#someone HELP i need to rattle this man around and there's no good fan content to keep this fire fed!!

[andessence]

screaming crying throwing up rending flesh because i'm in my peeta loving hours but going into hun.ger g.ames tags is always a nightmare of actor thirst and y/n fics. please.... please for the love of god can i just see some fanart? some silly headcanons perhaps??

[deathbyathousandroses]

We can't keep meeting like this.

ellie x fem!reader

content warnings ☆ cursing, alcohol and weed, vomit (brief and not described), smut (oral, overstimulation, fingering). Lemme know if there's any I missed.

College AU. ☆

Brief Summary ☆ To new beginnings! You were finally moving out of your home town to a bigger city. When you meet the hottest girl you've ever seen on your first day. You can't help but keep meeting in embarrassing situations. ☆

WC ☆ 6.3k

a/n ☆ Howdy Ellie fans, hope y'all enjoy this. I'm not the most magnificent write. But I had an idea so might as well. Feedback is appreciated!

The sound of your tapping foot muffled by the rattling of the car made it all more consuming to get to your destination. Whoever told you being in a small confined space with your chatty dad for five hours was a good idea. Needs to be told off. Anticipation surged through your body as you realized you would almost be there. This was instantly followed by apprehension…'What if my roommates a dick? No, what if they think I'm the dick?'

Scratch that, keep happy thoughts. And so you did - kinda. Soon enough you had arrived at the campus. Although you had done endless amounts of research on this school. No immense amount of websites or pictures could have prepared you for the overwhelming feeling of seeing the massive campus in person. Fuck, I mean do you get any financial compensation for the amount of walking you're gonna be doing?

"Hey kiddo, c'mon!" Your dad put his hand on your shoulder with a look between loss and rejoicement. Soon enough. you're struggling to balance bags and boxes onto a small rolling cart. Making your way into the lobby.

The environment immediately made you anxious. With a mix of student orientation leaders and staff member, that all didn't wear any identification. You're struggling to be assisted, until your lord and savior of a father found someone.

A tall lanky raven haired boy trotted his way over to your dad with a clipboard. As your dad mumbled his concerns to him, you squinted your eyes to read the minuscule font on the back of his clipboard. 'Resident Assistant(s)' Oh, well it looks like your old man did a good job at finding exactly what you needed.

Next thing, you were being led to your residence hall room and passed around to different people along the way to aid your confusion. Making your way through the crowd was terrifying. Though, it all worked out as you got to a door that room number matched your paper.

A relieved sigh escaped your mouth, followed by a loud groan from your father. You unlocked the dorm, taking in the foreign area. It was a decent size, you didn't hate it. Thankfully, considering this was gonna be your living situation for god knows how long.

"Hey, looks like your roommate beat us to it." Your fathers voice filled the room. "Ok, Mr. Captain Obvious." You snorted admiring the decorated half of the dorm. Posters and other items scattered the wall, and you noticed a theme of purple. Purple comforter, purple stationary, purple bags.

"I wonder if purples their favorite color, what do you think?" You quipped.

"I reckon it's yellow, no?" Earning a small chuckle out of you.

The two of you began getting to work unloading the boxes upon boxes. God, you should have never allowed him to organize these. Somehow, you were finding toiletries in your clothes box, and stationary in your technology box. Yes, it was a pain in the ass to keep guessing where everything was. But, it did give you more time with the old fucker. Admittedly, you were gonna miss him. Of course, you'd never tell him that to save your pride.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The day was nearing an end, you'd gotten most everything heavy unpacked. The rest you were able to handle by yourself. A palpable sense of realization fell over you. You'd be having to say goodbye. By the looks of your fathers face, he was thinking the same thing.

"Why don't we have waffles for dinner, on me kiddo." He faintly smiled, ruffling up your hair. You did the smallest nod, but he understood. Then causing the sappiest scene to known to man kind to happen. He took you into a tight embrace kissing the top of your hair. You weren't listening to too much of what he was whispering. But you heard the quiet 'I'm so proud of you's.'

"Okay, okay. Enough of this dad. I'm starving!" You groaned. He reluctantly agreed. Not wanting this moment to end, and you both made your way out of the campus back to his car.

The ride to the restaurant was sat in a comfortable silence. Only the small hums of your dad listening to music. And the gusts of wind knocking on the windows. You loved these car rides, although sometimes it's a pain to hear him rant about cars and sports. Having to live with a new person you didn't know. Was ultimately gonna be worst. Especially not having these little moments everyday.

Once you both arrived, and were seated and ordered. You and your father talked about lists of things to do prior before classes. He was urging you to make some sort of itinerary to help you stayed organized. You, of course, had to reassure him multiple times that it was unneeded. You had everything you needed that your professors required. He still was worried.

The two of you carried on your conversation, just rambling about everything and anything. Until your food came. It was always a little tradition to get waffles with him after something big happened in your guys life. You always enjoyed this, and was glad he was carry on this tradition into adulthood.

The first bite was amazing, as always. Although, not as good as your the waffle place you both frequent back home. You watched your dad inhale his food. Only to realize how hungry you were, you both hadn't eaten all day. Besides the roadtrip snacks, you were starving.

It was here, the dreadful goodbye. You'd never think watching your dad pay for a check would make you tear up. But here you are trying to hide your emotions in a 24 hour diner.

"You gotta get back." He held his hand up pulling you out of the sunken in booth. You put your jacket on and followed him back to the car. He flipped in your favorite CD, and you both sang along to it. Relishing in this fleeting moment. Unfortunately, the car ride didn't feel long enough.

There you were, reluctantly pulling the car door open. While your dad raced to your side of the car.

A smile painted his lips, and he grabbed your hand. "Here, why don't you let your old man walk you to your room?" The silence gave him the answer he needed. And he put his arm around you walking into the lobby. Memories from this morning flooded back, but the lobby looked drastically different without the crowds.

The walk was nice, besides the rambling about being a good student and kid. Not getting into drugs, blah blah blah. The universal run down every parent feels like they have a duty to say.

Stopping at your dorm door. The same expression was plastered on his face from when you finished unpacking that afternoon.

"Bring it in kiddo." The embrace was tight again, you didn't want to let him go. If you did you'd have to face the reality of him leaving. It isn't like you weren't ready for this new start. You were just scared of being alone. You felt the top of your head getting smothered in kisses. If anyone walked by, you'd sure think they'd start tearing up.

He was the first to let go. You hadn't realized his face was also wet from tears. Until you finally tilted your head back up to him. This earned a chuckle from both of you.

"You know I'm gonna miss you." You mumbled, dragging on the first few letters.

"I know." His voice was only but a whisper. The next thing he did was kiss your forehead one last time "Don't do anything stupid, you understand?" Nodding your head in agreement, you went in for a last hug. This one was shorter, but still had the same impact as the rest.

You both said your goodbyes, and the sound of his footsteps grew fainter every second. When you couldn't hear him anymore, you finally began unlocking your door. Only to be greeted with a girl on the bed.

She lay there with earbuds in, a book. Her hair was braided in the back, and an earthy floral scent filled your nose. With the sudden sound of the door shutting. She took her earbuds out smiling wide.

"Oh! You're here!" She came up and hugged you. This was different you thought. You didn't say anything verbal in response, still too shocked by the big embrace she took you in prior. "Oh shit, right, my bad. I'm Dina."

"Y/N, nice decorations by the way." You responded.

The rest of the night was filled mostly by Dina talking and you listening. You didn't mind though, you thought she was interesting. Besides, it was better than having an asshole of a roommate.

"Okay, before we go to bed...What's your schedule for tomorrow?" Dina questioned.

"Oh, well I have my art class at 9am. Journalism at 11, then Calc in the afternoon."

"Journalism with Bardot?"

"Yup, that's the one." Earning a hum out of Dina.

"Okay, how about we meet up here before Journalism and we can walk to class together," Dina mentioned. You agreed. "Also! I'm going to a party tomorrow night, you're coming."

You were ready to argue but Dina didn't budge on the statement. I guess tomorrow would be filled with trying new things...

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Loud beeps awoke you. It was already morning? The clock read 7am, you had two options. Sleep in until 8:30 and have only 30 minutes to get ready and to your class. Or start getting ready now to look presentable, while also not having to rush across campus.

With a little more deciding, you once in your life picked the responsible decision...Slowly parting ways with the warmth of you bed was hell, but getting into a warm shower was great compensation.

Once you finished getting ready, it was almost time to leave. Checking you school bag, and tying your shoelaces. Thats when Dina woke up.

"Good morning Y/n." Her groggy voice rang. She sat up wrapping her body in her comforter and rubbed her eyes. "You headed to class?" She questioned.

"Yup, I actually need to leave," pulling out your phone to read 8:50, "right now-" Ur voice now laced with panic. You couldn't be late for your first class of the school year. How would your professor feel about this?

The adrenaline coursing through you, carried your legs faster than you could have ever. Checking quickly for the room number you needed you finally had. 8:58am. Took only eight minutes, nice job.

Lecture hall was abnormally quiet, even your feet taking steps felt too loud. A lot of seats were taken, so you chose a seat near the center. Wouldn't have been your first choice, but I guess that's what we get.

The class began shortly after, going over the basics of the art course. Just in detail of course expectations, professor policy etc. It was all dandy until a finger taps on your shoulder. You look back to be met with the most piercing green eyes. Your eyes wondered the mystery girls face. She had freckles scattered on her face like constellations, and short auburn hair that framed her face perfectly. Perfection is all you could describe her as.

"Can I sit here?" Her raspy voice broke your trance.

"Uh, yeah of course!" Mentally face palming yourself for saying that so energetically. She didn't speak much after that, carefully opening her notebook with doodles and following along to the professor talking. It wasn't like she was saying anything important right now, it was all just first day rundown. But you couldn't help but admire her tattooed wrist.

That short-lived admiration ended when the bell interrupted. Groaning, you gathered your things and began to head out when the freckled girl spoke.

"I'm Ellie by the way." Her voice rang through your head like a broken record. You did a slight smile to acknowledge her, but she still stood there waiting expectantly.

"Oh! Sorry, I'm Y/n." A deep red blush painted your face after speaking.

"Well, I hope to see you around. Y/n." She began walking away after. Did her voice get hotter every time she spoke? Oh how you'd pay to hear her say your name again, and again, and again.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The first school day came to a close. Dina and you walked together to your dorm as she rambled on about her day and the upcoming party tonight. This was when you realized your first obstacle; finding the right outfit to wear to a college party.

Dina started getting ready right away, leaving you stranded and clueless on how to look presentable. Do I wear something nice? Something casual? The first you focused on was hair and makeup. It wasn't anything extravagant. But definitely something that was bolder than your everyday.

Once that was over with, you watched Dina slip on a cute sweater with a skirt. It was simple, but so cute.

"Dina?" You spoke, making her look up at you. Humming waiting for you to talk, "Can you help me pick an outfit?"

"I was waiting for this moment all day." She frantically got up wasting no time to rummage through your closet. You couldn't decipher what she was thinking. She took a long time to pick pieces of clothing, so you wondered if she thought your wardrobe was ugly.

"Ah-ha!" She triumphantly said, waving a tight white long sleeve in your face, paired with some simple dark-washed jeans. The outfit was basic and simple, but there was a reason that shirt was in the back of your closest. You never wear it.

It clung too much for comfort, and the backless detail didn't go unnoticed either. It wasn't an ugly top, it was gorgeous. You just didn't think you could pull it off.

"Go try it on dummy!" She practically pushed you into the bathroom.

When you came out, you studied Dina's expressions. Her once blank face, turned into one of aw. "You look hot, what the fuck?"

Her words made you feel so confident. If it wasn't for her you'd probably be wearing a random hoodie. This was it, this was your look. The last thing you both did before heading out was checking yourselves in the mirror, and you were out.

As you walked through the halls, Dina abruptly stopped. "Shit, I forgot something." Without any explanation she quickly ran the other way. Leaving you stranded by the vending machine room. Welp, might as well buy some water as you realized how dehydrated you were.

After receiving the water, you began chugging it with no hesitation. The water began dripping from your mouth onto your white shirt. Realizing the mishap, you cursed under your breath looking for paper towels to clean yourself up. With your luck, no paper towels, and the water was right on the tops of your chest. Exposing your lack of bra.

Mumbling more curses under your breath, you started to choke on it when you saw Ellie standing in the entrance way staring at you amused.

"You scared the shit out of me, how long were you standing there?" You questioned.

"Only the part where I watched you drown, but don't mind me. I like the view." Her eye adverting to your shirt.

"Oh my god, this is so embarrassing." You groaned putting your hands to cover yourself.

She chuckled, passing by you to get to the vending machine. Just in time for Dina to come back with whatever she needed.

Saying your rushed goodbyes to Ellie, the two of you went back on your path to the party. Mentally cheering at Dina not asking who Ellie was.

You realized shortly into your walk, that you hit the jackpot with Dina as your roommate. She was such a polar opposite from you, but a part of that made you two gravitate to each other. Within the day and a half you'd known her. It felt like you'd been friends for years. I mean, there was a dull moment with her. Something, you never had with anyone except your father.

The party wasn't a far walk. but you still regretted not bring a jacket due to the coldness. And still somewhat damp shirt, luckily the it wasn't sheer anymore.

"We have arrived m'lady." Dina used her fingers to play air trumpet. You both went hand by hand up the stairs knocking on the door. To be greeted by a towering man.

"Jesse, this is Y/n, Y/n this is Jesse." Dina introduced you both to each other. He open the door more to signal you both in, and greeted you. "I'm her boyfriend by the way." You nodded, as you watched them become affectionate. Giving you a cue to walk away.

The party started off tame, not too many people were there at first. But as the night went on, the music became louder. Lights became dimmer, and it reeked of booze and weed everywhere. Dina had introduced you to a couple of other people. With the help of alcohol in your system you were able to strike up conversations easily.

You tried your best to stick with Dina for the most part. When she wasn't present, you stuck with a couple of people she introduced you to.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The scene somehow migrated into a random bedroom. You were now at limit of alcohol, cutting yourself off from anything else.

"Alright, form a circle guys." Jesse instructed the room. Everyone got into position, when a knock at the door made every turn. The last person you expected to enter, entered. It was fucking Ellie. She immediately had her eyes on you. Giving you a slight nod to acknowledge your presence.

"Well if it isn't Ellie fucking Williams!" A girl yelled over the music. Other people began greeting her, making it very apparent she had mutual friends her. You watched as she sat in-between two girls, you felt jealously rise in you. But you pushed it down.

"Ok simmer down everyone," Jesse interrupted everyones conversations, "Were gonna play seven minutes in heaven." He dramatically slammed down an empty beer bottle in the middle. He stood up and sat on a nearby beanbag. To show he wasn't going to participate.

As the game went on, you became more and more anxious as your turn was coming up. Seven minutes went by fast in each turn, but you couldn't help but realize how long that really was. You needed to do it, you couldn't pussy out now.

"Your turn Y/n." Dina tugged on your arm. You slowly reached for the bottle locking eyes with Ellie. As the bottle spun, you watched it intently. Picking at you fingernails from the anticipation. It felt like it was in slow-motion near the end. As it came to a stop, your eyes geared towards the torn up converse that the bottle tip pointed at.

The bottle landed on Ellie. Whatever you were feeling before was ramped up double, she was the first to stand up. Smirking the whole time. She led you to the closet, and opened it to let you walk through.

"So art class girl, how's it going?" She playfully whispered. You were about to speak when you felt an overwhelming response to barf. Your hand flew to your mouth and you ran out of the closet and the room. Straight to the bathroom, only to release the worth sickness you've felt in years. I guess mixing boxed wine and vodka wasn't your brightest idea.

The lack of material covering your back relieving the heat you were feeling. As it hit the cold wall. You sat in the bathroom for awhile recollecting yourself, you didn't know how to get back from that. How did that make Ellie feel? I mean it seemed like you were barfing at the idea of kissing her.

The rambling of your thoughts were interrupted by a knock.

"I'll be out soon, sorry!" You screamed over the blasting music.

"Uh, it's me. Ellie, can I come in?"

Fuck me, just my luck. You slowly got up from the floor and opened the door inviting her in. She stood there for a second looking at the scene in front of her. You were a mess. Makeup probably smudged and hair now wild.

"I'm taking you to your dorm, you're clearly too drunk." Her voice was demanding. It made a familiar sensation pool between your thighs at her assertiveness. "Yes m'am." You squeaked, burping from the alcohol.

She took your hand, and guided you out of the bathroom and the party. She didn't have any transportation like you, so you both walked back in silence. The cold night making you shiver under the breeze.

"Here take my jacket, you're shivering." Ellie pulled the thick clothing off of her body, and guiding it onto you. Leaving her in a thermal underneath.

"But aren't you cold?" You mentioned. Ellie shook her head 'no' and you kept walking until you reached the campus. The walk helped you sober up a little, but not enough to chase away the dizziness you felt. You couldn't decipher if it was the alcohol or Ellie's close proximity making you dizzy though.

"Ok, you're gonna have to give me directions to your dorm," She spoke closely to your ear sending shivers down your spine, "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" The new nickname made you almost buckle at the knees.

You told her the room number, and she nodded understanding where it was. Then, she took your hand helping you up the stairs. The hand-to-hand contact made your stomach jump in circles. She fortunately kept holding your hands as she navigated the hallways searching for your room.

When you arrived, she let go of your hand. Leaving you feeling empty.

"You know, we gotta stop meeting like this." Ellie breathy chuckled. Her hands went into her pockets. You nodded not knowing what to say, but agree. Feeling her eyes on you as you struggling with the lock of your dorm.

You began to enter, before stopping to look at her. "Thanks for walking me, this means a lot you know. Considering I almost barfed on you." This made you pull your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment.

"You can make it up to me sooner or later." Ellie responded, "Before I forget, give me your arm."

You reluctantly did, as you watched her pull a sharpie from her pocket. She began writing something you couldn't make out. When she finished you looked to see her number.

"Just so you can thank me again when you're sober." She remarked. This was the last thing she said before you both said your goodnights to each other. Parting ways for the night.

Getting inside, you checked your reflection in the bathroom of your dorm. Realizing how fucking red your cheeks were. After much review of the night, you cleaned yourself up and went to bed. For your first college party, it wasn't too bad. Despite one mishap.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Like expect, you woke up with a raging headache. Never again you scolded yourself, before taking some aspirin. Dina was still fast asleep under a pile of blankets. Luckily, your earliest class was at 12 today, meaning you had an ample amount of time to pull yourself together.

Still, your thoughts lingered on last night. Of what could have happened in that closet. You didn't necessarily want your first kiss with Ellie to be in a closet. But apart of you didn't thin you'd get a chance else where. Of course, you blew it.

You began turning on a hot shower when you noticed the small black marker written on your arm. Remembering Ellie wrote it outside your dorm before she left. Before getting into the shower you quickly saved the number to your contact.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

The day went on as normal, just the same lectures about course expectations you got on the second. You couldn't help but think back to Ellie, and how you practically had her at ur fingertips in your phone. No prevail, maybe it was too soon to text her? Or maybe you waited too long?

After getting out of your last class, you made it back to your dorm and bit the bullet. Sending a short, 'Heyy, it's Y/n from art. Just wanted to thank you again. :)'

It wasn't anything special. but it did take you ten minutes to come up with. Your mind was running at all the possible replies she could give. And you became more anxious by the minute at the lack of them. Until you heard a ding.

'Hey Y/n, no worries. Although, I do think you owe me a lunch.'

You had to have read that tezt a million times by now. Lunch was practically the only word you could think of. Now for the hard part replying back. Don't sound too desperate Y/n, you got this.

'That I do.' That was the best you could come up with. But was it too short?

'Perfect, meet me at the campus cafe in ten. It's a date.'

Fuck fuck fuck. Did she really just fucking say that? After all, you thought you blew it after last night. You only changed out of your sweatpants into jeans. And fixed your hair before heading out. The walk to the cafe wasn't far, but you didn't wanna risk being late.

When you arrived at the cafe, your eyes scanned the busy area looking for the familiar face. You sat at an empty table of two. She was probably running late, it was only five minutes after the fact.

While you kept overthinking, the girl in question stalked over sitting down in the chair in front of you.

"Sorry I'm late." Her voice was quieter than usual. Was she just a nervous as you? You quickly dismissed it, reassuring it wasn't a big deal. The two of your got situated.

"So, I wanna know more about you." Ellie's voice was so low you almost has to lean forward to hear her. You watched her eyes study her fingers as they fidgeted. Only for them to come back to meet yours waiting for an answer.

"Well, what do you wanna know?" You replied, still studying her face. You couldn't exactly read her. Which was killing you. Before she could reply, a server came over asking what you both would like.

This prompted you both to skimp through the menu. After a minute, you order just a coffee. While you listened too Ellie ordering a tea with a pastry.

After the server left, you continued your conversation where it left off.

"So, what do you like? Is maybe what I should start off with." She laughed, it was such a contagious one. That you mimicked it unintentionally.

"Well, I don't know I like art I guess. My dad was always a huge painter, so I guess thats where the love came from. I also like space, specifically astronomy. You know, like constellations and what not." You promptly cut yourself off when you realized you were rambling.

"I love space too, I've loved it from a young age." She was smiling so much, you couldn't help but replicate it. The conversation was starting to get more comfortable after that new found shared interest.

It seemed like you two talked about everything, from what you were like back home. How you applied to this university. Ellie was not what you thought she be. Not that you had any bad impression of her. You just didn't expect her to be a huge nerd. But you were too.

"Yea, well my dad loves embarrassing me. " Ellie spoke through laughs. You were somewhat surprised that she was also raised primarily by her dad. You don't thin you've met anyone with that experience. It made you feel all more safe talking to Ellie.

"Uh, fuck. It's late. How long have we been here?" She questioned now acknowledging the lack of people in the cafe, from when you both were first here. You were about the speak when she spoke again, "Maybe you'd like to come back to my dorm?"

The question made your eyes widen in disbelief. The silence wasn't intentional, but you obviously weren't gonna turn down this offer.

"Or not, shit sorry did I make this awkward?" Ellie nervously watched you.

"What? No-YES! I mean sure- I would love to come." Your stuttering made you wanna crawl into a hole.

You both got up gathering your things and stretching from the lack of movement you both done in the past couple hours. You couldn't believe it had been that long, it felt like was only thirty minutes.

The walk to her dorm was different than last nights. Instead of silence, it wad filled with you and Ellie laughing and chatting the whole time. As you walked up flights of stairs, you couldn't help but gradually move closer to her. Now having your hands briefly rub past each other whilst you walk. You took this opportunity to be bold and tangle your hands together.

She looked at you for a brief second stopping mid sentence. You both held hands the rest of the way. You couldn't help but wanna scream.

"This is it." She stopped at a door that looked identical to yours. "I have a single, so no roommates." She reassured you.

Upon opening, a faint smell of weed hit your face. You studied her room noticing space posters and other things on her walls that she previously told you she liked. Your eyes went to the bong on her windowsill. You think she noticed, because she immediately went to put it away.

"Sorry about that, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything."

"No don't worry, I don't mind." You reassured her.

She sighed in relief, "Wanna try?"

"Why not." You responded. She grabbed the bong, previous water already occupying it. "Come, sit." She patted the spot next to her on her bed. As you did, she began packing the bowl. You intently watched her fingers as they worked away. Fuck- they were so long.

"Ok, you know how to do this?" Ellie questioned. You told her you've never used a bong to smoke weed. She nodded.

"Ok." She then took your hands placing the bong in them. "Put your mouth over the here. And start to inhale, okay? But don't do it til I finish lighting" She instructed. You did as she told you, and she brought the light up to the bowl and lit it. When she finished you inhaled watching the smoke rise up into your mouth. You brought the bong away and inhaled as much as you could before you started coughing.

Ellie patted your back to subside the coughing fit. When you collected yourself, you watched as Ellie expertly did everything with ease. She inhaled with no problems, passing it back to you. You both went back and forth until you were comfortably high.

The two of you lay there talking about stupid things, the high amplifying the amount of laughs you both let out.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

It seemed by now the two of you ran out of things to talk about. Now just enjoying each others company in silence. It was getting late and you knew this, but you didn't wanna leave. Still, feeling you overstayed you shift upwards looking at Ellie. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion by the sudden movement.

"I think it's time I head out, Dina might be worried." You finally spoke. She nodded biting her lip like she wanted to say something but couldn't. As you finally planted your feet on the ground she put her hand on your shoulder.

"Before you leave, can I ask you something?" Her voice now quieter than before.

"Go for it." You pressed on not knowing what she'd say.

"Did you want to kiss me last night in the closet?" She didn't make eye contact with you the whole time. Your heartbeat began fluttering faster than ever. Of course you wanted to kiss her. You've wanted to jump her bones since art class.

"Ellie..." You began. But she interrupted, "No don't answer that. I'm sorry shit-"

"I wanted to kiss you before that Ellie." It was not your turn to interrupt. You waited for an answer, but watched as her jaw unclenched and turned into a smile. She then finally looked at you for the first time since the question.

You watched as she leaned closer to you, "What's stopping you now?" Her voice now more raspy than ever. Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned forward pressing your lips to Ellie's. They were so warm and soft, it felt like a dream really.

She deepened the kiss by grabbing your face, using her left hand to tug at your hair causing a moan to slip out of your mouth. She used this opportunity to slip her tongue in. Making you react once again. This went on for awhile, her teasing you to see what reaction she can get out of you.

When you both pulled away, you stared at her lustful eyes and now redden lips.

"Fuck you're so beautiful Y/N." Ellie put her hands on your hips guiding you to straddle her lap. She kissed you once again, bringing her knee in contact of you heat. You moaned louder, this time causing a chuckle to come out of Ellie.

"Ellie stop teasing!" You whined. She kissed down your neck earning another small whimper out of you. "Someones needy..." She finally answered. Her fingers worked at the bottom of your shirt, looking at you to take off your shirt. You nodded frantically helping her life it over your arms and neck.

She stopped her movements to admire your shirtless figure. Reaching out the touch your breast, her cold thumbs ran over your nipples. Making you shudder against her, and involuntarily grind your hips on her thigh. That didn't go unnoticed by her, "Keep fucking yourself on my thigh baby." Her voice was addictive now, laced with nothing but lust.

You obliged, becoming a moaning mess from the stimulation. Ellie leaned down putting you breast into her mouth swirling her tongue over your nipple. A yelped escaped, as she nipped at your skin before pulling away.

She got up off the bed, leaving you in a huff. She mocked your neediness, and quickly pulled her hoodie off leaving her in a white tank top. The buckle of her belt took you out of your trance as she was in nothing but her underwear and tank top. She was now urging you to take your pants off.

Climbing on top of you and pulling you into another heated kiss. "I can't believe I get to do this." She whispered. Her hands traveled further down your body stopping at your clothed heat. She used her finger tips to rub up and down your underwear. Laughing at the wet spot that leaked through. "Who got you this wet?" She looked at you for an answer, "Hm? Answer me." Her voice got louder, pinching your thigh.

"You Els, s'only you." You practically moaned it. She hummed in contentment, snapping your underwear waistband against your skin. You lift your hips to easily slide them off, her fingers traced down your slit causing you to buck your hips up.

"Lemme take care of you." She kissed your neck and trailed kisses down your body stopped at you lower abdomen, looking up at you for reassurance. "You want this?" Her voice now filled with real concern. You nodded frantically. "I need a verbal respond sweetheart."

"I want this-I want you. Please Ellie fuck me!" You whined, getting impatient at the lack of friction down there. Ellie obliged licking a long strip on your wetness. Making a moan erupt from you. She continued to do this, latching her lips around your clit; sucking.

The feeling was unlike anything else. And you didn't know if you could go back to using a vibrator after her. She was practically a god right now. Her name fell from your lips like a chant. You couldn't stop, it felt too good.

As she kept kitten licking your clit, she slowly inserted one finger watching your face contort. As she fucked you with one, she inserted another. They curled up hitting your g-spot. The double stimulation was getting all too overwhelming. She could feel you were close.

She sped up her fingers, and harshly sucked your clit more getting more moans out of you. When you breath started to catching, and you legs starts clenching around her head. She knew what was to come. "Fucking cum Y/n." Her demands rang through your head as you moans. Tears spilled out of your eyes from the amount of pleasure you felt.

She did one last suck, and you were done for. Your legs started shaking as the coil in your stomach snapped. You came screaming her name like it was a mission. She continued to fuck you through your orgasm, but didn't stop when you finished.

"E-els! I can't take it anymore, please-" You croaked out, trying to push her head from your heat. She still didn't listen and kept sucking on your clit.

"C'mon one more princess, you can do it." She mumbled into you. Your moans became louder again, feeling another orgasm rise. The intensity building up due to your sensitivity.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" You moaned cumming again, this time squirming your legs and crying out from the overstimulation. She finally parted from between your legs. Chin covered in your juices.

"You taste so good, couldn't let you go." She explained herself, coming up to kiss you again. You tasted yourself on her lips, and she deepened the kiss again playing with strands of your hair.

"Ellie, what about you?" You questioned. She softened her gaze looking at you. "Another time, don't worry about me." Her voice now softer than when she was eating you like her last dinner.

You both laid there for awhile taking in each others presence. As you dozed off you couldn't help but feel so happy. You didn't know you were capable of even becoming friends with Ellie. Let alone do this.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

A/n: ANYWAYYY, I got a little carried away. I hope you guys enjoyed that! Feel free to leave requests for me to write. And leave feedback x

[starshipsofstarlord]

Not on my boat

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | whilst helping Sam fix his boat, during the midst of its progression, Bucky corners you within the old Wilson heirloom, leaving your friend and future captain, rather disgusted in the both of you.

Warnings | tfatws spoilers, mentions of death, some angst, smut, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bit of choking, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Hearing the waves crash against the side of the boat brought a smile upon your face, as you felt the breeze brush against your face. It was peaceful, fixing something rather than leaving it broken in order to save lives. If you weren’t swarmed with the government on your tail about how you were not allowed to use your powers, you’d be living out a free and happy life with the man you loved.

