#the answer to pris's 'how much suspicion is she under?' is: she knows something's up but can't define it

[owedfavors]

the hand that brushes across her cheek una catches, though her fingers do not close tightly about the other's wrist. her grip is firm enough, lasts long enough, only for her to place a data chip in pris's open palm. ❛ I thought you might care to explain this. ❜

despite the choice of words, una persists under no delusions: pris will not care to explain, nor would una wish her to. she merely informs her, in their own way, that she knows, she sees. not that their games are ever subtle, not when there's no need for concealment.

neither is there need for explanation, really, not when the matter is already taken care of, as the contents of the chip serve to prove. problem averted before it materialized. not pris' best work, though creative, at least. with a gesture towards the quarters through the door against which pris leans, una adds, ❛ go on, take a look. I'll wait. ❜

no, she cannot name it, whatever it is that nags at her. perhaps it is merely one more game brewing on the horizon. regardless, she'll leave the matter until it clarifies in her vision.

She'd expected some sort of defensiveness--the unimpressed glare, a flat denial. Even the turnabout questions. It hits her, for the barest moment, how much she misses her Commander. It's cold comfort, that even the similarities between these agents of an Imperial monstrosity and the people she cares for cannot make her forget. there is no safety, here, and nothing of her home.

Pris bares her teeth. It even approaches a smile. She'd practiced in the mirror, glad that her double didn't seem to avoid cameras the way she might tend to.

"I know what you look like when you get a bone between your teeth." She leans in. Close enough to reach out and touch, to risk brushing a hand across the other woman's cheek and reach, try to see just how much suspicion she is under.

"And I know you don't feel the need to walk me home like some simpering Imperial suitor unless you want something."

It's perhaps too much to hope that there's something else going on; that some other puzzle has caught Una's eye. She only needs time, a few days at most for the ion storms to rebuild in intensity. But lately it's hard to feel as though luck is on her side.

[booksforevermore13]

The Mystery Girl

This is my too late entry to the Hinny Ficfest. I just got to know about it a few days ago, and I just loved the concept of something solely being for Hinny fanfiction. I haven't been writing very long, but I just had to participate.

Thank you to @clarensjoy for organizing this!

Also written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.

Huge thanks to my QLFC teammates for beta-ing this!

Prompt 68: "Are you just `going to stand there and gawk?" / "Yes." / "Well stop it. You look stupid." Prompt 23: "I'm not afraid of your sister, you're afraid of your sister." Prompt 29: "Do you even know what a whisper is?"

Summary: "I swear, if you're Draco Malfoy or another one of his cronies, I'll hex you where it'll hurt. Badly."

"I'm not," Harry replied hurriedly, though he suspected even Malfoy would answer no to that.

Missing moment in HBP between Harry and Ginny.

Read it on Fanfiction if you prefer.

...

"She's crazy," Harry heard Ron moan, "and just when you think you've reached the bottom of her craziness, there's a crazy underground garage," and winced as the latter banged his head on the table.

That morning, when the sky was barely blue with a chorus of greys, Harry had heard Ron scream bloody murder and shot up off the bed, only to see him behind a huge oval mirror — courtesy of Neville's grandmother — and went back under the covers. He'd figured that if Ron was potentially being threatened by a crazed homicidal maniac, he wouldn't have been screaming about it while standing behind a century old mirror. So he'd gone back to bed and been woken up an hour and a half later by a snickering Fred and George on a visit to Hogwarts, who'd informed him of a very distraught Ron in the Great Hall.

Of course, he'd rushed out, slipping on a shirt backwards, and scrambling towards the Great Hall, heedless of the beautiful day outside and how perfect the wind was for a game of Quidditch, closely followed by the twins, who snickered all the way there. It was only when he reached it did he fully grasp that the situation couldn't have been too bad if the twins were snickering.

Worst case was, there'd been a prank gone wrong. Ron being on the opposite side of it.

Harry squinted as he walked forward, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to discern the misshapen blob on top of Ron's head. For a second there, it did look like a spell gone wrong and Harry felt a twinge of panic as he walked faster. It was red from what he could see, and he came to a stop as he realised that it looked frighteningly like a poorly knit hat.

"Why," Harry said, still squinting, "are you wearing that?"

Ron didn't answer, instead wailing as he buried his head in his hands. Harry shared a look with a still snickering Fred and George who'd taken a seat on either side of Ron while Harry took the seat opposite.

"Beautiful hat eh, Ronniekins?" Fred said, in a vaguely condescending tone. "Though, if I might say, a poor choice for impressing darling Lav-Lav."

Ron didn't answer and let out yet another sound of anguish which sounded more like a distraught sob than a yell.

"Are you…. okay Ron?" Harry asked a second later, out of necessity more than concern.

"No I'm not okay!" Ron wailed, "I'm not bloody okay! Do I look okay? No! I'm wearing a bloody woolen hat in the middle of May!"

"We've noticed," Harry said, as he took small sips from his mug. "Why though, are you wearing a woolen hat?"

"Oh, let us," Fred said, a sly grin on his face as he bent forward and ripped Ron's hat off.

George howled in laughter as Harry choked and spluttered out his pumpkin juice, coughing violently as Ron lunged forward at Fred, who dangled the hat at arm's reach.

"You've got pink hair," Harry laughed at the same time Ron yelled at Fred to give back his hat or go and do something he dared not mention in front of Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, Ronnikins," Fred laughed.

"you look so awfully good —" George quipped.

"— have we mentioned?"

"Suits your brows," which were also pink.

"— and your eyes —"

"— not to mention the lips." George puckered his lips slightly, making a popping sound that only managed to anger Ron even more as he looked fit to murder.

"Mind your own bloody business," he yelled at anyone who looked twice at him, or more specifically, at his head.

"It's pink!" Harry giggled again, covering his mouth as Ron shot him a glare, before dissolving in hysterics again.

"It's lavender, I'll have you know," he grumbled.

Harry laughed harder, before finding it in himself to sober down. Fred and George, though, paid no heed as they continued laughing hysterically, Fred even going to lengths to ruffle Ron's lavender hair, met by a glare and a well-placed curse word.

"What were you trying to do?" Harry said, glancing at Fred as he bit back a smile. "Match with Lavender?"

"Sure, yeah Ron," Fred added, "it'd be even more fun to stick your tongue down her throat with that head full of hair of yours. Imagine her hands tangled in your lavender hair, her lips —"

Ron punched Fred in his side, cutting him off as he doubled over laughing, while Harry drew his legs in as Ron's flung over to kick his.

"Ginny did this, not me," he defended. "And I'm going to have it out with her, I tell you. I'll dye her hair purple, or green, or-or black —"

"Wait, Ginny did this?" Harry gaped. "Wow, I mean, bad wow, very disappointed wow," he said quickly as Ron shot him a look.

"You underestimate her," Ron grumbled, "she's the devil's spawn, that one, even worse than these two gits here." He pointed at a smirking Gred and Forge.

Harry smiled to himself, his cheeks reddening rapidly as he spotted George looking at him with a suggestive grin. Fred joined in, wiggling his eyebrows, and Harry ducked down in embarrassment.

"Won-won!" he winced as heard a shriek cut through the silence, "ohh, my precious Wonnie-boo!" He cringed as he heard Lavender making kissing noises as she ran over to where they were sitting.

"Murder me, Harry," Ron muttered.

"Yeah, no," Harry replied, "you're doing a pretty good job yourself," he shook his head as he picked up a piece of toast, quickly leaving as Lavender threw herself over Ron.

…

He was screwed.

His assurance of his screwed-ness became even stronger as he heard Filch hurrying down the corridor and calling out for Mrs. Norris. The dastardly cat was going to die a horrible death, Harry was sure of it, and he cringed as he heard another pair of footsteps right outside the broom cupboard.

The small space was cramped, just high enough for Harry to rise up to his full height, and it was dark. Pitch dark, and if this was the metaphorical colour black — as Luna so wisely commented time and again — he didn't like it very much.

Harry held his breath as hurried footsteps stopped in front of the cupboard and turned around to hide his face as the door opened, eyes blinded by the light outside. He heard the door close again.

And then the blackness resumed.

That was until he felt a hand push him backwards roughly and he shrieked, his hands going up in mock defence.

"Who the hell are you?" the person demanded, and Harry discerned it to be distinctly feminine, and familiar. Very familiar, he thought.

He stayed silent though, wary of giving his identity away to a girl in a broom cupboard. Perhaps, he thought, she'd get the memo and leave, though he couldn't for his life guess why she had been hiding there in the first place.

The girl stayed silent for a second, probably waiting for a response before she said fiercely. "I swear, if you're Draco Malfoy or another one of his cronies, I'll hex you where it'll hurt. Badly."

"I'm not," Harry replied hurriedly, though he suspected even Malfoy would answer no to that. But the girl seemed satisfied as she humphed and turned around. There was a soft mellow in the mystery girl's voice and he knew he'd heard it before, he just couldn't place where.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, before cursing under his breath. Normal conversation generally required a 'who are you?' and mutual knowledge of their identities, but clearly, that wasn't the case here, and anyway, Harry had a slight feeling that the girl wouldn't disclose her identity even if he asked.

He waited. And then sighed as the girl remained silent.

"You're talking too loud," she said finally. "Obviously, you're hiding in here from something, or someone," she snorted there and Harry smiled, "so if you don't talk softly, then you're going to get us caught."

"Filch's cat," Harry said.

"What?"

"I'm hiding from Filch's cat."

"Oh," the girl gave a humorless chuckle, "bloody thing's going to have a miserable death. I'm sure of it."

"So I take it you're hiding from her, too?"

"Filch actually," the girl said, "and I suppose that includes the cat too."

"What did you do?"

"Set off fifteen dung bombs in his office," and Harry could swear she had a tinge of pride in her voice, and for a moment, marveled at the nerve of this girl who'd threatened to hex his parts off the first minute they'd met, now claiming to have thrashed Filch's den. There were very few in the school who had the guts to do that, and Harry felt himself flushing as he wondered whether the girl in front of him was Ginny.

Before he could say anything more though, she stepped forward and pried open the door, peeking out to look for what Harry knew now was Mrs. Norris and her owner.

He caught a glimpse of her red hair as the door opened, and his suspicions about her identity grew and almost the very next second, the girl shut the door close, and he could make out her leaning on it.

"Bloody hell," she cursed, and Harry for the second time was flooded with how familiar that sounded, and how he had heard Ginny curse like that before as he felt her push him against the back wall of the cupboard and shuffle in behind him, so that now they were just barely touching, yet not, her body shielding his. Harry felt himself smiling at how the girl, who he had now deemed about a foot shorter than him, was trying to shield him from whatever came knocking on the door. The feeling felt almost foreign for him, for nobody before the Weasleys and Hermione had ever so readily provided a shield so unanimous and here was a girl, who could very well turn out to not be Ginny, shielding him from a petty predator.

However trivial that sounded, Harry felt a warmth blossoming in his chest.

"Just remember, if we get caught, you're deaf and I don't speak English."

"Huh?"

"I think Filch's coming our way," she explained.

"What?"

"Do you even know what a whisper is?" the girl hissed, and Harry's instincts went into overdrive as he clamped his hand on what he could hope was her mouth, pushing her backwards as he shielded her petite body with his, so that he was now between her and the door.

He waited for the footsteps to pass, completely aware of how close the two of them were, and he waited with baited breath as he heard Filch's grumbles get softer. The moment the sounds became distant, Harry yelped and snatched his hand away. She'd bit him!

"Lumos Maxima," the girl whispered and her wand lit up. Harry blinked as he saw her features come into view and her bright brown eyes glare fiercely up at him before they softened.

"Harry?"

"Ginny?" Harry said, more like a fact than a question, because he'd already known who it was all the way. He just couldn't believe he hadn't recognized her the second she'd entered the cupboard. It was hard not to.

Ginny laughed, and Harry turned red, satisfaction brimming in his chest as he took in her illuminated face. Her chuckles died down as she looked up at him.

"Are you just going to stand there and gawk?" Ginny asked, a smile playing on her lips, and Harry had an unexplainable urge to just bend down and kiss her. They were just a few inches apart, probably the closest they had been since forever, and it would take him to bend just a few inches to capture her lips with his.

"Yes," Harry found himself answering truthfully.

"Well stop, you look stupid."

And Harry laughed, and Ginny joined him, and Harry found himself just looking at her and thinking how beautiful she was. And not just beautiful, she was… radiant.

His hand was still pressed beside her head and she slipped out underneath it, the light in her wand dimming as she made her way to open the door.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked as the door swung open. Harry squinted, his eyes adjusting from the dark to the light as he, for a brief second, noticed how her red hair seemed to light up against the sun, making it seem as if it was on fire.

So he followed her out, and they smiled as they met each other's eyes.

Ginny noticed him before he did.

"Shit," Ginny cursed. "We're screwed."

Filch glared at them as Mrs. Norris purred, and Harry couldn't help but agree.

…

"Oh there was a time when they used to hang students by their thumbs in the dungeons," Filch said darkly. "Those were the days."

"I suppose you were hanged like that a lot," Ginny said sweetly, and Harry nudged her, sending her a warning look.

"What did you say?"

"They probably used your toes. Seeing your thumbs weren't large enough."

"Two months scrubbing the toilets with a toothbrush," Filch screamed shrilly, and Harry pushed Ginny backwards as the man advanced on her, Mrs. Norris following him.

He stopped as he saw Harry's menacing glare. "You, boy," he said, glaring at Harry, "you're going to spend a month in the dungeons. Scrubbing the floors till they shine."

"That's not fair," Ginny bellowed, and Harry pulled her away before Filch could open his mouth. He suspected if they stayed there for a second longer, there'd be murder committed. Or at least a heinous crime.

"Two months in the toilets," she muttered darkly as they walked down the corridors, "that lying, cheating piece of scum," she growled. "And his cat—oh, I hope that cat rots in hell."

Harry laughed, and then stopped as Ginny shot him a look, both of them lapsing into silence.

"Seeing your thumbs weren't large enough," Harry chuckled, seconds later. "You don't take things seriously sometimes, you know?"

"Never take life seriously," Ginny said, and Harry looked at her, glimpsing a side of her he hadn't seen before. "No one ever comes out alive anyway."

And though those words were too crude to be true, Harry agreed with them wholeheartedly.

…

"Wait," he said as they neared the Gryffindor common room, before laughing, "you dyed Ron's hair pink."

"Lavender, actually," Ginny replied, "thought it'd match his girlfriend."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as Ginny grinned an impish grin. "You're scary, you know." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Amazing, but scary."

Ginny laughed as she leaned against Harry's shoulder. "That's one of the best compliments I've ever received."

"One of the best?" Harry asked. "What's the best?"

"Oh. I don't know," Ginny shrugged, "probably on the lines of crazy ass she-demon who hides under children's beds."

"Really?" Harry laughed, "who said that?"

"Ron. I think Charlie agreed too."

Harry laughed and flushed as his hand brushed against hers. Instinct took over as he interlocked his fingers with hers and Ginny looked up in surprise, before relaxing into his hold, smiling happily. She was beautiful, Harry couldn't help but notice again as she swung their hands to and fro like two children.

But, he supposed, it probably wouldn't hurt being a child once in a while.

He'd never been one before — he'd at least never felt like one, even with Ron and Hermione. Like the entire world, they expected things from him, however few they might be. Ginny never expected; she'd always been the one to give without expecting anything in return. Never once, looking at him in pity or with a look that showed she understood everything he was going through.

She didn't, and she knew that and she made sure everyone around her knew it too. She tried to understand though, but if she wasn't able to, she didn't try further. Never pressed for more. Ginny, Harry had seen, was as open as he was withdrawn. What he saw was the truth — at least to him — and she was fiercely proud of that,almost daring anyone to oppose, but nobody ever did. He liked that.

Harry looked at her once again, smiling as he saw her glance at him through the corner of her eye.

"Oi, Harry!" He heard Ron's voice break through his reverie and felt a surge of disappointment as Ginny spotted her brother and let go of his hand. Ron was wearing that hideous woolen hat again, and Harry and Ginny exchanged glances, looking away to hide their grins.

"Heard you got into detention with Filch," Ron wheezed, "and you too." He pointed at Ginny.

Both of them nodded and Ron looked at them suspiciously before asking, "Were you two together all afternoon?"

"Yeah, well —" Harry looked at Ginny.

"We kind of fell in trouble together."

Harry smiled.

"Can't imagine why," Ron replied snarkily. "And you," he said, looking at Ginny, "don't think I haven't let you off the hook for this." He pointed at his hat, slightly grimacing.

"Didn't know I was on a hook," Ginny said cheekily. "I think you've lost your bait."

"Just taking pity on the number of toilets you have to scrub."

"I'll ask you for help if necessary."

Ron shook his head, exasperated. "He didn't do anything, right? Filch?" he asked, moments later.

"Relax, Ron," Ginny smiled, "I can take him any day."

They watched her walk away, a spring in her step, Harry with a smile on his face before Ron turned to him.

"I'm not going to see you with green hair tomorrow, am I?"

"I'm not afraid of your sister, Ron. You're afraid of your sister," Harry said and he grinned.

I think I'm in love with her.

...

[silma-words]

#24 please for Adrian and mc

There it is, my first attempt at prompts! :) Thank you so much Anon and @adriansbiss for these great asks!

Apologies for merging your two requests into one, though, I hope you don’t mind. I was already well into #24 when the ask for #36 came up, and it fitted so well with what I had been writting that I couldn’t help myself 😊 Thank you both for sending the prompts, I had way too much fun working on these!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Choices: Bloodbound

Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Ellie)

Rating: Mature/ NSFW (+18)

Category: Fluffy smut (is that even a thing?)

AU Chronology: Bloodbound AU (after book 1 – the events of book 2 never happened) – Before "The right thing to do"

Summary: Just a bit of weekend fluff for Adrian and Ellie, inspired by prompts #24 and #36 from Prompt List #1:

#24-“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad”

#36-“Is that my shirt?”.

Warning: A little bit of cursing, and quite a lot of touching 😉

Words: 3300 words (got a little carried away here)

**Disclaimer: Characters and background plot are the property of Pixelberry.**

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

Cursed

It was late afternoon when Adrian woke up from his much-needed Saturday sleep in, after the insane week he just had at the office. He was so fast asleep that for once, he had not been woken up when Ellie had snuck out of bed in the middle of the afternoon, getting on quietly with her business around his apartment, as she often did most week-ends if she was staying over.

He probably would have slept longer if it had not been from the sudden racket that echoed across the penthouse and that made Adrian jump in alert. For a second he worried that it might be a burglary, or some kind of home invasion scenario, judging from the sounds of tumbling kitchenware and slamming doors. That was until he could make out above the dim a series of curse words and groans, making him smile and shake his head with a chuckle: Ellie was clearly up to something, and whatever it was, it was not going according to plan. 

Slowly getting up to head towards the crime scene, he looked around for the shirt he had tossed aside before going to bed and let out a long, amused sigh when he could not find it, understanding that it was probably worn by the woman currently tearing his kitchen apart. She always did that.

Giving up on the shirt and quickly putting on his black sweatpants, he carefully pried the door open to have a sneak peek at what was going on out there.

His suspicions were quickly confirmed. Ellie was busy rummaging through the kitchen cupboards, the rest of the room a mess, mumbling and swearing in turn at the kitchen appliances and at her tablet, her shorts and his shirt covered in flour and stains of unidentifiable origin. He had no idea what the hell she was ranting about, but it was clear from the smells hanging around the living room and the open plan kitchen that she had tested a new recipe – probably from an online blog, judging on the way she insulted the tablet resting on the counter – and that it was not a success.

Adrian could not help but keep observing her from his spot with an amused grin, Ellie too absorbed by her battle against the universe to notice him leaning against the doorframe. Although he was used to see her cook or bake – and usually pretty well – it was an unusual sight to see her loose her tempter. She was usually pretty calm and well-organised, enjoying the peacefulness of the activity when following a recipe, or the creativity of it when she got to be adventurous and imagine something from scratch. Her calm and composure were also something he would praise at work, as she would often help diffuse some heated negotiations or business interactions with tactful interventions, although she did lose her tempter a few times when facing particularly obnoxious individuals.

Seeing her so worked up over a situation like this was, weirdly, a heart-warming sight for Adrian. He’d much rather watch her get angry at a misbehaving blender than at one of Lester’s disgusting innuendos. However, he’d probably better intervene sooner rather than later, more particularly before she could notice him standing there, potentially getting her even more worked up thinking he was mocking her.

Finally making a move towards the kitchen, he cleared his throat lightly to avoid startling her and pissing her off over more, greeting her as casually as his amusement allowed it. “Hey beautiful! Everything all right?”.

She swirled around abruptly, her hands filled with random items she had just grabbed from the pantry, the surprise her eyes quickly shifting to annoyance. “Does it look like everything is all right?!” she snapped, before letting out a long groan and rolling her eyes seconds after seeing Adrian’s reaction.

She hated when he looked so contrite and innocent whenever she was in a bad mood, like a deer caught in the headlights. She hated how cute it made him look and how guilty it made her feel for snapping at him for no decent reason. She hated how much it made her swoon even more. *Damn you, Adrian Raines!*

Adrian held back a smile, fully capable by now to read her facial expression and the changes in her heartbeat to know when he was gaining ground during moments like that – as rare as they were. Stepping a little closer and taking in the view of the carnage she had made of the kitchen, he risked asking, “Care to explain what the issue is and how I can help, maybe?”.

Ellie sighed once more, still fumbling around the room searching for something and cursing under her breath. “That…. ‘effin… dumbass… recipe… has all the proportions wrong….” she grunted behind clenched teeth, barely intelligible, knocking angrily her tablet aside in a small cloud of flour.

“And now… I’ve used up all of the right ingredients… and have been trying to find adequate alternatives for the last hour….”. She let out another annoyed grunt while turning her back to him and stepping back to investigate the top shelf of one of the cupboards, obviously still distracted by her mission, dead set on rescuing this failed recipe at all costs.

“And I guess the alternatives did not work out?”, Adrian risked softly, trying to make sense of all the discarded items and used pots abandoned across the room.

“Nope. It did not” she replied with an annoyed sigh. “Nothing worked, and now I am out of alternatives, or I can’t find anything in this damn kitchen!... oh, and your blender and food processors are shit, by the way!”. Slamming the door of the cupboard shut, she raised her hands in the air as if cursing at the universe, her fists tight in defiance, still her back to Adrian.

Settling his back against the kitchen island to watch the scene, Adrian couldn’t help but smile. Yes, she had made a mess of the place and had probably destroyed his blender and food processor. Yes, she also had ruined his shirt in the process. And yes, she had been unnecessarily sharp in her answers to him just a few minutes before. But damn, she was so adorable when she got so passionate about things like this! Her tiny figure, only covered by her shorts and his stolen shirt, standing in front of him pointing her fists at the sky, was a sight that had to be reckoned with.

Her hair was a mess, tied in a loose bun, because she didn’t bother brushing them on days off like this. Her feet were covered in flour and other bits of random ingredients that had fallen to the floor, because she would always walk around the apartment bare feet. Her shirt – well, his – had barely a few buttons fastened, because she never bothered too much with these in the first place, and she always got too hot when she was moving around the house. Her cheeks were flushed, and the tips of her ears were pink from the exertion caused by her fumbling and cursing around. She had food stains up to her elbows, and from what he could see, something must have splattered in front of her at some point – likely due to his faulty blender, he deduced - because she had some tiny stains scattered all across her cleavage. Adrian loved being able to see this side of her, far from the professional look that he would see around the office on working nights.

When Ellie turned around, done with her complaints to the gods, she was still fuming, but interrupted her mumbling when she saw the smirk on Adrian’s face. “What?”, she grunted once more, standing straight in front of him, her hand on her hip, taunting him. “You think my pain and misery are funny, don’t you?!”.

Adrian chuckled at her adorable angry pout, and smiled even wider than before. “No at all” he reassured her, with the usual gentle tone that he would always use in casual conversation.

