry out behind me, and spill himself inside my clenching heat. Gently pulling both his penis and his finger out of me, Eric lowered my hips to the bed. I was a whimpering mess, when he pulled me in to his arms. “You did so good, my sunshine… so good”, he breathed against my lips, as he kissed me.

I laid cradled against his body, our legs tangled and arms holding on to each other. “Eric…?”, I whispered. “Uh hmm…?”, he said, his eyes closed, and a pleased smile on his handsome face. “I’m hungry… I haven’t eaten since before I died”. He turned his head and looked at me. “I was going to let that photographer be your first meal”, he said. “Thanks… I guess”, I chuckled. “But I need human food”. He raised his brows and sighed. “Well, there’s been a cat wailing at your back door for the last 30 minutes. I could throw it in the microwave for you”.

I sat up abruptly. “Shit! It’s Thursday!”. I flew out of bed, and quickly put on a clean tank top, and a pair of pajama-shorts. Eric stared at me in confusion, as I ran out of the room. I grabbed a bowl, and a can of tuna; and went out the back door, to greet Mr. Whiskers. “I’m so sorry, honey! I completely forgot about you…”, I sighed, as the large tabby stroked himself against my legs. I set down the bowl of tuna at the bottom of the steps, and scratched the cat behind its ears.

Eric came outside to join me, once again dressed in his dirty clothes. He looked on as Mr. Whiskers bumped his forehead against my hand. “I don’t like that thing…”, he said, and stared at the cat with cold eyes. “Are you jealous of the cat now?”, I laughed. Eric sneered some Swedish curse word, and Mr. Whiskers hissed at him. “Oh, really? I’ll tell her you said that…”, Eric growled. “Eric, be nice to my honey!”. The vampire took my hand, pulling it away from the cat, and raised me to my feet. He tucked me in to his side. “Mine!”, he growled. “Don’t you have some beers to serve?”. I was completely confused, but decided to let it go.

Eric turned his face to me, and kissed me almost possessively. “I have to go see Godric”, he said. “Come to Fangtasia tomorrow”. “I have to go to work”, I said. Mr. Whiskers meowed. “Shut up!”, Eric snarled at it. “After work… I want to see you”. I tugged at his jacket. “I’ll be there. But I’m not waiting in line”. Eric pulled me in for another kiss. “Mine…”, he breathed. “Mine…”, I smiled.

Eric stepped away from me, and looked down at Mr. Whiskers with distaste again. The cat hissed one more time, and Eric hissed right back at it, before taking flight. I scratched Mr. Whiskers behind the ears a final time, and picked up the empty bowl; before going back inside – my heart full, but stomach less so.

I fell asleep while eating mac’n’cheese, and reading dirty texts from my favorite Viking-prince-vampire.

THE END.

#eric northman #eric northman fic #eric northman x oc #eric northman smut #true blood

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