You were enduring a break from your assistance on the old Wilson vessel, your legs plodded around its platform, as you surveyed every piece that was in progress. Soon it would be in tip top shape, and when Sam and Bucky’s relationship was on par with that, that was when the two of you had planned to leave. There were plenty of things the two of you had to make up for before you could reside in peace; one of those things was that list of his.

It was a ledger of the amends that he had to make, a reminder of all the lives that had either taunted his own, or he had stolen from whilst he was not himself. James did not deserve the grievance that he was pardoned with, he was struggling, that much was clear. He had lost Steve, and then he was forced to watch as the shield had been handed off to some wanna be cap. To say he had been furious at Sam was a deep understatement, but as said, he was making amends.

Sam was a good man, you had learnt that much from the time that you had spent avenging to him. You had yet to tell him, but you weren’t planning on going back to that life after Karli was stopped, you wanted to continue working in the small shot bar slash grill, where Bucky and Youri would visit during your hours for lunch, and remain in that partition of worlds. Having Bucky and normalcy was a fine balance, which was a deep seated structure that you deeply needed.

If you did not have that then you were sure you’d explode, and hurt someone, or break something. That was no longer your duty, the fighting that you had spent most of your life giving into was coming to an end, and you were more than fine with that. A civilian life sounded good enough, and something that you could definitely settle for, though, you weren’t sure that Bucky would do the same, you hoped that he would.

That gleam in his eye was far too noticeable every time that he looked at that star striped shield. It had brought him much pain, but it had been there in the corner of his sight everywhere he had went. And now, Sam Wilson, the man that his best friend had entrusted with it, finally accepted the mantle, holding it in his firm grasp, ready to become the next captain to walk the earth, and both you and him knew that he would do far better than Walker could.

He was already a hero, he’d been fighting the Sam foes as Steve for some time, that was enough to know that he was ready. His hesitancy had been understandable, more so after listening to Isiah, though, it was nice to see Sam take his own path on this one. There were pictures of his younger self assembled upon the wooden walls, he was with his sister Sarah. She seemed like a nice woman, a part of you wished that you get to know her better, but she wasn’t a buyer into the whole superhero get advantages agenda, and nor were you.

From what you could tell, Sam had his advantage right here; his family. Sarah was supportive of him, always aiding him necessary, whilst she simultaneously raised to young boys, that looked admirably up to their uncle, and feeding the kids that they went to school with because their parents had no intention to. If you could, you’d buy a replica of her life, her head was above water, although the boat almost wasn’t.

The boat. It was an heirloom, something that you did not have of your own family. Everyone was gone, the only person you had was Bucky, and thinking of him caused a light chuckle to fall from your lips, he made you endlessly happy. But neither of you could have the picture perfect life, and that was why the pair of you worked, you were each well aware of the restrictions that taunted you both, and had both been down dark roads on more than one occasion.

Things were turning brighter though, as the sun glared through the old glass, casting luminosity to stroke the high points of your face. A gently creak had your head diverting to the door way, where no other than James Barnes was leant up against, his metal arm pressed to the frame as he adoringly swept his oceanic pools over your form, slowly stepping closer.

“What are you thinking about doll?” He asked you, his tone genuine, as you sighed from his words, rubbing your eyelid as you felt a small itch. You puffed your cheeks, as you placed your hands on the super soldier’s waist, rubbing small and vigilant circles through his grey shirt.

“Too much.” It was an honest answer, everything was rattling around like pins in your mind, sinking in and letting loose to their own will. They could not be organised, they would only tumble about again, until the box was empty, though, for now, you had nowhere else to put them.

“Sarah said we could spend the night.” At his words, you hummed, taking note once more of how generous the woman indeed was. “We get the couch, so you best be on your best behaviour baby girl, nothing dirty goes on inside.” A small smirk crept its way onto his handsome face as you gasped at his spoken intention, lightly hitting the vibranium of his arm.

“Why do you blame me for not keeping it in my pants?” You interrogated him, glaring up at the man with a furrow between your brows. “You’re the one that corners me, a lot like this actually, so that you can get your own way and fuck m- oh, that’s exactly what you’re doing now, isn’t it?” You scoffed, crossing your arms and stepping away due to the man’s hormonal impulses. “Why am in not surprised?” You asked yourself, shaking your head at the behaviour of your partner.

“Hey, I’m doing us both a favour. Sex in someone else’s house is not exactly appreciated, and there’s kids, that i would rather not risk getting caught by.” He moved towards you, grabbing an ass cheek in each hand, as he pulled you closer by his grip. “At least then, there’s a chance I can survive the night, without being woken up by you sucking me off, or riding me.”

He was pushing your buttons, and he far well knew that, almost too well. It was his technique to get you riled up, that way, there’d be no dismissal of his current proposal, though, you continued to wear that adorable frown that he loved so much, and so, he gave your ass another firm squeeze, causing you to gasp against his chest. “Fucking on their dead parents’ boat isn’t exactly respectful either.”

“We’re helping fix it, may as well take our break on board, let loose a little, release all that’s clouding your mind.” He shrugged, knowing that his words were tempting you into complying with his lustrous whim, and so, to put another step in to helping his cause, he stepped back, reaching behind him to pull his shirt over the back of his neck, leaving his muscular torso bare, and free for your eyes to roam.

“That’s not fair.” You whined at him, not stopping yourself as you moved closer, and smoothed your hands down his stomach. “You’re such a tease Barnes, why couldn’t you have just fingered me in the public bathroom and waited until tomorrow?” A groan slipped from your mouth, as you peppered kisses over his warm flesh, tasting the sweat on his skin as your tongue swiped over the ridges of his six pack.

“Where would the fun have been in that?” He watched you roll your eyes, but continue to work your way down to his navel, stroking his v line with your fingertips. “We’ve had sex on a plane, might as well add a boat to the list.” Bucky remarked, groaning as you put your weight down onto your knees, looking up at him with your pretty eyes, as you palmed him through the denim of his jeans.

He could feel his cock stirring beneath the material, wanting more, eager to breach the layers that were keeping your tongue from rotating around him. But he remained still, as you swept your hair out from your face, the noise of your pulling down his zipper audible, as you sent him a naughty grin. The man above you licked his lips, breathing a sigh of relief when you tugged his jeans and boxers down, his erection swiftly bouncing up, the leaking tip pointing rudely at your face.

With a quick hand, you grasped his length, rubbing over his veins as you pumped him, spreading the moisture of his precum over his rigid skin, aiding you in your movements. As you proceeded to jerk him within your grip, your mouth moved forwards, your breath fanning over his balls before your tongue slipped out to stroke them, swiping up the droopy skin, as you suckled one into your mouth, contently moaning from the flavour of his skin.

Your eyes had shut as Bucky opened his own, watching you through a hooded gaze as you happily assisted his genitals, sending him into a crusade of pleasure as you used your well adversed skill set upon him. Your bottom lip ran up his shaft, slowly dragging along his reddened skin, until your reached the tip, your hands fleeing down to fondle with his sack, as your mouth stuffed itself full of his cock.

“Baby girl.” He breathed, his chest feeling tight as he stood there, practically naked aboard your friend’s boat. James gritted his teeth, watching as you effortlessly bobbed your head up and down half of him, lazily grinning as gagging sounds eventually emitted from your throat as you had him down the back of your throat, saliva slipping down your chin as you shook your head from side to side with him choking you with his dick.

Though he worried not for your struggle, not as you moaned against him, your lashes fluttering though your eyes were shut. He reached his vibranium hand down, stroking the side of your face with the cool metal, a high whine whistling it’s way out of your nose. Your spare hand reached up, cupping it against you, as you hollowed your cheeks, steadily breathing your nostrils.

A light frown covered your face as you focused on smoothing your tongue on his underside, causing Bucky to throw back his head, his stomach sternly clenching as he felt his balls twitch; and then, before he could fathom it, he was filling your mouth, cumming down your throat, as he pulled out, the last of his seed falling upon your tongue as he manhandled himself, feeling sensitive as he watched you fumble your tongue around your mouth, swallowing the mix of your spittle and his cum.

“Taste so fucking good.” You spoke, laughing lightly as you stared up and saw his dazed expression. Bucky pulled you up, his hand cupping your ass again, as he backed you up against the dash, your back lightly hitting against the window as he pulled at your shorts, whisking then down your legs, rubbing you through your underwear. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting himself as he located your clit, your arms grabbing at his shoulders to push him down, to which he complied.

His noises echoed through your mouth, as he pressed kissed along the top of your thighs, his fingers surpassing the seams of your panties, swiping at your entrance, until his prodding ceased, and he sunk his middle finger into your pussy, feeling you clench around him instantaneously. His teeth bit into your skin, emitting a squeal out of you as you harshly tugged his hair, making him rut his loose cock against nothing but the air.

“So wet.” He mumbled against your skin, as his vibranium snapped the sides of your underwear, letting the damp material fall to the floor, as he licked circles around your clit with his tongue, pulley airy sounds of pleasure of of your lungs. He slipped in another finger, his nose being pressed against your mound as you tugged him even closer, feeling as though you were almost there. Then you came, his fingers quickly exiting you as his tongue plunged in your entrance, cleaning up all your juices.

“Need you to fuck me Buck, please honey”. The man stood, stroking his hard cock as he teased your entrance. He swiped it through your slit a couple of times, before slapping his head against your clit, making your mewl against his lips, as you licked your essence from around his mouth. “James...” His cocky demeanour returned, as he watched you glance down at his cock, pressing your lips together in desire.

“Thought you didn’t want to fuck me on the boat.” He sneered dominantly, gripping your throat with his vibranium fist, giving it a tough squeeze, finding it endlessly hot as needy tears pooled in the corners of your eyes. Your lips pouted as you sputtered to speak, but you were just so hungry for him. “Guess I’m just gonna have to take pity on you doll, aren’t I?”

With that,he wedged his way through your folds, filling you to the brim as he bottomed out, gently releasing your throat to paw at your tits through your shirt. “Move baby, move.” You mumbled, your head feeling dizzy as your nails dug into the back of his neck, pulling him closer so that you could place tender and supple kisses across the front of his shoulders.

And so, he began to thrust into you, keeping a grip on your hips as he raised your leg around his waist, driving into you deeper, your head tiredly lulling as you chanted his name in soft and delirious pants. “So damn tight angel.” The soldier muttered, biting down onto your chin as he kissed his way up to your lips, abusing the swollen flesh a little more. The kisses were sloppy and downright needy, his vibranium hand held your chin up so that it would tip in rhythm with his movements, making access to the inside of your mouth easier.

“Buck.” You mumbled against his lips as your eyes rolled, your own hand circling your clit as you jutted against his exceeding administrations, one hand crawling up into his scalp as you let our small screams. You were indefinitely close, and as Bucky swerved his head around your own, moving his lips to nip at your earlobe, you came, coating his cock in your wetness, as he continued to hit his hips against your own.

It wasn’t long until he followed after, your clumsy hands trailing down to roll his balls in your palms being the last thing to push him over the edge. Bucky remained standing between your legs, each of your heads resting over each other’s shoulders as you felt each other, eyes closed, and smelling how the aroma of your sex wafted around you, like a personalised perfume.

“Hell no.” And the peace was broke, as Sam’s voice broke it. He had his hands on his hips as he shifted his gaze away from the two of you, unimpressed by what had happened. “The two of you get a break and you - not on my boat!” He practically screeched like a falcon at the pair of you, his arms flailing about like a bird’s flapping wings.

Although he was maddened, it didn’t settle well with you. You were too far out of it to acknowledge what he must have thought about the on deck dick that you had gotten, you were too lost in Bucky, the feeling of him still inside of you, and the falling of his cum out from beneath you both. “You know what, I’m outta here.” Sam left, quite glad to do so.

“You alright doll face?” Bucky asked as he pulled out, making you wince from the feeling of emptiness. You nodded as he reached for your underwear , leaving them be when he registered he had torn them, and instead opted to picking up just you’d shorts, pulling them onto your legs, redressing himself afterwards.

“I love you Buck.” You smiled tiredly, humming as he pecked your lips a few more times, combing his hands through your sex hair, as he returned the facial expression, seemingly calm. It looked good on him, the pair of you had momentarily forgotten your traumas, and it was bliss.

“Love you too darling.” He pecked your nose, staring lovingly into your eyes as he helped you down, and abled you with support to stand. “Unfortunately I think our breaks over beautiful.” He spoke, his hand upon your waist as the pair of you walked from the scene, going to fetch a bottle of water from Sarah, whom you hoped had not learn of your oversea adventure .

[boldlyvoid]

36 Questions to Fall in Love

Summary: When Derek bets Spencer that he cant make someone fall in love with him in a week, he doesn’t expect Spencer to marry the girl the next day

warnings: strangers to lovers, blind dates, betting, talks of: drug use, drug addiction, abusive marriages, rape, sexual assault, abuse, attempted murder, mass shootings, parental death, love confessions, elopements, opposite of slow burn

word count: 8K

A/N: this is based on a request I received a while back about this article

Derek was a betting man, to say the least. He knew Spencer was from Vegas, he also knew Emily couldn’t say no to a challenge and that Rossi had enough money to burn. Betting at work was the best way to have fun when he worked there, and now he can’t stop.

“I’m not saying con a woman into loving you, I’m saying let us find a girl and let’s see if she can fall in love with you, take a week off from work and just spend time wooing her, and in a week, me or Emily will hit on her, if she turns us down for you, then you’ve won.”

Derek explained it like it was simple, and yet the mere thought of being set up with someone was horrifyingly nerve-wracking. But he got Spencer to agree… unbeknown to him that he had another bet going on the side.

You see earlier that day he was invited to Penelope’s apartment, her younger sister was moving in for a little while and they needed a big strong man to help move the boxes. And like Penelope, Y/N was really chatty and overly friendly really fast. It was like he’s always known Y/N Garcia.

She explained to Derek how hard it was in California to find good men who want someone to love them, she’s tired of guys thinking she comes on too fast, she wants someone who wants to settle and have kids and be a dad. Not a Vain narcissist who only cares about what the city can offer him.

“The last guy I went on a date with literally ran when I mentioned I read a New York Times article about 36 questions to make you fall in love… I just want a person to love? Is that really so hard?”

A lightbulb goes off in Derek’s mind, and Penelope almost reads it.

“Spencer.” They both reply with the same cheeky grin.

“I bet you, you could be as insane as you say you are and he’d still be in love with you by the end of the week.” Derek teases, and the way she smiles shows just how interested she is.

—

Woo her.

The words have rattled around in his brain every second of every moment since Derek said he found a girl for him.

She was free on Saturday, all Spencer had to do was tell Derek where she should meet him and all Penelope had to do was not mention to Spencer that she had a sister, it was up to Y/N when Spencer learned that fact.

She’s already there at the restaurant when he arrives, he’s not sure what he was expecting when Derek said he found the perfect girl but it wasn’t this. He was thinking it was going to be a joke, that either no one would show or Derek was hooking him up with some hot blonde who was way out of his league.

She was beautiful in a nice dress, her makeup was stunning and she looked so content sitting there, waiting for him. Starring her ice water with a straw, she wasn’t paying any attention to the room, she barely knew he was there.

“Hi?” He said softly, not wanting to startle her.

“Hi,” she beamed up at him, that same unsure look on her face. Neither of them was expecting anything from the other, but they were pleasantly surprised.

“Spencer Reid,” he says, actually extending a hand to shake her’s because it’s the chivalrous thing to do.

She reaches out her hand, watching him take it and kiss her knuckle softly, she’s so surprised. “Oh, um, Y/N Garcia,” she whispers the name and his eyes go wide.

“Garcia?” He panics a little, sitting down in the booth and facing her as her face drops at his reaction.

“Did he not tell you I’m Penelope’s sister? I knew Derek was up to something,” she looked like it was all too good to be true, upset almost.

“He didn’t, he probably wanted you to tell me, I mean this all so we can get to know each other,” Spencer shrugs it off, interested in seeing why Derek picked her of all people.

“I guess,” she smiled again, “so what do you do?”

“I work with Penelope, I specialize more in psycho-linguistics and geographical profiling.”

She nods in approval, “I’m a high school English teacher.”

Spencer laughs lightly, “what’s that like?”

“Interesting to say the least, especially in California. Every kid there wants to be on TikTok, no one cares about reading any of the books I ask them too,” she just shakes her head. “I’m worried about the next generation.”

“Me too, it’s almost alarming how many kids are unsubs,” he agrees. She’s so easy to talk to, he’s suddenly not nervous anymore and the waiter is coming to take their order.

He never even opened the menu, “what looks good?” He asks Y/N, nervous and she can tell.

“I think I’m going to have the lobster, let’s go all out?” She shrugged again, both of them feeling more adventurous than normal.

“I’ll have that as well,” Spencer smiled, keeping eye contact with only her as she handed the menus back to him.

They ordered sides and appetizers, stuffed mushrooms and fresh bread, it was amazing. They traded small facts about each other, Spencer noticed a lot of Penelope’s quirks in her, she was very friendly and kind and funny. She loved to tease him and make him laugh, his stomach hurt by the time their lobsters came out.

“I’ve never done this before,” she admits, putting on her bib and holding the claw cracker in one hand.

“Neither have I, but I think it’s fairly simple you just need to apply the correct amount of pressure,” he demonstrates by picking up the crustacean and cracking it at its weakest point before twisting it open.

He’s surprised he did it, so is she as she copies is movements and struggles a bit. “You got it, come on,” he encourages her as she squeezed so hard her hands shake but the shell does eventually crack.

She smiles like she just won the science fair, overly proud as they stare at each other. Enamoured already by just how cute the other was.

“So, what do you do for fun outside being a fed?” She teases between bites.

“I like to spend my time finding new things, I tend to go to the same spots often but I’m always looking for new places. I like the theatre, the old cemetery is nice, I’m excited for the new phantasmagoria to open this fall,” he explains all his interests as he cracks away at his dinner. “I just like to try and appreciate what’s out there, after everything I see.”

“That’s really nice, I’ve always wanted to go to a phantasmagoria actually, science magic is the best kind of magic,” she says it like it’s nothing, almost embarrassed by the interest.

“Me too, I love magic,” Spencer lights up, “I can actually do some magic, hold on.”

He digs his NA chip out of his pocket, showing it to her quickly before making it disappear and reappear behind her ear and she was so smitten, “how the heck?” She asked as she reached for her own ear, shocked at the fact he could do it.

“Do you always keep a coin on you for that?”

He thinks about it for a second, not knowing if he should tell her or not. “No, I keep this on me for support.”

He places it on the table, she picks it up instead and inspects it carefully, “2 years is a really long time, I’m really proud of you.”

He feels like he falls in love with her in that moment, she places the chip back in his hand and smiles, “it’s not easy to admit nor recover from, it’s something you should be really proud of Spencer.”

“Thank you,” he blushes, “um, is there anything else you want to know about me?”

She bites the inside of her lip as she thinks, “actually I was reading an article the other day that said there are a list of personal questions you can ask someone and by the end of all of them you should be in love with the person.”

He thought it was a good opportunity to take a sip of water, upon hearing the word love he realizes it was a mistake. He chokes lightly, coughing as he puts the glass back down and apologizes.

“Love?” He repeats the word.

“I’m going to be real honest here Spencer, I don’t date to get my heartbroken, I date to find my life partner so if you’re not interested in marriage or kids one day tell me now,” she’s very stern about it and he can tell she’s gotten her hopes up and heart broken before.

“I want that too, I just didn’t expect you to be so upfront about it,” he’s honest, because clearly that’s what she wants from him. “What was on the question list?”

“Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?” She asks, remembering the questions easily.

“Wow,” he takes a moment to think about it, “alive or dead?”

“Sure, why not,” she shrugs.

“Probably biological Eve,” he comes to the decision rather quickly. “I’ve always been fascinated with the fact all humans can be traced back to one single women. I’m sure she was amazing, it must have been so interesting being the first women on earth.”

“That is the coolest answer anyone has ever given me,” she smiles, “I think I’d be boring and have dinner with Julia Roberts.”

“She’s a very talented actress,” he smiles, recognizing the name from Penelope’s movie nights. “Um, I have an eidetic memory, do you have the list I can just read it once and then we can spit it back and forth easily.”

She looks at him with wide eyes and a growing smile, “yeah hold on.” She takes out her cellphone and pulls up the article before handing it to him.

He reads it quickly and then hands it right back, she was amazed, surely it was a joke? “Would I like to be famous?” He repeats the next question to himself.

“No,” he’s very certain. “I’ve had some encounters with psychopaths who think they are my biggest fans, perfect match or my only rival, and it’s not fun. I’m sure being adored is lovely, but I don’t like the attention if it’s not from a good place.”

“So you want praise but you don’t want a stalker?” She dumbs it down slightly with a smile, “I definitely don’t want to be famous because I don’t like other peoples opinions about me.”

“That’s incredibly fair.”

“Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say?” She asks the next one.

“If it’s for work or my mother, yes,” he answers it completely honestly. “I prefer not to make phone calls, so when I have to make them I typically spend the day before panicking.”

She smiles, “well, if you ever need someone to call tech support and pretend to be you, I am really good on the phone.”

“Like Penelope?”

She nods, “we spent a lot of time talking on the phone when she moved to Virginia for your team.”

“That must have been really hard, I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned you yet?”

“I’m not really her sister,” she smiles, “I wish I was. I met her during a really abusive relationship and I didn’t feel close to my parents anymore, so my old name didn’t feel right either. Penelope and her brothers were the closest thing I had to family, so I took their name after my divorce.”

“That’s beautiful,” his smile is so soft, she wonders if he feels the same about Penelope.

“What do you consider a perfect day?” She moves on before she can pry into his personal life further, just to pry into his personal life further— in another direction.

“Nobody dies.”

“Even the bad guys?” She squints as she asks it, wondering if that was an appropriate topic for the first date.

“I’m not a fan of the prison system, and I’m really not a very big fan of suicide by cop, let alone lethal injection,” he explained. “Just because you’re a murderer or a psychopath doesn’t mean you have to die too, there is rehabilitation and a way to keep them sane and alive while keeping people safe. I just hate when people die.”

“Me too,” her smile is sad, “my perfect day would be having my parents back, I’d like to show them my degree and go out for ice cream and give them another hug.”

“We should have our perfect days back to back,” his voice is low, he was nervous to say it. “Cause then once you bring them back, I stop people from dying and they can stay forever.”

He sees her heartbreak as the tears well in her eyes, “that would be nice.”

“Um,” he clears his throat and then takes a sip of water. “When was the last time you sang to yourself, or someone else?”

“I was singing in the car on the way here,” she smiles with a sniffle, “I sing a lot actually. I’m always humming or tapping as well, if my mind is wandering then it has to make some kind of noise.”

“What is your favourite thing to hum?” He can’t stop himself from asking it, “I personally do the muppets, duh duh nanana, manamanah.”

She laughs again, and a tear slips out as her eyes close. She hurries to wipe it away, “I often find myself doing the teletubbies song, you know; ‘Tinky-Winky, Dipsy,’” she sings the words before humming the tune to match.

“That’s a good one too,” Spencer is really enthusiastic suddenly, the way he would be with Penelope. He was really comfortable. “If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?”

“Mind, because that’s how you keep a good body. If I can keep the strength and willpower to get up in the mornings and go to work and remember why I love being alive, I’ll be young forever,” she answers like it’s rehearsed.

“I was going to say I’d want my mind too, but the way you said it is a lot more elegant,” he teases. “My mom has Alzheimer's, you were honest about wanting kids and you should know that's genetic. I can also pass on schizophrenia and any other mental illness, like depression, bipolar disorder and most definitely anxiety—

“Spencer,” she reaches across the table for his hand, “breathe, that’s not scary to me. My grandma had it too, I’m not optimal gene-wise either.”

He takes a deep breath, “Sorry.”

“It makes you real to react like that, I don’t mind seeing that side of you. Fake strong men and men who compensate are the worst, in my opinion.”

“Mine too,” he agrees. “I am an anxious worrier, I barely sleep, I’m terrified of the dark, I have PTSD nightmares about my short stay in prison, and I cry a lot when I’m alone.”

“It was a mistake clearly? The prison stay, that is.”

“Yeah,” he nods, moving to the next question. “Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”

She laughs through her nose at the switch topic change, “well until I was 19 I thought my husband was going to kill me, then I thought maybe it would be myself, now I’m content dying in my sleep when I'm old.”

“It is ever-changing,” he agrees. “I have died before.”

“What did it feel like?”

She doesn’t ask how, she knows he was sober, she knows he’s been to prison, she knows he’s an agent. It wasn’t a surprise. Penelope even almost died once before, it was an unfortunate part of the job.

“Warm.”

“Like soothing warm, like drinking a hot chocolate, or that uncomfortable warm like being in a hot car?”

“Like a hug.”

Her lips purse, she hums a bit. “Yeah, my answer stays the same.”

“Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.”

“You like to learn,” she smiles again. “You enjoy the mysteries and the horribleness of the world because it keeps you grounded. You love your mom.”

“We love Penelope, our hearts have similar scars, life has been mean to us for no reason,” he adds 3 more for good measure.

“What are you grateful for in life?” She asks the next question.

“I’ve never said this before,” he prefaces, “but found family. If it wasn’t for my team, no matter who was coming and going over the years, anyone who has had my back. Anyone who loves me in any capacity. That’s what I’m grateful for.”

“We’re not even through the first set of questions and I can see why everyone loves you,” she admits. Moving far too fast, doing exactly what Derek wanted from her.

To scare him and see if he still stays.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Spencer stops the questions, “I can’t continue if I can’t tell you this.”

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Derek and Emily bet me $20 that I couldn’t get someone to fall in love with me, he wanted to set this up and then hit on you in a week and see if you picked me over him, and it feels like a really shitty thing to do to you. It’s making me feel like you’re an object more than a person and I feel really bad about it.”

She just laughs and he has no idea why. “He bet me that I could be as insane as I am with most of my dates and you’d still want to stay with me after a week.”

“You’re not mad?” He worries, by passing her words and the implications of it all.

“No, did you truly mean how you feel?”

“Yes…”

“Then I accept your apology, you’re really kind Spencer. I believe you when you speak, I trust you,” she explains her reasoning and he settles once more. “You’re the most real man I’ve ever met, I think.”

“Thank you,” he smiles again, reaching out for her hand once more, “do you want to finish these questions?”

“Not really,” she smirks, “I think they were wrong about all 35 of them making you fall in love with someone.”

“How so?”

“It only took me 9.”

It’s so absurd they start to laugh, making eye contact, they feel delirious. His hand in hers, she squeezes it lightly and he never wants to let it go.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Sure, did you drive?” She asks.

“No, I walked over.”

She gets up from the table and takes his hand once more, “well, are we going to mine or yours?”

“Are you living with Penelope?”

“Yours it is then,” she teases, bumping his shoulder. This was going to be fun.

Spencer pays for their meal and meets her out front, he gets in her passenger seat and gives her the directions. “Do you want to finish the questions on the drive?” He asks.

“Hmm, well, 11 is a long one, if you want to start telling me your life story in graphic detail? Or we can jump to 12 and you can tell me what super ability you’d like to wake up with?”

“Have you ever watched star trek?”

She’s not expecting that, it makes her take a double-take, she laughs lightly, “Yeah, why?”

“Deanna Troi can sense peoples emotions, I think that would really help with my job,” he explains it easily. “And in times like this.”

“I can just tell you,” she offers, pulling into his apartment complex, she can tell why he walked.

“You don’t have to yet, let it simmer,” he smiles softly, he’s not ready for her to make a decision like loving him when she really doesn’t know everything yet. “Come inside?”

She nods, getting out and taking his hand again for the walk inside. His house is green, and it makes sense. There are door wooden bookshelves and the distant smell of old books and spilled coffee, it’s dusty and old and very Spencer.

“Can I tell you some of my story?” She asks as she kicks her shoes off.

“Absolutely,” he follows her lead, “do you want anything, wine, water?”

“Wine would be nice,” she smiles, following him to the kitchen, “you know my favourite place to talk to someone is in the kitchen.”

“Why?”

“It's the heart of the house,” she smiles slightly, “that's what my mom used to say. This is where all the love happens.”

He loves her and he knows it already, she makes him happy and calm and if she’s in the heart of his house she might as well know all of his own heart.

“I was born in Vegas,” Spencer admits, pushing his life story past his lips before she can stop him or else he wouldn’t.

“My mom was a professor, my dad is an attorney, I have always been really smart and not so athletic, I enjoy chess and reading and I had big thick glasses as a child. My mom participated in a murder and my dad covered it up and that ruined their marriage but they blamed it on her schizophrenia when he left. And then I was left to raise her when she was supposed to be raising me. I cared for her until I turned 13, I left her during the weeks and my aunt would make sure she was okay and I would travel back and forth from CalTech and Vegas on the weekends.”

She can see the exhaustion on his face at just remembering it.

“I got my licence at 16, and then I took her car and it was easier. When I was 18 I put her in a sanatarium and sold her house and took a road trip with my friend to Virginia to go to the academy. He didn’t like it after a week and asked me to go with him to New Orleans and I didn’t— I met my mentor and joined the BAU instead. I was kidnapped and drugged by a man with DID… I died and then his personality switched and Tobias brought me back. I had an addiction to Dilaudid for a few months after, then I got sober after visiting Ethan in New Orleans.”

“Was he good to you?”

“Wonderful,” he smiles, “he was my shoulder to cry on for a long time and I didn’t realize how much I needed him in my recovery until we got a case and I had a reason to see him. I missed a plane and ignored my friends to just be with him. He’s the reason I got clean, not anything else… he told me that I was too special to hate myself, and he was right.”

“He was,” she smiles. “He sounds lovely.”