He then made a move to step closer, his eyes suddenly bright with mischief, his gait and his gaze nearly predatory. Swiftly bridging the gap between them to stand right before her and force her to lie back against the kitchen counter, he settled his hands on the marble behind her to girdle her tiny, dishevelled form. His face now only inches from hers, he then simply added, with the lowest, huskier voice he could manage “I was just thinking that… you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad”.

Taken aback by both Adrian’s sudden closeness and by the gleam in his eyes, it took Ellie a few seconds to register what he had just said. Her eyes darting between his clear blue eyes and the discarded ingredients on the kitchen island behind him, she grunted slightly, her brain still too worked up to figure out what she could answer to that. Or whether she should answer at all.

“Yeah… right”, she only managed to mumble with a line drawn between her brows, clearly not convinced, before trying to wriggle herself out of Adrian’s encaging arms. However, the vampire would not budge. And there was nothing she could do against it.

“I think we should really try to work on your anger management, Miss Reed”, he purred in her ear, his breath hot on her skin, making her shiver despite the heat her body had been accumulating from her restless afternoon.

Finally drawing a breath and taking the time to stare back at Adrian properly, she felt her cheeks flush instantly, finally noticing the wicked grin gracing his features as his eyes kept darting between her mouth, her cheeks, and the vivid pulse throbbing in her neck.

*Damn you, Adrian Raines!* Damn him and that damn mischievous grin that wouldn’t leave these lips. Now, she was that stupid deer caught in the headlights! And he was fully aware of it.

Relinquishing how the tempo of her heartbeat had changed so quickly after he had trapped her, Adrian didn’t feel like anything could stop him from continuing to tease her. This was way too much fun, seeing her all dishevelled and fuming, confused between her previous state and the new sensory cues he was subjecting her too. This was way too delicious. And she was damn too fucking hot when she was mad.

Taking a step closer to trap her further between his body and the kitchen counter, he brushed a finger up along her arm, before tracing the shape of her clavicle on his way down her chest, reaching for the hem of the stained shirt she was wearing, and giving it a gentle tug.

“Is that my shirt?”, he questioned softly with an arch brow, his tone clearly teasing her as if about to reprimand her about it, his voice low and husky.

“Well…” She straightened herself, matching his false daring glare. “It was. Now it’s mine.” Her tone was challenging, her stance fierce, and her poker-face intact.

However, there was nothing she could do against Adrian’s hyper-senses and the way he could hear the blood rushing to her ears, feel the way her body temperature suddenly peaked, and see the goosebumps on her chest where his fingers had just trailed.  

“Oh is it, now?” he chuckled, slowly drawing his finger down along the fabric, his eyes challenging hers. “Well, I'm sorry if I have to disagree with you, but I don't recall agreeing to this".

Ellie was boiling inside. Not that it had anything to do with anger and frustration any more. Maybe it had to do with the way he was looking at her. Or the low rumble of his voice that she could feel vibrate against her skin where their bodies touched. Or maybe it had to do with how his bare chest was pressing against her, his strong arms on either side of her acting as both a physical obstacle and a wicked temptation, the dark lines of his tattooed brand nearly brought to life as his muscles twitched and flexed, alert.

But she could not cave now. Not yet. She had to keep that poker face on, as long as she could. It was a matter of pride. Or maybe she just enjoyed playing the game.

“Well, not much you can do about it, Mr Raines, now that it's ruined", she simply stated, holding his daring glare, and putting a hand on his chest to make him back off *as if she wanted him to*.

“I don't care that it's ruined” he insisted, edging his mouth closer to hers to command, “I want it back".

His gaze did not waver, even when he noticed the way her pupils dilated at his words and the way her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding louder in her chest, although she did her best to keep her composure.

“Fine", she blurted out, suddenly pushing him a few steps back, hastily reaching for the front of the shirt to undo the few buttons that she had bothered to fasten earlier in the day.

A flicker of a smile finally graced her face, mischievous, upon seeing Adrian’s eyes finally shifting away from hers to watch her fingers work on the fabric, their colour subtly darkening as more skin became exposed. His irises had completely turned to that mesmerizing gold that she knew so well by the time she had opened the blouse, revealing her round breasts unceremoniously and shrugging off the white material quickly, eager to shove it in his hands as an excuse to close the gap between them.

“Happy now?”, she grinned, pressing her body flush against his, pushing him backwards in the process until their motion was stopped by the cold marble of the kitchen island behind him.  

“Can’t you tell?” he teased, subtly grinding his hips against her as he tossed the shirt to the floor to free his hands and grab her backside firmly.

That was it. That stiffness pressed proudly against her and those callous hands pulling her towards it were the end of her composure. And of Adrian’s as well, for that matter. A genuine and cheeky smile now lighting up her face and eyes dark with need, she threw her arms around his neck to reach for his mouth, locking her fingers in his hair to pull him closer so that she could wipe that stupid smirk from his face.

She kissed him as fiercely as she could, their lips clashing against each other in a wet mess of flesh and teeth, Ellie wriggling against his chest furiously as Adrian was trying to take over the control of their embrace.

Their dance had nothing gracious or flirtatious anymore. It was a fiery battle of mouths, grabbing and pulling, although both of them were wearing the same playful grin on their lips every time their eyes met and battled for control.

The endorphins in her body were sending confusing signals to her brain, torn between the will to prove herself feisty and able to dictate the game – which she was, as they both knew it already-, and the desire to let Adrian show her how much he wanted her right now.  

Adrian was doing his best to hold back his strength and his urges, savouring the way the tension Ellie had accumulated from her frustrating culinary experiment had slowly morphed into a very different kind of tension under his touch and devouring eyes.

The satisfaction he was feeling from seeing her respond to him so well was not even about the power he knew he could have over her in moments like this. Because she had just as much power over him. It was about that trust that they were carefully building together and that allowed them to be themselves with each other. The kind of trust that could free you from your deepest insecurities and help you explore truly who you were. And although Adrian once thought that there was no more corner of himself that was left to unveil, she had gradually made him realise that he was wrong. And he wanted her to be empowered to do the same. Empowered to explore and discover who she was, and define who she wanted to be. And in this moment, she was entitled to express her frustration and blow it off in any she wanted to, even if the reason for her initial outburst was trivial and kind of amusing. He would stand by and take her cues, although incredibly eager to watch it all unravel under his eyes and against his skin.

The fire and hunger in her eyes and in her touch were not making it easy, though. Nor was the warmth of her chest against his and of her fingers playing with the hem of his sweatpants.  

“I know the shirt was yours…” she chuckled between kisses, breathless, as she felt his hands fumbling with the waistband of her shorts. “… but I don't recall these ever belonging to you, Mr Raines". Her eyes were daring and mischievous. She was clearly enjoying their little power-play as much as he was. And it was intoxicating.  

“Fair point, miss Reed” he conceded, before letting his lips trail down her throat. “But I do recall you assuring me very, very clearly, multiple times over the last few weeks, that what was underneath did belong to me”.

Ellie could not stop the giggle that escaped her lips at his words, the warmth pooling dangerously between her thighs and her cheeks flushing brightly as glimpses of the moments Adrian was referring to flashed in her head. By the time she had managed to pull herself back in the moment, he had already made quick work of the last bits of clothing she had left, and had taken advantage of that brief distraction to lift her from the ground. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, too aroused by now to keep pretending she had not been craving for this all along.

“So, where shall we take this, Miss Reed?” he whispered in her ear, his smile warm but his eyes dark with lust.

Ellie stared at him with hunger for a few seconds, taking the time to nip at his bottom lip as if carefully evaluating their options. “Hum… we wouldn’t want to make a mess of your bedroom, with all that flour and grime on me, wouldn’t we, Mr Raines?”.

“On this we can fully agree”, he muttered against her lips, before claiming her mouth again, her lips parting invitingly so that their tongues could meet.

Their kiss was long, gentle, and agonizingly chaste at first, but it took merely seconds for their heated bodies to yield to the yearning for each other once more, as if the dam that had been holding down their urges up to that point had now finally collapsed with a spectacular bang. Breathless and dizzy, Adrian could feel his legs stagger dangerously with the frenzy of Ellie’s kisses and the tantalizing way she was shamelessly slithering up and down against him, using all of her upper body strength to grind her hips along his length.

The next thing they knew, she was sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, his hips working urgently between her legs. Her fingers digging in his back. Her heels pressed into the back of his thighs, still covered by the fabric of his pants as none of them could have been bothered to pull them further down than what was required. Her mouth was devouring every inch of his chest, muffling the cries that she could not control any more.

Lost in the comfort of their entwined bodies and echoing moans, Ellie could not remember how the hell this all started in the first place. Her earlier furious complaint to the gods was now long forgotten, only to be replaced by curses of a very different kind.

~~~~~~~~~~

(Still accepting prompts from List #1 Imagines and nsfw prompts)

Tag list:

@adriansbiss

@itsjustwinter

@shanzay44

@purvishraick

@choicesficwriterscreations​

[hero-boy]

the duality of a storm.

so! this is not the first work im posting here but it has been a long while since i posted original work here! i'd suggest listening to Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood, because the song was the main source of inspiration and the suppressed emotions that Deserves its Spot At The Basement.

i was meaning to write from Adler's perspective and i'm not quite sure if i matched his character right but here goes nothing :>

reader is female; this was originally supposed to be an interaction between my oc and Adler.

word count: 850~

warnings: light angst, mentions of past manipulation

 ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

‎‎‎‎the duality of a storm ;

It was her little smirk which greeted him first, followed by the usual drawl. "I thought you hated beaches."

‎‎‎‎‎

‎

‎‎

"I do." Adler scoffed softly, watching the flicker of flames from his worn out zippo, before the familiar burnt taste and smell filled his senses, eyes hazed momentarily by the thick cloud of cigarette smoke which expelled from his lips.

‎

The smirk persisted upon hearing his answer, though really it resembled more of a quirk, a smile than a smug curl of lips.

‎

"Then? What has brought you here, soldat?"

"You know the answer."

‎

He pried the thin roll from his chapped, scarred lips. Eyes warily surveying his companion for any change in expression but drawing a blank conclusion. Unreadable; amiable, yet there was just something he could not lay a finger on. She merely chuckled, piercing green eyes fixated on his. As if reading him back.

‎

"Da, soldat. That I do."

‎

Silence.

‎

"How's the arm?"

‎

"Getting better."

‎

"Mhm."

‎

She smiled, he noticed through the peripherals of the dark filter of his shades; the sad type that always lingered whenever he saw it. The unmistakable, piercing stab of guilt whenever his eyes fleeted to her eyes during those smiles was nearly suffocating. Again, it was not a terrible emotion to feel in their relationship, neither was it ever her fault for the scars that she so tried to mask and conceal away. But the scars were crystal clear evidences of his handiwork; his name marked on every inch of the tainted soul she called her own. Like an intrusion, trespassing, violation of a soul to another's.

‎

He felt that lump in his throat. Adam's apple quivering as he swallowed spit in attempt to coax the knotted lump down. The dryness of the smoke served to constrict his throat further.

‎

There was the urge. The impending tide of self-disgust, mingled with the burning curiosity, to find out why on Earth she continued smiling at him. Why she chuckled at his words. Why she stood there without a flinch as he stood closer to her by a fraction of an inch each day, despite his unsubtle attempts (to speak, to chat), which all backfired by the last-minute hesitation that braked his whole being before a twelve car pile-up occurred.

‎

He knew he didn't deserve where he stood now.

‎

Yet it was the selfishness in man to yearn.

‎

Greed.

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The greed of a man.

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Her chuckle (gods, that light, giddying sound) blurred the lines between thoughts and reality. "I didn't think you'd sulk just because you're at a beach..."

‎

And the more he stared back at those piercing icy green eyes, as much as he hated to admit it, it calmed. The rise of emotions falling like how an ocean would calm upon the end of a superficial storm. The roaring of blood in his ears akin raging winds nestling down and taming to a steady (yet still, rather fast paced) beat of his heart.

‎

Calm. Tamed.

‎

Tamed. A funny word to describe their queer little relationship. Was he not once considered her handler? The man who had held the reins, and her who came in like a wild animal, thrashing and resisting power. He who was called successful for the little science project he so, so inhumanely started without much thought, the project that chipped away at the rock bottom of his own conscientious.

‎

And now here she was. Standing before him as he found himself permitting to fall, into the whirlwind that grounded his mind in that very moment, knowing fully well she was the cause of it all. His dearest ruiner, as he was hers. Yet insanity, mania, delusions of his maddening, stifling conscientious only fell silent, tamed under her soft yet resonant presence.

‎

He had his suspicions. But it was only then when the realisation dawned upon his mind. Grimly, like a daunting truth. Daunting. The type of daunting that sprung from the depths of anxiety; from the uncertainty of not knowing what was to come in the future. The jittery type, where hands felt weak from each and every encounter, not quite knowing where to place them. Adler didn't quite like not knowing. He didn't like uncertainty. Uncertainty, to a man like him, meant the risks and dangers that were hiding right under his nose with only their sly, dirty presence thrumming alongside each undertone. Yet...

‎

"...At least the wind's nice."

‎

Her joking, teasing tone as her words came to a halt.

‎

He watched her, and the little unwavering smirk of hers. Hand falling limp beside him, dropping the cigarette, stubbing it out. It felt intrusive, in this very situation. It wasn't quite right. Head tilted at an angle, watching the gentle roll of waves against the dull beige sand and greying skies. A slight pause, before his answer came:

‎

"The wind's nice."

‎

He had never realised how beautiful the sight was.

‎

‎

a/n: hope you enjoyed it ! a more touchy-feely than actual action type of story 😶

[sunsetinmyvein]

You Pick a Fight - P3

I have long since forgotten what prompts from the prompt list that we used for this, but as requested by @imagine-that-100​, the third and final part of You Pick a Fight. Enjoy!

True to his word, Matty absolutely did give me hell for everything I had said and done while in hospital. Word spread pretty fast in our circle of friends about how soft I had remarked his hair was, much to my dismay. But my thumb survived, and that was the main concern. I could tolerate the berating for the sake of still having all of my digits. And to be fair, Matty was very helpful in hospital that day, as much as he didn’t tell anyone else about that half of the story. A part of my anaesthesia haze ramblings stayed with me even past that hectic evening. I suddenly felt like I gave that man too much grief throughout our friendship, maybe a few of my pranks were edging on too mean. Not that I was going to give up entirely on that side of our friendship, but I definitely had a feeling that it was time to pull back from how intense they had been becoming.  When every interaction between us wasn’t laced with sarcasm and spent looking over your shoulder for what could be coming next, spending time with Matty was actually… fairly pleasant? I found myself actually wanting to be around him.

“Mattyyyy.” I spoke into my phone as I propped it up between my shoulder and my ear.

“Yes?” His voice crackled back down the line.

“I need to ask you a favour.” I started. At this point, Matty was no stranger to my random phone calls for help. I mean, come on, he was rolling in it and had connections everywhere, I wasn’t just going to let that go to waste.

“Mm?”

“My high school reunion is coming up…” I stared at the invitation stuck to my fridge.

“And?” He prompted.

“And it would feel extremely vindicating to have a nice date to rub in everyone’s faces.” I finally suggested. Making this call wasn’t easy, I didn’t like the connotations that came with asking this. But, I did really like the connotations that came with rocking up with Matthew Healy in tow. And if I had to go, I wanted to have some fun with it.

  There was a pause, and I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me at first. “Ooo, I’m not sure.” He eventually said, sounding like he was thinking on it. “But I can see why you’d ask.” He added.

“What?” I frowned in confusion, not that he could see my expression anyway.

“I mean, why wouldn’t you want to be seen with someone as drop dead gorgeous as me?” He said. I gave a snort of laughter in response, but he didn’t continue any further.

I let out a deep sigh, then said the thing I knew would get him to go, “There’s an open bar.”

“I’ll be there.” He replied instantly.

“Great. Thanks.” I nodded.

“My pleasure.” I could just see his shit eating grin through the phone. Hopefully this idea didn’t backfire on me.

  * * *

  After a few weeks, the fateful evening rolled around. As promised, Matty drove round to my place, dressed very smartly in a nice button down. Which, after the crocs getup I’d seen him in literally the day prior, this was a vast improvement. But I couldn’t help but notice the bags under his eyes, and the way his eyelids drooped.

“Are… are you feeling okay?” I asked apprehensively as I let him in.

“Huh?” He seemed pretty out of it.

“How long has it been since you’ve sleep?” I asked with a short laugh.

“A week?” He answered, seeming entirely serious about his answer.

“Jesus, Matty. Why? What’s keeping you up?” I asked in concern, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Erm… Album stuff, you know.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Are you sure you’re good to go to this thing?” He looked in no state to be on a night out. But as soon as I questioned his ability to attend, he perked up.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He nodded quickly, running a hand through his messy curls. As much as he’d dressed up, it seemed that there was no controlling that hair of his. “C’mon, let’s go.” He said as he gestured back to the door.

  We ordered an Uber, neither of us wanting to commit to being the designated driver and passing up on the free booze. Once we had clambered inside, I laid down a few ground rules about what to tell people if they asked. All the stuff about how we met, why we got together, the things that we had to make sure to agree on to get our story straight and seem believable.

“All right, so I’d appreciate if you tried to be a bit more tactful than usual.” I ended my spiel, giving him a serious look.

“Be as embarrassing as possible, got it.” He said with a firm nod.

“Can you please just listen to me for once?” I said as I rolled my eyes.

“Or-” He said, pointing a finger at me for emphasis, “I could not listen to you, and we could pull many fantastic pranks at this stuffy party.” He suggested.

I thought on this for a moment. “What did you have in mind?” I asked with an eyebrow raised.

“We can raise hell together - spike the punch, spread rumours, heckle the speeches, that sort of thing.” He elaborated with a devious smile.

The offer was tempting, but then I remembered that I was meant to be making a good impression. “No, no. I just… would rather be quietly impressive instead of causing a scene like we usually do.” I said, tearing my gaze away from him and looking back out the window.

“Whatever you say.”

  When we rocked up at my old high school, it probably shouldn’t have surprised me that everything looked exactly the same as what it did when I was a student. The buildings were a slight bit more run down, the signs were starting to wear away, it was nostalgic in a very uncomfortable way. We followed the small arrows staked in the ground, making our way through the school to where the reunion was being held. As we approached the doors, Matty stopped me, looping his arm with mine with a smile before walking in. The gesture instantly reminded me of why I had been worried about asking him to come as my faux date. Other than him getting the wrong idea, I didn’t want to dredge up any repressed feelings since that day in the hospital a few months ago. This thought was quickly squashed once we stepped into the room and had the tacky decorations shoved right into our faces. I had no idea what theme they were trying to achieve, but if it was ‘awkward high school disco’ they had successfully done it. However, I was pretty chuffed with the stares that we were getting as we walked through the room. By the look of the whispers that I saw being passed around, clearly Matty was recognised. Most of the people I had spotted I didn’t overly want to talk to, so I was glad to have brought a plus one that I could hang out with to avoid stifled pleasantries with people I’d not seen in over a decade.

  “Why is there a deer in the room?” Matty whispered in my ear as he gestured to the large buck that was sectioned off in the corner.

“School mascot.” I answered.

“What?” He asked with a frown.

“The football team, they’re called the bucks or something.” I explained, pointing out a banner on the wall with the cartoon version of the animal.

“So… they have a deer? A real live deer?” He continued with an incredulous laugh.

“Yep.” I nodded.

“Let’s go tie shit on its antlers.” He said eagerly, attempting to drag me towards the animal.

“No.” I quickly hissed, pulling him back towards the bar. “Let’s go get a drink.” I offered instead.

  With a drink in hand, Matty was much easier to keep under control. We drifted around to a few conversations, dropping stories of accomplishments and various other brag worthy things. After about half an hour, though, he started to get restless.

“Hey, where’s the woodshop?” He asked quietly as his eyes darted around the room.

“Why do you want to know?” I asked back, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

“No reason.” He said with a shrug. “What about the art room?” He questioned with a smile playing on his lips.

“What are you scheming?” I accused.

“Nothing!” He threw his hands up in defence. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom and then get another drink. You want one?” He asked.

I stared at him for a moment, trying to work out what idea was turning over in that head of his. “Sure.” I conceded, watching as he strolled off.

  I was apprehensive about letting him wander off alone, what with his track record. But I had no reason to stop him. Once left to my own devices, I had to begrudgingly start conversations with my old classmates alone. I didn’t realise how much I missed having Matty to bounce off of in conversation until he wasn’t there. The time ticked by, and he still hadn’t returned. When I finally felt the need to go looking for Matty in case he got lost, I spotted him on the other side of the room sparking up conversation with a group of people. He looked very animated in whatever story he was telling, and then I saw him gesture to his thumb. Oh, no.

“Whatever he’s saying, he’s lying!” I called out, interrupting the person who had been speaking to me. Matty, clearly hearing my voice, looked up and waved with a smirk.

“Why did you even come with him if you were worried about his behaviour?” The guy I was speaking to huffed.

“I’m starting to forget.” I muttered, making my way through the crowd to work out what on earth he was saying. When I made my way to the small crowd that had formed around him, he was indeed telling the story about how I’d nearly cut off my thumb. However, he was telling it in a way I hadn’t heard before. He was embellishing the details about how helpful he was, about how happy I’d been to see him when I woke up, instead of his usual speech about how embarrassing it was for me. It felt pretty heart-warming to actually hear him acknowledge the other side of that night.

“That’s so sweet of you!” One of the girls from my English class cooed.

“She’s worth it.” Matty replied as he planted a kiss on my cheek. I instantly felt myself burning up, before plastering a smile on my face to try and keep up the charade I had concocted.

  When I finally pried him away from his crowd, we went to go get another drink. What was the point of an open bar if you didn’t take advantage of it?

“You really think I’d throw you under the bus in front of your own classmates?” He asked as he nudged me in the ribs playfully.

“I just never know with you sometimes.” I chuckled as I grabbed a bottle of cider. “Are you feeling better, then?” I added, noting his much more jovial appearance than when I first saw him today.

“Hm?” He questioned as he took a swig from his drink.

“You looked pretty sleep deprived when you rocked up at mine earlier today.” I clarified.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Much better.” He nodded, glancing down at his dress shoes.

“What’s been keeping you up?” I asked in curiosity, starting to walk back over to the centre of the room.

“Well, if I’m honest-”

“All right everyone, take your seats.” A voice interrupted over the loud speakers.

  Right, the speeches. People who had been notable in high school had been asked if they wanted to stand up and tell people all about where they were at now. Thank fuck I hadn’t been picked for that. We began shuffling over to the lined-up seats at the front of the room near the stage, Matty and I happily taking a spot near the back. As the speakers went to sit down in their chairs on the stage, all of the legs collapsed beneath them, sending the six people up there sprawling onto the wooden floor. A few quiet laughs came from the crowd. But I recognised that handiwork.

“Did you do that?” I asked, turning to Matty.

“I have no idea why you’d suspect me.” He answered, clearly trying (and failing) not to smile.

“Is that why you were asking about the woodshop?” I realised, my voice growing in volume slightly as it clicked in my head. Someone shushed me from the row behind us.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak dumbass.” He shrugged.

“Real mature.” I mumbled, turning back to the stage to see them bringing new chairs over. He just wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side.

  After that, the speeches continued without a hitch. I had to admit, at least Matty’s antics had brought some fun to the dull event. Because besides the chairs collapsing, the hour-long spectacle nearly put me to sleep. Once they’d finished up, they began playing the music a bit louder than what they had been and packed the chairs in front of the stage away, encouraging people to use it as a dancefloor.

“Do you have any idea on how frustrating you can really be?” I frowned as we made our way over to the corner of the room to speak without people overhearing us. “You could’ve hurt someone.”

“Come ooooon.” He said, rolling his eyes. “You know you want to make this place a bit livelier. You’re never gonna see these people again, right?” He continued, leaning against a rail.

“Right.” I agreed.

“So, let’s have some fun.” He grinned. “You know we make a good team.”

I thought about it for a moment, and he had a point. This event was pretty boring, and we were a good team. Matty had been going out of his way tonight to do what I had asked of him, the least I could do was let him get some enjoyment too. “Fine.” I agreed. Watching as the large buck began chewing on Matty’s arm. “You might wanna keep an eye on your jacket, though.” I said as I gestured to the animal.

“Huh? Oh, wha- Hey!” He shouted as he yanked his sleeve out of the deer’s mouth.

  Once he had been given permission, Matty kicked into full prank mode. Shoelaces were tired together under tables, lettering on signs were rearranged, jackets and hats mysteriously changed tables. Most of what he wanted to do was harmless fun, and it was entertaining to watch him dart around the room and work his magic. Tonight was actually turning out to be pretty fun. I had thought that maybe Matty might feel awkward about it, or maybe I’d feel awkward about it, but things were going really well. It was nice to get the chance to have an evening with just him. Normally it was a group of us and I always felt mildly attention seeking for taking up his time. To have his undivided attention for the whole night left me with a warm feeling. Matty eventually wore himself out, and guests were beginning to get suspicious of the guy who seemed to constantly be in the background of every minor inconvenience. When he seemed satiated prank wise, he managed to con me into getting onto the dancefloor with him. Normally I’d be pretty intimidated about dancing in front of such a judging crowd, but between the good company and the many drinks I’d had, I didn’t really care.

  Suddenly, a bunch of glitter starting spewing out through the vents onto the dance floor. The music stopped, drawing everyone’s attention up to the sparkly downfall. To be honest, this looked far better than any theming the school had done themselves. But I knew this was not something that they had planned.

“I admit, this is pretty impressive.” I said quietly to Matty, who just had a very proud smile.

“See? I told you that we should raise hell.” He laughed loudly.

“I guess it was pretty fun.” I confessed.

“You should really listen to me more.” He said softly, taking my hand in his. I watched the glitter fall for a moment, before looking back down to see him still staring at me. I frowned at him, waiting for him to say something. “You have the cutest smile I’ve ever seen right now.”

“You’re looking pretty starry-eyed yourself there, mister.” I shot back, figuring that he was joking.

“Well, it’s hard not to be when you’ve got the best date in the room.” He added, tugging on my hand, pulling me closer to him.

“Wasn’t that meant to be my plan?” I said with a chuckle.

“After speaking to your classmates, I’m pretty sure you got it backwards.” He answered as I placed a hand on his shoulder.

  A moment or two passed before Matty took in a deep breath. “I was up all week because I was worried about ruining this for you.” He blurted out. “I didn’t want to be a disappointment.”

“You’d never disappoint me.” I dismissed.

“Things are always more daunting when you’re doing them with someone that you’re into, you know.” He explained.

“I… you… what?” In my surprise, I couldn’t get my words out right. Had he not been kidding for the last five minutes with everything that he was saying? A lot of moments over the last six months suddenly made a lot more sense.

“You’re not getting me to say it twice.” He said with a small smile.

“How long?” Was all I could manage to ask.

“For ages.” He said simply. “Why do you think I stayed with you in the hospital? Why do you think I spend so much time with you? Why do you think I bother you so much? You think that it’s me who’s teasing you to the guys, but it’s them teasing me about you.” He answered.

  Everything that I had felt in the hospital was now in the forefront of my mind. Maybe I hadn’t been so crazy to want to flirt with Matty then. Certainly, in this moment, his confession had my heart rate picking up and my mind reeling. “Then what was with all the pranks?” I said, shoving his shoulder slightly.

“Kept your attention, didn’t it?” He chuckled.

“I suppose so.” I agreed. “I think I’m into you too.” I said quietly.

“I know.” He nodded.

“What?”

“You told me so when you first woke up in hospital. You slept for a few hours after that, though.” He elaborated. “You don’t remember?”

I shook my head, but for what I did remember, if I had said that, it made sense. “So… is this a real date then?” I asked out of curiosity.

“It can be.” He shrugged.

“I’d like that.” I smiled, leaning up slightly to catch him off guard and kiss him briefly. “But first, we’d better get out of here before they realise what you did.”

Part One

Part Two

[kinda-iconic]

My Hardest Goodbye

This fanfic is part I of the continuation to ‘How do I go on without you’, and is set not long after the end of said piece.

Summary: After receiving word of Amelia’s condition, Harry and Teresa make their way to Edgewater; however, once they arrive at the estate, neither are prepared for what they overhear.

Author’s Note: This is the first fanfic that I have posted in a couple of months, and though I do apologise for the lateness of my delivery, I wanted to make sure that it was worthy of posting. This piece has been split into three parts, this part in particular focusing solely on Harry’s POV (ish). 

Pairing/s: Harry x Teresa; Ernest x MC (Amelia) 

Word Count: 2′670

Trigger Warning: Language

Tagging: @bloodboundismylife​ @princess-geek​ @octobereighth​ @annaroselyn​ @i-put-the-sin-in-sinclaire​ @nala-raines​ @noesapphic​

A couple of hours had passed since the announcement of Amelia’s condition, and not a stir could be heard from those at Edgewater. Shortly after she had been informed, the Dowager Countess had sent word to her grandson, her letter abundant with urgency in the hope that her kin would realise the importance of that evening. Whilst her Ladyship was left to ensure that the matter of correspondence had been dealt with, Ernest refused to leave Amelia’s bedside, his hand clasped tightly around her own.

When Harry received the news, he did not hesitate to make preparations, choosing to arrive on horseback rather than waking his staff from their slumber. Accompanied by his new wife, Harry left at the earliest convenience, making sure to take a route that would guarantee the pair a prompt arrival. The journey was not without difficulty, the road laden with the remnants of the night before, fragmented arrays of foliage and stone littering the trail; though this would usually delay even the steeliest of travellers, Harry was not deterred. He grabs his cane and presses on, deciding it best to cut through the woodlands surrounding the estate, thus reducing the time it took for the pair to arrive. It is not long before they reach the gates, their arrival noted by a Master of Horse, who stands idly by the stable, as if expecting their early meeting. The young man holds out a hand, gesturing for the Viscountess to accept his offering of assistance. Once his aid is no longer required, he turns his attention to the horses, choosing to remove himself from the conversation of the events of that evening and any speculation they may have made about his Mistresses’ welfare.

But there is nothing of the sort.

Harry dismounts without so much as a word, his rashness causing him to disregard propriety; removing his cane from the saddle, he heads in the direction of the house, barely sparing a thought for Teresa who follows behind him, collecting her skirts in an attempt not to muddy them. She calls out to him, her voice hoarse with breathlessness.

‘Harry!’

He greets her with no reply, his brow creasing into a scowl as he approaches the entryway, his lips pursed tightly together as if struggling to maintain his anger. She watches him a little too carefully, ultimately losing sight of the stretch of path below her as her foot slides into a puddle, the sullied water seeping into the fabric of her shoe. She squeals in annoyance, reaching down to wipe the soil from her boot with her handkerchief.

‘This is not what Amelia would want -’

‘I think I know the situation well enough to conclude that my sister is not in the position to tell me what to do.’

Her eyes widen at the spitefulness in his tone, her head drawing back in bewilderment. Knowing that he had wounded her with his remark, he turns to address her over his shoulder, his gaze softening as he gazes upon her face. He opens his mouth to speak, but the horror of his utterance has rendered him almost speechless. Eventually he is able to communicate, his voice no louder than a hushed whisper.

‘Forgive me, I…I should not have spoken to you like that.’

‘You do not need to apologise, my love,’ she interrupts him, a small smile blossoming on her face as she places her foot back down, being quick to regain her footing, ‘you are worried for your sister; I would probably do the same if I was the one whose sister was suffering.’  

‘That does not excuse my sharpness.’

‘But it is warranted,’ she begins to hurry her steps, treading lightly as she tries to match his pace, ‘Amelia is very dear to all of us, so it understandable that you are on edge.’

‘I guess you are right,’ he places his hand atop of hers, his fingers swiftly interlacing with her own, ‘I just do not understand how something so terrible could…’

She clasps hold of his arm, her fingers gently grasping onto the sleeve of his jacket, her brows knitting with worry as she takes note of the sadness in his gaze, his stormy eyes brimming with tears. He takes a shallow breath, a disconsolate sob stifling in his throat as he tries to regain his composure, his voice shaky and burdened.

‘Why did it have to be her?’

‘I cannot answer that, my love,’ she takes a step forward, placing herself in the space between her husband and the door to the manor; she cups his cheek with her free hand, her own tears now beginning to stain her face. She smiles sadly up at him, drawing soothing circles into his skin with the pad of her thumb. ‘No one deserves to suffer in this way, especially not someone as kind and dear to us, but that does not mean that there is no hope.’ She reaches for the handle, being careful not to make too much noise as she pries the door open, walking blindly into the entrance hall as her focus remains fixated on her husband. ‘Amelia is young and in good health. She has all that and more on her side.’

‘Being well and youthful means nothing when it comes to someone falling ill,’ he pauses, as if concerned that his words may startle her; he brushes past her, his footsteps heavy and dragging as he forces back the pain emanating from his calve, his jaw clenched in agitation. He begins to speak once more, his voice deep and gravelly. ‘It does not pick and choose who it…’

He stops abruptly, shaking away the thought before it has the chance to hurt him further; he closes his eyes, a sharp exhale escaping his lips as he takes the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, not a single pause in his stride.

‘I cannot bring myself to talk about this further.��

It is then that he hears a team of familiar voices, drifting towards him from the parlor. At first, he thinks nothing of it, under the belief that it is nothing more than a conversation between Edgewater’s staff - just a simple exchange between associates. However, as he continues his ascent to the next floor, the voices grow louder, their words causing him to cease in his tracks.

‘The Doctor told you that?’

‘Well of course not! I am not a relative,’ Harry takes a step back, his brow creased in annoyance as he shifts himself, placing a firm hand on the wall as if to find a better vantage point to eavesdrop, ‘but I did hear the Dowager say that Mr Sinclaire would take over the estate should the Countess die... just until the child comes of age.’

‘And you think he would do well by us?’

‘Oh goodness no,’ there is a soft pause, this newfound silence soon replaced by a hearty chuckle, ‘he may be the only well-born of the pair, but even the Earl’s bastard could do a better job than him - and she is knocking on death’s door!’

Their words cause Harry to tense, his body seizing up as he tries to process the maliciousness in their tone. He remains like that for a moment before quickening his descent, subconsciously deciding to address the matter first-hand rather than ignore their gossip. He clenches his jaw, his lips forced together as he passes his wife, afraid that he will utter something incomprehensible should his mouth remain open; Teresa follows closely behind, her petite frame remaining hidden in the shadows of the night, a choice ultimately made in fear of being discovered.

Just as he nears the entryway to the parlor, a small hand grasps hold of his forearm, its grip strong yet delicate in its approach.  

‘Harry…’ her voice adopts a soft tone, her words laden with acceptance and understanding as she draws his attention back to her; he looks at her in puzzlement, his head tilted in vexed curiosity. ‘I know that their interaction is not one that you wished to hear, and I acknowledge that you want to say something in return, but there are more pressing matters that we MUST concern ourselves with.’

‘I cannot sit idly by and allow them to talk about Amelia in that manner!’

His voice is stern, the intonation in his tone rising to a level that Teresa had never heard from him before. She releases his arm, her brow knitted with concern.