“And then, the first time I saw my mom after putting her in the sanatarium was because she told parts of our case to a man who lost his daughter, and he did a lot of messed up stuff… like he shot my co-worker. She was another special person to me—“

“I’m so sorry.”

He smiles, “she lived, don’t worry. I loved Elle, she was amazing but the bureau didn’t see that. She was a broken toy to them, we all become one eventually. I miss her a lot.”

She walks into his space and wraps her arms around him, giving him a hug as he rests against the counter, she makes no attempt to move back. Holding him in the heart of the house, close to her own. He holds her back just as tight.

“Maeve, she was another person I loved who got shot, she died. I see her sometimes when I sleep, she visits me when I’m in the most need. I’ll always love her, but she’s gone. The only other woman who claims to have loved me was a psychopath who is dead now too, she framed me for murder, had me drugged, kidnapped my mother and the list goes on and it’s not pretty. In prison she had a lot of bad things happen to me, I have scars that will never heal and a part of me was lost but I’m okay now.”

They have a moment of silence in the middle of their stories, she absorbs it while preparing her own, rubbing his back as her cheek stays pressed to his chest.

“I was born in California, my parents were high school sweethearts, they made me at prom. Learned that from the scrapbooks,” she laughs against his chest, “they were great and then they died when I was 14, it was a mass shooting at a mall, and I went to a foster home. I married the oldest son in the home after he groomed me for a few years… I met Penelope when I was 20 and she helped me get divorced and back on my feet and her brothers protected me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry you relate to loss.”

“It's the one thing that unites us all, really,” Spencer’s voice is barely a whisper. “When you think about it, we’re all born and we all die, the only difference is how we fill the middle.”

They never get to that bottle of wine he mentioned, she pulls back and asks the next question as she drags him to his bedroom. “If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future, or anything else, what would you want to know?”

“If I get to have kids.”

She drags him into the room and closes the door, “that was going to be my answer.”

“Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?” He asks as she starts to take her clothes off.

“Sleep beside the love of my life.”

“I’ve never woken up beside the love of my life,” he replies with a soft smile and follows suit, getting undressed down to their underwear before climbing in bed.

“Greatest accomplishment?” She asks as they settle in, laying her cheek on his chest once more.

He takes a moment to think of everything he’s done that has been good, and one really stands out. “there was a case a few years back, we found a bunch of kids who went missing and returned them to their families and gave answers to the families of children who didn’t make it. Days like that feel like a reward.”

“Getting divorced,” she pushes the words out quickly.

“Most valued friendship?” He asks, knowing she doesn’t need to explain herself.

“Penelope.”

“Derek.”

“Most treasured memory?”

“When JJ placed her son in my arms and told me I was his godfather,” his voice is hushed and she knows it’s because he doesn’t want to cry. “It's the closest I’ve gotten to being a father so far.”

“I got an end of the year present when I was first starting out, this girl told me that I was the reason she enjoyed reading again and it was the reason I started teaching, I’ll never forget her. Tammy Brownlee, she graduated in 2009 and we’ve been Facebook friends ever since.”

“Most terrible memory?”

“My parents dying.”

“You’d think mine would be dying right?” He asked, she nodded against his chest, “it was actually being held down by 3 men, getting a sock shoved in my mouth while they beat me.”

She kissed his chest softly, “I’m sorry, I know that feeling. Mind you, he was only 1 man, it’s not a good feeling.”

“If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?”

“If it’s definite; not like a chance or a cancer statistic, if it’s like this is the day you die no ifs and's or butts, then I’d just continue as normal and have 1 really awesome day right before,” she smiles against him. “Make the most of it all.”

“If I was dying a year today, I’d ask you to marry me.”

“Already?” She laughs, thinking he’s kidding.

“You want a nice husband and a kid? I will be good for you as long as I know you, and I’ll have as many kids as you want me to help you make.”

She’s silent as she thinks about it. “What does friendship mean to you?”

“Someone who is there for you even when they don’t want to be, even when it’s hard,” Spencer whispers, thinking about his friends.

“It means hacking the government and voiding a marriage and changing someone's name so they can escape,” Y/N whispers. “don’t tell the feds she did that too.”

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?”

“I crave it and hardly receive it, but I give it out like it’s a sample at costco,” she snickers at the example she gave. “It’s something that people have always admired about me and yet it’s also the thing that scares people away. When I love, I love hard and it’s full and annoying and you will feel suffocated sometimes, but just tell me when and I’ll back off.”

“I don’t know how to ask for what I need,” Spencer whispers. “But I need someone to love me like that.”

“The next one is to alternate 5 good things about each other,” she rests her chin on her hand as she looks up at his face in the darkness, “soft.”

He pauses for a moment, bypassing the easiest one and saying pretty, instead, he says; “you’re honest.”

“You’re very caring,” she replies.

“You see beauty in the world still.”

She smiles at that one, “you make the world beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.”

“And you’re handsome, that’s my 4th,” she keeps track in her head.

“You’re true, to your heart, your promises, everything.”

“And you’re real, you see the world for what it is and you don’t try to change it for the better. You want to make it manageable,” her explanation is the longest one yet. “Was your childhood happy, and do you feel close with your family still?”

“I write to my mom every single day and I drop the notes off weekly, and no,” he doesn’t want to cry, but he feels like he might again. “It was liveable, I made it.”

“Mine was happy until I was 14, then I was alone, I have 1 living aunt and she is strange but I get a card from her every Christmas,” Y/N adds. “I’d like to think your lack of love and my need to fill the world with what I miss from my parents will make a really good family dynamic.”

“Me too.”

“How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?” She asks, “I think I know already, but it’s the next one.”

“She hit me a few years ago because I made her take some medicine, she hit me once when I was a kid too…” he whispers them so that they stay a secret, if they can’t be heard else where then they don’t exist in his mind. “She was a wonderful mother but the worst memories stick out the most now. She’s forgetting everything and all I can remember is how hard it’s been on me, like a bad son.”

“My mom was my best friend, and I still talk to her every day, I bring her and my dad around with me in my necklace,” she pulls the chain on her neck and shows him the little jar. “Mom, Dad, this is Spencer. Spencer, this is my mom and dad.”

He holds it in his hand and tips it gently, “nice to meet you.”

“The next one is weird,” she changed the topic again.

“Make three true "we" statements each. For instance, "We are both in this room feeling…" Spencer says it verbatim. “We are both feeling understood.”

“We are both hopeful.”

“We are both falling in love,” Spencer ends the feelings with the most prominent one.

“We are,” she agrees with another smile.

“Finish this,” he insists on moving forward, “I wish I had someone I could share…”

“The rest of my life with,” she whispers this time. “If we become besties, what’s something I should know?”

“I think I’ve told you all the important stuff so far,” Spencer thinks hard, pausing for a moment. “My butt is ticklish?”

It makes her giggle, “that is a good one. My sides and the bottom of my feet are ticklish too.”

“Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met,” Spencer reads the question back from memory, “don’t be afraid to be too honest.”

“I like that you know how I feel but I hate that you’ve been hurt. I like how you listen to me, and I really like how comfortable you make me feel. I’m almost naked in your bed right now and I know you’d never, ever hurt me, and I haven’t felt that in a really long time.”

“I like that you are indulging me in the dream of becoming a husband and a dad one day… most people say it’ll happen but they never picture it. No one has ever said yeah id have your kids. I like that you know what you want and you’re actively looking for it.”

She moves up so she can hold his face in her hands, “only 7 more. Is it working?”

He nods, “my most embarrassing moment is the time I had a wet dream on the work jet.”

She laughs and then covers her mouth in panic, “I’m sorry that’s not funny.”

“It is, it’s fine,” he smiles. “I was dreaming about kissing this actress we helped, she actually did kiss me in the pool, so I guess it was bound to happen.”

She leans in and presses her lips against his, holding his cheeks in her hands his wrap around her waist as he holds her there. She peppers smaller kisses to his lips before pulling back, “we both cried in front of each other already today, so next question.”

“Tell me what you like about me already?”

Her hands trail his chest and down towards his boxers, he’s hard again from just kissing and she smirks, “this is promising.”

His hand on her back unclips her bra, “I love boobs, not even going to lie. They are my weakness.”

She pushes the straps down and tosses her bra aside, pressing her naked chest against his, she moves on. “What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?”

“Being called insane, saying I'm seeing things, or acting crazy, those are things I don’t like to be told because they make my anxiety worse.”

“Noted,” she smiles. “I talk to myself a lot so get ready for that.”

“Okay,” he smiles, she’s way too easy to be real.

“I don’t want to mention my last husband from here on out, I think if I get married again I will never tell anyone I have a first husband,” she’s firm in her words.

“Technically, Y/N Garcia has never had a husband,” he reminds her.

Her face lights up at the realization, “you’re right.”

“If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?” Spencer asks.

“I regret not screaming at my ex before I disappeared but I wanted to live.”

He hums, understanding how it feels. “There isn’t anyone in specific I’ve wanted to tell this to, but I wanted to kill people when I was in prison. It made me really angry being in there and I let myself dream about killing people who hurt me and then I almost did kill someone.”

“Remember what you said about bad guys?” She whispers a helpful tip, “even the worst people deserve to have a chance at life. And you’re not hardly as bad as the worst people you’ve met.”

“You’re right,” he agrees. “Thank you.”

“This place burns down, what’s one thing you’d run back inside for? Outside of people and animals…” she asks the 3rd last question.

“The book Maeve gave me.”

“The girlfriend who died?” She confirms, and he nods. “If my place with Penelope burned down, I just want my necklace and I don’t take it off that often.”

“The next question is interesting,” Spencer thinks about it, “Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing, and why?”

“I’m glad I wasn’t at the mall with my parents, if I saw them get shot it would hurt more,” she whispers. “I’m sorry you had to see Maeve die like that.”

“In a way, I’m glad I saw Maeve get shot, otherwise I wouldn’t have believed it. She never felt real to me and then she was dead…”

She just hums, “Share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it,” she whispers the last question.

“Also, ask your partner to reflect to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen,” Spencer adds in the second half.

“I need to find a place to stay now that I’m here, I don’t want to keep living with Penelope. As much as I love her, I want my own place,” Y/N admits.

“I think I’m in love with this girl that I just met and I don’t know if it’s too soon to ask her to look for a house with me?” Spencer pretends to sigh, “she’s super cool and I think we’d make some nice kids. I would love some advice.”

“Has she told you she loves you yet?” She teases.

Spencer shakes his head. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Spencer,” she replies, leaning in one more time to kiss him.

It’s deeper this time, she breathes him in and rests her forehead against his as she breathes between them.

“How did that work?” She whispers, truly amazed at how easy it was.

He shrugs, “it’s a good questionnaire.”

“You were really honest, your heart is really pure and I would like to get to know you more, but I feel like I know everything?” She shakes her head while she talks, overthinking all the things she has learned, “I don’t even know what could be left?”

“My birthday is October 28th?” He whispers, “we have a lot to discover yet.”

—

When she doesn’t come home in the morning, Penelope knows she’s at Reid’s house. She just doesn’t expect to walk in and find them naked in Reid’s bed, out cold and cuddled together with their clothes all over the room.

It looks like something happened. If only she knew the truth.

“Oh my god?” Penelope’s voice wakes them up and Spencer scrambles to make sure they are covered by his blankets.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N shouts as she wakes up.

“I came to see if you were okay. I expected one of you to be on the couch, I didn’t think it went this good?”

“We just slept in the same bed, I promise,” Spencer turned bright red as he panicked, “we just got to know each other and talked all night, in what we normally sleep in.”

“Uh-huh,” Penelope smirks, “so I take it the 36 questions worked?”

“Perhaps,” Y/N smirks back at her sister.

“Do you use it on many people?”

“No one has made it past the first question,” she smiles at him instead, kissing his cheek as Penelope watches.

“That’s my queue to go, um… yeah, wow, I didn’t see this happening so fast,” Penelope is shocked but in the best way.

She leaves just as fast as she arrived and Y/N settles back into Spencer the second she closes the bedroom door. “You know, if she’s not going to believe us we might as well do it? If you accidentally get me pregnant then we can move fast and no one will question it.”

He laughs, “accidentally, is the key word there.”

“My parents made me at prom after crushing on each other for 2 years… I think knowing each other for 2 days isn’t the weirdest way to start a family?”

“Honestly,” Spencer lets out a sigh and her happy mood drops to a more serious one. “I was a little worried that we’d wake up this morning and you’d change your mind.”

“Why?”

“In the heat of the moment, learning everything about each other and saying I love you was really exhilarating, but I have a hard time believing it,” he admits, “not many people mean it, or stay around after they tell me they love me.”

She cuddles back into the crook of his neck and holds him as tightly as possible, wrapping a leg around him for optimal coverage, “I am staying right here, because I love you, Spencer.”

“Okay,” he whispers. Sounding like he still doesn’t believe it.

“I love you because you’re honest, you want what I want and you’re truly kind. You’re friends with my sister, you’re smart, you would make a great dad, you won't hurt me, you are really nice to cuddle with, and I know you mean it when you say you love me because it’s not a word you use lightly.”

“Are you my girlfriend now?” He wonders aloud, “cause if you really want to have a kid, I have my mom's old wedding ring in my closet, and I would rather be married to you before we do that?”

“Okay,” she whispers, tears welling in her eyes as she hides her face in his neck, “the courthouse is literally just down the road?”

“We can get breakfast together after?” Spencer adds, rubbing her back as they plan, he wasn’t scared anymore.

“Penelope will kill me if she’s not there, can we have her as our witness?” Y/N finally sits up to look at him, pulling away to sit on the bed, still shirtless.

His smile while he tries to keep eye contact with her is so funny, she giggles a little as she hides her nipples behind her palms and cups her boobs.

“I’m pretty sure she’s still in my living room,” Spencer giggles, “Penelope!?”

She comes back in then, “yes?”

“We’re going to the courthouse to get married, wanna come?” Y/N asks with an embarrassed smile.

“Yes!” She cheers, “I’ll go get you a dress!”

And then she’s off again, this time actually leaving Spencer’s apartment. “What if we don’t tell Derek, and let him hit on me next week anyway?

“Then you can say ‘sorry I have a husband,’ and he’ll body slam me to the floor,” Spencer laughs nervously, “the whole team is going to be so pissed they missed my wedding…”

She frowns, “send out a mass text, tell them to meet us at the court house, it’s their day off right?”

“You’re right,” he smiles.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Walking out of the courthouse, hand in hand, she’s in a white dress, he’s in a suit he’d probably wear to work, Penelope is crying and the whole team is waiting outside for them.

At the bottom of the courthouse steps, they all clap and cheer, throwing rice at them like an old movie, Spencer’s smiling so hard his cheeks are burning. Y/N introduces herself to everyone, hugged over and over by everyone she should have met 15 years ago.

Derek is tapping his foot, waiting for Spencer to come and hug him, “what the fuck?” He asks as Spencer steps into his space, wrapping his arms around him and shaking his back and forth.

“Nice try, I’ll give you $20 as a thank you,” Spencer teases as he pulls away. “She is perfect.”

JJ and Will are busy talking to Y/N when he turns around, Mike and Henry not far behind them. Spencer walks over and wraps Henry up in his arms, the kid was growing way too fast, Spencer loved him so much it hurt sometimes.

“Y/N, this is my godson,” Spencer introduces them, “Henry, this is Y/N.”

She gives him a big hug too, “do you have any cousins, Henry?”

“No, but I was 8 when Michael was born,” he smiles, “and I’m getting old enough to be a good babysitter?”

Spencer laughed, messing up Henry’s hair quickly with a smile, “I’m sure by the time you’re a cousin you’ll be great.”

They take a group photo outside, Spencer and Y/N in the middle, everyone was smiling. It was the first time all of them had been in a photo together, the entirety of Spencer’s found family. Now they were Y/N’s too.

She hyphenated her last name, Y/N Garcia-Reid, and their kids would share the same one. He was not only about became a father thanks to Y/N, but Penelope would also become an Aunt once more. It was like a gift that kept on giving, seeing Spencer and Y/N create a little family of their own.

—

She cried her eyes out when she met Diana. She wasn’t expecting to be so emotional, but then Diana was lucid and very welcoming and sweet.

“It’s going to be a pleasure having you as my daughter,” Diana smiles, thinking it was just a nice thing to say.

Y/N cries and holds her so tight Diana almost can’t breathe but she lets her hold her as long as she needs to, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome?”

“I haven’t had someone to call mom since I was 14,” Y/N whispers, “if that’s okay?”

Diana hugs her just a little too tight in response, “you can call me mom whenever you want.”

“Just until you become a grandma,” she whispers again as she pulls back and Diana’s attention snaps to Spencer.

“Are you trying?”

He nods, “we want kids, we’re not getting any younger.”

Diana wraps him up in a hug and he almost falls off his chair at the sheer force of it, she was so happy for him. She knew this was all he’s ever wanted; because he would be good at it, he had all this love in his heart, and he wanted to show his father how easy it is to stay.

“You’re going to be a great dad, Spencer,” she holds his cheeks as she pulls away, “I’m proud of you.”

He cried. It’s all he’s wanted from her, and now he has everything right here in this room.

—

When they find out they’re pregnant after the first try, it’s really funny to them. It was all working so well, it was a little too much for them at first. They were looking for a house, she was looking for a permanent teaching job but Spencer convinced her to wait until after the baby is born to go back.

They name her Morgan Garcia-Reid as a thank you for Derek’s little bet, and before she’s even 6 months old they’re pregnant again. By the time they have 4 kids under 5 they take a break and just enjoy their little family.

To think Derek gave them 7 days to fall in love… and then they lived happily ever after.

taglist: @g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[sailorsero]

nothin’ else like this - nsfw

author: claire (@sailorsero​) ship: solo adult bakugou katsuki, dash of adult bakugou x gender neutral reader, side adult kaminari denki x adult shinsou hitoshi prompt/genre: birthday & food kink themed solo play wordcount: 2887 warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing, kink, food fetish/food kink/sploshing a/n: • written for the Bakugou’s Birthday Bash Collaboration - check out the masterlist to see everyone elses!) • shoutout to @foolishfortuna who is writing an amazing food fetish kiribaku that inspired me to write this kink • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘birthday cake’ by rihanna

nothin’ else like this *** pinkyofficial • HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BLASTIEST BOY IN THE GALAXY!!! @explosiongoddynamight LOVE YOU!!! 💥🧡🍹🎂😘 CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU AND GET TURNT WITH MAH BOYSSS!!! BAKUSQUAD BABY!!! 👬🧍‍♀️👬 GO TELL DYNAMIGHT HAPPT BIRTHDAY Y’ALL!!! #dynamight #pinky #birthdaybitch

its_cellophane: happt birthday @explosiongoddynamight pinkyofficial: @its_cellophane suddenly we’re a squad of 4 #cellowho theredriot: Look at us 🥺 can’t wait to celebrate together, love you guys!!! happy birthday bro @explosiongoddynamight ♥️ chargebolt: But can we get #birthdaybitch trending tho?? 🤔

Bakugou tutted, flicking through the photos Mina had posted to Instagram. One from last years Hero Gala, with Tweedle Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest crowded into his personal space - all smiles, suits and champagne flutes. A post-graduation selfie with the woman herself, where he felt so triumphant at moving onto the next stage of his quest to become #1, that he hadn’t even objected to the filter that gave them huge eyelashes and bear ears. A couple from their most recent meetups, candids from their school days (mostly taken without his knowledge, let alone permission; the only one that he was posing for featured a double middle finger that had set Iida off for a good fifteen minutes), one from a photoshoot his publicist had strong armed him into and his friends had christened ‘The Great Bakugou Thirst Trap of 2020’.

Bakugou did not consider himself a sentimental person, or someone who placed a great deal of importance on his own birthday; he hadn’t even made any fuss when you told him you were needed in Osaka for a mission that would take you away two days before he turned 24.

But he couldn’t help but go back to the first photo of the bunch, allowing himself a soft smile he would deny under oath.

His 17th birthday, his first birthday with - ugh - real friends. He remembered rolling his eyes when Racoon Eyes had given her blindingly pink phone to the waitress, yelling at Sparky and Tape Face when they’d shoved themselves into the same side of the booth as the rest of them, growling when Shitty Hair had told him to ‘say ‘cheese’, Bakubro!’.

They all looked so young, pre-undercuts and piercings and late teenage growth spurts. He’d have to remember the (very secret) happiness that night had brought him next time Kirishima annoyed him by stepping mud into his carpet or Kaminari pissed him off by opening his big fat mouth.

Bakugou was drawn from his thoughts by knocking on his office door. Knocking that started out strong for the first hit, dropping noticeably into something more tentative for the rest; probably once they remembered whose door they were knocking on. Kirishima had once told him that the interns drew straws on who had to ‘rattle the beast’s cage’ (interact with Bakugou). He’d know; that idiot had been rattling Bakugou’s cage 25/8 since their first year at Yuuei.

“Come in!”

The door opened far enough for an assistant who had already been by this morning with a sack of birthday cards mixed in with regular fan mail to poke their head through the gap.

“Mr Dynamight, Sir, there’s another delivery for you.”

Bakugou nodded, leaning back in his leather desk chair and stretching out his back. Damn paperwork day, and on his birthday. Fuck, was 24 the age your back started aching from sitting in a goddamn chair?!

The assistant continued as they approached the desk, despite the fact that Bakugou didn’t fucking ask.

“It’s a cake, from a lovely bakery downtown; a delivery person just dropped it off. Their cakes are exquisite, by all accounts.”

They stepped back from the desk once the baby blue box was securely placed down, a white satin ribbon wound expertly around it. An embossed logo Bakugou recognised shone under the overhead light.

The blonde’s quirk made short work of the ribbon, burning it idly with one hand so the rest could be severed with ease.

Bakugou flipped the lid of the box up, letting it fall fully open so he could inspect the contents. He blinked. He blinked again.

It was a cake. A strawberry shortcake, slathered with cream and fresh fruit, and perfectly placed in the centre was a chocolate disc with immaculately piped words.

♡ HAPPY BIRTHDAY DYNAMIGHT ♡

“It’s from your fanclub!”

He let his eyes drift back up to the assistant, who - from what Bakugou could infer from the overly positive, cheery tone he was using - clearly thought Bakugou was seconds away from blasting the expensive gateau across his office, and was trying to avert having to call the janitorial staff back up to this floor. He understood; unbridled, perhaps not-always-reasonable rage was kind of his brand, and the cleaners had already had to make a return journey today after Kaminari had set off several sprinklers making toast.

A cake. Yes, a cake. From his fanclub. A cake from his fanclub. That he was definitely going to eat and nothing else, nothing weird! A cake for him to eat. At home. In private. As soon as possible.

“That’s-” He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s...great. It looks delicious...yes. Thanks. That’s all. You can...go.”

The assistant looked like they were struggling to process the combination of words that had just left Bakugou, but he was pleased when they decided to take this struggle on the road and left his office with a rushed “Yes, Mr Dynamight, Sir, thank you, you are welcome, good bye!” and the click of the office door.

Bakugou barely had time to drag his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath he had apparently been holding since he’d spoken, before the door opened again.

“Knock knock!” “You know he says it doesn’t count if you say it instead of doing it, especially if you’ve already open- Denki!”

Bakugou groaned as Kaminari shot across the room, peering into the still-open box on the desk. “Ooh, that looks amazing, bro! Can I have some?”

“Hey, Kats! Happy birthday, man!” Kirishima beamed at him before dropping his gaze to the cake Kaminari was currently eyefucking. Bakugou slid the box an inch or two closer to himself. He steadfastly ignored the other blonde’s question.

“Thanks, Ei. What’s Dunce Face doing here - world’s worst birthday present?”

Kirishima snorted, clapping Kaminari on the shoulder. “Ran into him a few blocks away on our patrols; figured we’d catch you now to say ‘happy birthday’ on the actual day instead of waiting for Saturday!”

Kaminari brought out what he probably considered the big guns; his finger guns, that he did for literally everything. “Happy birthday, Blasty! Speaking of your birthday, where did the cake come from? Sent with luuurve from Osaka? Although, that would be weird because you don’t even really like sweets and this won’t keep until Saturday when we get togeth-“

“It’s from my fanclub, Pikachu, and keep your staticky hands off my cake!” Bakugou flipped the lid back down, shielding the cake from view.

“Man, don’t be like that - there’s no way you’re gonna be able to eat all that by yourself!” Kaminari whined.

“Relax, Denks - you know Y/N has a cake ordered for Bakubro’s Belated Birthday Blowout!” Kirishima patted his back consolingly.

“I really wish you’d all stop calling it that. God, letting you guys have their number was a fucking mistake.”

Kaminari looked thoughtful; it was terrifying. “You know, I heard, one time, a hero got given a homemade cake by a fan, and when they took a bite of it, they realised they had a mouth full of the fan’s pubic hair!”

“Dude!” “What the everloving fuck, Dunce Face?!”

Kaminari just beamed, apparently proud of himself for making Bakugou question his life on the anniversary of his birth.

“Firstly, does this cake look fucking homemade to you? Secondly, where the fuck did you read that? ‘Disgusting Stories for Stupid Fucking Idiots Monthly’?”

Kaminari shrugged, nonplussed. “Sero told me.”

“Yes, then. Same thing, pretty much.”

Kirishima interrupted, looking thoughtful. “If you think Bakubro’s cake is full of pubes, why do you want to eat it?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a mouthful of pubes, bro! ‘Toshi’s more of an au naturel kind of guy…”

Bakugou saw Kirishima’s (painful looking) thinking face intensify, and intervened immediately. “Ei, do not pull at this thread. He-“ Bakugou punctuated with a harsh jab towards the electric hero. “- has told us several times that he’s had Mindfucker’s dirty feet in his mouth before, not to mention all the bodily fluids, and then there’s all the disgusting public places they’ve fucked, and-“

“Don’t kinkshame me, bruh!” Kaminari cut in, sounding lowkey offended, but Bakugou noted the look of pride from before hadn’t diminished, even a little bit.

Bakugou snorted. He constantly shamed Kaminari and his walking corpse of a boyfriend, but that was because they were shamelessly disgusting oversharing nymphomaniacs and someone had to do it. Preferably before one of them creamed their pants in a karaoke bar again. That was Shinkami shaming, not kinkshaming.

He definitely had no room to kinkshame people; not with the plans he had for this cake.

***

Bakugou slammed the door to his apartment shut with his hip and laid the bakery box down on the side table so he could make quick work of his boots and jacket.

God, that had to have been the longest taxi ride of his life. He couldn’t risk the subway with such a precious cargo, so he’d had to sit in the back of the cab next to the box (that he’d had to resist the urge to belt in) and sweat in silence.

Bakugou didn’t know where this kink had come from - maybe he’d watched too much Food Network in his formative years, or passing by the bakery with the amazing smell opposite his junior high school twice a day for three years before going home to jerk it had warped his sexuality; all he knew was, he was gonna fuck this cake.

It was a shame that you were miles and miles away and unavailable for a Facetime like no other; introducing you to his kink had been one of the best weekends of his life, and he was pretty sure - if he knows you as well as he thinks he does - you’d placed an order for two birthday cakes for his belated celebrations.

Maybe you’d got other stuff in mind, too - pie, custard, ice cream, syrups, chocolate, sushi, spaghetti, fruit…and now he was half-hard, still fully dressed and standing in the hallway.

Well, you weren’t here now, but it was his birthday, dammit! He would just have to play alone, and send you some photos afterwards.

Bakugou seized the box and made quick strides until he could place it down on his bedside table.

The comforter flew off of the bed, pooling into a lavish lump on the floor right before the pillows landed one by one on top. The undersheet was last, leaving the rubber sheet beneath exposed to one of the only two people who knew it was there in the first place.

The box made its final move to the middle of the protected mattress, where Bakugou tilted it just enough to be able to coax the cake free with help from gravity and without getting it all over his hands. Not yet…

Bakugou made short work of his clothes, kicking his pants and briefs off impatiently a second before climbing onto the bed and kneeling beside his prize.

Normally, he’d take his time, play around more, have more of a plan, but today, the anticipation had him on a knife edge already. It had been nearly four hours since he’d unwrapped this gift, and he was dying to play with it.

Bakugou leant his knees spread apart, sinking into a squat so he was as close as he could get to his treat.

He was fully hard now, and gave his cock a couple of quick pumps, letting his fist settle loosely from the base down as he took a deep breath and brought his leaking tip to the side of the cake.

His breath left him in a quick rush when the first contact was made; the cream was on the cooler side, and the smooth finish of the outside of the cake was everything he had been missing since he’d last indulged himself like this.

It took all the self control Bakugou had to only push the head in, then pause and take a breath, focusing intently on every sensation as he pushed in as slowly as was physically possible.

The afternoon of waiting felt like edging, so the sensation against his cock, inch by inch, was almost too much as it was not enough.

The sponge was almost as soft and velvety as the cream, but providing some texture and resistance that felt as delicious as the dessert looked.

Bakugou let out the first of many moans as he bottomed out, the air in the bedroom already beginning to smell like sugar and strawberries - just the right side of cloying, and he knew before long it would be so heady he’d be dizzy from it.

He pulled out almost as slowly as he went in, raising himself back up a little and bracing himself with his hands on the other side of the intact cake, leaving him looking over it on his hands and knees.

His reentry at a slightly higher point of the cake wasn’t quite as slow as the first breach, but he’s never been known for his patience.

Bakugou pulled in and out a couple of times, leaving a clear hole to fuck as he began to do just that, his hips begnining to thrust in a steady rhythm.

It didn’t take long for the squishy sounds coming from between his legs to turn into sloppy ones; the delicate cake was beginning to buckle already, the defined layers enveloping his cock becoming mushy around him.

Balancing his weight on one arm, he swiped his now-free hand across the top of the cake, coming away with as generous a handful of cream and strawberry slices as he could without threatening the structural integrity of the cake prematurely.

Bakugou raised his hand and smacked it right into the middle of his chest, before smearing it across his right pec, rubbing purposefully over his nipple as he did so. His hips sped up slightly without intention - or him noticing - as he alternated between smearing the food deeper into his flushed skin, and tugging on his nipple.

He could hear whimpering in his ears and it took a beat or two for Bakugou to realise they were coming from him. Fuck, it all just felt so good.

He blindly grabbed another small handful, this time coming away with some cake mixed into his spoils, before repeating the treatment on his left pec, but with a roughness borne of his increasing desperation.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, I-“ He hissed out a breath, pinching his nipple firmly as he felt the cake begin to collapse inwards, the squelch of the fucking he was giving it echoing in his ears.

A final scoop of the dessert onto his fingers went straight into his mouth, his plush, pink lips parting to accommodate three fingers; he was close.

Bakugou’s balance was starting to go as his orgasm approached, so he pulled his fingers free from his tongue and resumed his position, but beginning to sink lower into the mess he was fucking into his mattress protectors. From his angle, his balls began to slap what was left of the sides of the sinking cake, and the noise that created tore another moan from the blonde.

He could feel the sticky mess coating his crotch and inner thighs, closing his eyes as he lost himself in the feeling of indulging in the kink that turned him on like nothing else, wanting to savour something he knew was nearly over.

“Oh my fuck- ing, shit, oh, fuck-“

Bakugou’s hips were moving at a frantic pace now, chasing a release inside the cake while it still had an inside.

His orgasm had been teetering for a couple of minutes, then came all at once. A shout turned into a long, drawn out moan that was almost a cry, as he spilled his release in one, two, three bursts; biting his lip so hard, he’d discover later he’d drawn blood.

His arms gave out before he’d come back to himself, his lower half landing into the gooey puddle of expensive baking with a splat that would almost have been enough to get him half hard again if his soul hadn’t just shot out of his dick into a cake.

The blonde let out a deep, satisfied sigh, smiling dopily into the shiny, specialist bedsheet. Happy birthday to me, indeed.

Bakugou had only just had the energy to raise himself back onto his hands and knees when he had to find a little more to turn his head towards the door at the sound of it creaking open.

“Awh, did someone get you a birthday cake, babe?”

He nodded. You were back early.

You dropped your duffel on the floor, taking your first step towards the bed as you slid your shirt off with ease.

“Ooh, good - you saved some for me! I’m starving…”

[delimeful]

to taste your beating heart (4)

warnings: nightmares, flashbacks, mind control/thrall mention, mental breakdown, blood mention, impalement/staking, upsetting thoughts, panic, ptsd responses

-

A plastic-sounding click, like someone pressing a button.

Anx took a breath, staring intently at the person bustling around across from him.

Patton was making tea like someone vying for a professional butler position: setting saucers and cups in front of each of them, managing the teapot with a steady hand, motions smooth and automatic.

“Sorry, I’m just so used to setting up refreshments for guests,” he chuckled nervously. “My sister always insists on tea when she comes by, so—“

Logan shifted next to him, impatient and more than a little irritated after every one of his inquiries had been deflected or outright ignored. Patton had invited them in, though, and he was currently their best lead on one of the most vicious cases they’d ever dealt with.

Even if he seemed utterly incapable of answering any of their actual questions.

That wasn't saying he wasn't willing to talk at all. Roman was chattering with him, their most sociable member easily drawn into discussion and more than willing to natter on in the hopes that Patton would let some vital information slip.

Anx wasn’t the only one who noted the way their host set an extra saucer and cup out, but when he met Logan’s gaze, the hunter only rolled his eyes, more than content to dismiss it as another element of the stranger’s apparent airheaded personality.

Patton was still speaking, discussing the many alleged merits of ignoring allergies for the sake of fulfilling experiences. Roman, who was lactose intolerant, was nodding along wholeheartedly. Logan, who was the one to deal with Roman’s post-dairy consumption whining, looked a lot less agreeable.

His own attention remained pinned on Patton’s movements rather than his words. There was a pattern there, a careful turn of the cup so the handle was facing the right side, lift the teapot from the warmer, and pour. One by one, he went around the table.

Anx was the only one watching when the man finally fumbled. After pouring each of their cups with surprising grace, he reached that final, fifth teacup. He twisted the handle so it was right-aligned, lifted the teapot, poured— and then reached for what looked like a cream pitcher.

A beat late, Patton’s hands suddenly swerved to the side, and he pulled them back as though he’d been burned. His voice didn’t even falter.

Anx reached across the table lightning-quick and seized the pitcher, knocking a few of the porcelain jars over and effectively cutting through the conversion as he did. Roman was asking something, but Patton only stared at him, something both fearful and grateful in his gaze.

Anx pulled the lid off, and the thick smell of blood hit him, like iron and rust.

“Your sister, you said?” Logan asked, and Patton bit his lip hard enough to bleed.

Click.

He was in a different room of the same tiny apartment, though it took him a moment to recognize the interior.

Put bluntly, it looked as though a miniature hurricane had torn through it.

The wallpaper was shredded and splattered. The cute decorative furniture had been thrown askew at best, smashed to bits at worst. Everything was in disarray, the valuable and mundane targeted indiscriminately. An entire life torn to pieces.

In the eye of the storm, Patton stood, hands fisted in his hair and eyes bloodshot.

They’d known the backlash of the bond breaking would be hard on Patton, but they hadn’t been prepared for this. It was entirely possible that they had never run into a thrall this strong, one maintained for so long, in their entire hunting career.

Most aggressive thralls would attack relentlessly to defend their master from harm. Seeing as they’d been the ones to kill his “sister”, if Patton was going to vent his ire on anyone, it would be them. Roman stepped forwards carefully regardless, knowing that they owed it to him to at least try to help him recover. “Patton?”

“I should have helped her,” he replied tonelessly, voice half-ruined from screaming. He picked up a broken chunk of a table leg, and they all went tense, but all he did was slam it against the wall.

“I should have saved her!” he cried, punctuating every word with a swing. “Where is she, where is she, what did I do to her?”

“A better question would be: what did she do to you?” Logan asked, ignoring the sharp look Anx sent his way. They’d all been unsettled at the way the vamp had talked about Patton, like someone possessive over a favored plaything, but that didn’t mean they should be bringing it up now.

They’d finally gotten Patton’s full attention, as he turned to them with angry tears in his eyes. “She did everything for me! And I— I gave her away, I betrayed her…”

“She was hurting people,” Anx cut in, voice firm but not unkind. For all that he’d been through, Patton didn’t deserve unkind.

“I could have fixed it, I thought I was— I was getting through to her,” he pleaded, his voice unsteady and unconvincing even to himself. He dropped the wood, pressing bleeding knuckles against his face to stem the tears.

“It’s not your fault, Patton, okay?” Roman tried, stepping closer until he could reach out and set his hand on a trembling shoulder. Patton only seemed to bow further with the weight of his grief.

“Giving her up was supposed to kill me,” he said softly, the frenzy gone from him. “How am I supposed to live without her?”

“The same way everyone else does,” Roman pulled him in for a hug, his own eyes wetter than they’d been before. “One day at a time.”

Click.

The living room of the house— their house.

Perhaps more importantly, the smell of something burning.

Anx had always been twitchy about things like this-- a thousand potential disasters in mind for every little inconvenience-- so he bolted off the arm of the couch the moment the scent registered.

When he got to the kitchen, he heard the rattle of an active microwave, saw Patton standing and staring blankly at the display as the inside of the microwave clouded up with smoke.

Cringing at the thought of the smoke alarm going off, he turned on the overhead fan and pulled the window up before finally yanking the microwave door open.

A plastic takeout container was halfway to a melted puddle, mixing with whatever leftovers had formerly resided there. He slid on a pair of duck-themed oven mitts and grabbed the most solid-looking parts, quickly lifting and carrying the mess to the balcony where it could cool down without making their house smell like burnt plastic.

When he returned, Patton was still in that same spot, frowning slightly as though just realizing that something might be a little off. Like someone had pressed pause while the world fast-forwarded around him, Patton had described it once.

Anx flitted about for a moment, putting the mitts back and cleaning the leftover residue, and then finally faced his friend with a wry half-smile. Patton’s eyes snapped to him, as though just realizing he was there.

“Hey, Pat.” He reached out and set his hand against Patton’s back, watching as the touch helped ground him slightly. “Can you go sit at the table? I’ll bring us both something to eat.”

Without a word, Patton turned and walked to their little dining table.

Cooking was admittedly harder when he ducked away to check on the other room every few moments, but he managed alright, only singeing the eggs slightly where Roman would have incinerated them.

He set the table for them both, and sat across from Patton, who was motionless and quiet in his chair.

“Can we eat together?” Anx asked, offering Patton a fork so there was a physical prompt as well as a verbal one.

It took a moment, but Patton gripped the fork easily and started to work through the motions of eating, mirroring Anx. Whenever he faltered or seemed to forget what he was in the middle of, Anx would nudge his attention back on track.

Once they were finished, he gathered up his dishes and asked Patton to grab his, carrying them back to the kitchen together.

Patton paused for a moment at the sink, mouth twitching into a frown as he stared at his glass and the lingering layer of orange juice at the bottom.

“Does anyone want tea?” he asked suddenly, a well-practiced line in a cheery tone. “I’m very good at tea service, you know.”

Anx swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m good, Pat,” he declined instead of pointing out that they didn’t have any tea in the house.

Patton seemed to get a little hazier, his face going sad and then quickly lax again. Anx took the glass from him and offered him a hand to hold instead, squeezing his palm comfortingly when he accepted.

“I need help out in the garden today. Do you think you could lend a hand or two?”

He dipped his head in a nod, and as they made their way to the back door, Anx shot a text off to the group chat.

> nightmare on edge street: out in the garden with pat. bad day protocol, stat

When they came back in hours later, dirt under their nail beds and probably a little sunburned, Roman and Logan had already combined their talents to set up an elaborately decorated but still structurally sound blanket fort spanning the entirety of the living room.

Patton’s face twitched into a tremulous little smile as the others waved them over, and Anx felt him squeeze their joined hands gratefully.

Click.

The sequence rewound, restarted. Ran him through it over and over, the same scenes-- the same memories. Patton pouring tea with a determined, terrified glint to his eye. Patton’s mind struggling under the stress of the snapped bond. Patton working through a difficult day with the help of friends.

The scenery grew brighter and brighter with every repetition, like saturation turned all the way up on a screen, until they were as painful as sunlight on his bare skin. He tried to close his eyes, to move away, to change something, anything, but his body wasn’t his own.

Look at him, it seemed to demand, keeping him frozen in a sensory hell. Pay attention. Look what you did. Understand how you hurt him.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Clunk.

Silence. The memories vanished, leaving him floating in an impossible, endless black space. Between one blink and the next, he was eye-to-eye with a mirror image, something about it just slightly off.

He didn’t notice the stake in its hand until it was too late.

---

Anx jerked upright, hands jumping to his chest as the phantom sensation of wood between his ribs faded. His breath stuttered painfully, as though he expected to feel ichor welling up in his mouth any minute.

Staking a vampire was an archaic hunter method. It was difficult to manage, it was messy, and it was the slowest and most painful way possible to kill a vampire. He knew this, though he wasn’t sure which life was providing the facts.

Regardless of memories, he couldn’t know how it felt to actually be staked. He’d been injured before, with a coven as temperamental as his, but nothing like that. Nothing even close to that. It was just a bad dream, an imagined pain.

There was a subtle shifting nearby, and his head snapped up, eyes bright and teeth bared. If those assholes thought he was in the mood to have his space invaded--

“Easy, Count Chocula.” Across the room, the sword-wielder-- Roman, that was his name-- settled back into the armchair by the door, watching him with narrowed eyes. “I was simply noticing your… abrupt awakening?”

Right. Because he wasn’t settled into one of the tiny, dark rooms reserved for the newly-turned and those who couldn’t shake off the urge to sleep. He was captured by weird hunters, who trapped him in their weird house, and asked weird invasive leading questions about his weird night terrors.

He was also tucked into a bed, for some reason.

The comforter had already slipped down halfway due to his sudden jolt into wakefulness, and he wasted no time in kicking free of the sheets. The room was surprisingly dark in both theme and lighting, with deep purple walls and heavy spiderweb-patterned curtains blocking out any potential sunlight.

There was also a warding circle of ash carefully smudged in a perimeter around the bed, the burning containment runes strong enough to make him want to sneeze even from this distance. The diameter of the circle was wide enough that he could theoretically keep away from any stabbings if he pissed Roman off enough, but add even one more hunter to the mix and it would take virtually no effort to pincer him.

Nothing he could do about the new cage for now, with the hunter staring at him expectantly from his sentry position. He sent a poisonous glare back and hissed, still crouched on the bed like an exceptionally angry gargoyle.

Roman pressed an offended hand to his chest, but was cut off by an inordinately cheerful knock at the door. His expression flickered to a sort of bitter resignation, and he shot Anx a much more serious warning look before unlocking and cracking the door open.

“Hey, Pat! I thought you were taking a nap?” he asked with impressively feigned lightness to his voice.

“I was, I just— Is he awake?” Another too-familiar voice replied, sounded distracted. “I felt…”

“Yeah, Padre,” Roman admitted after a strained pause. “He’s up. You remember your key?”

“Of course!” Patton said, and neither of them elaborated on what the hell that was supposed to mean. Roman stepped aside, and Patton beelined to the bed like a compass needle to true north.

He stopped just short of the circle, like a determined enough— or cornered enough— vamp couldn’t reach out and drag him in. “Anx! I’ve been so worried about you! You took quite a tumble, are you feeling alright?”

Anx stared at him. The words were bright, but there was a thread of something fervent and barely-controlled in them, something frenetic in the way he shifted from foot to foot. It sent a pervasive feeling of wrongness down his spine, like looking at an old photograph and realizing that something you remembered from it was entirely absent.

Anx didn’t— couldn’t know enough about Patton to recognize when he was acting off, but every piece slotted neatly into place anyways, dragging him to a conclusion he didn’t intend to realize; Patton was pretending, ignoring the parts of him that felt bad to reassure the rest of them. After everything he'd already gone through, he was bearing the stress of being thralled without a word.

He could feel the thrall tether pulled taut between them, already mentally frayed from both the time passed since feeding and the pain that had ricocheted through him at his last order. Looking at Patton like this, it was bizarrely easy to loosen his grip and let that last thread connecting them fall apart.

Patton’s shoulders eased, all of him sagging slightly like a puppet with strings cut. And wasn’t that just an uncomfortably accurate metaphor.

In the next moment, the hunter was stepping neatly over the line of ash and into the circle, arms lifted. Roman shouted something, but his alarmed words were meaningless noise against the roar of anticipatory fear that overcame Anx.

Get away, his instincts screamed, but his body remained stuck, stalled by a resentful whisper in the back of his mind: Doesn’t he deserve to get a few hits in though? Look at what you did to him.

A sudden touch made him curl in on himself, but the arms that folded around him were careful, even gentle. His head jerked up, and sure enough, Patton was hugging him. He froze, struck dumb.

Over Patton’s shoulder, Roman was stopped a few feet away, hand outstretched as though he’d planned to yank Patton back out of the danger zone. Anx met his stare, eyes round as quarters.

“I did not tell him to do this,” he blurted, and Patton’s chest vibrated with a little sniffly chuckle. The human was so warm.

At the door, Logan appeared, glasses slightly askew. “Patton? I heard—“

He paused, taking in the room. His expression grew more and more unimpressed. “... I see. Exactly what happened while I was away?”

[pinkmirth]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ (ch.1 | feenin')

—𝑶𝑵𝑬.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | WK: 2.8K

Frenzied cheers buzzed throughout the raving auditorium, the basketball’s reverberating bounces against the slick court floor adding onto the thrill. This match was nothing but hyped, but in a good way so.

The sports chants of the college goers sounded rather foreign to you, since it wasn’t like you attended Stohess University anyway. The fellow audience around you were at the edge of their seats, hailing their team’s basketball players as the raving shouts began to sound borderline intoxicating. So much so that you couldn’t help but clap along to another school’s anthem.

“Havin’ fun?” Marco questions, the corners of his mouth upturned into a smile that showcased his quirky dimples. You beamed right back at the freckled male, plush lips curved into a grin of your own.

It all seemed trivial, just a friendly collegiate basketball match that your friends Jean and Marco had invited you to free of charge, but it was all the break you needed from your own studies and more.

“Hell yeah I am,” you chuckled in reply, “but you know what’d make it better?”

His doe brown eyes flitted between you and the vibrant box of candy in hand, which was seemingly low in supply after you and him dipped your hands in for a bite a countless number of times.

“A refill on these, yeah?” His claims were just as what you were thinking, earning your brief nod of agreement. Marco subtly shook the snackbox within his hold, the spare pieces left beginning to rattle around with the motion.

“You read my mind, Coco,” you grinned, rising up from your reserved seat with spare cash stuffed into your back pocket. “I’ll be right back, ‘aight?” He sends you a brief smile in compliance.

“Get the sour patch this time!”

“You got sour patch money..?”

He pursed his lips momentarily, unsure as to whether you had been joking or not. “M’just messing ‘round with you, Coco,” you snickered with a teasing grin, slipping a hand into your pocket to retrieve the few bucks. “It’s on me.” Was all you said before making your way through the crowded stands, descending down stair after stair.

“It’s only the first game of the season, and our pride and joy, the Stohess Scouts, are already dominating tonight’s guest competitors!” the commentator boomed through the mic, their voice adding onto the various noises that filled the gymnasium. “We’re calling for a halftime, but let’s keep our fingers crossed that Kirschtein can pull through with a fair amount of two-pointers by the upcoming final quarter—“

The mentioned name of your close friend makes you beam with pride, content that your Jeanie was the star of the show. You set eyes on the brunette from where you stood, who was now making his way to the sidelines for a desperately needed and duly earned swig of water, his light brown hair in a disarray of stray strands fraying out from underneath the simple hairband you’d given him a while back.

You eagerly began to flit down the stands to reach him, striding past the poor row of benched players, from the injured to the water boy.

Jean eventually takes notice of your arrival and instantly beams, subtle puffs of air leaving his agape lips after all the running and dribbling and such that came with game day.

The first thing you do is taunt upon your arrival,“Y’all had better win, Jeanie.”

As always, Jean only smirks. “You doubting that I won’t bring that trophy home, Pookie?” you playfully grimaced and let out a stifled laugh over the somewhat embarrassing nickname— one that you made up when the pair of you were seven, and it's the same one that he’s been holding onto for all these years, even at nineteen.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said you aren’t lookin’ pretty damn promising out there,” your reply is genuine, the soft grin that you display causing Jean to display one of his own. It was an affable, never ending cycle— you’d tease and he’d do it right back, until the both of you would laugh over it and depart with a brief smile.

“M’getting snacks, I’ll be back before the breaktime ends, okay?” Kirschtein briefly nods in compliance, sending a few adjusting tugs to the white basketball sleeve hugging his bicep before departing with the sharp squeak of his shoes sprinting against the court floor.

Once again, you find yourself strolling past every individual seated on the benches. You’re speed-walking alongside them, anticipating to retrieve a couple snacks for you and Marco, until something— Someone catches your eye.

It was brisk and almost too sudden, but flashes of green meet your line of vision. You managed to make out the blur of thick brows, long dark hair having been thrown into the messiest attempted bun, a modest, charming smile, and a pair of turquoise irises that seemingly peered into your own with an intensity that made you take it personal. Yet, you hardly even caught a good glimpse of their face, whoever they were.

You passed by said person a good thirty seconds ago, already pushing your way past the double doors and over to the vending machines stationed along the semi-populated hallway, but that striking gaze was still heavily implanted within your mind.

Hazy green-grey eyes, you recalled, accompanied with them shooting you the briefest grin just as you whisked by. Though, as recent as it was, that was all in the past now.

You glance around to see a decent handful of people here to buy food of their own, being perched at other vending machines. The snack-wielding contrivance before you isn't drawing much attention and doesn’t have an awaiting crowd standing around for a bag of potato chips, so you withdraw the dollars from your back pocket and attempt to straighten them out a bit before inserting them into the slot.

“Wow,”

This sudden breathy gasp from a “random whoever” is something that you take notice of, but it isn’t enough to rip your attention away from your scavenge for Marco’s sour patch. To their dismay, you do nothing but continue with what you came to do. In your opinion, whoever that was had been getting a bit too close for comfort..

Albeit the evident way you choose to ignore, another whistle resounds, along with an unpleasantly suggestive hum. It sounds somewhat louder, and it seems much closer than before. You can’t help but tear your gaze away from slot E7 and look up, since it seems so directed towards you.

You've hardly turned around before being met with the abrupt presence of a stranger uninvitingly looming beside you, the man’s beaming grin seeming sickeningly sweet. Almost too approachable.

“Oh, I’m sorry to pop up out of the blue,” his apologies come out within a chuckle, and as inviting as he attempts to seem, your brows only furrow. “—but you really caught my attention!” He was greatly unfamiliar to you, some white male around your age with shaggy auburn hair and chestnut colored eyes in contrast. Despite his subtle charm, you weren't growing a liking to him and his stupid little smile.

“Oh,” You muse with a dull hum, pursing your glossed lips before releasing them with a slight pop, “Did I really?” His nod is too enthusiastic, and you hardly try to cover up the mug-like expression that overtook your features, eyes grazing across his plain face uninterestedly. You promptly slide the dollars right back into your pocket, “Nice to know. Can you mind your own now?”

“Wait! I'm not meaning to be a bother, but.. I don’t see girls like you around much..” You're instantly encased with a shiver of deep cringe, one that annoyingly scurries up your spine and makes your lip twitch into a vexed glower.

You emitted the most exaggerated huff, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, all the while glancing at the sheen glass of the vending machine to see your own reflection. It was plastered all across your face, yet this dense-ass man still couldn't get it; you were pissed-off.

Great. You internally groan, Another snow roach who thinks I’m exotic.

“I really appreciate how different you look,” Was he really still rambling on, despite knowing damn well that you were growing uncomfortable? Or maybe, he was just an utter dumbass and couldn't take the painfully obvious hints.

“You wanna know what I’d appreciate, hm?” You say sharply, taking a swift inhale through your nose, “If you left me alone.”

Your smooth, placid voice was the first thing that Eren heard when he trotted into the hallway, that of which sounded dulcet and intriguingly accentuated, but more annoyed than anything else. He turns the corner and is met with the sight of a bastard that looked too smug for his own good, and a girl, such a pretty girl, whose melanated skin even found a way to gleam under the shitty fluorescent school lights.

It then clicks in Eren’s mind, briefly but distinctively. You were the person who'd strolled by the bench that he was sitting on earlier. You were also the same one who did a double take upon seeing him, glancing once— No, twice, with those captivating eyes of yours. He remembered the way his leg started to bop along the floor with a newfound excitement that he just couldn't place. Though, more than anything else, Eren recalled that he did the exact same; hold his gaze and grin at the sight of you.

“Ah, but you can spare me a minute more, can’t you?” You respond with the swift roll of your eyes, eliciting an exasperated groan, “Nigga, I said bye.” Eren’s thick, neat brows falter into a furrowed position, looking upon the scenario that was being splayed out before him, which everyone else in that hall was seemingly content with ignoring. It couldn't have only been him that saw that this bastard was relentlessly bothering you, could it?

“Woah, no need to get aggressive,” Eren’s expression contorts into a grimace upon hearing every little word, the tips of his ears red with brewing rage. Despite his matured will to control his daily outburst of emotions, it was safe to say that he'd never exactly gotten past his trial of anger issues since he was a kid.

“Listen, this is my nice way of tellin’ you to fuck off, but I can get aggressive if you want.” Your offer sounds downright threatening, “Do you really want that?”

You’re snappy and direct, and Eren can't deny that he likes that. Though, as much as he's growing fond of your strong will and defensiveness, he knows he can't stand idly by all day, he just can't. Besides, everyone knew well— It was practically Eren Jaeger’s forte to intervene.

The green eyed male eventually begins to make his way towards the scene in the form of subtle limps, being cautious of his ankle sprain as he grows closer, which was the reasoning behind him being benched in the first place.

You were much too preoccupied with that cheeky, unrelenting bastard to notice the way that Eren was gradually coming over, anyway. What could he say? He was a fan of the element of surprise.

You halt in the middle of your opposing rant, growing aware of another’s emerging presence. You're yet again bombarded with somebody else making their way beside you with an act of stealth that you were unknowingly soon to be thankful of.

Before you get the chance to merely peer in their direction, tall, a long haired male clad in the black and grey Stohess basketball uniform is towering alongside you, his toned, burly arm slinking around your shoulder.

This sudden proximity leaves your head spinning in the best way possible, and how could it not? You don’t know a single thing about this alluring stranger, but he’s close, so close, and it gets your heart and mind racing miles in a minute. You were subtly, but instantly enraptured once the weight of his arm rests comfortably upon you.

Eren doesn’t pay the confused male not one glance, but instead tends to you and your own state of delighted shock. “Play it cool, alright? I wanna help.” Your breath instinctively hitches once he leans down to ease out his whispered plan into your ear, flashing you a consoling half smile.

You return a brief nod before dragging your eyes along the male’s face, which looks so much better up close. Your interpretation of his image was more literal and precise than you thought to be; The dark, long tresses that had been pulled back with the aid of a thin elastic scrunchie, his expressively thick brows, pink lips that upturned into a supportive smirk, and those sea-green eyes that left you feeling weak right in the knees.

Albeit Eren’s prior grin, he eventually turns his attention towards the unrelenting man for a second or two. In that moment, his expression speedily grew all the more intense, practically sharper than before, and contorted into something of a scowl. Although, you can tell he’s trying so hard to channel his temper and mask away his revulsion.

“I’ve been, ah.. waiting for you to come back to your seat!” Eren begins to improvise, flashing you a subtle gleam that made it seem as though the pair of you were familiar with each other. “S’been a while since then."

He purses his lips within a pause, nimble fingers draping along your shoulder before shooting you a reassuring squeeze, "Is it ‘cause this bastard is keeping you occupied? He’s bothering you, isn't he?”

You're damn near close to stammering over the words that were bound to leave your mouth. Though, it doesn't take much for you to regain yourself. Your lips fall slightly agape all the while you briskly dragged your line of vision along his charming features, but your response follows after in a quick manner. It was just that you couldn't help how his unnerving gaze left you mesmerized.

“—Yes. Yes he is.” You hum, accompanying the claim with your hands crossing over your chest as you leaned into his grasp, in an attempt to appear convincing. Your confession sounded assured and stern, which was the complete opposite of how girls would act around him.

Eren knew well of the doting effect that he had on females— It was hard to forget when he’d merely ask for a spare pencil and wind up with an unasked phone number in return. Though, he admired the way you saw him as any other person and played along so well.

The brown-haired male scornfully laughs, and just the sound of him leaves you feeling uncomfy, “Whaddya' mean? We were just having a small chat, isn't that right?” Your contorted expression is full-fledged disrespectful, and Eren has to stifle his chuckle over your unsmiling glare and scrunched up nose. Damn, were you entertaining.

“Small chat, huh? Well, it was real one sided..” You voice out an irked murmur, “You're over exaggerating, you just haven’t warmed up to me yet—”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Eren makes a very much intended interruption, “I’d say that she doesn’t want to mingle with a sorry bastard that should leave her alone already.” You note at the subtle flex of Eren’s clenching jaw, signifying the way his already weary patience was running rather thin.

“Bastard—? Wait, who even are you?”

“Who am I, huh?” scoffs the green eyed male alongside you, a twinge of drawled hesitance in his voice. Eren pauses momentarily, only now beginning to realize that his little hero act wasn’t as planned out as he thought to be.

What could he say that would be persuasive enough to get this sorry fucker to leave you alone other than throwing fists unnecessarily? Jaeger’s emerald-hued eyes eventually light up in the dawn of an idea. One that he’s somewhat unsure of, but it’s much better than nothing.

Besides, this plan of his had been set in stone by the very moment he had draped his bare arm around you and shot you that all-too-suggestive smile, so he might as well finish what he started.

Eren’s touch trails downwards swiftly, spreading riveting tingles from your shoulder down to your forearm, then along your wrist, and even past there. His hand is now encasing the left side of your hip as his lithe fingers press into the curve of your supple waist. He takes a light inhale, giving you a light squeeze with his large palm, as though signaling for you to brace yourself over what he was bound to say.

“—I'm her boyfriend.”

—𝑭𝑰𝑵.

[theyaskedmeto]

A Rainy Late Afternoon in the Bakery

pairing: kurt x blaine

summary: Icing cakes can be hard, and even more of a hurdle when there's a handsome stranger standing by the counter.

notes: This little oneshot is set in Arundel, a place I have actually been!! It's this little historic town with a big ass castle and cathedral and loads of charity shops. If you ever get the chance to go, give it a visit :)

Hope you enjoy this small thing I've finally written!

meet!cute, bakery!au

Read on AO3

-----

Cake decorating takes a lot of time and precision, which was something Kurt Hummel had discovered over the years through his passion and love for baking - cake being the primary contender for that passion.

He was reminded of that very fact just twenty minutes to closing time on a rainy Thursday afternoon, very close to tears as he hastily continued to mix the icing sugar into the buttercream, setting his Kenwood mixer to the highest speed. The icing was still much too runny to be used as a reliable implement to decorate his newly baked raspberry and white chocolate sponge, and he already knew he’d be staying up late to finish it for tomorrow’s selection of freshly baked cakes and other sweet goods.

It wasn’t Kurt’s original plan of action to move to England and start a little bakery in a small but incredibly tasteful village in the South East, but after realizing the pressure of college was too much for him in New York, he turned to a completely fresh start, and an apprenticeship in baking in the UK seemed like the perfect answer (as dramatic as it felt at the time).