‘I know, my Love,’ she sighs despondently, reaching down to take his hand in her own; she flashes him a comforting smile, but the reassurance in her gesture fails to meet her eyes, ‘but right now our priority is the Countess -’

‘Amelia,’ he removes his hand from hers with tenderness, as if trying not to cause her worry, ‘that is her name, and she wills us to address her as such.’

He makes heed in the direction of the room, disallowing Teresa the chance to provide him with further words of comfort. She reaches towards him in an attempt to interrupt his anger, but it is not long before she stops herself, her face a picture of confliction. Instead, Teresa goes against her better judgment, allowing her husband to pursue his vengeful path in the hope that, by voicing his frustrations, he may be able to free himself from the burden he so openly carries. She remains quiet, continuing to bite her tongue even as he opens the door to the parlour, his sudden entrance causing the occupants of the room to look up, their own eyes widening as they observe the Viscount’s furious expression.

‘V-Viscount Harry!’ The housekeeper stutters, her unsteady hands instantaneously reaching to straighten her skirts; Teresa’s brow quirks in suspicion at the woman’s sudden interest in her appearance, yet she fails to notice, ‘we were not aware that you would be staying with us this evening…’

‘Yes, well,’ he maintains his composure, his words laced with ostensible cordiality, ‘when one’s sister is taken ill, it does not do well to dwell on pleasantries.’

‘Of course, Sir,’ she bows her head in acknowledgement, promptly remembering who is talking to, ‘and may I say that, on behalf of all of us at Edgewater, how very sorry we are to hear of the Countess’ condition.’ She shifts uncomfortably on her feet, her stoic gaze slowly darting to her counterpart before refocusing on the Viscount, ‘we pray that the mistress makes a speedy recovery.’

‘That is most kind, Ms. Thompson.’

His words show no malice, yet the sternness in his tone causes a feeling of uneasiness to settle in the housekeeper’s stomach. ‘It is nice to know that those who have found their vocation at the estate value the family that they work for.’

‘I couldn’t agree more, Sir,’ the Butler nods in agreement, his hands tucked neatly behind his back, ‘the Countess and Mr Sinclaire have been most generous and kind to us.’

‘Is that so?’ Without sparing his pretence a second thought, he replies through gritted teeth, his words laced with venom, ‘I am afraid that you have both left me in quite the predicament, Ms. Thompson.’

‘...We have?’

‘Oh yes,’ he ponders over to the dresser, his hand brazenly reaching for the decanter that lay atop the structure; he collects a glass from the cabinet before pouring himself a drink, being mindful as to refrain from causing any spillages. He takes a sip, the bittersweet aroma causing his nose to wrinkle as he turns his attention back to his present company. ‘You see, it was never my intent to pay you a visit,’ he sighs distastefully, taking a seat on a nearby armrest, ‘at least it was not until I overheard the rather heinous way you spoke about my sister and her husband.’

The housekeeper’s face grows pale, her mouth falling agape in surprise; she stumbles backwards, rapidly blinking as she is forced to process his words, as if disbelieving of what she has heard.

‘W-we never meant any harm -’

‘Whether or not your words were said out of spite is beside the point,’ he retorts with rashness, taking an authoritative step forward; he lifts the glass to his lips once more, taking a generous mouthful of the spirit, ‘you serve in the Countess’ household; your loyalty should lie with her ladyship.’

‘It does, Sir!’

‘Then may I ask why you took it upon yourselves to speak about the Countess and her husband in such a manner? To make such unfounded remarks about the father of the heir to Edgewater?’

The Butler and Housekeeper share a glance, their eyes filled with something too undistinguishable to convey. However, before they can ruminate a response, Harry interjects them, his voice thick with emotion.

‘I care not for your excuses,’ he closes his eyes momentarily, running a frustrated hand across his forehead, ‘but I would expect those in your positions to be more grateful and appreciative of working for a mistress as lovely and just as my sister.’ He glances over at his wife, his gaze softening as he bears witness to the sadness in her eyes. He greets her with a sorrowful smile, reaching forward to place a comforting hand on her arm, his anger quickly bubbling into resolve as he shifts his attention back to the others.

‘I will not tell Mr Sinclaire what has transpired here today.’

‘You are not going to say anything?’

He shakes his head slowly, his movement devoid of strength or willingness to continue the fight. The housekeeper takes this as her opportunity to close the distance, her expression alight with relief as she gasps in delight, the intonation in her voice accompanied by excitement and half-hearted gratitude.

‘Oh, thank you, Sir! We are ever so thankful for this chance to -’

‘I am not doing this for you,’ he interjects, his breath hitching slightly in his throat as he thinks back on the reason for his visit, ‘I am doing this for my sister…and for the man that she chose to marry.’ He exhales sharply, his emotions having taken more of a toll on his composure than he had initially thought. ‘Mr Sinclaire has already lost one wife during childbirth, and now he is faced with the possibility that his second may succumb to the same fate; that his daughter may have to grow up in a world without her mother, a similar path to which young Percival has had to travel once before.’ He clears his throat before continuing, his train of thought travelling back to his nephew. ‘That child has been through enough already, as has Mr Sinclaire, and I am not about to let your loose words affect them so.’

He places his tumbler on the table, the rim of the glass trembling from the forcefulness of the impact. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere more important to be.’ He tips his head in farewell, making swift work of the door before stepping out into the corridor, his final parting words rendering both parties speechless as he ponders over to the staircase. Teresa walks beside him, her footsteps light and bouncy as she matches his bearing.

‘You did very well.’

‘I did not do enough,’ he shakes his head in disbelief, running a tired hand across his face before collecting his chin in his palm. ‘They deserved so much more than a simple telling off.’

‘That may be true, but we are not here for them,’ she entwines her fingers with his, ghosting his knuckles with the pad of her thumb, ‘we are here for your sister, and that is where our attention and focus must now reside.’

The sincerity in her voice causes him to pause, the corner of his mouth curving into a wistful smile before he turns to look at her, his next few words spoken with cherishment and adoration.

‘I could not have said it better myself.’

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 4.4}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.9k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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"Could you come over here please?" Snape's voice drew her attention away from the fireplace, and Robin found herself surprised that he actually even knew that the word 'please' could be used without sarcasm. If he used it in all seriousness now, the images in Robin's head must've left a deeper impression on him than she had expected.

With a touch of guilt on her mind, she got up and walked over to the table where he was working on whatever potion it was that was quietly bubbling in the small cauldron in front of him. If being here in his laboratory in her pajamas wasn't odd enough, standing next to him now in the same state while he was working definitely was.

"What do you need me to do?" She asked as neutrally as she could, as her eyes followed every single movement of his hands on their own accord in admiring fascination. Whatever he was brewing here, it surely wasn't something she knew, nor something that was easy enough to be taught in class.

He stopped in his work mere seconds later and turned to Robin with an odd expression on his face, one she couldn't remember ever seeing before. "What you see here is a potion I invented after the incident with the boggart last term, to trace the spells that have affected a living being in the past seventy two hours."

His words made Robin's stomach drop immediately as she caught on to what he was implying. But she didn't want to believe it just yet. "Why are you making this?" Her voice was far too quiet to even feign neutrality, but it would've been useless anyway in the light of the honest discomfort in her eyes.

"To hopefully confirm my suspicion. I believe you have been hexed for some time now."

Robin only nodded for a moment, wrapping her head around the possibility of that. It was likely, yes, but who would've hexed her? And whatever for? Well, they would hopefully find out soon enough, if she finally stopped being a dunderhead and got into a serious mode of working with Snape again. "What can I do to help?"

"That is the downside." He mused and turned to look at the cauldron instead of Robin. "The potion requires your blood in order to determine the foreign magic used on you."

"Alright, how much do you need?"

His eyes snapped back to Robin at the easy factuality of her voice, and the neutrality in his own was replaced by surprised incredulity. "A… few drops should suffice."

"May I?" Robin asked without further ado as she pointed to the knife on the cutting board in front of her, and upon his barely noticeable nod, she didn't hesitate to use it to make a small and precise cut on her left forearm, to which she then pressed her right hand to stop it from bleeding already. It didn't hurt, and she didn't mind. "Should I add it directly or do you need to do something else first?"

"Go ahead…" His voice was still everything but normal, everything but neutral, and his unusual quietness about her ways of assisting him made Robin wonder if she had made a mistake. But he had given her the go after all, and so she moved to take his place in front of the cauldron, then held her forearm over the steaming brew and lifted her right hand just enough to let a few drops fall into the bubbling liquid. It turned red first, then entirely black.

"Anything else?" Robin asked as she made room for him again, holding her arm far away enough from her t-shirt to not risk smudging any blood on it. The cut really wasn't deep and hardly painful compared to everything she'd been through in the past few hours, but she didn't want new blood onto her clothes again any time soon. The thought of that alone made the hairs in her neck stand up, but she figured that it would probably stop bleeding in a minute anyway.

"It was the last step." Snape replied quietly, but kept his eyes and frown on her instead of the product of his efforts. Robin raised an eyebrow in question in return, and that finally made him go on, even if not in the way she expected. "You really are a curious creature."

Now Robin's other eyebrow lifted as well, and she didn't know if she should feel flattered or offended. The crimson heat rising to her face didn't differentiate between that though. "Uhm, I… sorry?"

With a sigh he lifted her arm up by her wrist, in a surprising gentleness that contrasted his irritated demeanor, then pried her hand away from the cut to take a look at it. But Robin didn't even feel the cut anymore, for any and every discomfort was washed away by the pleasantly blazing sensation of his hand wrapped around her arm. Oh come on, Robin! Really?! She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at herself, at the same time as she suppressed the unappreciated tingles. There was no time for this right now, and there never would be time for it! Hopefully that would finally get through that thick skull of hers.

Before she knew, her arm was dropped to her side again, the cut gone and the very much different prickle of magic fading from her skin. "Thank you." She said, even though she didn't know for sure what had happened or what he had done. Once again she had been too caught up in her own head to be bothered with reality.

"I was under the impression that after what happened…" He paused, thought, and turned towards the potion on the table once more before he spoke on. "I did not expect you to be so… factual about the issue. In the light of recent events."

Oh… he was referring to the fact that she had woken up entirely covered in blood a mere few hours ago. Oh well, that surely would be terribly troublesome to anyone who actually acknowledged that it had happened as a part of their reality. In Robin's mind, the events were mere scenes of a movie she had seen a long time ago. Obviously her subconsciousness hadn't found any other way to cope with these memories, for that's what the pictures were becoming now, and Robin was fine with it as long as she could finally function again. Functioning, working, facts… that's what always served to make her mind shut up. But she understood that it must be confusing for Snape, who only saw the results of her weird coping mechanisms now, not the way of coping itself.

"I think I'm better already." She summed up her previous thought process. "Not nearly alright, but mostly fit for function. And right now I need to function to finally get through this mess. So, your theory… would you tell me more? How did you get the idea that I was hexed?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at Robin for a moment, but seeing as she looked back at him with calm seriousness, he sat down on the stool behind him with a sigh and motioned for Robin to sit down as well. "I have had the suspicion that something might be wrong with you ever since last Monday, when Pomona informed me of the incident in your herbology class. Then on Wednesday it was confirmed when you did not feel like working in the evening."

"How did that of all things confirm that something was wrong with me?"

"I have seen you working with a broken ankle after getting beaten up by the Whomping Willow. If anything stops you from following your passion for learning, it must be more serious than that." He stated, then continued with the previous explanation. "Of course I did not know the true extent or gravity of the issue before you let me see for myself, but if I had been aware of your nightmares at least, I might have been able to draw the necessity conclusion a lot sooner. Say, why did you choose not to tell me?"

"I wanted to!" Robin replied instinctively, but then decided to give a more rational than emotional answer. "I… wanted to tell you, on Wednesday night. But you were so busy with more important things and I didn't think it was important enough to bother you with. I mean, nightmares are just such a childish thing to get so entirely upset about… it's just not something you talk about with your professor if you ever want to be taken seriously again."

"Am I not taking you seriously?"

"Actually, you are the only one who does. And I didn't want to endanger that by complaining about something like this. I just didn't want to reduce myself to a pathetic little girl who is scared of something as childish as bad dreams."

"First point, if you call those nightmares childish then I truly do not wish to know what your childhood looked like. Second point, I would never think less of you for confiding in me about any issue at all. But I do realize that I tend to call people 'pathetic' rather casually, so I see your point in thinking I might do the same to you. I would never. Not… seriously, at least. You know that. Third and most important point, your nightmares weren't, in fact, nightmares at all."

"Wait, what?!" Could he repeat that just a little less casually?? And… not confuse her poor heart by actually being nice to her now?

"What you saw was beyond terrifying, but those images weren't nightmares. They weren't even dreams. Or have you at any point in your previous life experienced the very same vivid dream for a week in a row and found yourself able to remember every detail once you woke up?"

"No, of course not… it really is a bit weird, admittedly. I have actually briefly considered the possibility that they weren't my own dreams, but never that they weren't dreams at all. What were they though? And who would be cruel and creative enough to torture me like that?"

"That is precisely what we are going to find out now." With that he snatched a piece of parchment out from where it was stuck between two books on the other table, then placed it next to the cauldron in front of them. "The way this potion works is simple: you let droplets of it fall onto a clear surface, and it will spell out the magic last used on the subject whose blood was added."

While he did just that, Robin got to witness what he had explained and how it actually made sense when put into action. The black droplets seemed to soak into the parchment for a moment, then they formed the words that had been spoken, and thus the spell that had been used. A remarkable piece of magic, and Robin couldn't help the curiosity that overcame her like it would under normal circumstances.

"How did you come up with this?!" She wondered in astonishment as she let her fingers trace over the slowly forming words. They didn't smudge like ink would… curious. "It's brilliant, I mean… I wish I had the energy left to really think it through, but it's already quite ingenious in its existence alone."

"Perhaps…" He mused, careful in his voice of words. "I will explain it to you at a different point in time. If you would like."

"I would like that a lot, actually." Robin replied with a small smile, the first one in a long time. Maybe sorting through this mess together did help her in dealing with it after all.

"As for the current issue…" He went on then, directed at the piece of parchment, and Robin followed his eyes down to the now clearly legible writing on it. "It appears that my suspicions were correct."

"Okay, but what exactly does that mean? Did… did someone really hex me?" The insecure frown was back on Robin's face as she looked at the paper in an attempt to make sense of the spells. Some of them looked familiar… others completely foreign. But there were a lot more of them than Robin had expected.

"Someone tried to hex you, yes." He started, and his voice took a grave turn as he did. "This spell here…" Only once Robin had read the words he was pointing at, he continued. "It is a terribly ragged alternation of a simple charm. Instead of giving the victim harmless visions born of their own mind, the spell was reworded to give the victim realistic visions that were predetermined by the person casting it. This very likely is what was used on you every night during the past week to instil the very same pictures into your mind. Those dreams were knowingly forced upon you, that much is clear now."

"Who would go through that trouble to do something like that?! And… why not simply use legilimency to place pictures into my mind, it would be an easier choice for that, wouldn't it?" Robin frowned. "Why make things difficult and use a self-made spell?"

"I can only assume that the person behind this spell either wasn't aware of the advantages of legilimency, or was indeed aware of the fact that they would not be good enough at it to get through your defense. It is no secret among the staff that you are a decent occlumens, and I believe it should be equally known among your peers."

"So someone altered an entirely different spell just to hex me? To give me nightmares?"

"That seems to have been their intention, yes. But going by your experiences and my own, I am led to believe that while it was intended to be a hex, it turned out a curse instead. That would explain why it affected you so strongly."

"So I was cursed?!"

"Yes."

"Oh bloody hell…" Robin sighed to herself, and honestly she didn't know if she wanted to be relieved or even more terrified. On one hand it was good news that she was someone else's victim, not her own. But on the other hand it also made her someone else's victim! She frowned at another thought. "Uh, professor...? How exactly did the person who cursed me know what kind of visions they needed to show me to mess with my head that much?"

"It could be a mere coincidence."

"No, it couldn't. You saw what my worst fear was last year, and you saw the visions given to me now. Do you seriously believe that something that similar in both its manifestation and result could be a coincidence?"

"No." Snape replied with a defensive scowl. "And before you try to accuse me of telling someone the truth behind the incident with the boggart, let me assure you that I have better things to do than gossip about your fears and memories."

"I… didn't even consider accusing you of anything, actually." Robin said in a calm but quiet voice, as she realized that he really was the only person who knew about her fear in the first place. Still, absolutely nothing within her believed that he would've done that, not to her and not to anyone else. "I know you wouldn't tell anyone about what you see in my mind."

"And what makes you so ridiculously certain about that?" This, clearly, was a test. Robin could tell by his tone, by the frown on his face, even by the fact that he was asking in the first place and not straight out scolding her for making assumptions about him. But it was a test she felt ready to take, even if it was totally the wrong time for something like this.

"Actually, there's two very good answers to that and one you wouldn't want to hear: First, you yourself seem uncomfortable enough knowing about it in the first place, thus I doubt that you would have any gain out of letting other people know that you know. Second and more importantly, you are the smartest person I know, and therefore I honestly doubt that you would consider betraying the trust of someone who is keeping secrets of yours in return. It simply would be unwise, even if that person would never betray you in return."

"What's the third answer?" He asked without any reaction to what Robin had just so very frankly stated.

"That I trust you. Obviously. But seeing as that is my own sentiment rather than a tangible reason, I was under the impression that it would hardly matter to you."

"It shouldn't." He mused, more to himself than to Robin, and turned his focus back to the parchment so exclusively that Robin felt like she had passed the test against his own expectation. For that, she felt a little pleased with herself at last, considering that it was a huge success for a night that had already messed her up so very much. One small win that weighed up quite a few losses in return.

"Before we go any deeper into the question of how your fears became known to the person responsible for the visions, we might as well try to find that person and ask them." Snape commented a moment later, all back to the seriousness of before.

"I agree." Robin replied in an equal 'back-to-business' mode of behavior. "What do the spells say about what happened tonight? There must be one spell at least that's responsible for making me someone else's puppet. I don't really know about the blood or the other me, that might not be anything directly affecting me, but-..."

"Say that again." He ordered with one quick look at Robin, then a frown back at the parchment.

"Uh…" Robin was thrown off her track of thought by the interruption, but stared at the parchment nonetheless as if it would give her the right words to reply now. "I… said that I don't know if the blood or the bodies were really there or if it was magic, but I definitely know that one spell must've been used on me, at least, to make me a puppet of the other me."

"It seems like you just answered your own question." He pointed at another three words written close to the bottom of the list. "Do you know that spell?"

"It looks vaguely familiar, but I'm not entirely certain which bell it rings with me."

"It does exactly what you said: it turns inanimate objects into puppets at the will and command of who spoke the spell. Again, it was reworked to affect a living being just the same, but I believe that this goal was achieved with more luck than reason."

"So someone created a makeshift imperius curse. For me." Robin stated in a mixture of distancing incredulity and simple refusal to acknowledge the insanity of this. "And then they used it to scare me? I can't believe how stupid that sounds while yet being absolutely terrifying."

"This has to be the most pathetically successful orchestration of cruelty I have ever seen."

"That… is a very good description." Robin sighed, but she still didn't really see the point in all of this. Who would do something like that? And why? At least knowing the 'how' behind what had happened made her feel much less afraid of it. "Do you have any idea how the second 'me' could be explained? Or the bodies?"

"I do have theories, but no proof to either of them." He replied and folded the piece of parchment into smaller and smaller squares under Robin's careful observation.

"Still, enlighten me. Please…" She requested as she wondered what he was up to yet again when he placed the piece of parchment in one of his pockets.

"Polyjuice potion, any and every possible delusion spell, constructed illusions, projected illusions, mere physical acts of trickery, more altered charms, acts of-…"

"Alright alright, I… I get it." She sighed, and he stopped in his counting down of possibilities. "A different approach, maybe: do you have an idea who could have constructed these spells, or why?"

"Well, who would take such joy in your suffering that they wouldn't refrain from cursing you?" Snape asked in return as he rose from his stool.

"Maybe you better ask me who wouldn't like to see me suffering…" Robin scoffed and leaned the weight of her upper body onto her forearms on the table, for sitting upright and straight became too exhausting at last. "That would definitely be easier to answer."

"Maybe you could narrow it down to the individuals who possess the ability to rework more or less innocent spells into serious, even if adulterated, pieces of dark magic."

Somehow his words rang a bell in Robin's mind, and her eyes widened in shock and dread at her own thought. No… that was ridiculous. Seriously, that was just insane. But wasn't this entire situation insane enough already to make basically anything possible? Maybe. "I… have a name in mind, but it would be very inappropriate to say what I think in this case."

"I believe we moved past appropriate when you attacked me with a saucepan, so you may just as well tell me who you are thinking of."

"Professor Morgan." Robin blurted out before her lips could stay sealed, before her mind could find a better way to approach this delicate topic.

"That happens to have been my first thought as well." He replied as if this serious accusation was absolutely nothing to him. "However no matter how incompetent and imbecile I find that man, in the light of longer consideration I doubt that he is the core of the occurrences."

"But you think he's got something to do with it at least?" Robin inquired. Gosh, she wouldn't even be surprised if Morgan had any part in this. Somehow her problems usually came down to him anyway, or to the other Slytherins.

"I do believe he does, knowingly or not." Snape mused as he rounded the table and made for the door. "No matter what I believe, I shall pay him a visit right in this instant."

"Wait!" Robin blurted out yet again before her rational mind had a say. Maybe the tiredness was catching up with her at last, no matter if she could force her body to stay awake or not. But a tired mind meant a slow filter between thought and speech, and Robin struggled for a decent way to cover up the fact that she didn't want him to leave her alone. Not even in the safety of the lab. Seems like not all fear had left her mind after all. "Uh, it's… it's roughly four o'clock in the morning! I couldn't imagine Morgan to be awake."

"He most likely isn't, but that doesn't mean I cannot wake him up." It sounded way too simple put like that, unfortunately. "I want this issue to be solved as soon as possible and Morgan is a good point to start."

"Isn't it a bit… weird to come to him with some spells in the middle of the night to find out if they originated from him?"

"Is it? I am merely consulting the school's defense against the dark arts professor in the urgent matter of protecting the students from the dark magic that is inherent in these spells we discovered. This is important school business, and that makes it perfectly reasonable to find him at this time." He explained, and Robin found herself surprised that he bothered to explain his reasons to her at all when he had so often before made a point in not having to explain himself to her, or anyone else for that matter.

"Perfectly reasonable indeed." Robin sighed more defeatedly than intended, but quickly got a gasp of herself again. She didn't want to be alone right now, while they still hadn't answered all of the important questions. While she didn't know who had cursed her just to see her suffering. But she also knew that her only chance at finding out was for Snape to go question Morgan now. "Uh, what would you like me to do in the meanwhile? I… can leave, if you want, or-..."

"You should stay here for now, until the issue is solved. I will lock the door with an additional charm that should prevent anyone but you and me from entering the laboratory. Try to rest." Now, that was more a suggestion than an order for once, and Robin nodded compliantly. Before Snape finally closed the door behind himself however, he turned to Robin once more. "There are ingredients in this room that in sum cost more than the entire castle. You can believe me when I say you are perfectly safe in here with them. But I should not be gone for long either way." With that the door was closed, the room silent and Robin on her own.

… … …

After a moment of listening to the silence, Robin moved from the table back towards the fireplace. It wasn't all too cold in the small room, usually, but the warmth of the fire still made her feel more comfortable, especially now that she was far from appropriately clad and far from having sufficient energy to keep herself warm.

At least she already felt a whole lot better on the inside than she had a good while ago. Still scared, yes, and anxious as well, but not terrified out of her mind. Not like crying, not like running. That was a step into the right direction, and one she believed she had only been able to make after the threat had become tangible to her. It was far easier to deal with a person who possesses evil but mediocre magic skills than with a mysterious, allconsuming dark force that was ineffable in its extent and threat.

"Oh, Miss Mitchell!" A small, squeaky voice made Robin yelp nonetheless as it suddenly came out of nowhere, right next to her.

"Buttercup! Bloody hell, you scared me…" Robin said as she took deep breaths to calm her heart back down. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I apologise, Miss, I am terribly sorry!" The house elf looked to her feet in shame and Robin immediately felt bad for being so harsh to her in her surprise.

"It's alright, don't feel bad about it please. I'm just… jumpy tonight." Robin sighed and tried to somewhat smile at the elf. None of this was her fault after all. "Why are you here?"

"To bring you whatever you would like, Miss." Buttercup answered brightly. "From the kitchens or any other place."

Robin closed her eyes for a brief second and took one more deep breath, then had to smile for real. "Did Professor Snape send you here?"

"Yes, but he told me not to tell you that, only to bring you whatever you request. So what would you like, Miss?" Buttercup smiled happily, and Robin had to smirk at the clueless innocence of the young servant as well as Snape's attempt to conceal his any and every act of kindness. He might have gotten better at accepting Robin's kind gestures, but he definitely wasn't anywhere near accepting his own. Oh well, an issue for another point in time.

"I would like you to bring me three things from my room, if that's possible?" Robin inquired, and Buttercup nodded immediately.

"Yes, yes! Anything from anywhere, Miss!"

"Good… could you please get me my wand from my nightstand, the old leather backpack from next to my bed, and the black lace-up boots with the yellow stitching from under my bed?" Robin said a little slower than normal, not in a condescending way, but to make sure the elf could memorize it without a haste. No need to rush the poor girl.