It certainly wasn’t his original dream, either. Growing up, he envisioned himself as a famous designer, ordering models to change into outfit after outfit - in clothes that he designed, at that - but his dreams changed quite drastically after finally realising the realities of adult life. College was hard - the stress was too much, and he never really fitted in the way his younger self had always imagined he would have done - and through the pitiful emotions, he rediscovered baking - something that his now late mother had taught him many years ago. It was something he could control, and, although it was deflating when the design of one of his cakes he’d imagined didn’t turn out the way he’d wanted it to, it was another form of art he was able to master. Finding recipes, discovering new techniques - all of it was inspiring, bringing him ideas in a way that fashion design did not.

So he gave the fashion dream up and moved abroad. It was a big change, but he needed it greatly, devoid of the deep feeling of missing his father that washed over him with every passing day.

It was okay, though. Kurt and Burt stayed in touch regularly, and Kurt was happily able to lose himself in cake decorating rather than wallowing in his pity.

Although, it didn’t help that sometimes his career did bring him pity, as it did in a final moment of understanding after tasting his buttercream, that he was going to have to start again. Letting out a defeated groan, Kurt threw his head into his hands with his elbows leaning on the counter. Today was not his day. Far from it, in fact. Only a few customers, running low on icing sugar and then making some buttercream that was far too sweet for even the greatest sugar enthusiast to enjoy. In that moment, Kurt wished it was tomorrow. Or a few weeks later, at most.

Ten minutes till closing time. He was going to have to leave the back room and embrace the weather in all its rainy glory soon, walking through the winding streets to his house near the Wey and Arun canal. It was impractical to drive such a short distance, so before his departure to work in the morning, he was sure to bring all the necessary waterproof equipment - a precaution he wasn’t prepared to take in his first few months of living in England, because it was cold, even when he didn’t realise how much of an impact the weather would have on him here.

Just as Kurt was about to resort to adding another half a teaspoon of vanilla bean paste to his mixture, he heard the tell-tale sound of the bell ringing as a customer entered, and Kurt could even recognise the hasty movements of said customer before he witnessed them.

Walking around to the front of the bakery, through the back room and behind the counter, dusting off the remains of icing sugar powder from his artisan denim apron, Kurt finally examined the (rather wet) customer peering at the array of cakes in the small display cabinet next to the counter.

He examined his eyes first, the way the man’s lashes fanned down perfectly onto his cheeks as he looked at the cabinet. Kurt found himself slightly starstruck as he realised the beauty of the person standing in front of him - the man’s strong shoulders, his simple smile, inquisitive eyes (Kurt saw them as the customer looked up to meet the eyes of his) - he bore a kind face.

Just as the man looked up, Kurt heard a sombre rumble of thunder outside the window as the rain pelted down relentlessly. Tightening his lips and smiling sourly, he looked again at the customer, before realising they were already speaking, and pointing at a cupcake inside the cabinet.

“Are those red velvet?”

Now shaken out of his reverie, Kurt responded: “Oh! Yes. They’re… not really my favourite, if I’m honest.”

It was a little awkward, the quietness of the little shop with the rain falling outside, Kurt just standing there as the man continued to examine the cake cabinet. Thunder continued to shake outside, the sound of it alarming the man in front of the counter who turned to look at the window and the small view of the war memorial on the high street, now tremendously covered in water, seemingly majestic with the quality of light shining on it.

Turning back, the customer let out a small hum and asked, “So you wouldn’t recommend buying them…?”

“Well. It’s not that I’d not recommend buying them, it’s just…” Kurt broke off his sentence slightly as he considered the lack of customers he’d had today - not enough, for sure - he shouldn’t be putting people off sales, that’s something his dad always told him. Making a compromise, he pointed at the selection of gingerbread men closest to him.

“I can recommend these, though.”

The customer pressed his lips together slightly and tilted his head. “Okay. Four gingerbreads then please?”

Kurt was a little intrigued by the way the man asked like it was a question, but promptly fetched a small paper bag (the logo decorated on it, of course) and gave the gingerbread man to the customer after rattling out the total. He thought a little about the man’s voice. It was nice. He’d never get tired of the British accent. Or, more specifically, British men with kind accents. When he first moved to England, he felt as if he was caught up in some incredibly middle-class romantic comedy twenty-four seven.

“Thank you.” The customer said after the baked goods were handed to him, and then quickly, just before he turned to leave, “Hey, if you ever want to discuss red velvet cake again I could maybe… get your number?”

For a moment, Kurt was minutely overcome with a flush of embarrassment that this person would ask him, but tried to push the feeling back. Even though he’d had a fair share of romantic experiences in college, it was still a thrill to realise someone was hitting on him.

“Oh! Sure… I’ll just grab my phone.”

As he spoke, he was already walking around the back to where he’d left his phone, hanging up in his coat pocket, and when he passed the mess of icing sugar bags and butter left out, his side jostled an open box slightly, resulting in him being covered completely in icing sugar powder.

There was now icing sugar all over his new denim apron. Cursing under his breath slightly, he made it to his phone, and unlocked it as he walked back behind the counter.

Returning to see the man still patiently waiting, fingers clasped together in front of himself with a contented smile on his face (although Kurt could had an inkling that that smile was just plastered on for politeness, which did intrigue him slightly), Kurt hastily handed him his phone, now considerably more messy than he previously was when he went to fetch it. For a moment, there was a slight sense of awkwardness where neither said anything, and Kurt only heard a quiet ‘okay…’ from the man in front of him as he entered his number into the contacts app.

Kurt found himself pressing his lips together awkwardly once again, still aware of the silence of the room in contrast to the harsh rain outside.

The sense of awkwardness and silence was quickly over, however, when the customer (Blaine was his name, Kurt noticed as he looked at the contact in his phone) handed Kurt his phone back - “All done. Great!” was what Blaine said, to which Kurt responded with a quick “I’ll… text you.” - Kurt already felt himself being surrounded by an eased aura, which wasn’t something he had really felt before.

“Cool. Send me a message.” Blaine was already speaking, and already reaching for the door as he did so. “Maybe we could meet sometime? LG cafe, maybe?”

“Of course.”

With another one of those quick smiles Blaine The Stranger opened the bakery door with nothing so much as an “Alright then,” expressed slightly softly, and soon he was leaving, out into the rain once more, the heavy door banging closed with its own weight and the bell ringing its sound, the sound Kurt recognised so clearly now as just another customer leaving his little shop.

But maybe this wasn’t just another customer.

[crow-summoner]

Darklina Week Day 2: Role Reversal

Sun Summoner!Darkling and Shadow Summoner!Alina

Alina, a cartographer for the Ravken Army, undertakes a dangerous mission to stay by her only friend’s side. They must cross the Forge, a hellscape of intense heat and unrelenting light that has torn their country in two. Nothing can survive the Forge for long. Nothing but the monsters that call it home. Alina thinks she and Mal will make it as long as they’re together, but when their mission falls to pieces, Alina discovers something shocking about herself. She can banish light. Her powers draw the attention of the Golden General, a military leader who scares and intrigues Alina in equal measure. One thing’s for sure. Alina can’t go back to life of a mouse, and the General’s her best option to fight for something more. Can Alina save her world, or will she die trying?

Or, an AU where light powers aren’t necessarily good, and shadow powers get to be heroic. Content warning for some volcra expy related gore and some canon-consistent sprinkles of Malina at the beginning. There’s plenty of Darkles after that, now with extra sparkles.

Story under the jump

The Forge

Alina sits at the inn window, adding the last buttery yellow lines to her painting. For being such a blight against their nation, the Forge made a lovely landscape. She dons her fabrikator sunglasses, and turning her back to the unrelenting sunlight, she lifts her tented mirror up to compare her painting to the real thing. Her superior officers would kill her if they knew what she was using their equipment for, but the Forge is too bright to look at directly. Her superiors may not appreciate art, but if she’s going to risk her life for more supplies, she wants to leave a memorial for herself.

“It looks too much like a vacation spot,” Mal says, dragging up a chair so he can sit next to her. He’s already wearing his glasses and darkened veil, which will supposedly keep the Forge from boiling their eyes out and trap moisture near their faces. Alina would be happier if more than army issued fashion stood between her and certain death.

“You make a pretty bride, you know that?” Alina says instead of responding to the criticism. There were enough horrors in the Forge. She wanted make something pleasant. She places her canvas between the shelf and the wall, hoping that someone working at the inn will find it.

Mal huffs. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw the bags under my eyes. Don’t know how people sleep around here.”

Alina supposes people can get used to anything, even perpetual daylight. She secures her mirror and knives to her belt and dons her veil and gloves. She shimmies down the narrow walkway as if showing off the latest fashion. “What do you think?”

Mal makes a show of considering it, rubbing his chin under the veil. “I think the sveta will be too smitten to eat you.”

Alina tilts her head in mock coyness. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.” She leaves it unspoken that she wishes someone else was smitten with her.

“Come on,” Mal says, taking her by the arm. “I want to be on time for once.”

By the time they reach the skiff, Alina and Mal are five minutes late. Thankfully, Alexei, her fellow cartographer, covered for her.

“You owe me,” he says, shoving her maps into her hands.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” Alina promises.

“You already owe me twelve cakes!”

“Then I’ll name my first born after you.”

Alexei snorts. “Like any of us are going to live long enough to have kids. We’re all going to be beef jerky in a few hours.”

“Squeak. Squeak, Alexei.” It’s the code their cartographers have for when Alexei’s boundless optimism is bringing them down.

Normally, Alexei would grumble but acquiesce. Today, he just stares at the skiff. “Do you really think the sveta are real?”

Alina shrugs. “What else could eat our men out there?” Admittedly, invisible creatures made of light sounded farfetched, but she’s seen the battle scars. Other soldiers had claw mark scars across their chest and spots where something inhuman had taken a bite out of them. The light could blister, burn and tan flesh, but it couldn’t do that.

“I dunno. Maybe him,” Alexei said, eyeing the golden carriage in the distance. “The Geldling.”

Alina quickly hushes him. General Kirigan tolerates others calling him the Golden General, but he does not take kindly to the Geldling. Sure, the epitaph was based on an old Kerch word for gold, but gelding is also what one did to a prized horse to keep it docile. It was as good as saying their leader is a ballless pet, and everyone knows it.  

Sure enough, one of the heartrenders lifts his veil and glares at them. He might have been handsome once, but his sour expression makes the lines on his face hard.

“Captain Herring may be rough, but he’s not a cannibal.” Alina hopes this is enough to cover over their mistake. The heartrender doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t fight them either. That suited Alina well enough.

“Watch what you say,” she whispers to Alexei. “We have to depend on these people to survive. Don’t make them mad.”

Alexei nods. “Sorry.”

Thankfully, the rest of their time at the dock goes smoothly. Soon, all the soldiers and Girsha gather inside the metal skiff, ready to take off. A tidemaker hoses them all down, making Alina feel like a drenched rat, but the water is important in such a hot place.

Alina makes sure to stand by Mal, gripping his arm for support as the skiff slides along the sand. There’s enough space to move around, but something about the lack of windows makes the room feel unbearably tight. It’s like one big coffin.

Squeak, squeak, Alina tells herself. No one’s going to die today.

The skiff rattles as they pass over marker zero. They’re officially in the Forge. The panels in the side of the skiff slide up. Rows of dark nets allow squallers to force air out without letting the light in. They’ll have to use the tinted mirrors along the sides of the skiff to direct it.

Alina fans herself, wishing the nets could ease the heat. She was drenched just minutes ago, but her uniform’s now bone dry. Sure, the tidemakers periodically release a mist from their fancy containers and push it around the cabin, but that’s like giving a starving man a single bite.

“I bet I can sweat more than you,” Mal jokes, and she’s sure it’s to help distract her. Even the dumbest man in their unit wouldn’t brag about that.

“No way. Sweat more than that heartrender over there, and you have a deal,” she whispers back. It was a hard challenge. The heartrender already smelled like he’d bathed in nothing but used socks for years.

Mal leans back in shock. “Yikes. Are you trying to kill me? I can’t beat that.”

Alexei sniffs beside them, rubbing under his veil. “My lids are scraping my eyeballs.”

Alina reaches over and slaps his hand the way she used to do with the younger kids at the orphanage. “Then stop picking at them.”

Alexei mumbles. He’s a good cartographer, but he also comes from money, and that didn’t always make for a good soldier. Alina wonders if she should have erased his name instead of Ruby’s. This mission called for two cartographers, and Ruby could withstand discomfort better than he could, but Alina wasn’t thinking rationally. Mal was going to go into the Forge by himself, and Alina needed to remove someone so she could forge her own name on the mission papers. Mal wouldn’t give Alexei a second glance, but Ruby had red hair and a slim figure. Alina couldn’t risk Mal having “glad we’re still alive” sex with her after the mission. It was petty, childish even, but Alina couldn’t help herself. If they all survive the skiff, she’ll woman up and tell Mal how she feels. Lord knows hanging in this middle ground wasn’t doing either of them any favors.  

The skiff shakes, and Alexei grabs the walls. “Saints! It’s the sveta.”

The squaller at the helm shushes him. “Just a bump. Don’t call attention to us.”

Alexei’s shoulders slump, but he retakes his position behind the squaller without another word.

Alina can’t help but lean around her squaller to peak in her mirror. She’d heard about calcified roots surviving the Forge long after the crops perished. The real thing must be prettier than the paintings. Instead of a root, Alina finds the fragments of a skull and the front of a skiff.

She steps back, her stomach sinking into her boots. It’s one thing to know the odds, but it’s another to stare the evidence in the face. Better men than them have failed to cross.

The crew stand in silence as the skiff passes the first marker. Alina gives her squaller the proper directions and distances, and soon they pass the second marker. The third. The fourth. Alina allows herself to hope. Just eleven more and they’re home free.

She scratches her arm, and flakes of dry skin come off. No wonder the skiff regulars look like leather. She’d rather go AWOL than do this again. Then again, she didn’t have be here this time either. She has no one to blame but herself.

The skiff rumbles and tilts. It’s just another bump, she assures herself, but something raps against the ceiling. The heartrenders tense up, and the squallers shift their positions.

Oh, no.

She checks on Mal just to be sure, but he’s clutching his gun tight, his head tilted up. It’s the same stance he took when he found that rabbit in a barren forest or when he was about to catch her during hide and seek. He’s sighted something, only this time, that something is stronger than them.

The squaller at the helm brings the skiff to a stop and signals for the shooters and heartrenders to take position. All the non-combat staff – cartographers included – must gather at the center. Alina takes out her knife and her tented mirror, praying she won’t have to use them.

“Protect yourselves if you must,” the squaller whispers, “but don’t get in anyone’s way.”

Alina’s never felt more useless in her life.

The skiff continues to shake, harder this time. Something whines above them. Something answers it’s call from somewhere in front of them. Another whine sounds from behind the skiff. From all sides. How many of them are out there? At least a dozen given the sheer number of cries. No one dares make a sound. The sveta are fierce, but they’re just as blind as a human in the Forge. Maybe if they don’t hear anything, they’ll get bored and hunt elsewhere.

The ceiling dents in with a clank, knocking the skiff to the right. One of the soldiers jumps at the sound, aiming where it came from. The squaller at the helm blows him away, but not in time. The shot blows a hole in the ceiling, letting the light in. The beam hits a tidemaker’s shoulders, carving a smoking black line through her kefta. She screams, tearing off the cloth to expose a blistering gash. A healer pulls her to the side as one her friends tries to stifle her screams with a damp cloth, but it’s too late. The sveta cries draw closer.

Something claws a large hole through the ceiling, the soldiers scrambling to avoid the new beams. Some squallers attempt to blow up a tarp to cover the open areas, but it stops in thin air. No. Not thin air. The tarp drapes over something Alina can’t see with her naked eye. Under the plastic, she can make out its large, pointed wings and snout.

“Blast it,” the squaller at the helm shouts, and the soldiers open fire on the creature. It whines, batting away the tarp, and then it’s gone.

For a moment, no one makes a move. The cabin is utterly silent. Then something flashes across Alina’s mirror, and the next thing she knows, the soldier beside her explodes in a splash of red. On the other side of the skiff, a healer’s hand disappears. He draws back, clutching his now bloody stump as one of the creatures screeches in triumph.

Alina backs up, though there’s nowhere left to go. Oh, saints. She should have never come here. She begs every saint she can think of to forgive whatever sin brought her to this horrible moment. Shooting her fellow man in combat. Wishing harm to the girls Mal so much as looked at. Disregarding Ana Kuya’s rules at every turn. Whatever it was, she repented. Just please don’t let her die at some monster’s hand.

The durasts burst dust in the air. It makes their own people cough, but it helps make the sveta more visible.

BAM!

Another chunk of ceiling caves in, forcing the crew to huddle along the perimeter to escape the light. Not all of them were quick enough. Several soldiers blister and peel, crying as the sveta tear off chunks of flesh from their bodies.

Alina can only stare. It’s too late for prayers. Too late to run. She should have talked Mal into fleeing while she had the chance, and now ... Alina holds out her mirror, a new hope setting in. They might not make it out, but she can at least die by Mal’s side. He has to know how she feels.

Alina slowly shifts through the chaos, dodging shots and beams of light. She finds him by the helm, taking deep breaths as he aims and shoots. Something heavy hits the floor, gurgling. Of course. Leave it to Mal to find the creatures without a mirror.

She shines her mirror in the direction the creature fell, hoping to avoid tripping its body, but to her surprise, she can just make out the sheen of its skin. The colors change as she tilts the mirror, first blue, then pink and maybe green. All the colors of the rainbow. It reminds her of looking through a prism. Not invisible then. The sveta are just reflective.

Alina giggles. Ana Kuya would be so proud of her, committing to her education even as she’s about to die. She keeps giggling over and over, knowing that if she stops, she’ll have to cry. There are just so many bodies around her. They used to be people, and now they’re meat.

Someone grabs her wrist, and a shot of energy courses through her, quieting the hysteria. Mal drags her beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but he’s busy readying his next shot. “I lo – ” She doesn’t get any further. Another soldier’s bullet ricochets off the wall and hits Mal in the shoulder. He doubles over, his gun clattering to the floor.

Alina drops her mirror, pressing a palm against the wound. The blood seeps from between her fingers no matter how hard she tries to stop the flow.

Mal slides to the floor, Alina crouching beside him. The light streams against them, burning her chest and his back. The pain means nothing compared to the loss.

“No. Not like this,” she says, covering Mal’s body with her own.

The pain in her back only lasts a second. It occurs to her that this is not a good thing. It means her nerves have been eaten away, but she’s glad to do it if it means Mal can live.

Something rumbles in the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s going to burst, and she doesn’t have the strength to fight it.

All around her, the creatures cry and flap their wings erratically. She doesn’t have time think about it as the world goes dark, sinking her into a deep oblivion.

 *****************************

 Alina wakes, draped over someone’s shoulder, face buried in the red cloth of his kefta. She only lifts her head for one moment, but the light’s unbearable.

The light?

“Mal,” Alina shouts. She wiggles to free herself from the Grisha’s grip. The sveta will come back at any moment. She has to find Mal. Protect him. Where is he?

But they’re not on the skiff anymore. They’re back at the dock, the skiff a shredded husk. People rush every which way, some tending to the wounded and some salvaging the cargo from the hold. Mal could be anywhere among them. Then Alina catches sight of the ground. Oh, saints! So many people lay unmoving on the dock, and Grisha and First Army soldiers keep dragging out more. All these people she trained with. Ate with. Sung bawdy songs with when they’d all had too much kvas. Dead. They can’t all be gone. Right? Right?

Alina kicks at the Grisha. She needs to see for herself who made it out. Mal better be among them. Of course, he would be. He was the best tracker Ravka’s ever seen. He’d always find his way back home. Home to her.

The Grisha swears at her, trying to stop her feet with one arm. “Be still.” She recognizes him. The heartrender that had sneered at Alexei’s comment earlier. Alina drives a fist in the heartrender’s back. If Grisha like him had done more they wouldn’t be in the situation. He did it on purpose, didn’t he? He let their soldiers die because someone spoke against his leader. His pride meant more than the supplies they’d get from West Ravka. More than human life.

“Fine.” With a huff, the Grisha drops her flat on her butt, sand puffing in her face. She’s coughing too much to fight him off when the heartrender takes her by her bicep and drags her towards the camp. Another heartrender takes her other arm, his grip gentler than his coworker’s.

“Was that necessary, Ivan?” The second heartrender asked.

Ivan only grunts “Fedyor” as a warning in response. Fedyor shakes his head with what Alina would call fondness if she thought anyone could be fond of something as sour as Ivan.

“Where’s Mal?” Alina asks Fedyor, but he only lifts a brow. Of course, he wouldn’t recognize the name of a common solider. There were so many of them, and Grisha only concerned themselves with their own. “The boy I was with on the skiff.”

“Ah. Him,” Fedyor says. “The First Army tends to their own wounded. He’s in their care.”

Alina knows what that means. He’s laying outside the infirmary tent, waiting for his turn to have an undertrained medic pour alcohol in his wounds then pack them with mustard plaster. If he’s lucky, they’ll still have enough bandages for him to get his own. Having to use the scraps from old uniforms inevitably led to infection, and without supplies from the west, the camp outpost could not provide the steady diet of alcohol needed to survive that misery. Mal is popular, though. She’s sure someone will be willing to sacrifice their stash for his comfort.

Then it occurs to her that she’s not doing the same thing. She’d been horribly burned by the light, and yet her back doesn’t ache. Someone must have removed her jacket while Alina was unconscious, but her undershirt is scorched where the light hit it. Her chest is unusually red, but it’s not blistering or charred. The worst she can say is that she feels like she’s been awake for days.

“Why would someone heal me?” She’s heard it a thousand times before. Healers were too rare to waste on common soldiers. They were for Grisha and those wealthy enough to be a priority. She is neither, and yet when she looks up at Fedyor, he’s gazing down at her with some feeling she dares not define. It was the same look the Grisha gave the golden carriage when it barreled into the encampment. The same look the peasants near Keramzin gave the bones of Saint Felix on his day of worship. If she didn’t know better, she’d call it reverence.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity when he finally says, “We survived.” Alina doesn’t know what she has to do with that. It was luck. Pure and simple. But then Fedyor closes his eyes and whispers, “Thank you.”

A chill runs through Alina despite the heat. She looks at the tents, the people running around them, anywhere and everywhere but at Fedyor and that look, full of expectations she can never fill. They’ve long since passed the First Army section, but they’re now leaving the main Grisha area, heading up the northmost path. There’s nothing there except for the single yellow tent towering over the rest of the encampment.

Alina pulls back, but it does nothing to stop the heartrenders. “What does the General want with me?”

“Just answer his questions, so we call all get on with our day,” Ivan says.

“I don’t know anything! Let go of me!” She turns to look back at the First Army camp, too far away for anyone to see her let alone help. Not that they could do anything if they wanted to. No one says no to the General.

Fedyor grips the back of her neck, and her whole body turns to puddy. The heartrenders lean into her, holding her upright because her knees can no longer bear her weight. She’s too relaxed to move at all.

Ivan sniffs. “You weren’t supposed to do that for anyone but me.”

Fedyor grins. “Sorry, luv. Desperate times and all that.”

They march her straight into the lion’s den.

She doesn’t know what she expected to see. A jeweled throne and a menagerie of exotic animals like the ones she’d seen in the illustrated book of fairy tales back at the orphanage? Enemy soldiers kept in cages and chained otkazat’sya serving the Grisha like the Fjerdan pamphlet a traveler tried to give them before Ana Kuya kicked them off the duke’s property? But this place resembled the main tent for the First Army. Soldiers clustered together around a round table. A large map hung from a board, thread and pegs marking paths, places and interesting parties. And yet the General’s tent was larger than theirs, made of bulletproof core cloth while they had to make do with spun cotten. They must not need to ration oil either given the number of lamps lit, and the gathered Grisha shone like banners in their blue, red and purple keftas. No olive drab for them.

Most of the room turned to face them when the heartrenders dragged Alina in. Some now look at her with open curiosity and others with incredulous expressions. Soft mummers pass through the crowd until someone raises their hand, and the whole lot fall silent. Saints, Alina never heard a tent so quiet before. Even during lights out, at least one person snored.

Without needing to be told, the Grisha step back, parting down the center to make a path. A lone man strides forward, his telltale yellow kefta billowing around him. Notes of silver, white and gold weave through it, enough thread to stitch three tents of this size together, but he’s not wearing the jewelry she’d expect from his high rank, and his clothes are core cloth like any other Grisha. She’s never seen a high officer without any silk on, no matter how impractical it might be. After all, most never saw battle. Not like this one had.

The Golden General is younger than she’d expected given what others said about him. She’d seen a shriveled man with boney hands covered in warts in her mind’s eye, but this man barely had a decade on her, and his warm blonde hair and fair, flawless complexion were pleasing on the eyes. Too pleasing. Even the most beautiful boy back home had some freckle or ruddiness to his skin, but the General’s looks almost painted on. It’s eerie, and yet she can’t look away. He’s like the very embodiment of the light, except there’s a coldness in his gaze and calm comportment.

He may be light, but he’s not warmth.

That right, she tells herself. Ana Kuya warned her about such things before. One of the orphans she’d grown up with saw a gold coin glittering in some bushes under a hill. He’d climbed down for it, only to be rolled by some travelers. They took the buttons from his coat and the boots from his feet. He came home with nothing but his pants and a gash on his forehead. Ana Kuya warned them all then: not all that’s gold glitters. Sometimes, it burns instead. Gold tempts the desperate, but Alina is not blind. The General only looked like a man. He can boil someone’s insides. Make their flesh rot from their bone as if they were already dead.  Burn them with a glance. And here he is, looking straight at her.

The General stops a few feet away and clasps his hands behind his back. He looks her over, and she doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful that she can’t read what conclusions he’s drawn. He nods at the heartrenders, and Fedyor rubs the back of Alina’s neck. Her limbs come back to life, panic rising from her core. She wants to run, but there’s no point.

The General stares at her, impassive, and then finally: “Is it true?”

For a moment, Alina believes the absurd. He’s read her thoughts and knows what she said about him being a monster. Then it occurs to her that he’s talking about the skiff. She closes her eyes. What does he want her to say? She was unconscious for most of what went down, and she can barely remember what she was present for. Flashes of her coworker’s blood and blistering arms intrude behind her closed lids, forcing them open again. Maybe it’s best she can’t remember.

She must have taken too long to answer because the General speaks again. “Is it true that you can banish the light?”

All Alina can do is blink. This has to be a joke, but the General’s expression is serious, and everyone around them is leaning in with anticipation. She knows better than to laugh in their faces and question their intelligence, so she makes do by stuttering, “No one can do that.” It takes a moment, but she remembers to add a quick “sir.” She’s not used to being around anyone important.

She braces herself for him to yell at her the way the generals in their army do, but he merely nods. “Then what did happen?”

Alina struggles for an answer. She tries to tell him that she doesn’t know how the sveta got in, or how their ship made it, but no matter what she says, she keeps returning to those burning soldiers. The General frowns, and she knows she needs to come up with something – anything – to appease him.

The General raises a hand to silence her, and when he speaks, his tone is smooth and calm. “It must have been scary out there. It’s one thing to read about the attacks, but it’s another to live it.”

Alina hadn’t expecting any sympathy, so she just nods.

“You must be exhausted.” When Alina nods again, the General continues. “It’s hard to make sense of anything when you hurt so much. I could help with that if you’ll let me.” He gestures beside him, inviting her closer.

He may have asked for permission, but Alina isn’t sure she really has a choice. Still, he’s been nothing but polite so far. She has nothing to lose by playing along.

Alina slowly closes the gap between them, and the closer she gets, the closer she wants to get. It’s like he’s a magnet, and she’s loose filigree coming together for the first time. She feels the warmth now, not in his continence, but all around him. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t tingle. It numbs the heaviness of her limbs and banishes the panic that’s haunted her since the skiff penetrated the Forge. Before she knows it, Alina’s pressed up against the General. She’s vaguely aware that it’s not appropriate to stand so close to a superior, and it’s definitely not safe to be within biting distance of a monster, but it feels right. She doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

The General doesn’t seem to mind either, staring deep into her eyes like he’s trapped, too. Her reflection stares back at her in his eyes. They’re just so bright and shiny. She has a hard time placing the color. It reminds her of one of the duke’s vases. The blown glass was iridescent and shimmered with every color around it. She and Mal had argued for years over what color it really was. He said purple. She said green. They finally settled things with a good arm wrestle. Green won, of course. Alina decides that the General’s eyes are green, too.

“May I?” He asks, and though she can’t see where he’s pointing, she answers his unspoken request, sliding her hand in his. His palms are rough from life on the road, but they’re warm, and his grip os gentler than Fedyor’s had been. She could hold his hand and stare into his eyes forever.

“What happened?” The General asks in a voice softer than silks.

The words spill out of Alina on their own. She tells him about forging her name on the staff list. The attack. Shielding Mal. The sveta descending on them, and then – “All I could look at was him, but I could feel the light getting sucked away. Everything went black, and then I woke up on the docks.”

The General says nothing, but his eyes briefly narrow. It’s not a threat as far as Alina can tell. Whatever she said seemed to confirm something for him. The General pushes up her sleeve with his free hand, never breaking her gaze. She doesn’t fight it. She’s curious, too. Something happened back on that skiff. It’s there lurking there in the back of her brain, begging to be revealed. She knows once it’s free, it can never be caged again. The thought simultaneously thrills her and makes her shiver.

The General trails one finger up her arm. Something inside her responds to act, rejoices in it. His finger stops and curls around her forearm. She notes that the nail on his thumb is longer than the others. Sharp. He drives that nail into her flesh, and it’s like a thousand arms stream out of her at once.

Darkness surrounds them, putting out the lights. No, the lamps are still on. She can feel their flames licking at the shadows just as easily as she can feel the General’s grip on her arm. All around them, the Grisha shout. She can’t see them so much as she feels where they are in the dark. It the strangest sensation, and yet it feels like home. Everything is darkness.