"Certainly, Miss. I will be back in a moment." And with that she was gone, leaving Robin alone in the room again. This certainly was a spontaneous development of things, Buttercup showing up here, but not at all unappreciated… Robin couldn't wait to get her hands on her most precious belongings. Everything material that she needed and valued was in that backpack, except for her wand and her favorite pair of shoes. And if Buttercup found those as well, Robin could very well live without ever setting foot into her room again. She would have to live in her pajamas, but she would live indeed.

"Please don't startle again, Miss…" Came the small voice, a mere whisper, from Robin's left after a few minutes, and Robin felt touched that the elf actually made an effort not to scare her again.

"All good, I'm fine." She replied and immediately went to help the completely over-packed Buttercup put her belongings down.

"I brought everything you requested, Miss!" The elf said, still sounding overjoyed to be helping Robin out. "Your instructions were very helpful, thank you for your efforts."

"That wasn't an effort at all! It is the least I can do to make it easier for you." Robin tried to explain to her, but already knew that the elf wouldn't listen to that. "I'm very thankful for your effort to bring me my belongings."

"It was my privilege to help you. Would you like anything else?"

"Say, how did my room look?" Robin asked, coming to think back to the puddles of blood she had seen. "Anything… unusual?"

"Your room looked perfectly ordinary, Miss. Very clean for one of the students' rooms."

"And what about my roommates?"

"All four of them are sleeping, and one was snoring. And there was a cat on your bed." Buttercup stated positively, seemingly delighted about being able to give such a detailed report.

"How curious…" Robin mused to herself, but before she could dwell on it, Buttercup interrupted her thoughts.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss?"

"I would like for you to accept another piece of the muggle candy I have given to you before. You liked it, didn't you?"

"Yes, Miss, I did like it. But you are too kind to me, I cannot accept any more-..."

"You would make me very happy if you could accept it." Robin argued innocently, even though she knew she was tricking the poor girl. But it was for her own good. "It would make me happy if I could make you happy with that candy."

"If it makes you happy, Miss… It makes me happy." She gave in with a sheepish smile, and Robin grabbed her wand and her backpack and summoned a Twirl with a simple accio out of the bag's depths to give it to the house elf.

"Here you go… I hope you enjoy it as much as I do."

"Thank you, Miss. You really are beyond kind. Us house elves don't receive gifts often, it really is special to be given something."

"Well, you could always take this candy back to the kitchens and multiply it. Then everyone of you can have a piece, as a gift." Robin suggested in a careful friendliness, and in the hopes that Buttercup would actually enjoy doing that. It really was difficult sometimes to get an honest opinion out of a house elf. Almost as hard as getting an honest opinion out of Snape, only in the exact opposite way.

"Would you like for me to do that?"

"Yes." Robin replied after a moment of thinking. "Tell them Robin and Professor Snape say thank you for the occasional chocolate cake, and the occasional help."

The elf giggled at Robin's comment and clutched the candy to her chest like it was the most precious item she had ever held. "Certainly, Miss. Would you like me to bring you anything else?"

"No. Thank you, Buttercup."

"You are most welcome, Miss."

"Actually, I would like for you to stop calling me 'Miss'... Just Robin is fine."

"Certainly, Miss Robin." Buttercup smiled brightly at Robin, who couldn't help smiling in return at the incorrigible ways of the house elves. Well, if it made her happy…

"Goodnight. Enjoy the candy." Robin said after a moment of silence, and the young elf gave her a small wave before disappearing again, leaving Robin alone with her newly regained belongings.

Sighing in relief, Robin took quick inventory of her backpack, then inspected her wand for any blemishes that weren't supposed to be there and finally put on the socks she'd stuffed into her boots the previous evening and then the shoes themselves. Funny how she had never before truly appreciated the luxury of having shoes… or clothing in general.

Then she tried to find the black jumper she was sure to have put into her backpack, but as neither the accio nor a physical search brought any results, Robin gave up on it and simply scooted herself a bit closer to the fire again. Hadn't she even put a darn rain coat in there too, at some point? Then she remembered… she'd taken both the jacket and the jumper out last Saturday when she'd gotten caught in the rain during a walk, and then left both pieces hanging over her chair to dry. In the frenzy of the whole nightmare thing, she had never had the mind to put them back into her bag though. Great… She would seriously need to upgrade her inventory once all of this was over. With all the space she had, she'd definitely pack at least two entire changes of clothes, some shoes and a blanket. But planning to do that in the future didn't help her now.

Yawning, Robin spun and twisted her wand between her fingers and simply gazed into the flames without any lasting string of thought. It must be nearing five o'clock… and she was dead tired. Maybe she should just close her eyes for a moment, only until Snape would return. If she couldn't think straight when he got back, she would be of absolutely no use to solving the issue at hand and that was the last thing she wanted. A few minutes of rest surely couldn't hurt anyone, right? She had her wand with her now, along with everything of value when it came to protecting herself. She was prepared now. And this probably was one of the safest places in the entire castle indeed, so nobody could get to her here… not even the nightmares that weren't nightmares. Nobody knew where she was, nobody could curse her. She was going to be alright. He had promised it.

With a silent sigh, Robin moved over to the nearest wall to lean against the side of the shelf, but it was too far away from the fire, too cold for her to be comfortable, and thus she admitted her defeated to circumstance and simply curled into a ball directly in front of the flames while using her backpack as a pillow. After everything that had happened tonight, this didn't even seem inappropriate anymore, and honestly, she also couldn't care less. She would pass out soon anyway, so she might as well lay down first. Indeed, before she could think of any reason not to, she had already succumbed to exhaustion.

______________________________

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[epochofbelief]

Breath Control Chapter Two

here’s chapter two... unfortunately had to repost these first three chapters bc Tumblr deleted them or something!! 

TWO

“Feyre. Have you done any work for the past hour we have been sitting here?” 

Elain’s voice barely managed to penetrate my thoughts. I looked down at my textbook and shook my head. I had very bad cases of a hangover and a sour stomach. And embarrassment. And a broken heart. 

Thriving.

“Will you please just talk to me?” 

I’d met Elain at the library an hour ago, both of us planning to get some serious homework done before the week got started. I’d managed to tell Elain a little of what had happened last night but she hadn’t pried until now. 

“I don’t think I can talk about it.”

She huffed out a breath. “Feyre. If anyone knows what it feels like to have a broken heart, it would be me. So maybe I could help if you’d just talk to me.”

That’s right. Elain’s ex-boyfriend, Grayson, had broken up with her unexpectedly over the summer. Elain, positive he would be the man she married, and subsequently being denied admissions to the nursing schools she was trying to get into for grad school, had been in bad shape for a couple of months. I wasn’t sure if she was really okay now, or if she was just better at hiding it. She’d attended Mortal University for her undergraduate degree and had wanted to stay there for her masters--and hadn’t gotten in. Luckily she’d applied to Prythian’s school and had been accepted, but it wasn’t where she had wanted to end up at all. Away from her friends and our father, she’d started nursing school at the same time I’d started my sophomore year and I was pretty sure I was her only friend. 

Looked like she was my only friend, too. 

I sighed. Then explained. Tamlin and Ianthe all over each other. My public humiliation. And Rhys, unexpectedly driving me home and taking care of me, which was probably the most unexplainable part of the entire night. I hated it, but Tamlin’s behavior had hurt me but not surprised me. I’d barely said two words to Rhys the entire time I’d been at Prythian. We had a big swim team, about sixty people strong. Rhys and his friends--Cassian, Amren, Azriel, and Mor--were all in the middle distance group. Tamlin and Ianthe were sprinters. I swam distance, for the most part. The different training groups and large numbers made it difficult to bond with every single team member, so I didn’t know Rhys or his group at all. 

“Are you talking about Rhysand Night? That boy is hot.”

I did a double-take. That was a very brazen statement coming from Elain. “When have you ever even seen him?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been to your swim meets, you know. It’s easy to tell who has the best body and face from the stands.”

I groaned. “He saw me puke, Elain! I drunkenly poured my heart out to him. He must think I’m some kind of idiot. And now I am friendless on the team. Friendless. Especially after Rhys tells all his friends how pathetic I am.” I leaned over and put my face on my textbook. “I should quit now and cut my losses.”

Elain whacked me on the arm. “You most certainly will not quit! That beautiful boy was just--”

“Feyre?” 

I stilled. If I hadn’t recognized that voice last night, I definitely did now. Positive my cheeks were a flaming red, I slowly sat up. 

“Hey, Rhys,” I said meekly, my hand coming up in a very awkward wave. I shoved it back down.

“You ladies talking about beautiful boys? Surely no one around here, right?” He asked smoothly, folding his arms and leaning against a bookshelf.

Thank God Elain blushed for me. “Nobody you’d know.” 

He raised his brows and I prayed he hadn’t heard anything else. “Hey, I was going to text you. . . Then I realized I didn’t have your number. You left your wallet in my car last night… I didn’t find it until this morning. It’s in my backpack. I can go grab it and bring it to you.” 

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t even realized it was gone. “No, no, I’ll come with you. You don’t have to make another trip.” And ignoring his protests I jumped up and took off through the shelves. For some reason, I didn’t want him anywhere near Elain when she was casually throwing about the word “beautiful.” I scoffed. He wasn’t that attractive.

I was halfway through the stacks when I realized I didn’t actually know where I was going. “Uh…” 

“All my friends are over there. Are you sure you don’t want me to just grab it for you and bring it to you here?” 

I stopped in my tracks. I had the feeling he knew I wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone right now. A mood I had been in for the past few months, but. . . I blew out a breath.  “Um. Yeah. Thank you.”

He squeezed past me, and for a moment I found myself so close to him I could feel his body heat as he turned and sidestepped through the narrow space between me and the shelves. I could have sworn he was holding his breath as he passed, and I had to crane my neck to see his face. Our eyes met. I shivered.

Then he was gone. I blew out another breath and slumped against the shelf behind me. What was wrong with me? I’d been broken up with Tamlin for less than twenty-four hours and I was already noticing other guys. Disgusted with myself, I stared at the titles across from me. 

Rhys was back in less than a minute, my wallet in his outstretched hand. I took it from him, taking extra care not to brush his hand with mine. “Thanks.” 

I made to turn around and return to the safety of Elain’s aura when he reached out and brushed my shoulder. “Are you doing okay? You know, after everything?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Rhys. You already made sure I got home okay.”

He crossed his arms. “Yeah but I’d kind of be an asshole if I didn’t at least check in. Now tell me. Are you okay?”

His gaze didn’t falter from mine as he looked at me. His gorgeous face was serious. He was really asking. He wanted a genuine answer. Good or bad, he wanted to know. 

“No.” 

And when I turned around, he let me go.

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

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Elain and I spent six hours in the library and I skipped out on the girls’ team dinner, claiming I had homework. I spent the evening locked in my room, dreading the inevitable moment when I ran into Ianthe, who was, after all, my roommate. Bitch, I muttered under my breath. 

It was eight o’clock and I had no plans for the rest of my evening, so I changed into my pajamas and flopped on the bed. Fully prepared to spend the night binging a TV show, I retrieved ice cream from my fridge and got under the covers. An hour into The Witcher, I got a text.

Rhysand Night: You’re going to practice in the morning, right?

I frowned. He was clearly texting the wrong person. And how did he have my number?

I opened the text and discovered that he had texted his phone from mine last night… 

Me: I was planning on it

Rhysand Night: Just checking. I know you may not feel like going right now, but I don’t want to see you getting in trouble

Being a part of a college level swim team meant twenty hours of training a week. Practice at 5:30 in the morning most weekdays and again in the afternoon. I didn’t know why Rhys felt the need to check on me--missing practice meant getting chewed out by the head coach. If you missed more than one practice, you got suspended. No way would I blatantly take that risk.

Me: I’ll be there

I shut off my phone and went to bed.

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

I barely dragged myself out of practice the next morning. And the morning after that. And the morning after that. For two weeks after Halloween, I ignored Ianthe as much as humanly possible. She made no attempt to apologize. Tamlin had even kept his distance. I showed up at practice, swam (albeit poorly), went to class, went to practice, and went home. I was reaching new levels of anti-social. Elain was busy with study groups and classes and Nesta wouldn’t be in town for another week. She worked as a flight attendant and split her time between our father's and her and Elain’s shared place.

I just couldn’t bring myself to do anything besides school and swim. The fact that I had wasted a year of my life on Tamlin Spring was tearing me apart from the inside out. And breaking up with him had made me realize all of the things I had wasted my life on for the past year. Why was I pursuing a degree in exercise science when I loved literature and art? Why had I put all my effort into one friendship with a bitch who had stabbed me in the back at her first opportunity? I had no other friends on the swim team I had chosen during my recruitment process, thinking it was the “place for me.” I was in the wrong place, had chosen the wrong people, and was aiming for the wrong future. The worst part was, it was all my fault. My blindness had seeped into every part of my life and I barely knew who I was without my overbearing boyfriend and the friend who had steered me around for my entire college experience.

On Thursday morning, over a week and a half after the Halloween party, Coach King texted me to meet him in his office after my classes for the day were over. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. An impromptu meeting with Coach King usually implied a fate worse than death. At this point, I deserved anything he had to say to me. My grades had fallen in the past few weeks (I had failed a test on Monday and two quizzes since then) and my training had continued to worsen. 

My suspicions proved correct when I arrived for the meeting and Coach King started explaining the reason he had called me to his office. He mentioned my grades and my training and the fact that I had barely spoken or shown any signs of life at practice for days. He wanted to know what was wrong. He wanted to know what he could do to help. But mostly, he wanted me to fix it--fast. Then he told me he was moving me to the middle distance training group.

“Wh--what?!”

Moving training groups in the middle of the year was unheard of. Potentially season-ending. If he was moving me from distance to middle distance, he was most likely saying I wouldn’t travel or compete for the rest of the year. It took time to adjust to a new training regimen. 

I tried to protest, but he told me he had made his decision and felt I was more cut out for middle distance events anyway. The adjustment wouldn’t be too drastic. And he wanted me to take the rest of the week off and start fresh on Monday. 

That’s the thing about college athletics. Coaches can be great coaches. They can get a team from nothing to something quick if they know what they’re doing. Some can even do that and help their swimmers develop as people, too. But for most coaches, when it came down to it, weakness was weakness, no matter the reason. And I was currently the weakest link on the team. Coach King had to do something about it and this was apparently the best he could come up with.

I mumbled something to Coach King about seeing the sports psychologist and trying harder at the new practices. I felt certain he had vague ideas about the couples on the team, so he probably knew about my Tamlin situation. I didn’t feel the need to mention it to him. I left his office and made it all the way down the five flights of stairs and out the back entrance into the cloudy, chilly afternoon before I allowed myself to cry. 

I had messed up my life so royally that I had no idea how to fix it. I wouldn’t be surprised if Coach King kicked me off the team in a matter of weeks. We had a travel meet coming up, and I felt certain that I wouldn’t make the cut. I’d be stuck at Prythian U while all my teammates that I had developed no relationship with would travel. 

Head down, I was rushing to my car as my tears fell when I ran headfirst into a warm body. 

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry--”

“We have to stop meeting like--Feyre.”

“Rhys.” I kept my eyes on the crack in the parking lot pavement at my feet.

“Are you okay?”

“You’ve got to stop asking me that question! I know you don’t care! Let me deal with this by myself.” I made to push past him but he followed me to my car anyways. 

“Feyre. I do care. I’m your teammate. And it doesn’t seem like anybody else on the team is lining up to ask how you’re doing, so I’m here to do that. I want to help you.” Something in his voice made me pause, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Just fuck off. You don’t even know me.”

He threw up his hands as I struggled to unlock my extremely old Volkswagen with the key fob. My tears and anger were making it very hard to open the door.

“For God’s sake, Feyre! Would you stop being so damn difficult and let someone help you? You’ve been a ghost at practice these past few weeks and Coach King just told me you were moving to my training group.”

I unlocked my car and wrenched it open. “Leave me alone.”

Rhys grabbed my car door and refused to let me close it. I glared at his stupid, gorgeous, violet eyes. “I bet you like this. An excuse to just give up, get yourself kicked off the team. Much easier than having to face Tamlin at practice everyday, much easier than having to make new friends.”

I narrowed my eyes. And slapped him across the face. 

He touched his cheek. A spark of satisfaction lit up against the confusion and depression that lived within my gut. I had surprised him. And shut him up.

“Wow. I guess I deserved that. But you know I’m right.”

And the fact was, I did. He had said out loud what was going on deep inside me, what I was dangerously close to giving in to. I was shocked someone I barely knew could even begin to fathom what was going on so deep within my brain that I had yet to admit it to myself.  But most of all, I was angry. Angry that this boy thought he had some sort of right to me pouring out my heart to him or at the very least accepting his help. He wasn’t a captain. He had no jurisdiction over me. 

“Fine! You’re right! Are you happy now?” I wanted to wipe the smug look off his face. I cast around for something, anything to make him understand even a little bit what I was feeling. “Any other accusations you want to spit at me to make me hate myself more than I already do?” 

His smirk fell. Satisfied once more, I thought he’d let me leave, but he held fast to my car door. 

“Tell me what to do to help you. Tell me and I’ll do it.”

I blinked. I thought he would yell at me some more. I hadn’t expected such an open offer, more raw and entreating than anything Tamlin had ever said to me.

 I hated that my year with Tamlin had made me think that a guy treating me nicely was a rare commodity. I deserved to be treated with more kindness than Tamlin had ever bestowed on me. I knew that, and yet--I didn’t know how to accept that kindness anymore. I was now so deeply confused about myself, my team, and Rhys that I merely stood there, staring at Rhys without really seeing him, and contemplating the nature of my existence for the past year. 

Rhys, appearing to come to the conclusion that I had nothing to say in response to his entreaty, cleared his throat. “I know there’s a team party this weekend, as per usual. But my friends and I are going to hang out ourselves and stay sober since we have a meet the weekend after. I want you to come. In fact, I insist.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he kept talking. “If you don’t show, I’ll tell the captains you haven’t actually been sick or studying during the past two team meetings you’ve missed. I’ll text you the address. Come. Please. We won’t talk about Tamlin or anything difficult. Plus, you should probably meet your new training group.”

That was right. Rhys and all his friends were in the middle distance group. I’d be subject to all of them starting Monday. 

And because I couldn’t think of any excuse, because I couldn’t have the captains knowing the concrete truth about my absences, because maybe somewhere deep within me desired help, I agreed.

[kerikaaria]

If I Never Met You: Chapter 16

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader)

Genre: (PG13) Fluff, angst

WC: 4.6k

Warnings: None

Series Masterlist

Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

No More Dream blared in the spacious room, the boys hard at work dancing for their music video. We were at the tail end of the third day of shooting, and despite how exhausted they were from the long days they were still pouring all their best efforts into the shoot.

As soon as the director called a cut, the seven of them took the chance to relax the best they could, letting their tiredness show while there were no cameras filming. Stylists and makeup artists walked over to them to make sure they still looked perfect for the next take.

It was tough having to watch this. Three days of minimal sleep, almost non-stop up and go to get the video shot in the shortest amount of time possible. I wanted to tell whoever was in charge that the boys (and the staff, having to stay up for just as long) needed more time to break and rest. But this was the nature of this industry and no matter how I felt I wasn’t going to be able to convince them to do any differently.

The first two days, Sejin stayed here with me the whole time until I was comfortable being on my own. Today, he had other work he needed to do so I was by myself. I was feeling really drowsy by this point. I got even less sleep than the boys because I had to make sure I was up and ready before them to get them here on time. To be honest, there wasn’t much to “manage” at something like this, but it was still part of my job to make sure the whole thing was going smoothly, and to be here just in case the boys needed me for anything.

After one more take of the whole dance routine, the director announced that we were done. Relief washed over me, and I pried myself out of my chair to go to the boys.

“You guys did amazing,” I said as I approached them. “Let’s hurry up and get you guys ready so we can all go home.”

I felt a heavy weight on my back and turned to see Namjoon using me as a support for his exhausted body.

“Joonie, are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he responded. His voice sounded weak, contradicting his words. “The quicker I can sit down, the better.”

“Well, let’s go then,” I chuckled as I pulled him to my side and supported him with my arm.

The boys got changed out of their wardrobe and their makeup removed quickly, the staff not taking their time since they wanted to get home as well. The eight of us piled into the company van and I drove back. I dropped them off at the apartment before returning the vehicle to the company.

As soon as I parked the van, no longer needing to be alert to traffic, my body seemed to want to just fall asleep right there instead of making its way home. I started to close my eyes before I heard one of the van doors slide open, followed by the driver-side door. I looked to see a tired-smiled Hoseok standing there.

“Why didn’t you get off when I stopped at the dorm, Hobi?” I asked as I lazily unbuckled my seatbelt and gathered my belongings. I was a little upset with myself for not noticing he didn’t exit the van with the rest of the members.

“I wanted to make sure you got back home safely,” he responded as he put a face mask on.

“I’ll be fine,” I managed to squeeze out through a yawn.

He chuckled. “Yeah, sure. You looked like you were about to fall asleep in the car.”

We started walking our way back home. My exhaustion made it difficult to speak, but I forced myself to so that I didn’t fall asleep. “You guys really did well the past three days.”

“Thanks, noona,” Hoseok replied. “I hope the video turns out well.”

“Of course it will,” I turned to smile at him. While distracted, my shuffling feet tripped over something on the sidewalk.

Hoseok was quick to catch me so I didn’t fall. “Are you okay?” he asked as he turned to face me.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just tripped.” I offered him a tired smile.

We resumed walking, but he kept his arm wrapped around me for support. We had a flight of stairs to climb once we got into our building, and each step I took felt like another 10 pounds had been added to my weight. At that point, I was really thankful for Hobi’s support.

When we arrived at our doors he watched me walk through mine first, wishing me a good night and telling me to get plenty of rest before he entered his own home.

I had fallen asleep so easily that I almost didn’t even remember going to bed. Needless to say, I slept really well and was ready to work the next day. Sejin and I reviewed the finalized pictures from the photoshoot done just prior to the music video shooting, and I couldn’t stop my mouth from hanging open, occasionally making a sound of amazement.

“What’s that for?” Sejin asked.

“What’s what for, oppa?” I responded, finding it difficult to peel my eyes away from the pictures on the screen.

“Your reaction to the pictures,” he responded, chuckling.

“Oh. I don’t know, they just look so…” I paused, trying to find the right word but being unsuccessful. “They look really good,” I settled on, even though that phrase didn’t do them justice.

Sejin let out a hearty laugh. “You’re not blind, you’ve always known they’re good looking boys, haven’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Of course I have. But these pictures just captured their looks so well! Although, I still don’t get why they asked Namjoon to go with this kind of hairstyle. He doesn’t look bad, but I just think he looks so much better with how his hair naturally is.”

“It fits the hip-hop style image,” Sejin responded with a shrug. “I’m not too fond of it either, but we’re not the stylists.”

“Speaking of that, can’t we still ask for some of the styles for We Are Bulletproof Pt. 2 to be up for debate? Some of those outfit choices are…”

“Going with the hip-hop style image,” Sejin repeated.

“I know, I know. But, can’t they take it from me that they’re just over-the-top and cheesy? Like, why on earth should Jungkook be wearing an American football helmet and padding?”

“You already tried talking to them about that, (Y/n). Did you forget?”

“No, I didn’t forget… I just hope I can still change their minds.”

“Look, I get it. I do. I’m not fond of it, either. But we need to make sure they stand out and by doing things a little extra, even if it may be cheesy, it’ll help make that happen. Just roll with it, okay?”

I groaned and threw my head back. “Okay, okay…”

After we finished reviewing the pictures, I went to the office café to eat lunch before we got too busy with meetings for me to have time to eat. I normally brought food from home for lunch but I didn’t give myself any time this morning, preferring to get as much sleep as I could to recover from the past few days.

I sat down at an empty table and put in my headphones to listen to the boys’ debut album as I ate my food. The music wasn’t a style I typically listened to, but it was my boys so of course I wanted to listen to them. And to be honest, the more I listened to it, the more I started to like the songs.

As I was finishing my meal, I saw someone sit down across from me. I pulled one of my earbuds out as I looked up to see who it was. I was glad I already finished my food because the sight would have made me lose my appetite.

“Hello, (Y/n)-shi,” the woman said.

“Hello,” I greeted back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t actually know your name.” I tried my best to not sound rude.

“Oh, I guess I’ve never properly introduced myself,” she replied. “My name is Son Haewon.”

“Hello, Haewon-shi,” I responded. Finally, I had a name to match the face of the woman who’s been giving me way too much grief. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, please. You can call me unnie,” she said with a smile I could tell was forced and fake.

Not wanting to start an argument, I decided to comply with her request even though using the word with her felt like ice on my tongue. “Okay, unnie. Is there something you needed?”

“Oh, nothing really,” she said, placing her chin in the palm of her hand. “I just wanted to chat. I feel like we started off on the wrong foot.”

Yeah, doing nothing but ridiculing me and giving me a large second-degree burn would kind of do that.

“How did the music video shooting go?” Haewon asked.

I was kind of taken aback by the attempt at small talk. Part of me wondered if she actually did want to try to make amends, but I primarily remained skeptical. “It went well. It was tiring for everyone, but the boys pushed through really well and I think it’ll turn out great.”

“That’s good to hear.” She paused for a moment, crossing her legs under the table. “By the way, I heard an interesting story the other day.”

“Oh?” I pretended to be interested.

“I heard that BTS almost lost their debut date.”

Where on earth did she hear that? Only the people who absolutely needed to know were told. As far as I knew, she was not one of the employees needing to be in on the loop of what was going on.

I pretended to not be sure of what she was talking about. “Where did you hear that?” I asked innocently. My suspicions that she was here to cause me more trouble were rising.

“From one of my coworkers. They said it was why Sejin oppa had been even more swamped with work up until recently.”

Yeah, because I totally wasn’t as well. “I’m not sure why you or your coworker were told that, but they are most definitely debuting on June 13th as planned,” I responded firmly. I didn’t like to make a habit of lying, especially if I was worried if it could come back to bite me in the butt, so I didn’t want to confirm nor deny that the date was ever taken away in the first place.

“Well, that’s good. But you did lose the date for a little while, did you not?” She seemed like she tried to hold back the smirk that inevitably flashed on her face.

This little… What business was it of hers? I really wanted to get out of this situation, but I wasn’t sure how. If I got up to walk away it’d be just as bad as giving her all the answers she wanted, and she would probably just follow me and continue to nag me anyway.

“It doesn’t matter because the date is set in stone and nothing is changing,” I replied, hoping that would put the issue to rest.

“You know, I figured that if he hired someone like you,” she emphasized the word, staring me up and down, “it must have been for a good reason. But seeing as BTS’ debut was almost ruined because of you, I’m not so sure.”

I couldn’t stop a flabbergasted laugh from escaping my lips. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms.

“Oh, I don’t?” she responded. “Weren’t you the one who got the debut set up, and the one in contact with the agent from the broadcasting company? They called you to tell you it was revoked, didn’t they? How does it have nothing to do with you?”

How could someone be such a complete witch? She talked bad about me both behind my back and to my face. I’d be surprised if she had any friends, or real friends at the very least.

“What that company decided to do didn’t have anything to do with me, Haewon-shi,” I said. “And to be frank, what happened has absolutely nothing to do with you. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time rather than go poking around someone else’s business.”

She scoffed at me. “I’m your sunbae in this company and I’m also older than you. Just because you’re a foreigner” – she seemed to almost spit out the word – “doesn’t excuse you not using proper manners. You’re supposed to show me respect.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I’m fully aware of the honorifics and how important age and seniority is to Korean culture. But why would I show respect to someone who’s spewing out nonsense and has always been nothing but fully disrespectful and rude to me? Not to mention, that coffee gave me a second-degree burn that took weeks to heal so I’m definitely not thankful for that, either.”

“You’re such a rude, cheeky little brat, aren’t you?” Haewon pushed herself out of her seat as she glared at me.

“What’s going on here?” someone nearby asked.

I turned around to see Hoseok, and I felt relieved knowing my friend was there with me.

Haewon instantly changed, putting on a fake smile and let out a breathy laugh. “Nothing, we were just getting to know each other a little better. Weren’t we, (Y/n)-shi?” she tried her best to sound nice, but was so obviously fake.

I didn’t respond and just kept steady eye contact with her.

“That’s not what it looks like to me,” Hobi said as he walked up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

Haewon’s gaze moved to his hand, her smile fading from her lips.

“Is everything okay, noona?” Hoseok asked me with concern.

Haewon didn’t give me a chance to respond. “Did you know about how you almost lost your debut date?” she asked, emotionless.

“Haewon-shi,” I said as I stood up. “That wouldn’t be your business to tell them.”

“So they don’t?” she raised an eyebrow as she smirked at me. “They don’t know how they were almost ruined before they even started because of you?”

“We do know that we almost lost our debut date, actually,” Hoseok responded in my defense. His tone was firm and assertive, but not angry. “But we saw noona working her absolute hardest to do everything she possibly could to get us back on track, and it was actually because of her that we got the date back.”

Haewon’s smile disappeared once again, taken aback by how quickly and straightforward he responded.

Hoseok didn’t falter even a bit as he continued. “Not only that, but ever since she started working here, she’s always done everything she possibly can for us. You don’t know anything about how hard she works, you just don’t like her because you’re judging her age and the fact that she’s not Korean. But she’s one of the most honest, hardworking, caring, and amazing people I’ve ever known.”

His voice wasn’t angry; he was the type of person that it took a lot to make him angry. The only emotions I could feel from his words were ones of tenderness and care for me. If anything, the way he spoke felt stronger and more meaningful than words said in anger. “She doesn’t deserve you harassing her like this. We’re all so tired of hearing people like you giving talking badly about her and giving her a hard time when you know nothing about her.”

He grabbed my hand and gently squeezed it as he directed me towards the door.

“I wonder what kind of relationship you must have with them (Y/n)-shi, for them to always be protecting you like that,” Haewon called after us.

Hobi and I both stopped dead in our tracks, and I slowly turned around. “Excuse you?”

“I think you heard me,” Haewon said. I wanted to wipe the smirk off of her face so badly. “What do you really do with the boys, (Y/n)-shi?”

“It’s called having good friends,” Hoseok said as he placed an arm around my shoulders to turn me back toward the exit. “Nothing more than that.”

We finally made it out of the room and Hoseok walked me back to my and Sejin’s office. I couldn’t help but feel affected by her again. Yeah, I stood my ground and talked back to her. But now that we left and my emotions were calming down, I couldn’t help but be shaken up when I processed her words – it was as though she always knew exactly what my insecurities were.

When we arrived at the office, Sejin was not there so it was just the two of us for the moment.

I sat in a chair, placing my elbows on my knees and covering my face with my hands.

“Are you okay, noona?” Hoseok asked, placing a gentle hand on my head.

“I can’t believe she would suggest that there’s something other than friendship between me and you guys,” I said, trying to focus on that rather than my insecurities. “That’s so appalling that she would assume that.”

“She was just trying to get under your skin, that’s all,” Hobi comforted. His voice sounded so calm and soothing.

“I can deal with her saying anything else to me,” I tried to convince myself as I lowered my hands, “but her trying to bring you guys into it just crosses the line,”

“It’s okay, noona. Anything she said was meaningless and you know that.”

“I know.” I sat back in the chair and sighed. “I just don’t get why she won’t leave me alone. You’d think we were teenagers in school with the way she just keeps…”

“Bullying you?” Hoseok finished for me.

“Yeah, I guess it is bullying.”

“You guess?” Hoseok seemed bewildered that I’d say that. “What else does she have to do for you to see it as bullying?”

“It’s not that, it’s just… It’s weird to use that word when we’re talking about a grown woman and not a teenager.”

“I guess some people just don’t grow up.”

“She said what?!” Jin exclaimed in shock.

After returning back to the dorm, Hoseok decided to tell the rest of the group about what happened at the cafeteria. Part of him had wanted to wait for (Y/n) to tell them together, but he also didn’t want to make her think of it more than she had to. He could tell that whatever that woman said had bothered her more than she let him know.

Yoongi and Taehyung had pointed out the woman to the rest of the members when they would come across her at the company, so even though none of them knew her name – until today – they all knew her face. That was why Hoseok knew he had to intervene when he saw their noona being confronted by her in the cafeteria.

“Wow, she’s got some nerve to make that kind of assumption out in the open like that,” Namjoon said.

“That’s absurd,” Yoongi added. “How can her brain automatically think that’s what’s going on between us, just because we’re being good friends to her?”

“Noona really needs to tell Bang about this,” Taehyung said. “There’s no denying that she’s full on bullying her at this point.”

“I tried telling her that,” Hoseok said. “But she said she still doesn’t want to. She’s sure that she’ll leave her alone from now on, for whatever reason.”

The group was obviously frustrated when Hoseok told them that.

“One of the really wonderful traits about her is that she likes to see and hope for the best in people,” Jin said. “But that’s a fault of hers, too. With this Haewon woman, it’s severely misplaced hope. If anything, she’s showing that she’ll do anything in order to keep bullying her.”

“I know,” Hoseok said with a frown.

A ringtone sounded from Hobi’s phone, and he looked to see it was Sejin calling.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hey, Hoseok-ah,” Sejin replied. “Sorry for asking, but Bang PD-nim is requesting if you could come to the company. He said he needs to speak with you.”

“Oh, okay.” He was surprised at the request. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Who was that, hyung?” Jimin asked as Hoseok hung up the call.

“Sejin hyung said Bang needs to speak to me.” He got up to get ready to leave. “Maybe noona did decide to talk to him after all?”

He got ready quickly and made his way to the company, glad it was a quick walk. When he got to Bang PD’s office, he was happy to see (Y/n) there as well. She turned to him as he opened the door and gave him a small smile.

“Hello, Bang PD-nim,” Hoseok greeted as he entered.

“Hello, Hoseok,” Bang responded.

“What’s going on?” Hobi asked as he took a seat next to his noona.

“The events of what happened in the cafeteria this afternoon were brought to my attention, so I needed to speak with the two of you regarding what happened,” the CEO explained.

Hoseok processed the sentence for a moment. “Wait, so it wasn’t noona who came to you about it?” He turned to see her response, and she shook her head. He suddenly felt sick, worried what that woman could have said to try to get (Y/n) in trouble. “Noona didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Don’t worry, Hoseok,” Bang said. “I just needed to get your sides of the story. While there are cameras, there’s no audio so I didn’t know the nature of the conversation. I already got (Y/n)’s statement, so if you would please tell me about your side of the encounter, that would be appreciated.”

“Well, I had to stop by because I left something in the dance studio. On my way back, I walked past the cafeteria and heard noona’s voice,” Hoseok started. “It seemed like something was off, so I walked in to see that woman basically glaring at her and asked what was going on. I found out she was claiming that it was noona’s fault that we lost our debut date for a little while, so I defended her. After that, we walked away together.”

“There’s something else I need to ask,” Bang said. “The staff in question, other than saying that (Y/n) was harassing her, claimed something else as well.”

“Wait, it definitely wasn’t noona doing the harassing,” Hobi said. He couldn’t let her boss think for one second that she wasn’t the victim in this scenario.

“I believe you two, no need to worry. I was just stating what the original claim was. But the other thing she was sure to mention is that she believes there may be… well, she called it ‘inappropriate’ relations between (Y/n) and the members of BTS.”

“Oh my gosh, seriously?” (Y/n) frustratingly ran her hands through her hair. “I promise you, there’s absolutely nothing of that nature going on between us.”

“I also attest to that, Bang PD-nim,” Hoseok said, probably equally as frustrated at the claim as his noona. “As we were walking away, Haewon made a comment implying that she thought there was something more going on between noona and us because of how we keep defending her and helping her. I told her that we’re just being good friends and there was nothing more than that.”

Bang PD seemed to be in thought for a moment. “I believe you, of course. I didn’t believe for one second that (Y/n) would have any kind of non-platonic relationship with any of you without notifying me about it. But also, you make it sound like this wasn’t the first time something like this has happened, Hoseok.”

(Y/n) lowered her head, remaining silent. So Hobi spoke up for her. “It isn’t. She’s been bothering noona – or rather, bullying her – for a while now.”

(Y/n) looked rather uncomfortable as Hoseok admitted that for her, but he didn’t want this to remain hidden anymore. Especially now that Haewon has shown she’ll do anything to try to get her in trouble.

“(Y/n)-shi,” Bang said, turning his attention toward her, “is this true?”

Hoseok placed his hand in (Y/n)’s for support he knew she would need.

She sighed. “Yes, it is, PD-nim. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, and to be honest I didn’t even know her name until today.”

“What else has happened?” their boss asked.

When his noona hesitated again, Hobi decided to be her voice for her. “Back in December, Haewon had intentionally poured a hot cup of coffee on her in the hallway. She got a second-degree burn from it. Yoongi hyung was with her when it happened. And then in, I believe it was February, she tried to cause trouble when she saw noona with Taehyung in the main lobby but was unsuccessful because he defended her. And now, today happened.”

“And it’s not much,” (Y/n) started, “but my first encounter with her was when me and Sejin oppa were in a meeting and she did have a negative comment or two to say about me. She seemed to hold a grudge against me because that was when I had the idea about using social media and her idea from earlier that same meeting was rejected.”

“Has she made any comments to you about your ethnicity or anything like that?” PD-nim asked.

“Well, not directly,” she replied. “But in a way. She has mentioned my age or ethnicity as negative points when talking about me. And she did use the word ‘foreigner’ with me today, emphasizing it in a way that sounded really rude.”

Hoseok squeezed his eyes closed. They had all known that those things were a part of it, as he had stated while he was defending her today. But hearing his noona have to confirm it made his heart hurt.

“Okay, I think that’s plenty information for now,” Bang PD said. “I can’t really take action for the coffee incident since it was so long ago, but I’ll see if we still have the security footage for it to look at what happened. You’re not in trouble for anything that happened today, (Y/n), don’t worry. But I need you to promise me that if this woman does anything else, you tell me. Workplace bullying isn’t tolerated here, and I won’t let it continue. Do you understand?”

She slowly nodded. “Yes, Bang PD-nim. I understand.”

“Good,” he replied. “You two can go home now. I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

“Thank you, PD-nim,” Hoseok said with a bow. He waited for his noona to say goodbye before walking out of the room with her.

There was silence as they walked home together, but before entering their separate doors (Y/n) broke it. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Hobi.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, noona,” he replied as he gently pulled her into a hug. “You know we’re here for you whenever you need us.”

He felt her smile against his chest. “I just hope this is the last time we have to worry about her,” she said.

“I hope so too,” Hoseok replied. “I wouldn’t count on it, though. But of course you’ll have us with you. And next time, she’s not going to be getting away with it anymore.”

Series Masterlist

Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

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[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Forged Through Fire (6/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

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Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [AO3]

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Content warning for this chapter: Moderate blood and gore.

Edit: OK. So, I am an idiot and I got centuries and millennia confused. I am so sorry. Xerxes has been gone for around 500 years, as in canon. Not 50 years, as my stupid brain decided to write. 

I’ve edited it now. I’m so sorry for any confusion.

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Forged Through Fire

Six

“Do you think I made a mistake? I don’t think I did. I think that there’s been something there for a while and I knew that Roy wasn’t going to do anything about it. Maybe I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t had two glasses of wine. Scratch that. I definitely wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t had two glasses of wine. I would have thought about doing it, but I wouldn’t have actually done it. And I don’t think it was a mistake because he definitely liked it. But then I had to go and run away and make things all awkward afterwards when I realised just what I’d done. But at least it’ll be a talking point now. I mean, we’re going to have to talk about it at some point. What do you think?”

Riza looked down at Hayate, who appeared to be listening intently, his eyes fixed on her face as he panted calmly beside her.

“Romance must be so much easier in the dog world,” she said. “Or do you have this problem too?”

Hayate did not respond, and Riza sighed, bending down from her chair to scratch behind his ears.

“Well, what’s done is done. Maybe he won’t even come in tonight. He doesn’t come by every night. Although he did say he’d see me tomorrow last night.”

Riza had noticed that Roy seemed to be coming by the shop a lot more often in recent weeks; even if he didn’t go down into the speakeasy, he would come and say hello to her and pet Hayate. It was just another point in favour of there being something there that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it had been there before, and she just hadn’t fully come to terms with it being there. She’d always had some feelings towards Roy, but at the time she’d put them down to a schoolgirl crush. Reconnecting with him over the past couple of years had proved to her that it was definitely not just a crush. 

Although she had not yet admitted it to anyone other than Hayate, who would never rat her out, Riza had accepted that her feelings towards Roy went as deep as love. 

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs from the bar and turned to see who was coming out. She was surprised to find Madam Christmas there. Riza rarely ever saw her coming in and out of the place via the shop; she knew that there were other ways in and out of the bar, but she’d never pried into them. 

“Evening, Riza.”

“Good evening, Madam Christmas.”

“Keeping a lookout for Roy?”

Riza nodded, remembered that Madam Christmas had been there behind the bar when she had kissed him last night and shook her head, and then nodded again sheepishly under the weight of the other woman’s look.

“Is this where you say ‘if you break his heart I’ll kill you’?”

Madam Christmas scoffed. 

“It’s none of my business whether or not Roy gets his heart broken,” she said. “He’s a grown man, he should be able to handle that himself. I’m not going to be giving him any speeches on your behalf either. I leave it to you two to sort yourselves out. I did want to talk to you about Roy, though.”

“Should I be worried?”

“I don’t think so. I just want to get a clear picture in my head. I wouldn’t have survived in the business I’m in without being shrewd and without being able to read people. You’re more closed off than most, which I’ve always assumed was due to your upbringing. I’m not going to pry into that. At any rate, when you’re with Roy, you’re the happiest and the most open I’ve ever seen you.”

Riza nodded. “Yeah. I guess I am. I’ve always felt safe around Roy. Ever since I first trusted him with my back, I’ve always felt safe with him. In a way, I think that’s part of the reason why I came here. I wanted to keep him safe in the way that he’s always kept me safe.” She sighed. “Back when he was studying under my father, my father told him to keep me safe. I’ve always known that he wasn’t talking out of any kind of affection for me in that sense – he wanted Roy to keep me safe because keeping me safe would keep the array safe. Roy’s always known that too – well, he’s known it ever since he first saw the array and realised what my father really meant. But even so, Roy’s always kept me safe, in a way. He’s always been there whenever I needed him, and I want to do the same for him.”

She paused as Hayate bounced up onto her lap, looking for scratches from Madam Christmas. 

“At first maybe it was out of a need to repay him for all his kindness, but I don’t think it is anymore. It’s just because I want to.”

Madam Christmas smiled, absent-mindedly patting Hayate’s head. 

“That’s what I thought. Maybe if we can make Roy see that he’ll stop beating himself up.”

Riza raised an eyebrow. “I’m not even going to ask.”

“Roy’s a very forgiving person when it comes to everyone but himself. When it comes to you, there are a lot of things he blames himself for.”

“I know. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to tell him that it doesn’t matter, and I don’t see it like that.”

Madam Christmas snorted. “Boy’s as stubborn as a mule. He gets that from his father, and I don’t think the military’s helped. Still. You’ve got my blessing if you even wanted it in the first place. I’m going to have to stop collecting orphans and waifs and strays at some point. People will think I’m going soft.” She patted Hayate again. “Well, I might keep this particular waif and stray.”

Hayate just beamed at her.

“Anyway. Speak of the devil.” Madam Christmas nodded towards the shop door as she turned to go back downstairs. Roy was just outside, and he seemed to be going through something of a mental crisis on seeing his aunt talking to Riza. It took a good couple of minutes before he actually opened the door and came inside. 

“Should I be worried?” 

Riza shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Did she threaten to pickle you in a beer barrel if you broke my heart?”

“No, although that was my first thought when she came up too.”

“Right.” Roy came over to the counter. “So… How are you?”

He was addressing himself to Hayate rather than her, but Riza didn’t mind. Hayate certainly didn’t mind the excess of petting that he was getting this evening, lolling in her arms with his eyes closed as he received a belly rub from his favourite uncle. 

“I’m ok, thank you. It’s been a slow day. How about you? Anything weird and wonderful happening in the laboratories today?”

“No, although Falman’s still knee deep in the paperwork from yesterday. Coming to think of it, though, I haven’t seen Hughes at all today.”

“Is that a cause for concern?” 

“Not normally, and he usually only comes in once a week so I wouldn’t expect him in here tonight. It’s just after everything that he was saying yesterday… I think we’re all a bit on edge at the moment. There’s something definitely going on.” Roy shook himself, as if he was trying to shake all the disturbing thoughts out of his head. “Anyway… I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

Riza nodded. “Yes.”

“You kissed me.”

“Yes. I did. And you kissed me back.”

“Yes. I did.”

There was silence for a while. 

“So… What happens now?” Roy asked. “Do we…”

The shrill bark of the telephone on the counter cut him off, and Riza leaned across to answer it without dislodging Hayate, her brow furrowing. It was rare for the bookshop to get phone calls, probably because it didn’t do all that much service as an actual bookshop, and half the time the calls would cut directly through to the speakeasy anyway.

“Cannon Street Second-Hand Books, how can I help?”

“Riza? Thank God it’s you, is Roy around?”

“Hughes, is that you?”

Roy looked up sharply and came around the counter, grabbing the receiver from her but letting her lean in close to listen in with him.

“Hughes, what’s going on? Where are you?”

“I’m in the normal place; I think I might have been followed, look, I’ve found out some things that you need to know about what’s going on. I found out about Project Xerxes. I was right. I…”

Hughes trailed off, and Riza’s heart leapt to her mouth as the sounds became muffled. 

“Hughes? Hughes!” 

Her heart stopped altogether when she heard the gunshot down the line. 

“Hughes!”

There was no response.

“Hughes! Hughes, answer me!” Roy thrust the phone back at Riza, who dropped it onto the counter and turned Hayate off her lap to jump up and grab her pistols from the top drawer. Roy didn’t bat an eyelid, running towards the back room. “Who’s in downstairs?”

“Just Armstrong and Havoc.” 

He was already through the door and halfway to the cellar as Riza was loading up her ammunition, Hayate whimpering under the counter at the sudden confusion. She reached down and patted him gently. 

“I’m sorry, boy. Mommy has to go and rescue your other favourite uncle. He’s got himself caught up in something way over his head.” 

Hayate whined and sat down, front paws over his eyes. Riza wished she could do the same. She was just grabbing her coat as a thunder of running footsteps came up from the bar behind her and Roy raced out, followed by Armstrong, Havoc and Hohenheim bringing up the rear. 

At least they all seemed to know where they were going. 

Riza shoved her pistols into her coat pockets and high-tailed it after them. 

X

“Hughes, if you die on me now I’m going to kill you.” It was the same mantra that Roy had been panting out for the past ten minutes as he sprinted through the dark streets of Central, the others hot on his heels. 

No one had asked where they were going. No one had asked any questions at all. When he’d rushed down into the bar and hammered on the clinic door yelling that Hughes had been shot and they needed to do something Right The Hell Now, Armstrong and Havoc had got up and followed him without a word, and Hohenheim had left Trisha and run along with them. He was vaguely aware of Riza bringing up the rear, and whilst there was a large part of him that wished she hadn’t come out of fear of losing her as well as Hughes, the even greater part was grateful for the protection her guns would bring them should they need it. 

They were nearly at the park. Roy didn’t know how long it had been since the phone had rung; he hoped that they would get there in time. 

The phone box came into sight. Hughes’s legs were sticking out of it, and despite the searing stitch in his side, Roy put on an extra burst of speed, throwing himself down onto the ground beside his friend and feeling for a pulse. 

“Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive.” 

“Roy?” Hughes coughed wetly. “That you?”

“Yes.” He could have cried with relief. “Yes, it’s me.”

“OK, let’s see the damage.” Hohenheim had caught them up, breathless as he got down on the ground and started pulling Hughes’s blood-soaked jacket and shirt open. It had been a clean shot in his chest at point blank range; Roy’s stomach rolled at the sight of the bullet hole. It was a miracle he was still hanging on. 

“Roy… I need to…”

“No talking.” Roy had never heard Hohenheim anything other than completely calm and gentle with his patients. Even in the very worst cases that had been dragged down into the clinic, he’d never seen Hohenheim as on edge as he was now. 

“But…”

“You can talk when your lung isn’t collapsed and you’re not bleeding to death.” Hohenheim felt around under Hughes’ back and swore under his breath. “It ripped straight though. Roy, I need you to try and stop the bleeding, keep pressure on the wound.”

Roy pulled off his own jacket and balled it up, pressing down hard on Hughes’ chest whilst Hohenheim kept feeling around. 

Hughes’ breath was starting to gasp and rattle. 

“No, no, Maes, no, you’ve got to hold on, you’ve got to live happily ever after with Gracia, come on, stay with me, I’ll let you talk about her every minute of the goddamn day as long as you don’t die on me!” Roy looked over at Hohenheim. “You can fix it, right? Surely you can fix it!”

Hohenheim nodded. His expression was hard and grim, and he wiped his hair back from his face, dripping blood onto his glasses into the bargain. 

“I can fix it. You might want to look away, though.”

“What?”

“Have you got a knife?”

“What?”

“Knife, Roy, I need a knife!”

“Hughes always carries one…” He reached for Hughes’ sleeve, trying not to let up on the pressure on his chest. 

“Here.” Suddenly Riza was there, holding out a penknife. 

“Thanks. You’ll both want to look away.”

Neither of them moved.

“I’m about to do something very disturbing and extremely illegal so if you want plausible deniability, look away now.”

Roy could only stare as Hohenheim slashed open his own palms, sparks of red alchemic lightning flashing over his hands as he plunged them down into Hughes’ chest.

The wait for anything to happen seemed to take forever, and even though Roy could hear the traffic on the street that ran alongside the park, this little area was so still and quiet it was almost eerie, just the electric crackle of alchemy sparking around Hughes’ chest and Hohenheim muttering something in a language Roy couldn’t understand. It sounded like he was praying. 

At last, Hughes took a huge gasp of air, beginning to cough as Hohenheim pulled his hands out. The sparks died away, and if it wasn’t for the bright scarlet blood coating Hohenheim’s arms halfway to the elbow, there would have been no indication that Hughes had been injured at all. 

Hohenheim was breathing like he’d run a marathon.

“We need to get him back to the shop,” he said. “Somewhere safe. He’ll need a few days to recover from the trauma but he’s in no danger.”

Roy just nodded dumbly, still rendered completely speechless by what he had just seen. 

Havoc and Armstrong ran over to them at that point having scouted out the area and found no sign of Hughes’ assailant, and Armstrong picked up Hughes as carefully as a baby, carrying him away.

“Are you three all right?” Havoc asked, and Roy could see the concerned confusion in his face. He and Riza probably both looked like they were about to keel over with shock. 

Riza nodded. “We’ll be fine.” She handed him one of her pistols and he tucked it into his waistband below his jacket. “Go with Armstrong, just in case.” She turned back to Roy and Hohenheim. “I’ll go find something to clean you two up with.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Roy looked over at Hohenheim again. 

“What the hell was that?”

“I told you to look away.”

“That wasn’t alchemy.”

“It wasn’t the kind you’re used to, but it was alchemy.”

 “You didn’t need a circle. You didn’t even leave a scar.”

“I told you to look away, Roy.”

The words were icy and came through gritted teeth, and Roy recognised the expression in Hohenheim’s eyes for what it was. 

Fear. 

Mentally, Roy used the excuse of being in shock at what had happened to Hughes and what he’d just witnessed for temporarily forgetting that not only was Hohenheim an unlicensed alchemist, he was also an undocumented immigrant from who knew where with no visa and no ID and he’d just performed tremendously powerful alchemy in the middle of a public park. There were no witnesses around other than himself and Riza, but at the same time, he could see exactly why he was scared. The combination was a one-way ticket to the firing squad without trial.

“Thank you for saving him.”

Hohenheim nodded. “It’s fine. I could do it, so I did. Just don’t any of you make a habit of this.”

Despite himself, Roy gave a snort of laughter. “Don’t worry, we won’t.”

“Hey. You two ok?” Riza was back, carrying a dripping stack of paper towels from the public restroom halfway down the block. “It’s not great, but it’s better than nothing to stop you causing alarm on the way back.”

Hohenheim grabbed some without a word, beginning to scrub the drying blood off his hands. Roy noticed that there was no sign of the wounds he’d made on himself, either, and he grabbed Riza’s knife from where it had fallen, handing it back to her. 

“We’re ok,” he said. “We should probably get back. Armstrong will start panicking soon and Aunt Chris will want to know what’s going on. She’s probably not going to take kindly to having someone recuperating in her back room.”

“We need to let Gracia know what’s gone on as well, she’ll be expecting him at home.” Riza sighed. “You know, I think you were properly paranoid when you said that everyone was on edge about what was going on. What do you think he found out?”

“I have no idea. Presumably, he found out whatever Project Xerxes is.”