Everything but him.

The General glows, smiling down at her. A true lamp would illuminate the world around them, but there he stands, the sole bright spot in the blackness. Standing together, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Then the General lets go of her arm and the darkness withers, fading into the ground or retreating under Alina’s skin to fight another day.

Alina clutches her chest, suddenly empty inside. Her head swivels every which way, desperate to find that surety again, but it’s gone. The aches have returned, magnified tenfold. She can barely keep herself upright, and soon, she’s on her knees, her head swimming.

“A shadow summoner,” some squaller says, and it’s as if a dam broke in Alina’s mind. She stares at her rough, ruddy hands. They’re not the hands of a hero, and yet it’s true. It’s all true. She can banish the light. She saved the skiff from the Forge.

She’s … Grisha.

Alina frowns, remembering what Mal said when that Grisha girl made eyes at him from the General’s carriage. He doesn’t tumble witches. Alina was glad to hear it then. It meant less competition for her, and she and Mal had exchanged plenty of digs at the Grisha over the years. Surely, he wouldn’t think she’s like the rest of them just because she has powers. She didn’t grow up coddled and self-important like the rest of them. That had to count for something. He knew her. The real her. He wouldn’t be scared of her because of her shadows.

No matter how hard Alina tries, she can’t bring herself to believe it.

The General holds out his hand. Alina stares up at him, sure she should bat it away. She’s not one of his Grisha. She’s a mapmaker and an orphan and Mal’s best friend. But that may not be true anymore, and she’d be a fool to burn any bridges.

She takes his hand, letting the General lift her to her feet. He pulls her close again, so close she can feel his breath against her face. She should let go, but she clings to his hand like it’s the last safe ledge in a rockslide. He gives her a knowing smirk, and she wants to wipe it off his stupid face. She’s had a rough day. She would have clung to literally anybody, but then the General leans in, and she feels that warmth again. His lips brush her ear as he whispers, “You and I are going to change the world.”

Notes:

Whoo! This is my first Grishaverse fanfic. It may be a little late, but it’s here. One shot for now, but I might be interested in continuing this in the future. Hope you enjoyed!

[apocalypseornaw]

Open My Eyes

Apocalyptic AU.

Dean gets increasingly jealous of your bond with Gadreel and things come to a head after a misunderstanding on a run

Dean had known you for years. Long before the dead started to rise and the world as it was previously known came crashing down. He knew you inside and out, you were one of his best friends. Maybe that was why it was bothering him so deeply to see you get closer with someone who was fairly new to your group. Gadreel had come in with the Banes twins. They’d gone through Bobby’s usual line of questions without missing a beat and had fit in smoothly enough with everyone else. That had been nearly six months ago which was a lifetime nowadays.

He tried to get you out of his head as he walked across the field that stretched between the outer fence and inner fence of the compound all of you now called home. It’d started life as a high school but with some hard work and a lot of blood, sweat and tears it was now a suitable place to survive the new world. Unfortunately before he could reach the sanctuary of the building where Bobby, Sam and Jody were waiting to talk about the new run that needed to happen he heard the all too familiar sound of your laugh.

He turned and found a small smile working its way onto his face when he saw you walking with Alicia and Max. You had your arm around Alicia’s shoulder and was laughing at something Max had said. He started to call your name but before he could he heard it called from a different direction and felt his mood immediately sour when you pulled your arm from Alicia to greet Gadreel as he made it to the three of you. He watched you pull the other man down to whisper something in his ear and felt anger flick at his mind. Especially when Gadreel laughed then whispered something back to you. Dean spun on his heel, he didn’t need to see any more.

------

The door to the meeting room slammed open but luckily for the three people sitting around the table it took a lot more than that to rattle their nerves. Bobby barely glanced up from the map “Nice of you to join us Dean now how about leaving the damn door on the hinges?”

Sam watched his brother drag a chair out and flop down into it. He wanted to ask what was wrong but knew that they needed to get this meeting through and that Dean was prone to shut down if asked directly what was wrong. He always did better with letting it slip through cursing whatever had soured his mood.

“From what we can figure there’s a couple veterinarian clinics along the route as well and considering the fact that people medicine isn’t actually any different than animal medicine they may have supplies there and it wouldn’t hurt to check” Jody spoke tapping a few different places on the map. Bobby nodded then cut his eyes at Dean “You and Sam up to taking a team and checking it out? We need the supplies to winterize this place once and for all, not to mention having extra medical supplies on hand wouldn’t hurt”

“Yeah we can handle it Bobby” Dean promised although it was apparent his mind was still not focused on the meeting. “All in all it’ll probably take about a week or so considering the ground you’ll have to cover so I’d pick a good team. Take Y/N with you too she hangs out with Alex and Kaia enough she can spot anything that has medicinal usage from a mile away” Jody added with a wink to Bobby before pushing away from the table to head out. She’d be gathering supplies for whatever team was picked and wanted to get it together.

Bobby watched her leave then turned back to his surrogate sons. “So I was thinking Y/N, Alicia, Max, Gadreel and Charlie would be a decent team to take. Ain’t like any of those girls can’t handle their own in a fight. Max can get through any tight spot and Gadreel is strong as a horse” Dean scoffed at that which earned him a look from Bobby “You got an issue with any of that son?”

Dean shook his head “Nope” then pushed his chair back “I’m going to gather my gear, you two can make sure everyone is up to the run” with that he walked out leaving Bobby to throw a questioning look at Sam who simply shrugged “I don’t really know what that’s about either” “Make sure he keeps a clear head. There’s a lot of dangers out there and not just the biters got it?” Sam nodded “Yes sir”

------

You were helping Jody to gather supplies for the upcoming run after she’d come out of the meeting with Bobby, Dean and Sam. “Do you know anything that could be bothering Dean?” She asked, holding out a pack of dried meat. You took it and shook your head “Not that I know of but I could always just ask him?”

She shrugged “No he’ll tell you or Sam if whatever it is gets to bothering him too much” You would hope so anyways. You always went to Dean if anything was bothering you. He’d offer advice if that’s what you were after or simply offer comfort or a place to vent. “I’m gonna grab my jacket and go bag from my room then I’ll meet everyone by the front gate” she nodded to let you know she’d heard you so you turned to head towards the living quarters.

The halls that had been transformed to be mini dorm rooms were actually quite comfortable considering. You considered yourself lucky that you’d been close with a lot of your group before that fateful day that a widespread virus was alerted in the news. You could still remember Sam’s phone call to you “Pack just what you need. Dean will be pulling up at your place any time”

You’d hastily thrown clothes and the contents of your medicine cabinet in a bag. Before you were through grabbing what you deemed necessary you heard a heavy knock on your door followed by Dean’s voice “Come on sweetheart! We gotta go!” When you opened the door your eyes widened when Dean shoved a gun into your hand. “Dean, what’s going on?” you asked and he took a deep breath “Long story short? The dead are rising. True,blue zombies. We gotta go cause shit is hitting the fan fast”

You gripped the gun noticing the one in his own hand and nodded “Lead the way Winchester. You know I trust you”

------

You shook yourself out of thoughts of the past. You needed to focus on this run completely. You grabbed your go bag from the floor checking what ammo you had and slipping a machete at your side. You glanced at your bat leaned next to the bed but decided against it. It was better the few times you’d go out solo or with just one other person. From what Jody had said there was a full team going after the winterizing supplies.

You slipped your jacket on then slid the strap of your bag across your chest. You walked back towards the doors that led outside. The electricity that the compound ran off of came from a mixture of solar panels and generators. The good part? Bobby knew enough to be able to brew enough corn liquor that the generators had fuel for years.

The only downside was that meant the few vehicles you had could only be used in moderation. Short runs horses were used for but considering this one would take about a week and would be gathering supplies for all the black panel van that was used for such runs was parked by the front gate awaiting those going.

You walked towards the gate and smiled when you spotted Dean standing with Bobby and Sam at the front of the van. They were clearly going over the mapped out areas one more time but you knew neither of them would mind you inserting yourself into the conversation. Since Dean’s back was to you and Sam noticed you first so you raised one finger to your lips. He quickly turned his attention back to the conversation so you wouldn’t be noticed.

You quietly took a few steps forward and slid your arms around Dean’s waist and leaned your head on his shoulder even if that meant you had to stand on your tip toes and still barely reach “So where are we going?” you could see the corners of his mouth tick up and knew he was fighting a smile “We’re going to a few different places sweetheart. You wanna hang off me like a spider monkey or you want to actually look at the map?” you feigned a pout “Why can’t I hang off you like a spider monkey and look at the map?” he rolled his eyes with a laugh “Get down”

You pulled your head down from his shoulder and moved your arms from around his waist to step slightly in front of him and look at the map Bobby had laid across the hood. Sam went over the stops with you, highlighting the couple where you’d be taking the lead since you knew more about what was needed for medicinal purposes. “Sounds good to me. Who’s the rest of the crew?” you could’ve sworn you saw a look be passed among the three of them before Bobby said “Alicia, Charlie, Max and Gadreel” you nodded approvingly at the choices “All good picks”

You heard a sharp whistle and turned to see Charlie walking towards the four of you trailed by the rest of the crew. “What’s up bitches? We ready to ride?” “Of course dear” You replied meeting her halfway.

------

Dean watched as you greeted the rest of the crew going on the run. Charlie was like a sister to him, Alicia and Max were cool but spending the next week in close quarters with you and Gadreel? Yeah he may look for some biters just to have an excuse to kill something.

“Alright! Everyone load up!” he barked out and you cut your eyes up at him “Depends, can I have shotgun for the first few miles at least?” He barely glanced at Gadreel before saying “Of course sweetheart” . You shot him a wink then walked around to the passenger side of the van along with everyone else who was climbing into the back.

Sam didn’t miss the look Dean threw at Gadreel or the way his brother had bristled anytime over the last few weeks when he’d see you with the other man. Was that what the attitude was about before the meeting? Was Dean jealous? He chose not to say anything for now and instead simply walked around to sit next to Gadreel on the middle seat since Charlie had taken up the backseat along with the twins.

------

Your destination was two states over. It was a contraction warehouse that had fallen early. Bobby kept an eye on the amount of biters in it versus the prospects of anyone actually getting inside.

Considering the zombies had lightened up in that area and everything needed to finish winterizing the compound and green houses could be found there it was worth the risk to go. That way you'd have running water and fresh food no matter how severe the coming winter got.

You were curled up with your feet under you watching the road whip by as Dean drove. You had a shoebox full of cassette tapes in your lap looking over them to see if any peaked your interest. You plucked one out of the box and stuck it into the player simply to see Dean's reaction when it started playing.

When the first few notes of It's My Life started playing he cut his eyes at you "Bon Jovi really?" You grinned "Hey Bon Jovi rocks...on occasion" then started singing along and couldn't help but laugh when Sam, Charlie and Max joined in.

No matter the music or the company Dean couldn't fight the smile that worked its way onto his face. You had shifted to have your legs out in front of you and were now drumming on the dash along with the music and had everyone in the van either singing or laughing along. Why had he never realized how amazing you were before? Why had it literally taken an apocalypse to open his eyes?

He watched you turn in your seat and bump Gadreel's leg as You Give Love a Bad Name started and felt that same flicker of anger. Maybe he'd waited too long to see what had been in front of him for years, maybe Gadreel had realized it a lot sooner.

The first day on the road was pretty uneventful. There were no stops to be made marked on the map so it was filled with just driving besides stopping for everyone to find a tree.

Considering the route was figured to be about three days there and three back (giving plenty of leadway for any issues that might arise) you asked Dean once the sun started going down if he was ready to pull over somewhere for the night or if he wanted you or Sam to take over driving.

He glanced in the mirror at Sam "What do you say Sammy? Wanna take the wheel for a while?" "Sure" Sam agreed so Dean stopped dead in the center of the road..not like there was a lot of traffic.

"Well I'm gonna climb in the back and get a little sleep" you announced after realizing Charlie, Max and Alicia were all knocked out. "Yeah Gadreel you wanna hop up here man? I'm pretty wiped too" Dean suggested and Gadreel replied "Sure. I already caught my few hours"

Gadreel held the side door open so you slid under his arm with a smile "Thanks '' he smiled in return. When Dean walked around he grabbed the door "I got it. Thanks" Gadreel simply nodded and climbed into the passenger seat.

You were already slid in next to the window when Dean climbed in next to you. You waited until Sam had started driving to turn so you could curl up next to Dean. He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow "What are you doing?" You grinned "Sleeping. Now hush and be a good pillow" instead of pulling away like you half expected he raised his arm slightly to pull you closer to him "I'll be a good pillow if you be a good pillow" you smiled when you felt him lean his head over on you and whispered "Deal"

"Look alive. This is the first of two vet clinics we gotta hit on this trip" Dean spoke as he pulled the van to a stop and glanced around. "Seven people so I'm thinking three teams of two and leave one person behind the wheel in case we need a fast exit?" You suggested and he winked at you "Just what I was thinking"

You slid your gun into the holster on your thigh but grabbed the machete from your floorboard as first line of defense. Guns were loud and the last thing you wanted was a herd of amped up zombies descending on the group before you could even go through the clinic. You turned and looked at everyone then nodded to yourself “Ok so Charlie you up for setting this one out?” She shrugged “Sure but I get to help clear the next one”

You shot her a smile then said “Ok Max and Alicia, Dean and Sam then Gadreel you’re with me..everyone good with that?” Everyone nodded but Dean who just walked to the back of the van to grab the canvas bags out without so much as a look in your direction. You raised an eyebrow to Sam who shrugged so you followed behind Dean keeping an eye out to make sure all of the commotion hadn’t attracted any undue attention.

You stood slightly behind him hearing him mumble to himself before he turned around and realized you were standing there “Son of a bitch Y/N. Make some noise sweetheart, the point is to not blend in with the dead” you grinned playfully “Is that your way of asking me to bite you?” he rolled his eyes but you could see just the barest hint of a smirk trying to work its way onto his face “Just be careful in there. Sure you trust him to have your back?”

You cut your eyes over to your group where they were all watching the woods line that bordered the back parking lot of the clinic “Yeah, I’ll be ok. Not gonna lie I don’t think I’ll ever trust anyone to have my back the way I trust you or well Sam but Gadreel has proved he’s good in a tight spot”

He nodded and for a second you thought he was going to say something else but he simply held out one of the bags “Remember get in, get out” you took the bag with a small smile “Aye aye” then walked back over to the group.

Dean watched you walk over to Gadreel. You said you’d never trust anyone the way you trusted him..that meant a lot didn’t it? He shook his head then walked over himself to pass Max then Sam a bag before nodding at Charlie “We’ll be out in five”

------

The clinic had three entrances. One to the side of the building, one to the back and one to the front. You and Gadreel took the back entrance, the twins took the side leaving the front to Sam and Dean.

You touched the handle of the door then looked at Gadreel “You want me to pull and you be ready or vice versa?” “Ladies choice” he replied with a laugh. You nodded then motioned to the door “In that case you pull and I’ll be ready”

He got into position but waited until you gave him a nod to open the door. You hoisted your machete but no noise came. You leaned inside and stomped your foot a few times “Hello? Anyone home?” You cut your eyes at him and he shrugged. “Maybe no one ended up here?” “We can only hope” you replied before walking further inside.

You could hear the rest of your crew checking but it appeared the clinic was well and truly empty. You picked a room and waved to Gadreel to follow you. The moment you stepped into the room you pulled your flashlight out of the pocket of your jacket and saw that from the looks of it you’d picked the operating room.

You motioned to the wall of shelves in front of you “I hate to ask but do you think you can give me a lift to the top one so I can see what’s up there?” He laughed lightly and you could feel the short jokes coming but instead he simply pointed to the machete in your hand “Lay that down so I don’t accidentally get stabbed and I’d be glad to” you laid the machete down on the silver table that was in the middle of the room then turned back to Gadreel “Better?” he nodded “Turn around so I can give you a boost then I’ll keep one hand on your back to steady you” you turned towards the shelves like he said and felt his hands around your waist a second before he lifted you into the air.

You climbed onto the highest shelf that normally would take a step ladder to reach then smiled over your shoulder at him “Thank you.Now get ready so if I find something good”

------

Dean and Sam had cleared three different cabinets. They’d found a good amount of first aid supplies ranging from suture kits to wound cleansers. “I’m gonna check on Alicia and Max” Sam said so Dean replied “I’ll check on Y/N and Gadreel”

Sam headed towards the back of the clinic where the twins were so Dean headed towards the operating room where you and Gadreel had gone into. He could hear you laughing right before he opened the door to see Gadreel putting you back down on your feet, his hands were still on your hips and you were smiling up at him with your hands against his chest.

Dean felt that same flicker of anger but this time it was mixed with more emotions than just that. He almost felt sick with just how angry he felt, not to mention the hurt. You weren’t even kissing Gadreel but he felt as if he’d walked in on a lot more intimate moment than he had. Luckily he was able to reel it in and sounded emotionless when he waved a hand towards the two of you “Didn’t know I was interrupting something. Times up, we gotta go so whatever you two are doing, stick a damn pin in it or something” then turned and walked out without saying a word.

------

Gadreel watched Dean walk out then looked back at you “What was that about? I was just helping you down..he doesn’t think we..?” you weren’t sure what to say. To anyone else Dean would’ve sounded almost bored but you knew him well enough to know when he was blocking emotions. You weren’t sure what was going on but when Dean sounded emotionless were the times that his mind was being his worst enemy “I have no clue honestly Gadreel. Don’t worry about it though, I’ll handle it” “I’d never disrespect you or any woman for that matter. I mean well don’t get me wrong you’re a beautiful woman but I thought..” he trailed off and looked again at the door when Dean had disappeared out of then shook his head “Just know if I did anything wrong I apologize” “You didn’t Gadreel. Don’t worry Dean just gets a little antsy on runs” you explained with a strained smile.

By the time you and Gadreel made it to the parking lot everyone had loaded their bags and only Sam stood outside the van. He took the bag from Gadreel then glanced at you, You followed him to the back of the van and watched as he added your bag to the bunch. After he shut the door he turned around and leaned close to you. “What happened in there?” You groaned slightly “He didn’t make a scene did he?” he shook his head “No but I know him like you know him. Now what happened?” You took a breath running your hand down your face “I think he got the wrong idea when he saw Gadreel with his hands on me. He was helping me down off a tall shelf that was it Sam I swear! You know me I wouldn’t do anything on a run and honestly? Yeah Gadreel is a good looking guy I have eyes but that doesn’t mean I’d screw him on a run for fuck’s sake we both have sleeping quarters back at the compound..I don’t know why Dean acted like that! Nice to know one of my closest friends thinks so highly of me that he thinks I’d risk anyone's life to fool around on a run”

You were starting to move past confused onto anger the more you spoke and Sam knew that so he reached out and squeezed your shoulder “Breathe, ride in the backseat with Charlie and Alicia. I’m gonna ride up front with him and Max is riding in the middle seat. I’ll try to talk to him ok?” you nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment because you were highly conflicted.

Finally you managed “Ok” then walked back around the van to climb into the backseat with Alicia and Charlie. Charlie raised an eyebrow at you not riding upfront with Dean but welcomed you into the conversation she and Alicia were having.

The third day on the road meant clearing the second vet clinic. You were going through a list of top things to look for with Alicia. All of you had stopped a few miles from the clinic to clear the road of an overturned tree. You and her were keeping an eye out for any dead that may be attracted to the noises. So far you both had killed one a piece.

“All clear ladies!” Charlie called out so you both headed back to the van. You wanted nothing more than to ask Dean why he’d acted like he had but refused to start an argument in the middle of a run. You’d push it down until all of you got safely back to the compound then you’d confront him about it.

You climbed into the backseat silently sliding between Alicia and Max. You didn’t really want to spare a word for anyone but since Bobby had been clear the clinics were more your wheelhouse everyone was looking at you as to what to grab for human use and what could be left behind.

You finally spoke as Dean was pulling into the overgrown parking lot of the clinic “I’ve went over the list with Alicia and Sam so they both know what to look for” Dean knew you were talking to him in particular and barely cut his eyes at you in the mirror before saying “I’m staying behind the wheel this time. Charlie can go in with Sam” you nodded more to yourself than in response to him. Why was he being so damn infuriating? If he’d just talk to you then...well what exactly would you say?

You climbed out and once your feet hit the dirt you turned to Gadreel “Ready?” he nodded so you looked around to everyone for their acknowledgement that they were all set.You shot one final look at Dean before falling Gadreel across the lot.

------

“Son of a bitch that damn thing came out of nowhere” you cursed kicking the now permanently dead zombie at your feet. Gadreel pulled a bandana from his pocket and held it out “You’ve got some blood smeared across your cheek” you wiped at it and gave him a small albeit appreciative smile “Thanks and again I’m sorry about how Dean acted” he shrugged “It’s ok really. It’s understandable”

You laughed harshly “Accusing us of screwing around literally on a run? That’s understandable? You’re a little too zen” he looked at you for a moment as if there was a second meaning to what he’d said but if there was you couldn’t quite grasp it. He shook his head after a moment then held a hand out “I’ll carry the bag”

------

Dean was watching the door of the clinic closely. Max and Alicia were the first duo out followed by Sam and Charlie. You and Gadreel bought up the rear.

He tried to bite his tongue but when you started to climb in considering you were the first one in the van he couldn’t stop the words before they came out “You and Gadreel didn’t get into anymore tight spots did you?” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth but it was too late to pull them back then. He could see the shock in your eyes when you froze halfway into the back seat and slowly turned to look at him the shock quickly turning to anger “Believe me Dean if I was to fuck Gadreel I’d wait until I had longer than a few minutes to try him out” before either of you could say anything else Sam opened the front door and Charlie stepped up to climb in behind you.

Dean was still staring at you in the mirror when he heard Alicia ask if you were ok since you were balling up what looked like a bandana in your hands. “Yeah just took out a biter so Gadreel gave it to me to clean the blood off”

------

You purposely turned to stare out the window and cursed the moment you’d agreed to come on this run. You wouldn’t cry. Hell you couldn’t afford the luxury of hurt feelings these days but knowing that didn’t exactly take the sting out of Dean’s words. You looked down at your hands as you tied Gadreel’s bandana into a loose knot then untied it and repeated the process. You just had to get this run over then you could distance yourself from Dean. You’d said the first thing that had came to mind that would hopefully hurt him the same way his words had hurt you..what had exactly become of yours and Dean’s friendship over the last few months?

Day four meant the last leg of the run before the turn around to head home to the compound. You hadn’t spoken a word to Dean and hadn’t really spoken to anyone without them saying something to you first. Dean hated that his jealousy because whether he liked it not he was jealous he hated that he’d let it put a wedge between you and him,

He had no idea what he could do to even slightly make it up to you. He spotted the turn off for the construction warehouse so he cleared his throat “Charlie you wanna be a wheelman again?” she glanced up from her spot next to you and nodded “Sure!” “Then we’ll do two teams of three that good with everyone?” he was hoping you’d say something but instead of what he wanted you to say you looked up “I’ll be on the team with Alicia and Max. I have the list you said we needed. I’ll tear it in half and hand Gadreel the other half. You, him and Sam can find that stuff”

Dean didn’t attempt to argue with you and only nodded instead “Sounds like a plan” Sam cut his eyes at his brother not really being used to him being ok with someone else calling the shots but it was you after all. “You good?” he asked quietly and Dean replied “Yeah” then pulled into the parking lot of the construction warehouse.

------

You were out of the van the moment it stopped rolling. There were two zombies shambling around the lot and you took them out in tandem. You turned to look at everyone as they climbed out of the van and managed to crack a smile when Charlie teased “My oh my someone woke up on the wrong side of the apocalypse” you shrugged “Hey beats any other stress release there was pre-z”

A small chorus of laughter went through everyone and you were glad for that. You didn’t want whatever was happening between you and Dean to affect everyone else. You winked at Alicia “Grab your brother and lets go shopping” she laughed and grabbed Max by the arm then motioned to you “Lead the way”

------

Sam could practically feel the tension in the air between Dean and Gadreel. He had thought for a while Dean’s feelings for you went deeper than friendship but it hadn’t been as blaringly apparent until Gadreel came into the picture. He was a good guy, he got along well with everyone in the compound. He respected that the women helped keep everything going and always managed to pull a smile to your face over some small joke. Dean was threatened by him because up to this point there hadn’t been any other guy that garnered any of your attention away from Dean not one anyone that you would be a possible match with.

The three of them were working in silence quickly gathering what was on their half of the list. Sam was personally just hoping no fight broke out that he’d had to break up. He noticed that Dean kept cutting his eyes at Gadreel and said a prayer under his breath that just for once Dean would let it go.

He had no such luck because although Dean didn’t say anything Gadreel cleared his throat “Dean” Dean raised his eyebrows in response to the other man “Yeah?” “Just so you know nothing happened between me and Y/N. She’s a beautiful, amazing woman but...”

Dean cut Gadreel off before he could finish speaking with a shake of his head “I was in the wrong man...to snap at either of you. You’re both grown, what you do is your business and I trust the fact that neither of you would do anything on a run to risk your lives or anyone else's”

Sam watched the both of them for a moment trying to decipher if they were actually trying to get along or mutually waving the white flag for your benefit but the moment was broken by Alicia’s scream of your name. No words had to be passed amongst the three men; they all started running towards the sound.

------

You were following behind Alicia and Max trying to keep an eye out for the last couple items on your half of the list. You glanced up at a shelf that ran nearly up to the high ceiling of the warehouse and decided to check it out. Max stopped when he saw you looking and offered “Want a hand getting up there?” you shook your head with a slight smirk “Naw I think I can handle it but stay close just in case”

You made it to the halfway point and had even grabbed a few things you knew were needed when you went to step on a board and felt it crack under you. One minute you were standing the next you felt yourself falling and only barely managed to hold onto the backpack you had been storing supplies in.

You hit hard behind the shelf and heard a low growl.You pushed yourself to sit up and saw three biters shuffling towards you “Son of a bitch” you groaned trying to get to your feet. You went to push yourself up but felt a gush of blood from your left arm so you used your right to get to your feet just barely avoiding the chomping teeth of the zombie that was bearing down on you. You could hear Alicia scream your name but couldn’t spare a response. You had to show attention to the threat in front of you. You slammed your machete into the skull of the first one in front of you and cursed again when you realized that while you’d killed it your blade was stuck. You reached for the knife at your side knowing it was your only chance. You kicked the second one square in the stomach knocking it back long enough you could stab the last one in the eye.

You pulled your knife free and felt the one you’d kicked grab your jacket. You struggled to get out of it before the zombie sank it’s rotting teeth into the material. You slammed your knife into it’s skull then leaned heavily against the wall. The shelf slid away to show you an exit route. You ran towards the sunlight now streaming in and saw that Dean, Sam, Gadreel, Max and Alicia had all worked to get the shelf pulled out.

The moment Alicia saw you she looked at the guys “Turn around let me help her check herself out” the men all quickly obliged so you let her pull your shirt up and check across your back,stomach and both arms to assure you hadn’t been bit. “Didn’t you find a few suture kits at the last clinic?” She asked and you nodded then spoke loud enough the guys could hear “All clear boys. You can look now”

Dean’s eyes were glued to your left arm where the sleeve of your grey shirt was soaked with blood “Please tell me that’s a cut sweetheart” you smiled slightly “Bastard tried to bite me but only got my jacket” “Thank god” he breathed. You simply nodded and looked around “Did we get everything we need cause I’d really like to go home to the compound now. It’s been a long week” Sam laughed lightly and nodded “Yeah we got it all but first someone has to help stitch you up before we roll out”

------

Charlie had been nominated to help you stitch up your arm so you were sitting in the back of the van while she worked. Everyone else was keeping an eye out to ensure no more biters made their presence known. “So are we gonna talk about some of the weirdness?” You raised an eyebrow which made her nod in response whether at you or at herself “Ok then guess not” she tied off the last stitch and snipped it “I don’t have to tell you to keep it clean” you slid your shirt back on fully and gave her a small smile “I know aftercare instructions ma’am”

------

Dean watched you in the rearview mirror as he drove. You’d fallen asleep in the jacket Gadreel had given you to wear considering yours had been turned into a zombie chew toy. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry that you were leaning against Gadreel asleep. He’d nearly lost you. Nothing else mattered. Why had he acted like he had towards you? Why couldn’t he just tell you he had feelings for you? Why hadn’t he realized it before Gadreel joined the compound? He let out a breath which made Sam look his way. “You good?” He nodded “Yeah be even better when we get home”

A few days had passed since all of you had made it back to the compound. You had barely spoken to Dean since getting back. You were still conflicted about the way he’d acted on the run.You were walking through one of the greenhouses checking the medicinal plants. You could hear someone walking behind you but didn’t have to look to know who it was. You’d know Dean’s footsteps anywhere.

“What’s this one?” He asked stopping at the plant furthest away from you “Echinacea, it helps for colds and flu” you replied barely looking in his direction. He walked a little closer to you and touched another plant. “What about this one?” You sighed loudly before answering “Ginger, it has anti-inflammatory, antibacterial,antiviral property and helps with nausea”

You finally turned to look fully at him “Can we not act like you actually give a damn about any of these plants? Why are you here Dean? You’ve avoided me for days, hell I’ve avoided you too so why are we talking now?” he took a few steps towards you stopping only a mere foot away “I miss you, you’re my best friend and I acted like an idiot..” “And practically accused me of being a whore that couldn’t even wait to get back to safety to fuck someone” you added and he chuckled lightly “That too”

“Why Dean? Why have you been pulling away from me for months and why did this run just cement the fact that our friendship is apparently broken beyond repair” you felt your voice break but didn’t try to hide it. You cared about Dean even if you’d resigned yourself to only being a friend to him because he’d never see you as more. Now you’d even lost that.

“Please, don’t say that Y/N. I was an asshole I’ll admit. I never should’ve acted like that towards you or Gadreel..it’s just..” he trailed off and you were too tired of beating around the bush by that point so this time you were the one to snap “Just what Dean?”

“I saw you getting close with him. I saw the way you two looked at each other then seeing his hands on you and the way you were smiling..I knew I’d lost any chance with you. It took me seeing you with him to open my eyes to just how much you mean to me” you were stunned into silence at his words. After a moment without you replying he laughed bitterly “Yeah and now I look like an idiot to add to it. Look I just wanted to say sorry and I hope you’ll forgive me”

He turned to walk out and only then did you find your voice “You are an idiot” he turned around to face you “Excuse me?” You crossed the space to stand in front of him “You’re an idiot Dean Winchester. I've had feelings for you for a long time. Yeah Gadreel is a good looking guy and a sweetheart. We’re good friends and I like spending time with him but as far as who I want? It’s been you, it’s always been you”

A smile slipped onto his face “Well does that mean we’re gonna give this a try?” you shrugged nonchalantly “I don’t know. Are you gonna be a jealous ass if I have male friends and hang out with them?” he laughed “No, I promise you my days of being a jealous asshole are over. If you’re sure you want me I know you only say what you mean” you tapped your chin in mock thought for a moment before saying “In that case why don’t we seal it with a kiss?” “Thought you’d never ask,” he replied, pulling you into his arms.

[yandere-daydreams]

Request for yandere hunter with a werewolf darling, please?

The whole ‘cabin in the woods’ aesthetic is already too creepy to resist, honestly, but it’s nice to give your Yandere a good reason to be so mean, sometimes. Even if they still take advantage of it.

TW: Kidnapping, Violence, Mentions of Injury and Blood.

~

The cellar was cold.

It wasn’t the nice, pleasant chill of a light breeze on a hot summer day, or the bite carried in by the wind on the first day of winter. No, this was an unforgiving, endless cold, one that seeped through your skin and wrapped around your bones, so unrelenting you can’t even find it in yourself to shiver, after a few days. You’d fought it off, at first, following the thin, singular beam of sunlight allowed into the basement by its only window, but now it was all you could do to ball yourself up in a corner and try to huddle under the thin sheet your captor provided. He’d mentioned a bed, a few days ago, something more substantial than a mattress and a handful of blankets, but you doubted you’d ever get one.

For whatever reason, Orion didn’t strike you as a generous provider.

Even now, he made a point of staring you down before speaking, standing at the top of the old, wooden staircase and glaring down into the darkness, the door behind him still hanging open. It didn’t matter, though. Even if you made a run for it, even if you managed to snarl and snap your way past him, the iron collar wrapped around your neck would’ve stopped you, a chain thicker than your wrist keeping you attached to the floor. You’d already tried to bite your way through it, and pull the bracket from its stone confines, but you’d always been one of the weaker members of your pack. If the damned thing was going to budge, you couldn’t tell. You’d stopped trying when Orion threatened to tear your teeth out for looking at it the wrong way.

“You’ve been scratching again,” He started, drawing your attention back to him as he descended the staircase. Each step sent another creak through the small space, but if he noticed, he was content not to show it, his lips pursed as he scanned over the new array of thin, white indentations in the wall next to you, They were pitiful, dull little things, but they were symbolic of your rebellion, your will to do anything but follow his rules. You curled into yourself, and Orion sighed, coming to a stop in front of your crumpled form. “Another instinct thing? Do I need to bring a scratching post down here before you stop trying to scrape your way out of this?”

“I’m not a cat,” You mumbled, weakly, your voice muffled by your own reluctance to indulge him. “It’s boring, down here. I don’t have anything better to do.”

He chuckled, crouching down to your height. Even then, he towered over you, a mountain of a man in a uniform of flannel and denim. You did your best not to look at him, but it was impossible not to, especially when you had so few sources of stimulation. “Does the mutt need a chew toy?” He asked, a mocking drawl dripping from his tone. “Or, is the puppy finally ready to play? I’d hate for you to go and pout again, like the last time I tried to have a little fun with you.”

“Your fun hurts.” You hated how childish your voice sounded, how whiney the words came out. You were still unused to depending on words, having lived with those who relied on body language for so long, before you were thrown into the arms of a man who delighted in misinterpretations. You shifted uncomfortably beneath your blanket, and Orion seemed to notice, a fist soon clamped around one corner and jerking your last defense away, if only so he could better evaluate your pathetic state. You continued, if only out of spite, attempting to fight away the cold as you went on. “You’re a sick fuck if you think anyone could enjoy this. I want to go outside, Orion, I want to leave. I don’t like being trapped, or threatened, or-” You stopped, abruptly, taking your cable in one hand and reveling in the resulting rattle. “-chained to the fucking floor. I’m not some… some pet you can steal and expect not to fight back.”

Another laugh, this one throaty, obvious. He squared his shoulders, a wide, careless grin spreading across his lips as he watched you glower and glare. “Can’t I, sweetheart?” Nimble fingers reached out, entangling themselves roughly in your hair and pushing it back, letting you squirm and bat at his arm as he scanned over you. “You’re a threat, to yourself and others. Remember how I found you? All bloody and helpless, stuck in one of my snares without an ounce of strength left. This is for the best. You can’t get yourself killed, here. You can’t hunt down real people, when you’ve got your collar on.”

You growled, baring your teeth. Orion’s smirk only broadened. “My pack needs--”

“Your pack should be grateful.” Suddenly, he pulled you forward, away from your protective wall and into his chest, an arm looping around your waist to keep you from writhing. You struggled, bucking and fighting as best you could, but Orion just held you tighter, closer, as if suffocating you would help to establish his dominance. “I took in a runt and gave it a proper home. If anything, they should be thanking me for getting rid of such a little nuisance.” You felt his warm breath fan over your neck, the sensation quickly followed by a short, playful kiss, ending as quickly as it was initiated. “You should be thankful, too. And pack that relies on someone who can’t even take care of themselves isn’t a pack you should want to be part of.”

Of all things, that was your breaking point, the pride in his voice and how badly you wanted to tear his arrogant tongue out. Without thinking, you threw your weight against him, knocking the man off balance as you scrambled to maintain your own. Without moonlight, you were trapped as a graceless mess of odd angles and vulnerable flesh, but you made the best of what you were given to work with, forcing your elbow into his diaphragm and slashing at his face with your sharpened nails. You broke through the skin of his cheek easily, and the feeling of hot, thick blood running over your fingertips filled you with confidence. Foolish, impulsive confidence.

You didn’t make a sound as you locked your jaw into place and lunged for his neck, but Orion was faster, more used to petty limitations. He caught your shoulder, using your propulsion to redirect your path, slamming you into the floor and pinning you on your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. You panted breathlessly, attempting to recover, and Orion took the opportunity to pin your arms to your back, restraining you with a practiced ease. “Bad dog,” He muttered, the words barely audible. “Bad dog. All I fucking do is spoil you, and you still go and get it into your dumb little head to bite the hand that feeds you.”

You opened your mouth, a plea for forgiveness clashing violently with a vile insult, but Orion didn’t give you the chance to spit either out, only putting more pressure on the small of your back, letting something underneath his hand crack before he thought to fill the silence. “Clearly, you haven’t figured out which one of us is in charge, yet. That’s my fault, too.” He let up, but his grip didn’t loosen. Instead, it grew stronger, more firm.

More authoritative.

“I can’t expect you to behave before I take the time to train you properly.”

[fericita-s]

Samantha

In the recent discord chat, @marimancusi​ explained that the Disney team instructed her to use the name “Gale” in Dangerous Secrets for the wind spirit and that Olaf was able to glean that name in Frozen II because water-has-memory. Which led me to remark that if Olaf learned the name Gale from the wind spirit or water, perhaps Samantha was also a name the water or wind were speaking to him and her exact words were “Samantha fan fic - GO!”

So, with vague spoilers for Dangerous Secrets, here is my Samantha story. Thank you as always to @the-spaztic-fantastic​ for beta-ing.

“What am I doing here?”

She looked down at her hands, barely visible in the darkness, startled to see what looked like a rock holding them and giving her a soft pat with moss-heavy hands of its own.

The rock spoke.

“You wanted a blessing.  For your journey.”

She thought, but couldn’t remember where she was going.  With a panic that started to rise and form like the Northern Lights now visible across the sky, she realized that she didn’t even know where she was right now.

Or who she was.

The rock spoke again.  “You were sad.  But you are not sad now.  You will be content.”

She examined herself as the panic glided away along with the brightness of the sky, the Northern Lights gone and the sky dark once more.

She thought the rock was right.  

She was not sad.  

But she was not content either.

She was nothing.  

“I will be content?”

“You will, dearie. Once you finish your journey.”

The rock was leading her away from a clearing and towards the woods.  The Northern Lights flared again and she could see a path there, recently traveled from the looks of the bent branches and crumpled grass.  Had she come this way?

“Go north, to Tautra, and join the sisters.  They are always ready to welcome one like you.”

“Like me? But I don’t…” she considered what to say.  It was strange to talk to a rock and stranger still to ask one for help but since no people were around it seemed like the best choice. “I don’t know my name.  Could you tell me my name?”

“Why, you’re Samantha.  And a beautiful name it is too.  My favorite name for a human though none of them seem to want to use it yet.  But you will.” The rock smiled and patted her knee and she felt a warmth begin there and spread through her whole body, and she suddenly felt able to walk for miles and miles.  

So she did.

She walked with a purpose she didn’t question, and kept away the questions that made the panic start to rise again.  Instead of thinking who am I, what is happening, how far am I going she thought Tautra, sisters, Tautra, sisters.   One word for each step.  Tautra on the right foot.  Sisters on the left.

She walked all night.  As the sun spilled into the sky, the path led to a road and the road led her to a carriage that stopped after it passed her.

“Queen Rita!” the driver shouted.  “She’s missing! Have you seen the queen?”

“No,” she said. “I’ve seen no one.”  She looked down at her dress, covered in mud from her knees on down and her shawl snagged with twigs.  She smoothed at her crown of braids and wondered if Queen Rita had met the living rocks in the woods this night as well.

The driver nodded to her. “Thank you, Miss.  Do you need a ride to town? I’m searching next in Frosta.”

She tilted her head, considering.  Her feet were beginning to feel sore and riding seemed like a more pleasant way to keep moving for a while.  So she said “Yes, please,” and felt in her pockets for a krone.

“No need, Miss,” the driver told her as he opened the door and motioned for her to get in.  

As the carriage bumped and rattled along the mountain path, she took stock of what she knew.

She was traveling to the sisters in Tautra. She had krone in her pocket and well-made shoes on her feet.  Her dirndl might have clues, but she couldn’t read the message in the embroidery if there was any.  The interior of the carriage had intricate rosemaling and it seemed familiar, somehow.  But as her eyes traced the crocuses and roses, the greens and purples and reds, she became lost in the story the flowers were telling and lost hold of the threads she had started to grasp of whatever story she was trying to piece together of herself.

The wheels made a less steady rhythm, but she still chanted Tautra, sisters, Tautra, sisters so she wouldn’t lose hold of that too.

When they arrived in Frosta, the driver let her out and she heard him as he rode away, shouting “Queen Rita! We’re looking for the queen! Have you seen the queen?”

She used her krone to buy a hot bun when the smell of it awakened hunger.  She asked the baker how to get to Tautra.

“Ah! Come to join the sisters? Take your krone back, then, and pray for me when you do. The boat leaves from yonder at half past.” The baker pressed the coin back into her hand and gestured towards a pier where people were unloading and loading goods of all kinds.

Over the squawk of chickens and the clink of large chunks of ice, she inquired about a boat to Tautra. She paid passage and, as the oars hit the water and the sailors grunted with the effort of it, she said Tautra for the right side and sisters for the left, but quietly, because it was becoming clear that talking to oneself was not a normal thing to do.

The stone building reminded her of the rock she had spoken to in the woods and she half expected one of the stones to jump down from the archway and greet her.  But when none did, she knocked on the door and waved to the sailors who were now rowing away from the island of Tautra.

A woman in somber robes and headdress answered the door, friendly crinkles around her eyes and a wooden cross hanging from a leather cord around her neck. “Welcome! Who do we have here?”

“I’m Samantha.  I’m here to join the sisters.” She fiddled with the remaining krone, wondering if she should offer it, or if she should say anything about the rock who had sent her here. But the older woman smiled and opened the door widely.

“Come in then, Samantha, we’re delighted to have you.”

A month or so later, a group of soldiers knocked on the door during midday prayers.  Samantha answered it, now wearing the habit and veil of the sisters and ready to welcome others as she had been welcomed.  But the man at the door was angry and took a step back in surprise when he saw her.

“Rita?” said the man, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”

She shook her head. “I’m not Rita.  I’m Samantha.”

His face turned as red as his hair and his shoulders seemed to widen in anger. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Rita, but I demand you return to the castle at once!” He stomped his foot and the sword at his side rattled. “You are a Queen!  You have a duty!”

Samantha shook her head. “My duty is to God. And if you seek a queen, you should act like a king.” She turned and closed the door and rejoined the sisters in the garden.

Sometimes she woke with a kulning in her throat, like a sadness that had been strangled.  But the steady work of the day, the prayer, the meditation, the reading, the singing, it kept her from suffocating.

The rock was right.  

She became content.

Watching the Northern Lights tugged at her and sometimes she thought she might even be feeling happy.  She thought she could see the shape of someone there, dancing joyously in the ebb and flow of bright colors against a dark sky.  The love she had for this person was tangible, she could almost feel it on her tongue.  But it slipped away before she had a name for it, so she continued her prayers and before she went back to sleep she spoke Samantha to the wind, praying that the shape of that someone would know that she saw him, would know that she was content to know he was happy.  That her love would carry to him and he would feel it.

[exhaustedfander]

One shot request intruality, Patton and Remus having a conversation about their insecurities. Mostly focusing on how they both have times of struggling to understand the other sides ex. Making some changes

This isn’t exactly what was requested, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I had a lot of fun with this one! 

Word Count: 3,322

Summary: Recently, Patton and Remus's relationship has begun to change. When Patton lets a pet name slip by accident, a much-needed conversation takes place.

ao3 link

Sweet Pea

To say that Remus hadn’t been expecting any of this would be a gross understatement. He is by no means the kind of side to have too many expectations; when your whole thing is being unpredictable, you learn to stop expecting things and simply see what life chucks your way. Even so, having a relationship with Patton of any kind has thrown him for a loop like very few things can.

It isn’t as though Remus has a vendetta against Patton. Sure, the guy is a lot more clean-cut then his style, which is to say, not a rat-man, and he indulges in far fewer of life’s pleasures than Remus does, but he doesn’t hate him. For a while there, he’d been real fun to mess with, knowing Patton was so afraid of him. So much as walking into a room could set the fatherly side on edge, and wasn’t that just the best? He adored messing with any of the others, but Patton was by far the easiest.

The only problem is, it’s become a hell of a lot less fun with Patton since the massive shift that’s occurred between them. When Janus got accepted into the “good guys,” Remus was convinced that his role likely wouldn’t change – which he was totally fine with! He’s been the same old Duke for years, even if Thomas hadn’t known about him for almost the entirety of his life, and that was okey-doke. But… after Janus found himself a seat at the table, so it seemed, did Remus.

It isn’t as though he’s been given the green light to try and convince Thomas to do absolutely anything he wants to do, as fun as that would be. But the weird thing is, Patton had apologized to him. Morality, who’d been so wary of him for so long, had told him that he had been judging him too harshly and that surely, there was a lot of good in him. Remus isn’t one to have expectations, but that had struck him as odd. Why the fuck would Patton want him to be around, considering all he represented? Why would morality want anything to do with him?

As weird as everything is, Remus had been under the impression that Patton was merely tolerating him, maybe in an attempt to make the others believe he was making nice with everyone. At first, Remus kept up his usual behavior, obnoxious and crude, but it didn’t rattle Patton like it used to. Sure, he’d get a surprised shriek or two when he dangled from the ceiling from one of his tentacles or rose up unexpectedly, but then Patton would simply smile at him and say hello.

 Patton isn’t scared of him, not anymore, and Remus doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

He’s used to others being unnerved in his presence, considering who he is. But since Patton has been alright with him hanging around them more and more, he’s noticed them doing more to tolerate him as well. Roman is, well, he isn’t complaining about him quite as much as usual. He’s even stopped chastising him every time he comes into the imagination claiming he’ll “Ruin everything!”, even if it is their shared domain. Virgil still seems fairly irritated with him, but that’s nothing new and Remus doesn’t mind. Logan is being far more considerate of him then he’d think, considering he’d chucked throwing stars at his face before. Janus has always at the very least tolerated him, so that’s just peachy-keen. The other sides are being considerate enough not to complain every time he’s near, but Patton has gone above and beyond in welcoming him lately. And that… is decidedly very weird.

He's invited him to come to dinner, even encouraging that he can eat whatever he wants, no matter how seemingly inedible it is. It’s certainly amusing to see the looks on the other’s faces when he sits down at the dinner table as if he belongs there; he doesn’t think he belongs there, but that’s beside the point.

Patton does everything he can to keep things civil at the table, to a point where Remus is almost impressed if he weren’t such an agent of chaos himself. He nips blossoming spats between Virgil and Janus in the bud as quickly as they arise and he tells jokes and puns that Remus can’t help but find a little endearing, in a silly, dad way. Remus decides to tell some jokes of his own, and while they are on the harsher and more disgusting side, he elicits a few chuckles from Patton while the rest of them simply roll their eyes.

It doesn’t make any sense; Patton has just stopped being terrified of him, and now here he is, morality, giggling at Remus’s mention of cannibalism. Has the world gone mad? Has he gone mad? Quite possibly.

Things only grow stranger from that point on. Patton speaks often with Remus, encouraging him that they are getting to be “real good friends” and Remus is even invited to movie nights (“I’m afraid your birthday suit is not an acceptable outfit for movie night, kiddo).

It isn’t hard to tell that the others are at least somewhat displeased with him being there, for the most part. Sure, Janus doesn’t have any problems with him, and Logan doesn’t seem to hate him, but Roman is clearly very agitated and Virgil seems to be doing everything in his power to ignore him. And yet Patton, of all sides, continues to provide so much warmth and joy his way it almost made him want to puke.

Remus isn’t used to this kind of treatment. Even with Janus, someone he considers his closest friend, there is very little affection between them. Remus is used to being the gross one, the nuisance, the “problem child.” Being fawned over is a completely new experience and one he can’t decide how he feels about. Patton isn’t scared of him anymore, and that was kind of a bummer at first, but now? Well, now Remus isn’t quite sure what the hell is going on.

After movie night of a few Disney films, everyone else had decided to hit the hay, yet Patton and Remus remain. Remus is sure any moment now Patton will rise from his spot and declare that he is going to sleep, too. Except… that isn’t what happens.

Instead, Patton asks Remus if he has any movie recommendations, something they could watch, just the two of them.

“I don’t think my kind of movies are really your style, Pattycake,” Remus insists, thoroughly shocked that Patton would so much as ask. The fatherly side shakes his head.

“Well, that doesn’t mean we can’t give it a try. I’d like to watch something you enjoy for a change,” Patton says, smiling kindly, “If it’s really that bad, I’m sure I could just let you know.” That seems okay, Remus supposes.

“Yeah, alright. But don’t complain to me when you get sweet little nightmares,” Remus warns, though in actuality he doesn’t plan on showing Patton anything too intense. Before, the idea of giving Patton nightmares was positively delicious, but now – now it made him feel kinda sick, and not in a good way, either.

Remus decides to pop in The Cabin in the Woods, seeing as it is a comedy as well as horror and fairly silly, despite the gore. He’s sure Patton won’t be too much of a fan of it and bail out early on, and yet here he remains, sitting close to him on the couch and looking intently at the screen.

Remus realizes maybe he doesn’t know as much about Patton as he thought he did when he giggles a bit at a scene of people being mascaraed by a large group of monsters running amuck, laughing particularly hard when a character meets a gruesome fate at the hand of a less than conventionally attractive merman. All the while the movie has been going, Remus notices that Patton has been inching closer and closer until his head is resting on his shoulder. The thought of Patton willingly being so close to him sends a strange feeling of contentment through him. For most of their lives, Patton has been so wary of him, and now he’s almost as close as he can get. Why would something as silly as Patton laying his head on his shoulder make him feel so strange?

Remus is almost positive that he is going to burst into flames when Patton smiles at him once the film had ended and says: “I don’t know what you were worried about. That was a really fun movie, Sweet Pea.”

Remus jerks away, scooting to the edge of the couch while Patton shoots him a look of concern.

“Remus, are you okay?”

“What… what did you just call me?” Patton blinks.

“…Huh?”

“You called me Sweet Pea. Why – why the hell did you do that for?” Even in the fairly dark living room, Remus can see the blush that’s spread across Patton’s face, meaning his own flushed cheeks are visible as well. Patton wrings his hands, apprehension present in the action.

“W-well, I dunno, I guess it just kinda… slipped?” Patton offers weakly, praying Remus will accept the answer without fighting it any more than that. Of course, that’s not to be the case.

“It slipped?” Remus asks incredulously. “Why in the world would you use a word like that to describe me?” Patton doesn’t respond for a moment, his eyes settled on his lap, refusing to answer Remus’s burning question. After a minute or so, though, Patton speaks.

“Things have been different between us lately, haven’t they?”

The question hangs heavy in the air. Remus barely knows how to respond. Of course, things have been different; Patton’s actively professed he enjoys hanging-out, to say things hadn’t changed would be a blatant lie.

“I mean… yeah. You’ve been all sweet with me, I guess. Which you get is weird, right?”

“Why would it be weird?” Patton asks, so genuinely it hurts.

“Because,” Remus says as though Patton’s a lunatic for asking the question, gesturing vaguely to himself, “I’m me! Intrusive thoughts, remember? Everything nasty that’s been shut away for the last thirty-years; everything you hate.” Patton’s mouth creases into a frown.

“I don’t hate you, Remus. I… well, I never have. I was just scared of you, once, but I just didn’t understand you then.” Remus scoffs.

“And now you understand me completely?”

“I never said that. But…” Patton hesitates, biting his lip before extending Remus his hand, “I want to. I want to know you better. I was so lost in the belief that I knew best for so long… and I’ll always be sorry for that. I’m sorry for the way that I treated you and Janus; it wasn’t right of me. Not at all. But I’m trying. I want to know you guys. I want to know you, Remus.”

Remus retracts his hand, the warmth in his chest bursting into flames, a fire that’s sure to burn down everything that it touches.

“You don’t want that,” he insists, his eyes training on the wall, eager to avoid the heavy weight of Patton’s gaze.

“But I do!”

“No, you just think you do,” Remus grits through his teeth, the fire bathing him in a horrible warmth, “You – you just think you want that. But you don’t. You’re too sweet for that. Too sweet to know me that way. You’ll quit while you’re ahead if you know what’s good for you.” Remus rises to his feet, positive the fire is enveloping him now, positive to burn him to the ground. With each passing second, he burns a little brighter, skin melting and bones turning to ash. The feeling is something horrible, he realizes, more abhorrent than anything he could possibly conjure.

Remus is falling in love with Patton.

Remus shivers as Patton grabs a hold of his wrist, keeping him from feeling. Doesn’t he get it; Remus is trying to keep him from perishing in the fire as well. He’ll die alone, go up and smoke if it means Patton is safe.

“Patton – let go,” Remus says, the request a beg more than anything else. Patton shakes his head, determination brimming in his eyes.

“I won’t. I’m not letting you leave, Remus.”

Remus pulls harder, shocked by the sheer strength Patton is exhibiting. If it were anyone else, he’d do anything to escape, biting, scratching, and clawing his way out, if necessary. But Patton isn’t anyone else and he’s been stupid enough to develop dangerously strong feelings. Patton calling him something so soft and painfully domestic has awoken something fragile in him, and he intends to put an end to it.

“Why not? Why the fuck are you trying so hard to be nice to me? Why do you care?”

“Because…” Patton swallows the lump in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets go and admits it, “I like you!”

“Wh-what?”

“I said: I like you. I’ve been spending time with you because I want to. I want you to feel welcomed, I want you to know you have a place here. But also because I like you. A lot.” Finally, Patton’s released him, and yet Remus can’t find it in himself to run away.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But I do!” Patton maintains, his eyes burning with a sincerity that’s scaring the hell out of Remus, “Lately, I’ve seen you light up and… I like that. I like seeing you so much happier, I like seeing you and Jan joking in the commons and at the dinner table. I like it when you greet me in silly ways when you hang from the ceiling with your tentacles or jump from behind the couch. I like the time we spend together; I like that I’m getting to know you more.

“I like you, Remus. And if you don’t feel the same… then I understand. If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry… again. But I need you to understand that I want this, I want to hang out, I want to watch movies that you pick out. I want you to be real with me because you can! I’m not afraid of you anymore, and I never want to be ever again. Liking you is much better than that.”

Remus doesn’t know how to respond. The fire is incasing him now, but he’s not sure if he’s going to be reduced to a pile of ashes anymore. Patton is offering so much, more than he realizes. He’s offering the kindness he’s already shown him, offering understanding unlike he’s ever known, offering intimacy unlike he’s ever experienced. And he could turn away and forget this ever happened if he so desired. Patton’s giving him that option, too, no matter how much it’s clear that he doesn’t want to. All because of some sappy nickname being said accidentally, Remus is being extended an opportunity he never envisioned for himself.

Remus has the chance to get to know Patton for everything that he is, faults and all, a chance to see the moral side down to his very core. And, in turn, he’s being given the chance to be known himself, in a way he didn’t think anyone would ever truly be interested. It would be a major understatement to say he’s a little overwhelmed.

“Do you… do you mean it?” He hates the vulnerability in his wavering voice, threatening to break. He hasn’t felt so overrun by emotions of this caliber in years, used to being brushed aside and ignored. Patton smiles, so genuinely Remus is almost positive the heart he wasn’t aware of owning is about to burst.

“With all my heart,” Patton says, and that’s the straw that breaks the Camel’s back.

Remus launches himself forward, throwing his arms around the moral side and burying his face in his neck. Patton stiffens for a moment, caught off-guard before returning the embrace with nearly as much vigor.

“Me too,” Remus says, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he clings to Patton, the fire no less lively but dying down in terms of threat, “I like you too, Patton. A-a lot. More than bugs, or blood and guts, or all the deodorant in the world.” Patton laughs at that, the sound bright and so full of joy as he runs a hand through Remus’s frazzled hair.

“Well, what a lucky guy I am,” Patton says, though his tone is nothing but serious.

After a moment they part long enough to sit back down on the couch, though Remus is quick to place himself right in Patton’s lap, his legs wrapping around the moral side’s waist. Remus has never known much in the ways of personal space and Patton is almost always eager to hug the nearest person to him, combining to an unlikely but very cuddly pair.

“Hey, Remus, how many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?” Patton asks. The smile that’s crept onto Remus’s face and refused to leave grows.

“I dunno, Pattycake, how many?”

“Ten tickles!” Patton says before unleashing an onslaught of tickles onto Remus, earning a trail of giggles Patton is sure is one of the loveliest things he’s ever heard.

“Sta-stop it! knock it off, Pat or I’ll-I’ll claw your eyes out!” Remus warns jokingly, peeling off into another peel of laughter before Patton stops.

“Hey, Sweet Pea?” Patton asks after a moment. The nickname surprises Remus, but this time he’s a little more prepared for it.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly, his hands cupping Remus’s face gently. Remus nods quickly, smiling as Patton leans in and closes the gap. The embrace is gentle, perhaps gentler than would be expected of Remus, but it’s nothing short of incredible. Remus relishes in the feeling of Patton’s soft lips, his hands burying themselves in Patton’s curls.

“Hey,” Remus says as they break apart, already intent on kissing Patton senseless the next chance he gets. For now, though, he’s drowning in the warmth that’s surrounding him, in the softness he’s suddenly been allowed.

“Hi,” Patton responds, his smile just as wide as Remus’s.

“You’re a damn good kisser, Cookie.” Patton turns three shades redder in a matter of seconds. “Aww, you got all embarrassed! You like me calling you my cookie?”

“Stop it, Remus!” Patton says with a giggle.

“What? You’re so sweet, I can’t help it.” “Remus.”

“Oh, so you can call me sweet pea, but I can’t call you cookie. How’s about my buttercup? Honeybee? Cutie Pie?”

“Remus,” Patton says, before pressing his lips to the intrusive side’s again, effectively silencing him.

Not long ago, Patton was terrified of Remus. Terrified of what he represented and what that could mean for Thomas. But that isn’t the case anymore, not nearly. Affection has grown between them without either of them realizing. They still don’t entirely know each other, not yet. But they will. Patton’s grown so much, accepting the faults in his thinking, and with Remus’s help, he’s sure he’ll continue to change for the better.

Remus never counted on intimacy, not seeing how it could possibly be in the cards. And yet here he is, embracing someone he hasn’t always understood but is now so desperate to now. Remus doesn’t entirely know if he’s built for this kind of tenderness, knowing that it wouldn’t be impossible for things to shift back and for Patton’s fear to remerge. For now, though, Remus doesn’t focus on the nagging thoughts of what could go wrong, simply embracing what’s right in front of him.

They put on another movie, going to bed at a reasonable time out the window, though it takes very little time for them to fall asleep in each other’s arms, the TV still playing some long since forgotten horror movie.

=+=

Taglist:

@nadiestar 

@unoriginalgayboyalex 

[deejadabbles]

A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Two: Leave Out All The Rest

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// [Five Coming Soon]

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

A.N. In case they weren't gay enough in the last chapter, Yugi and Jonouchi are boyfriends in this series <3 Is it a bit unrealistic to think they could be in a band and remain happy n healthy in their relationship? Probably. Do I care? No.

"This ain't working at all- and I told you it wouldn't!"

Yugi sighed as his beloved boyfriend tossed his phone on the table and leaned back in his metal folding chair.