There was a crunching sound as Hohenheim’s glasses broke in his hands where he was cleaning the blood off them. 

“Hohenheim?”

“I’m ok.”

“Your glasses say otherwise.”

He looked down at them and swore before visibly deflating and shoving them in his pocket. “I need to go.”

He got up and left them without another word, walking quickly back in the direction of the shop. 

“Something’s going on there,” Riza said. 

“You think? I don’t think I can handle any more revelations tonight. Come on, let’s get back before we’re next.”

Riza nodded, and she held out a hand to help Roy off the ground. 

“Do you think he’s Xerxian?” she asked after a moment. 

“The country died out nearly half a millennium ago, but after everything I’ve seen today, I wouldn’t put anything past anyone.” Roy paused, mulling it over in his mind. “There’s something in that. It makes sense that there would be diaspora, Xerxians living outside the country. The legends always say that the people were touched by the gold of the sun, and if the genes always breed true, then the colouring could have passed down the generations.”

They made the rest of the journey back to the shop in silence; all the lights were off, but Chris was waiting for them at the top of the steps. 

“What was I saying about taking in waifs and strays?” she said to Riza pointedly before waving them down the stairs with a sigh. “Roy, what the hell have you got yourself into now?”

“I’m wondering that myself.”

“He’s awake, by the way, but Trisha gave him something for the pain and he’s rambling like no-one’s business. I’m beginning to think she’s got some magic mushrooms in that stock of hers somewhere.”

“Is anything he’s saying making any sense at all?” Roy asked. 

“He’s convinced that Fuhrer Bradley is the spawn of the devil but then, that’s not exactly an uncommon sentiment in these parts.”

They reached the bar; it was empty and the chairs had been put up on the tables. Chris would have cleared it out as soon as Roy had started yelling about people being shot. She led the way through the main room to the drapes at the back, bypassing the clinic and going to a separate room. 

Hughes was inside on a small cot, talking far too fast for human comprehension as Trisha and Hohenheim made sure he was comfortable. Hohenheim’s glasses were now miraculously fixed and back on his face, and having a patient to focus on seemed to have calmed him down and brought him back into the moment. 

Havoc and Armstrong were just looking at each other with increasingly worried expressions. 

“OK, I think you two can go home.” Roy groaned and sank down into the chair; this room ordinarily served as Chris’s office, but he had no idea where the desk had gone or where the cot had come from. “You were never here. You didn’t see anything.”

“Nice try, boss, but we’re all in this together now.” Havoc gave a wry smile. “We’ll go, but we’ll be back again tomorrow. I think you and Hughes are going to need all the help you can get with this one.”

Despite it all, Roy couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful for the assistance. 

Trisha eventually gave Hughes something to knock him out before he exhausted them all, and they all decamped into the bar. Riza was waiting for them; she’d been pouring the good stuff.

“I’ve called Gracia to let her know what’s happening,” she said. “And I’ll stay down here tonight to make sure Hughes is ok.” She looked over at Hohenheim and Trisha. “No offence, but I think Hohenheim probably needs his own bed tonight and you two really need to talk about what the hell just happened.”

“It’s ok, I know.” Trisha reached across and squeezed Hohenheim’s hand, and Roy knew that if there was anyone who could tell them what happened it was Trisha. He also knew that she’d take Hohenheim’s secrets to the grave if she had to. 

“Well,” Riza began, summing up their situation far better than Roy ever could. “This is all kinds of terrifying. What do we do next?”

[the-wintershade]

lost without you | rain (3)

pairing: connor (rk800) x reader summary: You get patched up and reflect on the past you've been trying to get away from, Hank starts connecting the dots between you and Connor, and Connor finally accomplishes his mission.  wc: 5.9k+ genre: angst, fluff, mentions of abuse warning

Rain: series — 01 | 02 | 03

a/n: huge shoutout to @rosieatron​ for all of the hilarious memes you’ve made about this short series! 

Hank came as fast as he could, swearing under his breath as he heard a gunshot and another one proceeding the first. His pace quickened. He held his hand pistol in his hand as he approached the open door, the breeze playing with it, moving it back and forth. He saw the lock was busted and his senses sharpened. He didn’t know what he would find on the other side of that door but he was ready to find out.

He stepped in, gun held out to find two things: You and Connor laying on the floor (together?) and the deviant laying a few feet away, struggling to get back up. Hank moved to intercept the deviant before it tried its hand at a great escape.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Hank’s gun was trained on the deviant’s face. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He walked over pulling him off the ground and sticking some handcuffs on him.

Then he moved his attention to the two of you. “Jesus,” He noticed Connor’s gaping hole in his shoulder. “Are the two of you alright?”

Connor turned to see Lieutenant Anderson standing behind him. “I’m fine, Lieutenant, but Officer (y/l/n) will need medical attention.” Connor gently situated you up right, careful to watch your injured arm. “She’s been shot in the arm.”

Just then, the sound of sirens filled the otherwise noiseless outdoors. A few cops rushed in, ready to fire, but lowered their weapons and moved to grab the suspect. Hank made his way over to you.

“Hey. Talk to me.” Hank kneeled by you, trying to get you to look him in the eye. When you did, a small grin took your face.

“I’m okay, it just hurts a bit, nothing a few Tylenol and some good medical care can’t take care of.” You made sure that answer was enough for him and continued to take a look at Connor. “Connor, on the other hand, is probably going to need some repairs.”

His LED blinked yellow at the mention of his name. He looked at Lieutenant Anderson, then back at you. “The repair process is quick and efficient, I should be fully restored by tomorrow.” He blinked a few times and did that head cock thing again.

“Good.” Hank moved to his feet. “I’m gonna go get the EMTs, they’ll probably be able to do something for you.”

“Lieutenant Anderson, I do not follow. I cannot be repaired by emergency medical -”

“Not for you. The girl.” Hank looked from Connor to you and then back to Connor.

“Oh.”

You laughed at his confusion and simple answer, it was cute after all. Connor watched you smile and could not help but feel his eyes light up too. Whenever you were happy, he was happy too.

Software Instability ^^^^^^^^^^^ [A9 EVIA]

...

The hospital lights were more bright and blinding than you last remembered, the brilliant white colors of the room bounced back and hit your eyes with no end. It took a few blinks and eventually your eyes were able to turn down its receptors enough to look around without immediately having to shut them again.

At least you knew where you were, it made the adjustment that much easier. Before, well, five years before, there were times where he just forced you in a car and drove. The only indication that could give you a clue as to where you were was the large billboards scattered along the interstates. You weren’t allowed to ask questions, no, it would be like a death sentence, so you only stared at the window and hoped it wasn’t somewhere remote. You also hoped this transition wasn’t permanent, maybe only a couple of days.

One time, you’d been forced to stay in the middle of the Nevada desert for two months with no access to a phone. Never again.

The machine beeping behind you gave you a perfect rhythm to think to as you stared out the window and watched the rain beat on the window with such a force, you thought shards of glass would shoot out at you. It takes you back to that day, if it hadn’t rained, if it wasn’t for the rain….

“Officer!” Connor waltzed through the door breaking off your memory. You were happy to see him, no doubt about it, but your face was still downtrodden and your eyes a bit glossy. You smiled and took a minute before you turned towards the sound of his voice.

The glass window betrayed your intentions as Connor saw your face in the reflection. “Officer (y/l/n), what seems to be the problem?” He stayed where he was, watching your eyes and face shift.

“Nothing.” You looked at him, your eyes now dazzling and upturned, the opposite from previously. Connor noted the way your hands tangled themselves together as you turned towards him. His heart sank. You still did not fully trust him. “Come here.” You patted on the bed.

Software Instability ^^^^^^^^^^^^ [A9 EVIAN]

Connor obeyed, waddling closer like a child. He made his perch on the end of your bed. His hands hung by his sides, his face attentive, but his eyes were turned down. The LED on his temple was whizzing a sad, despondent, yellow.

“Connor.” You leaned forward a bit waiting for his eyes to look at you, but they didn’t, instead pointed at the linoleum. “Connor.” Your voice prodded and you moved your head in a feeble attempt to get him to look at you. Finally, you reached out to cover his smooth hand with your own. “Connor.”

His eyes were captivated by the placement of your hand upon his own. He was shocked, if you did not trust him, why would you make a gesture such as this? He compelled his eyes to blink, just to make sure his sensors were picking up his visual information correctly. His head moved slowly to the side as his eyes slide up to yours, slanting slightly, trying to figure you out. How could you possibly be so complicated? Your words said one thing, but you did another. A ball of walking contradictions, one he desperately wanted to solve.

“What happened? You were just happy a second ago.”  Your eyes squinted.

“I just don’t understand. You say one thing and do another, you say you’re fine when you’re clearly not. How does that help? How does that effectively communicate your emotions?” Connor watched you for a hint of a response, small head tilts, and exaggerated blinks.

You sighed and laughed a bit, it’s true. Humans do tend to say one thing and do another. Maybe it’s just a fault in your programming. “You’re right. We, humans, are a bit faulty when it comes to communicating how we really feel. I’ll try to be better about that.” You patted his hand. “How did your repairs go?”

He looked over at his shoulder as if you could see it. “They were able to repair everything to full functionality.”

“Good.” You leaned back, your arm splint and shoulder patches restricting your full backward movement. Air came out of your nostrils as you exhaled, your slight frustration and pain going out with it. Because you were no longer close enough, your hand slipped out of the reach of Connor’s.

His gears were turning on what you had mentioned earlier. He watched the white comforter with a piqued interest, then his eyes moved back to yours.

“Officer (y/l/n), you mentioned previously you were fine when in fact you weren’t. What is the problem?” Connor persisted, he was going to get some answers.

“Just remembering some things, it’s nothing to fret over. Sometimes when I think back to my past, I see things I wasn’t able to see before. I guess that’s the power of hindsight, huh?” You closed your eyes a moment, feeling your pulse start to rise. Or the power of experiencing powerful emotions.

Connor believed that was only partially the truth, but he would not push. He would get his answers eventually, maybe you truly were not ready to reveal what you were thinking. In the meantime, Connor moved a bit closer, the bedding scrunching up a bit as he scooted towards the head of the bead where you lay.

“Officer?” Your eyes slowly pried themselves open.

“Yes?”

“I know it is not in my programming, but I wanted to say, I’m glad you are alright.”

His words warmed a part of your stomach, pumping its way through your veins and slowly turning your limbs to jelly. Your brain couldn’t form coherent words so you opted to say nothing, hoping the big grin on your face and your warming cheeks would suffice.

Software Instability ^^^^^^^^^^^^^ [A9 DEVIAN]

It did.

....

Hank eventually came to visit and uttered the words, “Wow, you look like shit.” You stifled an eye roll, hoping to convey that you were happy enough that he decided to come and visit. You, however, didn’t stifle your following remarks, “Says the man who’s like 50 and barely manages to comb his hair.”

He didn’t like that but chuckled to cover it up. One point you, zero for Lieutenant Anderson. He spoke to you a bit about how it was going with interrogating the deviant and how it was just like a normal case, Android abuse.

“Geez, the fucker had been beaten down so much, it’s no wonder he rebelled. I’d go bonkers.” Hank coughed a bit and moved to sit in the chair beside you, a cup of coffee in the paper cup he was holding.

“Anything else, any other signs of deviancy besides being tortured and beaten?” You had to be sure of everything.

“Naw. It’s a class A investigation.” Hank took a sip of his roasted low quality coffee beans. “Not like we haven’t seen something like this before.”

You nodded your head, your thoughts drifted to that night; stumbling in the rain, dizzy from exhaustion, trying to cover your tracks in the dirt beneath the tree cover. You blinked again, attempting to clear those thoughts.

“Anyway, Connor seems to miss your company.” He looked right at you, waiting for a reaction he was sure he was going to find. How much you stuck to that android raised his suspicions about the nature of the relationship between you two. Hank wasn’t convinced that an android could develop a crush on a human and vise versa, but if two people could make it happen, it was you two idiots. He swirled the coffee in his cup.

“Oh?” You turned towards him, your eyebrows raised. “I’ve only been gone a few days.” Your fingers knotted themselves together and Hank felt he was right about his hunch.

Hank upped the suspense of his response by taking a drink of disappointment, letting the brown, nearly tasteless liquid run down his throat. He felt your eyes on the side of his face as you waited for the answer. Yep, totally right. “He keeps looking over at your desk as if you’ll appear and starts throwing that damn coin around.”

He could have sworn he saw your face blush. “Well, tell him I’m getting released today and that I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Uh huh. Well,” Hank stood. “I hope you get better soon, kid. We really could use your brain back down at the station instead of those nimrods.”

“I’ll see you soon, Lieutenant.”

“Uh huh.” He waltzed out of the room, another drink of liquid warmed his tongue and confirmed his suspicions were true. I always have to be the fucking wise guy.

...

There wasn’t anybody with when you signed yourself out of the hospital, not that you wanted there to be, right? You ambled through the oversized establishment, admiring the different colored tiles, the handprints that showed when you walked twenty-five feet, and the numbers on the rooms as you breezed past them. There was something so quiet and secluded yet spacious and open about hospitals that you couldn’t quite understand but you appreciated.

You pressed the button for the first floor as you stepped into the elevator, letting the pull to the ground relax you on your way out. Your blood froze as your eyes locked onto a jean jacket and a black beany. What? Trying to control your breathing, you swiftly sauntered out of the elevator and directly to your left, taking cover behind a wall. There’s no way, it isn’t possible. You were sure you had covered your tracks enough. Suddenly, he moved in your direction, but there was no way to go but up on an open staircase. You didn’t hesitate to move towards the first step. Your legs propelled themselves quickly but not fast enough to draw alarm. You heard footsteps right behind you. Shit. You hastily moved up the steps and jumped into the first room you saw, a bathroom thank goodness. Throwing yourself through the door, heart racing, your fingers fumbled over the lock before you heard the click as it sank into place.

Backing up, you leaned your body against the wall, taking a few breaths. Okay, calm down. You’re safe now. Your hand moved to stop over your heart to find it still racing. Closing your eyes, you controlled your breathing and brought your pulse down. You stayed in there a few minutes longer than necessary as you peeked around the corner with the man to be found no longer.

Letting the bathroom door close behind you, you nearly sprinted down the staircase and out to the parking garage across the street. Connor put your car on the second level, spot 26. You didn’t wait as you burst through another set of stairs and on up to the orange level. It was relatively close to the door you flew out of and you drew your keys briskly, tapping the unlock button and chucking the door open. Shutting it with an audible echo, you hit the lock button as if your life depended on it.

You took a few breaths and smoothed your hair, it couldn’t possibly be him, could it?

....

“He’s locked up, probably going to be disassembled.” Hank walked with you out of interrogation block and back to your desk.

“Why disassembled? Shouldn’t we give him a second chance like we give most criminals around here?” You sat down at your desk and held your chin.

“The rules are different for androids.” He shrugged and scooted closer to the computer screen.

“They shouldn’t be.” You swiveled around to pull up some files when Connor waltzed around the corner.

“What shouldn’t be, Officer?” He set some coffee down on Hank’s desk and Hank picked up, tilting his salute at him.

“That android, it shouldn’t be disassembled. We haven’t even given him a chance to fix his mistakes, immediately determining him a fall risk and shutting him down. We don’t do that with our other criminals, why just with androids?”

Connor’s LED moved to yellow as he thought about your statement, observing how passionate you seemed about the topic. He also found you shared information with him willingly, instead of aiming for your classical answer of, nothing, or fine. He felt that you trusted him more and more every time you spoke. He was making progress, getting closer to accomplishing his mission.

Hank looked at the android lost for words, wondering why he hadn’t responded yet. Then became more intrigued as time passed, if he wasn’t conflicted about the question, he would have answered by now. Hmm.

“The justice system has set standards and codes for the safety of humans and the upbringing of an-”

“I know, Connor. I just don’t think it’s fair.” You ran your hands through your hair and turned your attention back to the computer screen.

Connor’s LED moved to red and his head cocked as if he was going to add something to the conversation, his lips slightly parted, but he opted not to. He felt as if the conversation died the moment the two of you broke eye contact, that this mysterious energy he could sense through your gaze kept the two of you in this sphere where you could connect and talk but it was gone. He felt a little empty to be honest, like a book without an ending.

Hank took in the android’s behavior and squinted at him looking at you. “Connor.”

Connor turned his attention to Lieutenant Anderson. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Are you alright?”

His LED moved down to yellow. “Yes,” then blue. “I’m okay.”

“Whatever you say, Connor.”

Connor stood stunned into silence. What is going on with the humans?

...

Connor sat on the couch with Lieutenant Anderson, patiently waiting for you to arrive at the house of the Lieutenant. The Lieutenant sat watching the television with replays of what he learned to be a gaming show called “Family Feud.” He was lost at the prospect of there being a feud, more like just a temporary opposition, like opponents have in a game. These families clearly do not know each other and have not met before being on this show so it is not possible for there to be a feud.

“Neck! Neck, Alyssa, neck! Goddamnit! Why would she say brain?” Lieutenant Anderson threw up his arms in exasperation.

“Lieutenant, how can there be a feud? These families have no qualms with each other.” Connor turned his head sideways and moved his eyes to the side as he thought and then back at the Lieutenant.

“I don’t know and to be completely honest, I do not care. Now, shut up, I want to hear this.” Lieutenant waved at him. Connor did not understand this gesture either, but he did understand shut up, so he moved from the couch to the kitchen table where Sumo sat, curled into a little ball of warmth.

“Hello, Sumo.” Connor sat on the floor and reached his arm out to pet him. Sumo didn’t purr like a cat did, but his tail started wagging and that was enough indication that Sumo appreciated what he was doing. A smile formed on Connor’s face, happy that he could bring some comfort to the dog in front of him.

“Connor, get back in here!” Lieutenant Anderson’s voice rang from the sofa even though Connor was only a few steps behind him.

“Coming, Lieutenant.” He gave Sumo one last pat on the head before moving to rejoin the Lieutenant.

“And for God sakes, call me Hank. The whole Lieutenant thing gets on my nerves.”

“Sure thing,” Connor sat back on the couch. “Hank.” He smiled at the Lieutenant.

Hank watched Connor, “What’s going on with you and Officer (y/l/n)?” Connor’s LED flashed yellow. Ha!

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, Hank.” Connor’s eyebrows scrunched up and his eyes shifted again.

“I’ve seen the way the light on your forehead changes whenever someone mentions her and I’ve seen the way you look at her. Is there something going on between you two?”

Connor was not positive what he meant by something going on, but he came to the conclusion - by Hank’s previous descriptions - that he was referring to something romantically inclined.

“Hank, are you implying that me and Officer (y/l/n) are romantically interested in each other?”

Hank coughed a bit and looked away. “In a very indirect way, yes.”

“Oh.” Connor moved his head towards the television screen and played back the time he spent with you. If he pinpointed the way he felt in those moments, then maybe it was so. Maybe he did take an interest with you in that way. He did want to be around you whenever he could, if you went into a dangerous situation alone, he wanted to be there, to protect you, and when you did not open up to him, it affected him greatly. He wanted you to trust him and the fact that you did not still nagged him, eating at the back of his mind.

Software Instability ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ [A9 DEVIANT]

“Well? Do you? Connor, it is okay if you do, she’s fantastic.”

“Hank, I’m not sure what I’m feeling. I’m not supposed to be able to feel anything.” Connor's eyes widened as he realized what was happening.

“It’s okay, son.” Hank clapped Connor on the back of the shoulder. “We’ve all been through it at some point in our lives.”

Connor was still searching for some logical answer to the emotions running through his head but he found none. Deviants felt the same things, their actions becoming irrational as a result of emulating emotions. His actions could not be irrational, could they be?

Sumo started barking, moving to the door and wagging his tail fondly. “What is it, Sumo?” Hank called moving from the couch. There was a knock at the door and Connor’s thirium pump speed up noticeably. Connor put a hand over where his mechanical heart lay, feeling it beat irregularly fast.

“(y/n), come in.” Hank opened the door wider to give you more room to walk in. Sumo launched himself at your legs and you bent down to rub him on the head. “Hey there, little man.” Sumo stuck his tongue out and rubbed his head against your bent knee.

Connor watched this whole exchange staring at your face, LED yellow, and a small grin lifting up the corner of his mouth.

Software Instability ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ [rA9 DEVIANT]

[Path Unlocked]

“Hello, Officer.”

You looked up from Sumo, to see him smiling. You weren’t sure why, maybe something Hank said earlier, but you created a smirk that mirrored his own. “Hi, Connor.”

....

Hank wanted to get the whole gang together to celebrate a job well done and to just have a night where the three of you could relax and talk together. After Connor spent a couple hours watching you and Hank down some beverages and speak out answers to that gaming programming, his mind drifted to Larkyn Cavallion and the way you evaded some of the questions he had asked that night he escorted you to your apartment. He did not want to pry but if he was going to accomplish his mission, he needed answers and that is what he was going to get.

“Officer (y/l/n), may I ask you a question?” He followed you to the kitchen on the way to refill the chip bowl.

“Sure.” You poured the chips into the bowl, the plastic of the bag crinkling as you shook it.

“Why were you giving me curt answers the last time I came to your apartment?”

You looked at him and narrowed your eyes, what was he getting at? “Because they didn’t need that long of a response.”

“What about ‘Larkyn Cavallion’?”

At this name you froze, eyes wide, stance stoic. Your eyes widened further but you didn’t answer him, only moved away from his position to the couch to put the bowl down.

“Officer, what’s wrong?”

“Connor, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“When do you want to? Something is bothering you and I want to help.”

“What if you can’t?!” Even Hank looked up at the both of you. Your gaze slowly moved towards him and his LED jumped to yellow as he saw the terror in your eyes. “What if you can’t help me, huh, Connor?”

“I didn’t mean to upset you -”

“No.” You tried to control your breathing. “This is not your fault.” You sighed. “I’ve been going through this thing for a long time and I -” You took a breath and felt the silence in the room weighing heavily on you like a pressure weighing on your shoulders.

You turned to Hank, “Thank you for the hospitality, Hank, but I think I should go.” You set the chip bowl down and grabbed your coat off the rack. You didn’t utter a word to Connor as you hustled your way out the door, patting Sumo on the head before you swung the door open. The door closed firmly behind you and Connor could not help but feel as if this was all his fault.

“What the hell was that about?” Hank turned to Connor who was still staring at the door.

“I don’t know. I was just asking a question.” Connor trailed off, trying to process what went wrong.

“Well, it pissed her off.” Hank watched Connor stuck in a daze. “What are you standing there for? Go after her.” He waved at the door.

“I don’t know what to do, Hank.” He looked at him with the eyes of a puppy dog.

“Connor, just talk to her. Ask the things she’s uncomfortable about, ask the things you’ve been itching to know about her. If you’re ever going to make a breakthrough, it’s now.”

Connor still stood there.

“Move your ass, Connor.” Hank gave him a push, it was enough to make him stumble forward.

That was all Connor needed as he took off into the pouring rain.

...

Your doorbell rang, but you sat on your sofa, watching the rain bead its way down the glass. To be frank, you didn’t feel like conversing right now, Connor’s questions opened up enough anxiety within you. Maybe it was time to leave again, maybe it was time for a fresh start, a clean slate. You rarely stayed in one place for longer than six months, it was what you had promised yourself in order to survive, in order to get a chance to live by your rules.

The buzzer sounded again.

The irritation in your veins started to boil over, why won’t they just go away? You didn’t answer the door for strangers, another part of moving frequently.

“Officer (y/l/n), I came to talk with you. I apologize for my behavior earlier, can we discuss it?”

Now you were really irritated. The last person you wanted to see right now was standing right outside your door. It wasn’t really the questions that upset you, it was how close he was to connecting the dots that teed you off. You’d worked so hard to maintain a low profile and Connor almost shot it to pieces with a few simple inquiries.

You sat for a second longer before pushing yourself off of the couch and looking through the peephole to make sure it was Connor. No matter how much you told yourself you wanted to run away, it was time to stop running, it was time to face the music, and that started with telling Connor the truth.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. His warm chocolate eyes greeted you, hair a bit disheveled from the rain, with a concerned look in his eyes, LED a buzzing yellow.

“Come in.” You opened the door wider.

Connor stepped in, immediately turning to you, his mouth moving a thousand miles a minute. “Officer (y/l/n), I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset, I took notice that you’ve been acting a bit strange. You’ve been on edge and evasive whenever I asked about what happened in the house when we were trying to catch the deviant, the name under your lease - which I discovered on accident -, and the way you furnish and decorate your living space. I want you to trust me. I want -”

You held up a hand to stop him from continuing. “It’s (y/n).”

He looked at you confused and jerked his head forward a little.

“My name. It’s (y/n). You don’t have to call me Officer (y/l/n) all the time, it seems a bit formal.”

Oh.

“(y/n),” He tested the name out. It was a beautiful name, but he was getting distracted and that was not the purpose of his visit.

“Do you want to sit?” You walked into the living room and he followed closely, eager to get the heart of what he came to talk about.

“(y/n), I -”

“I had an abusive boyfriend, well almost abusive, but very controlling.” You broke out, better to get to what he wanted to know - more like what he was going to figure out. “The alias, Larkyn Cavallion, was one I took on so that way he wouldn’t find me, it’s pretty far from my actual name.”

Connor’s LED turned a furious red as images played through his head of a previous boyfriend even thinking of doing even close to harmful things to you. His skin was on fire and he felt flames in his eyes. No one would ever be able to do that to you as long as he were around, he would assure that.

“I’ve been on the run for about five years, trying to escape him, and evade the chance that he might find me again.” You sat with your hands folded. Your voice was emotionless, but you felt a tidal wave of emotion flowing within you.

It felt as if you were free falling, all these memories you’ve tried to suppress finally breaking away from you and this invisible pressure lifting, but you were still falling. You were falling with no guarantee that something would catch you when the ground came into view, nor any certainty that this wouldn’t end in flame and ash. It was a leap of faith in the literal sense and you had to put your trust in Connor, an android, and believe that he wouldn’t spread this information like wildfire, but something inside you told you he wouldn’t.

You spared him a glance and couldn’t take the fire you saw in his orbs, so you looked beyond him. “The day I got away from him, I remember feeling something inside me break, like there was this fog that I was so obscured by that I couldn’t even see what was happening to me, like what was really happening. It felt as if it cleared and suddenly my brain started replaying all our conversations and moments, seeing them in a new light. I don’t know what brought on that wake-up call, but it hit and I knew it didn’t matter how or by what means I used to get out, I just needed to go.” Your hands started shaking and you took a deep breath to steady your voice so it wouldn’t shake.

“I stopped thinking about our entire relationship, I stopped wondering where I went wrong and how I didn’t see it earlier, I stopped pondering why I had let it go this far, I shut it all down. I had to. I grabbed all the cash I had, a couple pairs of clothes, a hat, and my coat and took off.

“He would be home at 3:45, it was 3:35 when I left. I had ten minutes to get as far away from that house as I could. So I ran, I ran through the pouring rain, ran through the tears, ran from that abusive, toxic person, and ran to a new life.