Immediately, Yugi picked up the phone and handed it back to Jonouchi. "You can't dismiss them on looks alone," he scolded in a light tone.

Jou looked aghast, "He looks like he sacrifices cats on Sundays!" He waved the screen at Yugi, which displayed a bearded man who cast a purposeful scowl at the camera. He had lots of tattoos and piercings on top of the studded leather clothes, but that just made Yugi more annoyed with his boyfriend.

"People can say the exact same thing about me!" He waved a hand, encompassing his leather pants, studded belt, collar-style choker, and the tattoo on his arm.

Honda let out an unsure hum as he scrolled through his own phone, "But you're still a cinnamon roll under all that leather, Yugi, I'm not sure this guy is. Don't think he's a bad dude or anything, but I don't think he's the right fit for us," he turned his phone so everyone else sitting at the table could see, "just look at the titles of the songs he sent."

Okay, Yugi would concede that the examples the applicant had sent were a little...extreme, the title "bled like a pig" stood out in particular, but he still thought the boys were being a bit judgy.

"I think I'm gonna agree," you mumbled, "these are pretty heavy."

"You wrote a song called "we are broken" that sounds pretty heavy," Yugi countered, not unkindly though still trying to play the middleman.

"Okay, heavy isn’t the right word,” you conceded with a frown as you looked over some rather grotesque lyrics, “yup, “ edge lord ” is more fitting. Just look at the contents of the songs."

At the suggestion, Yugi scrolled down the application on his own phone, passed the profile pic and down to the bottom of the "examples of my work" section. ….okay, you guys had a point. Yugi doubted that the guy actually performed blood sacrifices, but his song style was definitely a little too demonic.

"Alright, I'll send him a thanks but no thanks note."

As Yugi brought up his email app to do just that, Anzu let out a frustrated sigh and scrubbed her hands over her face. "That was, what, the sixtieth-something application we've gone through?" she groaned, setting her phone down too, “It’s been over a month, and we haven’t gotten anywhere.”

"I still can't believe we got so many responses to our ads," Jonouchi grunted.

You set your head on your hand, expression dropping and making the dark circles under your eyes look more pronounced, "Everyone's pretty eager to join a band, now if only getting fans was as easy as getting people who wanted in on the fame prospect."

"All this work would actually be worth it if we found someone who even remotely appealed to us," Honda commented, "But everyone's just a little too…"

"Hardcore?" Anzu offered, then looked over at you, "Nah, you’re right, edge lord-y seem to fit most of them. I think that's the real thing, our band name probably makes people think we're more broody and grim than we actually are. We have plenty of darker themes in our stuff but everyone else seems to take it just a bit too far than our tastes go."

You ran a hand over your eyes, “Anyone else feel like we’ve wasted five weeks looking these applications over?”

"Hey, I'm sure we'll find someone soon though!" Yugi chimed in, a valiant attempt to elevate the mood. You and Jonouchi were always saying (much to his embarrassment) that he was everyone’s ray of sunshine, so surely he could salvage the night’s mood. “We just have to keep trying, I’m sure the right person is just around the corner!”

Anzu threw him an appreciative smile, “You’re probably right, Yugi, but I think I’m done looking for the night, it’s pretty exhausting.” She leaned back in her chair more, stretching her arms over her head.

“It’s probably a good time to call it quits now anyways,” you offered after glancing at the time, “If I hurry home now I can catch a shower before my shift starts.”

Everyone mumbled and nodded their agreements at that, followed by the five of you meandering around the room to get your stuff together. Honda offered to drive you back to your apartment like usual and everyone waved goodbye to each other in the tiny parking lot of the studio, Jou and Yugi climbing into Jou’s truck, Anzu into her beat-up car, and you and Honda zipping away on his motorbike.

It wasn’t until Yugi and Jonouchi were back at their place and Jou was cooking their dinner that Yugi realized something with great annoyance. After dumping the content of his backpack out on their bed, rifling through his desk drawer, and scouring the floor, Yugi wandered into the living room/kitchen area with a frown.

“Hey, sweetie, have you seen my adapters?”

Jonouchi looked thoughtful as he stirred the contents of the pan, “Uh, you mean the ones you use for your turntables? Haven’t seen them since the last time we rehearsed, that was what, three days ago?”

Yugi mumbled a curse under his breath, double-checking the tables and other spots he might have absentmindedly set them. Nothing. “Darn, I must have left them at the theatre yesterday.”

“Sure they aren’t in the studio?”

“No, I looked to make sure I’d have them when we rehearse tomorrow, but they weren’t there, that’s why I had it on my mind to find them when we got home.” Yugi shrugged and checked the time, thinking. After making up his mind, he grabbed his purple jacket from the armchair, “It’s okay though, if I hurry I should be able to sneak back into the theatre to get it. I think some members of the orchestra practice together tonight, and even if they aren’t the janitor should still be there.”

Yugi bounded across the tile floor as he slipped his jacket on, jumping up to place a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek before turning to the door.

“I won’t be long, be back before dinner’s done!”

“You better,” Jonouchi called as he grabbed some spices from the cabinet, “I ain’t fixing this masterpiece for one!”

Yugi chuckled and closed the door behind him, as if he’d miss a chance to taste his boyfriend’s amazing cooking.

There was barely any need for a jacket as he walked down the sidewalk, but the vanishing sun assured that it would probably get colder by the time he was walking back home. Although their apartment was a bit far from the band’s studio, the location at least allowed Yugi easy access to his other work place: Domino City’s “Pegasus Theatre”. It was a popular spot for the upper crust of Domino, since they not only hosted ballets, but a talented orchestra as well. Yugi and Anzu both worked there, Anzu as a dancer in the ballet, and Yugi in the sound department, providing tech aid for the shows. Well, for the ballets at least, the natural design of the theatre meant that he wasn’t usually needed when the orchestra played.  

Yugi's assumption proved right and he found the door of the employee entrance unlocked. The sound of chatter greeted him as he approached the stage area, signaling that the orchestra was packing it in for the night. He took a brief glance at the stage as he walked up the rows of seats- he had to be quick, as there were only three lingerers, two chatting as they headed for the door and one quietly packing away his violin.

Yugi bounded up the narrow staircase to the sound booth, opening the door and crossing the room to the little employee cubbies. He found what he was looking for quick enough, after pushing aside his spare jacket and snack bag. The beat-up altoids case rattled, but Yugi made sure to double-check that the adapters were actually in there. They were and he sighed in relief, pushing the other contents back into the cubby before turning.

He peered out the booth's window to see if the violinist was still there, and to Yugi's surprise he was not only still in sight, but the man had actually lingered after packing away his instrument. Standing in the very center of the stage, the man was looking out at the empty seats, then trailing his eyes up to the magnificent red curtains.

Yugi smiled to himself, figuring the man was just having a moment of wonder or taking in a daydream during his moment alone, and Yugi couldn't blame him in the slightest. Yugi was slower when taking the steps down, letting the man have his moment before he ruined it by walking by.

Again though, Yugi found himself surprised. His pace slowed, the sound of a melodic voice carrying through the theatre like a wave that had Yugi stopping dead in his tracks.

I dreamed I was missing

You were so scared

But no one would listen

Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming

I woke with this fear

What am I leaving

When I'm done here?

The voice was deep, the rumble of a serene storm, almost haunting in a way.

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

Yugi’s feet were moving before he even noticed and he soon stood on the red carpets leading to the stage.

When my time comes

Forget the wrong that I've done

Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed

And don't resent me

And when you're feeling empty

Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest

Leave out all the rest

The violinist stood there, lost in his own world- or rather the words of his song. His eyes were closed, listening to a chorus of instruments only he could hear as his hands moved in short but meaningful gestures.

Don't be afraid

I've taken my beating

I've shared what I've made

I'm strong on the surface

Not all the way through

I've never been perfect

But neither have you

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

The chorus of the song came again and Yugi finally snapped out of his reverie long enough to pull out his phone. With quick thumbs he searched the beautiful lyrics he had never heard before, wondering why he didn’t know the song.

No results came up, the song was unknown.

That only got Yugi’s attention more, and he gazed back up at the man, whose voice was filling with more and more emotion with every lyric. His fist clenched at the front of his shirt, over where his heart was, eyes screwed shut as he continued to pour his heart out to the empty theatre.

Forgetting

All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well

Pretending

Someone else can come and save me from myself

A pause, an intake of breath, and Yugi found himself hanging on to every second the man gave.

I can't be who you are...

...I can’t be who you are

The singer drew out the last lyric in a prolonged, sorrowful note; breathy as he bowed his head, the song- his raw expression, finished.

Instantly Yugi found himself clapping, bounding down the red aisle between the seats to the stage. He only felt slightly guilty when the other man jumped in fright.

“That was amazing! Your voice is amazing- that song too!”

The man (who Yugi only now noticed has a similar hairstyle to his own) stared back at him with wide eyes, body stiff.  “Uh- oh I- thank you. I...didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

The man’s speaking voice was deep too, and anyone could guess that he’d have a powerful set of pipes. Yugi was still too excited to pay the man’s nervousness much mind as he practically hopped to the foot of the stage.

“I didn’t mean to startle you- but I couldn’t help it, that was awesome! Did you write that song yourself? I googled some of the lyrics and nothing came up.”

The man took a while to respond and Yugi wondered if his dark complexion was hiding a blush. Eventually, though, the violinist/singer cleared his throat.

“Y-yes, I wrote it. I’ve never sung it in front of anyone though.”

“Do you write a lot of songs?” Yugi pressed and again it took his new friend a moment to respond.

“...Sometimes. I suppose it’s a bit of a hobby. Listen I-”

Finally, Yugi actually realized just how rude he was being with his aggressive ramblings, “Oh, gosh I’m sorry! I’m bombarding you with questions like some weirdo.” He gave a nervous laugh and to his relief, the man’s posture seemed to relax a little- though he still seemed a bit embarrassed. “My name’s Yugi, by the way, I’m one of the sound techs.”

The man gave a nod of his head, “Atem, I’m a violinist in the orchestra.”

“And a totally awesome singer, you’ve got some real talent,” Yugi reiterated, but pressed on before the man could get too bashful again, “The reason I asked you so many questions is because I think it’s fate that we met like this! See I’m in a band, we’re trying to put out our first full-length album but- honestly, we’re aren’t very fast at pumping out new songs. We’re great with coming up with the music, but the lyrics always get us stuck. We’ve actually been looking to hire a ghostwriter for our songs, but none of the people we’ve found seem right- but that song was amazing, just the kind of stuff we like!” Ignoring the unreadable expression on Atem’s face, Yugi dug out his cardholder and passed one of them up to Atem. “I don’t wanna blindside you more than I already have tonight- sorry about that again, but, I really think you’d be a perfect fit for us. Think about it, and if it seems interesting to you, come talk to me.”

Atem looked the card over for a second, before peering back at Yugi, “I’ve never really put my songs out there, it’s just a private hobby, I don’t want you and your bandmates to get your hopes up.”

Yugi waved off his concern, “Don’t worry about that. Like I said, just think about it, okay?” He didn’t move, nor look away from Atem until the man finally nodded in agreement. “Awesome! Take your time and come talk to me once you’ve thought about it some.” His outgoing steam was starting to run out, his bold and somewhat rude actions finally starting to catch up to him. In a sudden burst of embarrassment, Yugi brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his head. “Anyway, I’ll let you go now, I’m sure you want to get home or get on with your night. It was nice meeting you, Atem!”

And with a wave, Yugi was heading for the door, leaving a rather bewildered Atem in his wake.

[final-girl96]

Hate That I Love

Wattpad. Google Doc Taglist

Daryl Dixon x Grimes!OC

Slow Burn Relastionship

Warnings: language, violence, abuse, sexual content, little bit of depression, anxiety

Chapter 40

I had woke up from a loud clap of thunder. I noticed I was laying on something and looked down. Nope, I was laying to someone. That someone being Daryl. The doors were rattling and I heard the growls of walkers.

"Daryl," I said shaking him.

"Hmm?" He hummed.

"Get up. There walkers at the doors. The storms blowing the doors open!" I said and stood up.

Daryl jumped up and we ran over to the doors. We put both hands on the doors and tried to keep them shut. Everyone else waking up and coming over to help.

After the storm settled and we didn't hear the walkers anymore we all went back to sleep.

Later in the morning Maggie and Sasha came back with a man. Said his name was Aaron and he was a community. He told Rick he had photos him his bag. Said he had been following us for days and thinks we would make great additions to the group.

Rick of not trusting anything he said had us go out where the vehicles were and check around to check that it wasn't an ambush. Once we saw he was telling the truth we argued about going to the community or not.

Rick didn't want to go. He didn't trust the man. But in the end, we did end up going. We met up with Eric who was Aaron's boyfriend. He had twisted his ankle running from walkers. We were in some old buildings.

We were waiting for Rick, Glenn, Michonne, and Aaron to come to meet us. I knelt in front of Eric and looked over his ankle. "It's just sprained. Just need to keep off of it for a while," I told him as I bandaged it up.

"Are you a nurse?" He asked.

"No. I'm a doctor," I told him. "Dr. Nikyla Grimes."

The next morning we headed towards the community called Alexandria. Pulling up to tall walls and a gate. We walked in and Aaron leads us to Deanna the leader's place.

The place was untouched. It looked completely normal like the world never ended. People were living like dead people were walking around eating people.

We stopped in front of the house and Aaron explained that Deanna would want to talk to us all separately. Rick had gone first. When he came out he told me it was my turn.

I walked into the house and a living area. "Please sit," I heard a woman say and looked over to see a woman sitting on the couch.

I sat in a chair in front of her. I hope you don't mind me filming this," she said and I shook my head.

"Please state your name," she said.

"Nikyla Grimes," I said.

"Do you relate to Rick?" She asked.

"He's my brother," I said.

"So, Nikyla, what did you do before all this?"

"I was in medical school. I was in my residency," I said.

"Wow. You're so young and you were a resident already?" She said

"I graduated high school when I was 16. Skipped three grades," I said.

"Wow, so your the doctor for the group?"

"Yes,"

"Were you in a particular field?" She asked.

No, I was kinda just helping in the emergency department," I said.

"Well, we do have a doctor here. He's a surgeon. Maybe you can work with him in the infirmary," she said.

Yeah, I guess. I can go now?" I asked.

"Of course. Could you send Daryl in please," she said and I walked out of the house and down the steps.

'Daryl, you're up," I told him.

After everyone did we were lead to two big houses. We check them both put but decided to all stay in the biggest one together still not trusting this place. I walked upstairs and into a bedroom. There was a large queen-sized bed and a walk-in closet that had clothes in it. I went through the clothes.

I found a pair of jeans and a tank that looked like would fit me and I head into the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

I turned the shower on expected only cold water but I figure I check. Once the water started heating my mood changed from crappy to happy.

I stepped into the shower and let the hot water wash over me and wash all the dirt, blood, and grime off of my body and out of my hair. After I was finished washing I got out and wrapped the fluffy towel around me. I stood at the sink and brushed my teeth and my hair before getting dressed and walking outside.

Daryl was sitting on the porch with the opossum he killed. He was gutting it. "You gotta do that now?" I asked.

He turned and looked at me "pfft," he huffed.

"What?" I asked.

"So what, your trust this place?" He said.

"Daryl, I wanted to be clean. Just because I got a shower does not mean I trust this place. But we need to give it a chance. It's better than being out there," I told him.

Later that night we all gathered pillows and blankets and slept in the living room. Deanna came over to see how we were settling in. She wanted Rick and Michonne to be constables. She hasn't figured out what job would be good for Daryl yet. She walked over to me and stood in front of me.

"Nikyla I wanted to give you these," she said handing me a white lab coat and stethoscope.

"Thanks I have my stethoscope though so I won't need that," I said taking the coat.

The next more I got dressed and put the lab coat on and grabbed my stethoscope. And went outside to head to the infirmary. I saw Daryl on the porch cleaning his crossbow. "I hose you down!" I heard Carol yell as she walked down the street.

"You look ridiculous!" He yelled back.

"You ever going to shower?" I asked him.

He looked up and scuffed. "What now?" I asked.

"Now that you're back to being in the white coat you think you're better than the rest of us?" He said.

"Excuse me? What the hell is up your ass? I did nothing to you. And I sure the hell don't think I'm better than anyone!" I yelled.

"Whatever," he said.

I scuffed and walked down the steps "Yeah, whatever is right, Dixon. Take a fucking shower!" I yelled and walked towards the infirmary.

Authors Note: If anything in the warning bothers you please do not read. I do not own The Walking Dead or it characters. I only own my characters that I make up. Something's may be out of order I'm going to try and follow the time line but It might change a little with the new character added. It starts in season 1 I like to start from the beginning. Please like, reblog, and comment if you like the story it really helps me get motivated to continue and helps me know what you'd like to see. And please if you like to read this as you feel free to do so. I understand some people my rather read as themselves I know I do sometimes. Thanking you for reading! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER FIVE - THEM GATORS

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 2,993

The moon had an eerie glow as it casted its light through the drapery of hanging moss and onto the murky waters of the swamp below. It was a heavily hot and humid evening, sweat dripped steadily down her back as Roxana watched the scene before her with disinterest. 

Despite the shine of the moon, it was still difficult to see, but what she heard was unmistakable. Garbled shouts along with the occasional high-pitched shriek countered the spine-chilling sounds of crunching bones and tearing flesh. They didn’t last long. Once the screams subsided, the only noises that remained were the occasional splash of water and something akin to a branch snapping every so often. 

She could almost hear a distant yet familiar voice rattle off in her head. “Them gators’ll eat up anything you throw em. Meat, muscle, and bones! You name it!”

Suddenly she felt a change in the atmosphere and looked over to see the dark figure of a certain vampire standing on the other side of the dock. Dull thuds from his footsteps echoed around them as he slowly made his way over to stand by her side. For a moment they watched in silence as the alligators had a go at the victims in the bayou.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” She murmured and looked over. He tilted his head down at the blood-filled waters with a small snarl and then set his eyes on her; they were filling with inky black tendrils and glowing the darkest red. In an instant, he was gripping her tightly, his talons digging into the back of her neck, and bending her head to a harsh angle that gave him full access to her jugular. 

Dracula flashed her a deadly smile, “On the contrary, my dear, I can do anything I want.”

His descent was swift; she felt the sharp fangs sink into her throat and let her eyes roll back. Sagging into his hold, she felt the darkness open its arms to drink her in. 

Roxana woke with a gasp and shot straight up in her bed. 

Looking around frantically, she struggled to pinpoint her surroundings and then Fifolet meowed from across the room, jarring her back to reality. She was home and in her room. Safe. 

Her next course of action was feeling up and down her neck to make sure the dream was truly just a figment of her imagination. It remained wound-free. She exhaled loudly and collapsed back against her sheets.

The light of the morning sun cut across her room like a lance. Dim shadows danced along the ceiling as her fan spun on and on. It creaked slightly as it bounced back and forth, barely hanging onto its hinges, but all Roxana could hear was the thumping of her own heart. 

Just a dream. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. The sounds of the world awake and hustling outside her window gave her just enough motivation to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. The persistence and volume of the cat’s cries grew in earnest as it followed Roxana to the kitchen, positively demanding to be fed and let back outside. When she opened the door, it happily darted underneath the neighbor's house and wouldn’t be seen again until the evening.

There was a slight chill, but the skies were clear and the sun would soon warm up the city enough to make it a pleasant day. She walked back to her room to grab her phone and check the time, it was a still bit early but she didn’t mind. It was then noticed a text notification. The number was unknown but the text below read, in all caps; UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN accompanied by a vampire emoji. 

Roxana blinked and put the phone back down. Apparently not all the events of the previous night were a dream. 

With another long sigh, she went to the kitchen and started her morning routine. Coffee first, then shower, and then off to run errands. 

As she closed and locked up her front door, Roxana took a deep breath of fresh air and smiled. All thoughts of the fanged menace were pushed far from her mind and would be addressed another day. She threw on her sunglasses and strode off towards the streetcar. 

——

Dracula loved sunrises. After missing thousands of them, he tried to make a daily effort to watch. He enjoyed spending time memorizing the way the sun would paint the sky with fire before melting down into a sea of pastel purples, pinks, and oranges until the bold blues wiped the other colors and clouds from view. It was especially invigorating after a nice meal. 

He dropped the still-warm body to the ground and smacked his lips, bringing his hand up to wipe a smidge of blood from the corner of his mouth. A finely aged thirty-something man who was five years sober and treated his body like a temple. Slightly tangy, but not as bad as Dracula had expected. Almost like a healthy smoothie.

As they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

The blood pooled a little around the body, sinking into the wooden floorboards, and the apartment began to creak and moan. Dracula rolled his eyes, “Yes, another one, get over it. You lot should have enough souls to get a real party going in here, so cheer up, hm?” 

A window shudder snapped close to his left and a couple of doors slammed rather loudly down the hall. He could hear chains faintly rattling in the far bedroom but paid no mind.

“As always, you’ll find no pity from me.” He addressed the room and the house gave one last protest in the form of a teacup flying by his head, shattering against the wall. Dracula raised a brow but remained unmoved. “Bloody haunted houses.”

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his servant’s number while walking to the other side of the apartment. Renfield answered on the first ring, “Good morning, my lord.”

“I need you to dispose of a body.”

“Oh, al-already?”

Dracula glanced back at the face-down corpse sprawled out by the couch. 

“Why, have something more important to do?” He turned back to the window that peered out over Jackson Square. Watching all the artists begin to set up their carts and tables and tricks and instruments and anything they could to make some sort of salvageable living. “I will say, this one was a tad bit messy. He was a fighter.”

“I think he taught jiu-jitsu by the lakefront, sir.”

“Ah, that’s it. Was just on the tip of my tongue.” Dracula liked the rush of tapping the veins of a martial artist. It tasted of perseverance, power, and control; maybe a slight hint of unadulterated anger towards someone...Dracula licked his lips in thought, oh there it is, the man was mad about his ex. Well that’s disappointingly anti-climactic, he mused.

The count’s attention was drawn to a familiar figure now weaving through the maze of workshops below. Roxana Van Helsing. He watched as she made her rounds through the throngs of artists and palm readers and tarot card fortune-tellers; all the while smiling so brightly and greeting various people as she made her way towards the river. It seemed that she knew nearly every regular who set up shop in the square. She hugged some of the tarot card and palm readers, waved at the painters as they hung their work on the wrought iron fence, and she even blew a kiss to a man painted black and gold and stood like a statue, but didn’t miss a beat as he caught the flying smooch and sent her a wink in return.

“How interesting...” He murmured, not able to take his eyes off of the woman floating around cheerfully below. After all the pleasantries, she crossed the street and set off towards the French Market. 

“My lord?”

He momentarily forgot he was still on the phone. “Nothing. Get over here and take care of this. The flies are starting to gather.”

“But the council - “

“Toss the body in the river or burn it, I don’t care.” Dracula snapped; the council, for lack of a better term, and their pesky rules were starting to grate on his nerves. “Just make sure to stake the poor bastard. The last thing I need right now is Keres pestering me about some monster waking up in the Bahamas or wherever.”

With a not-so-discreet sigh, Renfield acquiesced, “Of course, sir.”

“Be quick about it.” Dracula clicked the end call button and shoved his phone in his pant pocket. Turning on his heel, the count swept out of the apartment and headed the same direction he saw her walking. 

It didn’t take long for Dracula to find Roxana purchasing a coffee from one of the stands in the market. He slid into the shadows easily and watched from a distance while she meandered around, chatting with people here and there, looking over all the paintings, sculptures, jewelry, and clothing that were handmade by locals. Her smile was a beam of light that never seemed to fade. It was always there, he noticed curiously, from a large grin to a little smirk, her lips were quirked at all times. Was it genuine? He couldn’t fathom the notion of someone being that happy. Especially mortals. They always complained about something. 

Roxana wound herself around the last few stands, exited to the street, and made her way down towards Esplanade. Still maintaining discretion, he followed her along the broken sidewalks all the way into the Marigny, an adorably idiosyncratic suburb just to the east of the quarter. 

There was a small church nestled in between some houses with large white picnic tables and canopy pop-ups set up out front. Each table was covered with large catering trays and enormous cooking pots, about six or seven people stood behind it putting on gloves and aprons, and there was a line that went on around the block. Leaning back against a tree, Dracula tilted his head as he observed her embrace what looked to be the woman in charge and then put on the proffered apron and gloves. Roxana took over one of the stations and started to dish out plates of red beans and rice. 

One by one, she asked them how their day was and would give them a bowl, wishing them well. Everyone was friendly to each other; those in need were visibly grateful and those supplying were simply content to help in any way they could. 

A strange sight for the old vampire, it had been a good long while since he had seen such compassion. 

Dracula wasn’t sure how long he watched Roxana, but once the crowd started to dwindle down to the last few homeless folk in search of a warm meal, the sun had already begun its descent into the afternoon. 

The volunteers packed up the tables and dishes and trash into a few truck beds before giving out another round of hugs and bidding one another farewell. Roxana waited for the last truck to leave until she put on her light jacket and turned to make her own departure. He figured that was about as good a moment as any to make an appearance and was instantly by her side. 

“Fancy seeing you here - “ Dracula began but before he could finish she let out a shriek and jumped nearly a foot in the air. Instinctively, he held out a hand to make sure she didn’t tumble over, but to his surprise, Roxana turned and delivered a solid punch to his chest. Not that it hurt by any means, but the shock of the assault made him take a step back and slacken his jaw in offense. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t do that!” She gripped her chest, frantically trying to control her now racing heart. “Where the hell did you even come from?”

She glared up at him and the ferocity of it made him laugh so she sent another punch to his arm, which made him laugh even harder. He took another step back, dodging more of her blows, and raised his hands in defense. “It was totally worth it, you should’ve seen your face.”

Roxana groaned and ceased fire, “Have you been following me all day?”

The faux-innocence that Dracula's face displayed spoke volumes. 

She continued down the sidewalk back towards the quarter, but after a few steps she realized he hadn’t moved. So she turned back with a hand on her hip, “Well? Don’t be shy now, if you’re going to be my shadow then might as well get over here.”

His long legs were quick to shorten the distance between them and matched her pace as they began to walk side by side. 

They were quiet for a few blocks, the sounds of cars cruising by, birds chirping around, and dogs barking off in the distance easily filled the void. Dracula noticed she kept stealing glances his way, subtly - he’d give her that - but nonetheless it made him smirk. “I can see there is something you’re just dying to say.”

Roxana hopped over a large crack in the sidewalk before looking back up at him, “How are you here? I mean, in the sunlight, isn’t that supposed to...you know?”

She drew the side of a thumb across her throat mimicking certain death and he grinned. 

“Yes, well, it turns out that was just a funny little myth too.” Dracula shrugged casually. She noticed his dark sunglasses, loosely coiffed hair, and easy little smile and decided that he looked entirely too content in the daytime. It was a strange sight to behold a vampire sauntering around under the bright sun. The horror!

“Wait a second.” Roxana stopped in her tracks causing him to slow as well and pivot back in question. Her brow furrowed and he could practically see the wheels spinning in her head. “You mean this is a recent discovery?”

Dracula narrowed his gaze suspiciously, not knowing where she was going with this, “In comparison to how long I was unaware? Yes.”

“Did you ever check?”

“Check what?”

“You know, to see if it would actually burn you.” A large cicada buzzed and crackled as it flew by. “Like maybe sticking a pinkie finger out in the light? Test the waters?”

The nerve in his jaw ticked as Dracula clenched his teeth and stared at her for a moment, unreadable behind the Ray Bans he wore. 

“No, huh?” Rocana burst out laughing, “So you spent, what, four hundred years without any sort of proof that you would become a batty barbecue?”

“You’re enjoying this.” His arms were crossed over his chest now and he boasted a very unimpressed glare. 

“You just shaved off ten years of my life with that stunt back there, payback is justified.”

“I could take off quite a few more years than that, my dear.” He said while stepping closer, but his bark lacked its normal bite. 

She patted his arm, “Oh lighten up, cher, I’m just messing around.”

Despite the irritation that she brought out of him, Dracula found that he didn’t mind their banter, it was refreshing to be around someone who challenged him again. He still didn’t care for what she pointed out; he felt ridiculous enough about the whole ordeal and needn’t a reminder of his foolish mistakes. 

“Anyways,” They continued walking, “While I have you, I’d like to know more about this whole soirée coming up, what exactly is that all about?”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know too terribly much, this is sort of my initiation into the council.” He said with slight disgust towards the idea. As if the mere thought of him having to go through a trial just to be part of something was beyond absurd. “Before you ask - because I know you will - the council is the organization that deals with maintaining the city’s supernatural and mortal order.”

“There must be a lot of supernatural folk for a council to have been formed.”

“Oh you have no idea!” He laughed as her eyebrows shot up. “A lot more than even I was aware of before moving here, that’s for sure.”

“All vampires?’

“No, not all, but quite a few of us.”

“Are there werewolves?”

“Why, do you prefer dogs? I thought you were one of those crazy cat ladies.” He smirked as she pushed his arm. “No, no wolves down here, it’s far too hot for those beasts. I have heard of a swamp creature, but have not seen one yet myself. Sounds exciting though.”

“Oh, really?” Roxana's mouth turned into a frown as she looked down in concern, almost muttering to herself. “I should probably warn Memaw. Oh who am I kidding, she has her voodoo for protection, she won’t listen to me.”

“I’m sorry - your what?” 

They came to a stop at a traffic light and waited to cross the street. Roxana forgot he was there for a moment and her head shot up, giggling a little at his confusion, “‘Memaw’? Means ‘grandmother’. It doesn’t matter. Hey, I’m starving, want to grab some food with me? There’s a great spot just around the corner.”

At the mention of eating, Dracula looked down at her neck and licked his lips, damn did it look appetizing. It was a good thing he was wearing sunglasses and she couldn’t see the hunger that darkened his eyes. “Roxana, my dear, I would be delighted.”

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