“I cut through the woods, but I forgot he would definitely see my footprints and a little while later I heard his truck. I went thirty minutes out of my way, creating a false trail with my shoes so that I could work my way onto a road and start stepping on leaves so that he couldn’t see the outline of my boots in the dirt. When I turned directions and looked behind me, the rain had been coming down so hard, my footprints were barely visible. I knew I had a chance, so I took off for the bus station.

“I hopped the first one I saw, bought a ticket to go literally anywhere, and as the bus pulled out of the station, I knew, I knew , that if there had not been a torrential downpour that day, he would have easily found me and dragged me back.

“The rain,” you paused, smiling at how significant something most people think is so little is for you. “The rain saved my life. The rain saved me from more years of emotional torture and abuse. The rain gave me a chance to live again.” You stopped, looking at Connor watching you with something soft in his gaze. He got up from the armchair and sat right next to you, waiting for you to continue.

“Since then, I’ve never lived in a place more than six months, I put a false name of the lease, I get a new license plate everytime my birthday comes around, I never make friends because I don’t want to leave any indication that I was around. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to become invisible.” Your eyes turned down towards your hands again, but Connor put his on top of yours, giving it a slight comforting, squeeze, just to let you know that he cared.

“Afterwards, I went through so many emotions, I couldn’t even tell you all of them, I just remember being hyper-aware of everything, all of my surroundings, all the time. I felt like I had to out of fear of him coming back. So now, I’m here, sitting with you, talking about this, for the first time in five years.” You finally looked at him again and saw his LED soften to blue.

“I’m not equipped with comforting people, but I do know that I’m very glad you were able to leave him and that you were able to live life as you should be able to. I understand why you acted the way that you did and I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. I was attempting to try to help, but perhaps it wasn’t the right way of approaching it. I just wanted you to be able to talk to me and feel like you can rely on me.” Connor watched a smile break out on your face.

“Well, you got your wish.” You stared at him just as intently as he was staring at you. Connor felt his heart rate speed up again and his cheeks start to flush a bright blue, he had an urge to lean in and kiss you, but he shoved it down. He decided you didn’t need that right now, especially with all you’ve experienced, right now, you could probably use a good meal.

“(y/n)? Would you like me to make you something?” Connor watched your eyes light up, correct answer.

“That would be wonderful, Connor.” Connor got up to proceed to the kitchen, but you tugged on his sleeve a bit. “Wait.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, thank you for listening to me, Connor.” You wrapped your arms around him and felt him return the embrace. He was not good with emotions but he was getting better. Watching all that television helped him understand more about these displays of affection. He felt comforted and good having you in his arms, he felt like he was protecting you.

“I’ll be here anytime you need me.” He hummed in response, holding you a little tighter.

[Mission Accomplished]

[Next Task: Take (y/n) on a date]

Connor would definitely fulfill that goal, you could count on that.

....

a/n: I am not in anyway knowledgeable on the topic of abuse, this is just for creative purposes only. If you are struggling with abuse or in an emotionally toxic relationship, please call 1−800−799−7233 or go to https://www.thehotline.org/ if you have an electronic device that is not monitored. Please, please get help. You are not alone, you are never alone, please, please remember that. I love you guys and want to see you physically, emotionally, and psychologically healthy.

[castlevania-afterdark-imagines]

how would main trio + dracula feel about a partner who is normally anxious, very shy, and quiet, but very sweet. but then later they learn their an absolute freak in the sheets and they just havnt told anyone? 👀

Short answer: they mcfuckin love it

Hector and Isaac added at the very thirsty request of Mod Rose!

Trevor

Give the guy fuckin whip lash why don’t you?

He’d settled so comfortably into the idea that he would get to flex his big strong man arms all the time, lead in bed with gentle urges but noooooo

Since fucking when could a person do that with their tongue?

First morning after he’s just still in shock, caught between staring and reimagining the whole affair.

Once that settled in though, so fucking smug that he’s the only one who knows.

Definitely teasing you about it behind closed doors, how only he knows what’s hiding behind the facade.

Also finds he has to stop drinking in the evening if he’s going to have any hope of satisfying you.

Alucard

After your first night together, he goes through a solid day of wondering if he’s good enough to keep up.

Short lived mope session, he’s just used to being the overlearned and strongest of the party.

Thoroughly enjoys it once he’s calmed down.

The duality reminds him of himself, his human and vampiric sides, and gives him a weird comfort to be more open in his sexual wants as well.

Ventures into that section if his father’s library that he’d been chased away from when he was a child to find…research materials.

Bonus fun that he has an entire castle of equipment and crafting materials.

Anything you can dream up, he can make happen.

Sypha

Deeeeeeelighted.

She gets a total kick out of the duality of it, much like how she had to play a disguised role among the Speakers.

Up for just about anything, though if it’s a foreign enough concept you might have to pause and explain it out for her before doing it.

Ever a learning woman.

Expect much teasing about all the things she could wear under her robes if you let her.

Becomes a lil more defensive in the day to day to make up for playing a little more submissive at night.

She is near hovering with excited energy after dinner, giving blatant hints about how you should definitely retire to bed soon.

Dracula

Somehow knew what was coming?

He couldn’t tell you why, he’d just got the feeling in his stomach when he first saw you.

First time he pried just the most unabashed moan from your lips he damn near burst into laughter at being right.

Good thing he’s had centuries to experiment- now he’s found the perfect “test subject”.

Very rewarding of any time you let him try something he’s only read about.

He was already very protective of you (can’t really blame the guy from the track record of his relationships), but now he’s twice as fast to shut down anyone who tries to tease you about sexual things.

Your dirty side is his to know about and experience thank you very much.

Hector

He’s known humans to have a dual nature for most of his life, but he did not expect it to mean his sweet dove of a partner to be quite so… animalistic in bed.

First time he heard a particularly dirty request fall from your lips he went bright red, complied as best he could while still piecing his brain back together.

Is now infinitely more curious about what else you might be into.

Still attached at your hip during the day, but you can tell his mind wanders sometimes when stares at you a bit too long.

Actually locks Caesar out of the bedroom now, embarrassed parent syndrome, when he senses things are about to get wild.

Isaac

Saw right the fuck through it.

It was little cues, like the dilation of pupils when you touched his arm and felt the muscles flex underneath or glancing away when he would chastise Godbrand about staying his latest sexual conquest in the middle of a war meeting.  

But it caught his interest pretty quickly, wanting to tease out what you were thinking.

When his suspicions were confirmed via his incredibly sore back and hips one morning there was a smirk on his face for the rest of the day.

Lightly teases about telling Hector about your curious nature, but you both know he would never.

He just gets that little thrill of knowing a secret, especially when it’s something he can cater to.

And he’s much too defensive to ever want to let anyone else know about your desires.

-Mod Soviet

[idolistic-dreams]

Believe

♥︎ Genre: Vampire AU, this is basically just straight fluff

♥︎ Paring: Vampire! Johnny x reader

♥︎ A/N: it took me forever to finish this but I love it now that I’m done with it. Someone deserves to have it easy with finding their mate after the turmoil of all the other guys haha. This ties in with the rest of the Lurking series and takes place just after Part 7!

“Girls, we’re here,” Johnny knocks on the door to the apartment where Hana, Prita and Tasya were studying for finals. Prita excitedly opens the door and flies past Johnny to reach Yuta, wrapping her arms tightly around her boyfriend.

“Nice to see you too Pri,” Johnny rolls his eyes and walks into the apartment with the couple and Sicheng following.

“He’s really not going to come and see me, huh?” Tasya chuckles dryly when she notices Jaehyun wasn’t with the group.

“You’re the one who said she wasn’t going to come back. He’s just as hurt about you leaving as you are about his lying,” Sicheng remarks, taking his place next to Hana on the couch. Tasya frowns and looks longingly at the two couples huddled up together.

“Now you see how I feel, always being the fifth, seventh, etc. wheel,” Johnny sits at one of the barstools next to the disappointed looking girl. She rolls her eyes about to make a remark when her phone dings, signaling a text. Tasya looks down with excitement, answering her text quickly.

“Who’s that from, you look pretty happy about it?” Yuta smirks, thinking Jaehyun may have finally reached out to his mate.

“It’s my cousin Y/N, she’s coming to visit me in a few days once finals are over. I haven’t seen her since this summer,” Tasya smiles, “She’s 19 like Prita, Hana and me. We grew up more like sisters than cousins.”

“Y/N? I haven’t seen her since last August, just a few weeks before school started,” Sicheng notes.

“Yeah, she was really upset when she heard you guys went missing. Speaking of which she doesn’t know about you guys being alive, or well… vampires or anything. She thinks you’re still missing so it’s probably a good idea you don’t come around and check on us for the week when she’s here,” Tasya frowns, looking at Sicheng and Hana. Sicheng looks slightly upset at not getting to see his old friend but understands.

“That means I won’t get to see him for the week since we can’t go to the cemetery,” Hana pouts.

“I could come check on you guys and keep you updated, she won’t know I’m a vampire unless I want her to and she doesn’t know me,” Johnny shrugs, trying to put the couple at ease. With the threat of another clan hanging around for a few weeks, the boys had been checking on them more frequently.

“Whatever, as long as she doesn’t find out you’re a vampire I’m fine with it. I don’t want to drag her into that,” Tasya shrugs and grabs her laptop walking to the entrance of her room, “I’m going to finish studying. I’ll see you guys later. Y/N will be here Friday by the way.”

A few days later, and you were there, just as your cousin said you would be. You look at the door and take a deep breath before knocking. Seconds later the door is flung open and a body comes crashing into yours.

“Well hello to you too Tasya,” you laugh and return the tight hug.

“Y/N, I’ve missed you so much!” Tasya lets go and holds you at arm’s length, eyeing you up and down, “You look so good, we need to stop going so long without seeing each other!”

“I know, I know. School keeps me so busy, you know? You could come visit me too though,” you poke at her shoulder teasingly.

“Hey, school keeps me busy too,” she smiles widely and pulls you inside.

“So, where is Hana?” You say, looking around the room for your longtime friend. You had spent almost every summer break with living with your cousin and hanging out getting to know her friends over the years. You’d become as close to them as she was.

“She offered to go pick up something to eat while I was here waiting for you. We ordered your favorite,” Tasya sits on the couch and you take a seat in the chair across from her, dropping your bag and purse to the side of it.

“What a good host,” you giggle, and she rolls her eyes with a smile. Suddenly there’s movement outside of the door and voices shortly before the door opens to reveal Hana, arms full with a takeout bag, and the most beautiful man you’d ever seen standing behind her.

“Thanks Johnny, you didn’t have to walk me all the way to the door…” Hana huffs as she puts the bag on the counter and turns to see you, “Oh my gosh! Y/N you made it!”

“Of course I made it,” you giggle, tearing your eyes off of the man to hug your friend.

“How was the trip? We ordered for you too, I’m sure Tasya told you already,” Hana smiles sweetly and pulls you to the counter in the kitchen.

“It was fine… hey who’s that guy?” You ask quietly, feeling his eyes on you as he talks to Tasya quietly in the living room.

“O-oh, that’s Johnny, he’s a friend of ours. He, uh… saw me out walking and wanted to make sure I got home safe,” she smiles, but seemed a little more tense.

“That seems like more than a friend to me,” you narrow your eyes at her in suspicion. While you seemed playful and teasing on the outside, something inside of you felt like you would dread it if she said he was.

“Ew no, he’s just a friend. I promise,” she laughs, relaxing slightly. She thankfully seemed to think your questions were just you teasing her rather than genuine interest. Suddenly you hear Tasya’s voice get a little louder.

“Johnny Seo, you are NOT getting her mixed up in this,” she snaps harshly, sounding absolutely pissed.

“Just because you hate the situation doesn’t mean she would,” Johnny’s deep voice sends shivers down your spine. You could hear some more faint arguing but couldn’t make out the words as they had moved further out of the living room, towards the hall.

“What was that about?” You ask, a confused look on your face.

“N-Nothing… let’s eat, yeah?” Hana tries to distract you. It works considering your stomach growls the second she says ‘eat.’

“So, how have you been doing lately, having a good semester?” You ask Hana between a bite of food.

“It’s been kind of interesting to say the least,” she sighs. You cock and eyebrow at her, begging to know more as you take another bite, “Well, we’ve just met some interesting people to say the least. We’re actually about to move to a bigger apartment too, with a third friend.”

“Oh, that’s great I’ll have to meet her!” You smile, “What’s her name?”

“Her name is Prita, she’s really sweet. She’s with our other friend Mei right now, but we’re going to have a game night and sleep over tomorrow, so you’ll get to meet both of them,” your eyes light up at Hana’s words, excited to have a game night. Truth be told, you didn’t exactly have a ton of friends at your university, having been so busy studying and working all the time. Suddenly there’s an angry shout and Johnny storms out of Tasya’s room where the conversation had moved to a few minutes before.

“JOHNNY! Don’t. You. Dare,” Tasya calls, following closely behind him.

“You can’t stop fate Tasya…” he growls out and looks directly at you as he comes around the corner. His look leaves you breathless. Your eyes lock and you can’t look away.

“H-Hi…” you manage to say softly.

“Hi angel,” Johnny smiles sweetly and tilts his head to the side, “you feel the connection, don’t you?”

“Johnny, I swear, I’m going to murder you,” Tasya glares and watches him carefully as he walks up to you. He kneels down in front of you, never once breaking eye contact.

“I… I mean I feel something,” you mummer with a blush covering your cheeks at the word angel, “like my heart is about to burst out of my chest.” Johnny’s beautiful laugh fills your ears, making you smile softly.

“Do you believe in soulmates, Y/N?” He puts a finger under your chin, lifting it so you would keep eye contact with him. Tasya growls from behind him, clearly unhappy. Hana looks utterly shocked, sitting next to you unmoving.

“Theoretically, wouldn’t everyone like to believe that there’s someone out there that you’re meant to be with? Also, how do you know my name?” you sigh blissfully at the thought of soulmates, being something of a romantic. Hana has to keep herself from laughing at the irony of your statement, seeing as your cousin had the opposite point of view.

“Tasya told me about you last week. So anyway, what if I told you that we were meant to be?” Johnny’s voice is soft and as crazy as the idea sounds you can’t help but want to believe him.

“Why should I believe you?” You tilt your head, wanting to challenge him a little before giving in. On one hand, you believed in soulmates, and that you’d know when you met the one. This felt right, the way he looked at you like you were the most beautiful person in the world and how you felt as though you could listen to his voice for the rest of your life. On the other hand, you were still somewhat skeptical. Suddenly Johnny’s eyes were red, and his smile showed fangs which hadn’t been there before.

“Would you believe me if I said I’m a vampire?” He says as his features return to normal. You’re a little shocked but quickly regain your composure.

“Well considering you just showed me proof I think I’d have to. That or admit I’m insane, which I don’t think I am,” you giggle, surprisingly calm.

“Seriously?” Tasya says from behind Johnny.

“What?” You question in confusion.

“How are you so calm about all this? You realize this is going to flip your life completely upside down, right?” She frowns, you know she only wants what’s best for you.

“Maybe I need some flipping. My whole life has been so plain… I go to school, study, and work. I need something fun, an adventure,” you sigh, thinking about how average your life truly had been up to this point.

“It’s dangerous, Y/N!” Tasya tries to argue. You finally notice how worn down she looks.

“Well you’re clearly involved with it, so if you are then I might as well be too. Look Tas, I’m not the weak little cousin that needs your protection anymore. I’m the same age and just as capable as you to handle myself and you know it. Besides it looks like you could use some support here,” you argue, looking between her and Johnny who was still kneeing in front of you, watching the situation unfold. Tasya looks at you with slight shock, not expecting that answer.

“I… I guess you’re right. I just can’t believe it has to be Johnny,” she groans and Hana laughs. Johnny growls in annoyance.

“I’m right here, I can hear you,” he rolls his eyes. You giggle and place your palms on Johnny’s cheeks, so he’ll look at you.

“Well… It’s nice to meet you Johnny,” you say softly as you rest your forehead against his.

“Same to you, Y/N,” Johnny chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist, picking you up and spinning you in a hug. In that moment, you had not doubts that this was the man you were supposed to be with.

[starrybouquet]

Of Blues and Brains and Bubbles

Her mind has clamped onto that hint of despondency she’d seen on his face with a single-minded determination it usually reserves for the thorniest of physics problems, and no amount of logical thought, of reminding herself that Jack O'Neill is her commanding officer and a perfectly self-sufficient man who doesn't need or want her comfort, has been enough to shake the suspicion that she needs to check up on him.

It's ironic. She's the one still on bed rest, after all.

A Grace fix-it fic, because I wanted to write a smart, perceptive Sam figuring it out.

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Sam sits on her sofa, only half listening to Daniel's enthusiastic chatter. She's not trying to be a bad friend, but she can't get Jack--the Colonel’s--face out of her head. Not his face from this afternoon, when he’d shown up with sarcasm and joviality firmly in place, but when she’d woken up in the infirmary. The look in his eyes when he’d been offering to get her something, and she’d refused. He’d looked down at her seriously, for a beat, and then his mouth had quirked up into a tiny half smile.

She knows, knows that she can't read anything into it. But despite her repeated attempts to talk herself down, she keeps seeing that slightly sad half smile and his brown eyes. She's sure that she’s overthinking this, that she just made it up, but despite her conviction, she can't help but see dejection lurking behind his expression in her mind's eye.

And goddamn it all, but she still has the stupidest urge to comfort him. Her mind has clamped onto that hint of despondency she’d seen on his face with a single-minded determination it usually reserves for the thorniest of physics problems, and no amount of logical thought, of reminding herself that Jack O'Neill is her commanding officer and a perfectly self-sufficient man who doesn't need or want her comfort, has been enough to shake the suspicion that she needs to check up on him.

It's ironic. She's the one still on bed rest, after all. Which is exactly why she’s lying on her sofa while Colonel O’Neill does the dishes, Teal’c makes her bed, and Daniel tries to distract her until her meds kick in.

Yeah. She has the best team in the world.

But her helplessness is also why Sam is also too tired to continue fighting with herself like this. She had already made a fool of herself when she called him Jack in the infirmary. What was once more?

"Daniel?" she asks as he finishes up his impromptu lecture and gathers up his coat.

"Yeah?"

"Can you, uh, do me a favor? Can you ask Colonel O'Neill to drop by the living room before he heads out?" she asks awkwardly.

Daniel blinks, eyes wide behind his glasses. "Sure."

Fifteen minutes later, after Daniel has pulled out of her driveway with Teal’c in tow, a very familiar silver head pokes into the living room. "Carter?"

She turns. "Sir.”

He steps fully into the room and shoves his hands into his jean pockets, looking a little awkward. "Uh--Daniel said--you wanted to see me?"

Sam nods, stares at her hands. Now that he's here, in front of her, brown eyes hesitant, a touch concerned, she finds she has absolutely no idea how to phrase this.

"I just wanted to ask…” She shakes her head, cheeks reddening. “Are you okay?"

"You're the one who got knocked in the head." Jack quirks an eyebrow at her.

This was going about as badly as she'd thought it would. "I know, sir, I just...just, I probably made it up, but you seemed depressed when I woke up and you weren't exactly acting like yourself--I mean, you were, but it was like you were trying.”

His expression only grows more perplexed. Time to backtrack. “And...this is completely inappropriate, you're my CO, you don't need to explain yourself to me. Can we please just pretend I never said anything. Sir."

Jack continues to stare at her after the words finally stop coming out of her mouth, part shocked, part confused. Mostly shocked, Sam thinks, feeling more flustered than she’s felt in front of him in years.

But then he shakes his head, and his entire countenance softens. "Can't hide anything from you, huh, Carter?"

It's her turn to be surprised. Jack steps around the sofa until he's standing beside her, looking down, gaze fastened on her socked feet as if he’s avoiding making eye contact. His body is rigid, as if he’s trying to take up as little space in her living room as possible.

"I went a little crazy when you were missing," he says tightly. "And when you woke up--I couldn't help it. I'm sorry I didn’t leave it alone. I know we said we'd leave it in the room, and I know it's unprofessional to keep asking, and I swear to God, Carter, I promise--"

Sam feels her stomach do a somersault, and it feels like her head is spinning too. "Couldn't help what?" she interrupts confusedly.

His fingers fidgets with the trim of the sofa arm. "I asked if you needed me, if you wanted to take it out of the room." he mutters. "Again."

Dumbfounded, she can only stare at him. "You did?"

The look in his dark eyes as he nods is so painfully uncomfortable, so ashamed, that it jolts Sam out of her shocked stupor. She sits up carefully and pries Jack’s hand off the sofa, pulling him down to sit beside her.

"Jack," she says, and feels his body jolt at her use of his given name. "I didn't know that's what you meant."

Jack stares at her. "It hasn't been obvious?"

"You want...us," she reiterates, gesturing between them.

“For crying out loud, Carter, I’ve wanted ‘us’ for years! It takes a lot less brains than you’ve got to figure that one out!”

Sam feels a bubble of happiness rise in her chest, and she can’t help but let out a giggle and lean into his side. Usually, she hates making mistakes, misunderstanding people (numbers are so much easier) but this time, she only feels an absurd amount of relief. Jack wraps an arm around her and pulls her against his side snugly.

When the giggles subside, she smiles up at him, and he grins back and musses her hair with his free hand. “Glad we got that figured out,” he says warmly. “So...does this mean I can stop avoiding having ‘that talk’ with Hammond?”

She feels a sharp dose of reality prod at that bubble of happiness. “I don’t want you to leave the team.”

“Oh, not that talk. Just the one where he makes me sit down, starts saying he’s mentioned SG-1’s unique team...stuff...to the Joint Chiefs, and I hightail it out of there.”

Sam stares at him. Maybe seven years of fighting the Goa’uld have finally taken their toll, or maybe it’s just that her bubble refuses to be popped, but she can’t help but laugh again. “You’re a chickenshit, sir.”

Jack sighs. “With...feeling...feelings? Yeah. Other than the knees, and the gray, it’s one of the reasons--”

She slaps his shoulder. “Stop it. It’s one of the things I love about you. That you’re as much of disaster when it comes to relationships as I am. I don’t have to be worried about messing up.”

His arm freezes around her. “Jack?”

“D-did you mean that?” Brown eyes search hers.

Sam replays her words in her head. Oh. She reaches up and cups his cheek in her palm, relishing the play of his five o’clock shadow over her fingers. “Yes. I love you, Jack O’Neill.”

The adoration that rains down from Jack’s answering smile makes Sam’s heart fill to bursting, and she feels the happiness spill over as he leans forward and gives her the softest, most delicate kiss she’s ever received.

“In case there was any doubt, Carter,” Jack whispers, “I love you too.”

He hugs her then, pulling her down on the couch until he’s half-sitting, half-lying against the sofa arm and she’s curled into him. Jack’s arms are around her waist and his lips are in her hair and Sam hugs him back for all she’s worth. She’s never felt so cared for, so safe, so content.

Sam’s not sure how long they lay there, the only sounds their breathing and the quiet tick of the clock on the mantel, just relishing in the peace of the moment. Her meds have definitely kicked in and the warmth of Jack’s body is making her drowsy, but if they fall asleep here, they’ll probably both be unable to move tomorrow.

She raises her head. “Jack, let me up,” she says softly.

They untangle themselves until they’re sitting side by side on the couch again, hands still entwined.

“I know you want to talk to Hammond about this before we do...other things.”

“Yeah, I’d bet my truck that he’s got something up his sleeve.” Jack wiggles his eyebrows. “Not that I don’t want to do ‘other things’, but…”

Sam throws him an acknowledging grin. “We owe it to him.” She looks down, takes a deep breath, looks back up. “Even so, would you...stay? Just to sleep?”

Jack smiles that adoring smile again, and she feels her heart melt. “Of course, Carter.”

And he does.

[arazialotis]

Winchester & Co. - Part 4

Pairing: Dean × Reader

Word Count: Around 3100

Summary: When most people run away, they join the circus; but the Winchester boys were running from it. They wanted more than their father’s business; a paranormal circus of horror and delight. Dean Winchester thought he would never step foot here again but John’s death obliged him to return. Now that he’s back, the only thing that may tempt him to stay is you. The girl with white hair and a gift to see the future. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: Violence, Language

Beta’d by the wonderful @misguidedconqueress

As the days passed, you were nowhere near closer to solving the mystery surrounding John’s death. Snippets of the future from staff lead to more questions than answers, loose strings that you and Dean couldn’t tie together. Your stolen moments in the field shortened as Dean dove further into his father's office, looking for hints; but soon the demands of the business pulled harder. Balancing books, distributing salaries, ordering supplies. The witch Celeste by far had the most extensive list, requiring ingredients for the potions she peddled. 

The ledgers were sprawled across his father’s desk as Dean attempted to recall the past weeks of spending and income. He scratched up his own writing and mistakes, muttering to himself at his hopeless attempt. A rapping knock at the office door stirred him from the concentration. 

“Sorry to intrude.”

Dean smiled and sighed in relief. His kid brother, now taller than he. Sam entered the room, greeting Dean with an embrace.

“Man, am I glad to see you.” Dean gently beat against Sam’s shoulder. 

Two years prior to Dean’s own departure, Sam had left the circus after a furious confrontation with John. He packed his bags and took a train out to the East Coast, landing a spot at some pretentious institute and coming out with a law degree. It was far from accounting, but as far as Dean was concerned, Sam could handle the bookkeeping far better than he. 

“It’s been too long.” Sam matched the sentiment, lightly patting Dean’s jaw, taking in his exhaustion. “An event such as this shouldn’t have to force us together.” 

“Agreed.” Dean went back to the scribbles of his books but paused again. “How much do you know?” 

Sam furrowed his brow. 

“About Dad’s death?” Dean clarified. 

Sam nodded his understanding. “I met with Crowley at the tent. He caught me up to speed, leaving out a few key details I’m sure.” 

“Call me crazy.” Dean wrung the back of his neck. “But I’m beginning to trust that son of a bitch.” Dean could see the confusion painted on Sam’s face. “He’s motivated by greed. Being Dad’s second in command was the best thing going for him. Without knowing what was in the will and a hefty pay increase last quarter, I just don’t see it.” 

“And the girl?” Sam pried. 

“What of it?” 

Sam sat down in the office chair, kicking his feet up onto the desk. “Is your judgment surrounding her clouded?”

Dean clenched his jaw. Sam had his own past here. “Why were you really at the tent?”

Sam cleared his throat and brought his feet down. “Point taken.” He shuffled through the papers. “And the will?”

Dean pointed towards a ledger and Sam found the slip underneath. “It’s pretty straight forward. Not much legal jargon you need to sort through.” 

Sam leaned back, running his hand through his untrimmed hair, verging on a length the courtrooms wouldn’t find acceptable. “What the hell are we going to do?” 

It was a question Dean found himself asking over and over again this past week. It was no longer a home to him, but a home to so many. Home to you. “I have no idea.”

***

The warmth building in the caravan transmitted into your dreams, making it hard to breathe. Looking up, two unfamiliar figures loomed above you, heated in an argument. Her hair, the color of fire sparked with her temper. And he, a modest man, a cooling dark against her hot spirit. His hands were calloused from hard labor. 

“You have to keep a better eye on her!” The woman yelled. “You know it’s not safe for her to go out.” 

“What would you have me do, Eileen? I work two shifts so you have a place to live. I need to sleep sometime!” He defended. “You're not the only one who works!” Showing her hands, colored from dyes and chemicals. 

Tears slid down your eyes, though you didn’t know why. It felt like your fault. 

“All that talk? It’s all just rumors! If they see her… they’ll understand.” He begged. 

“You can’t believe that’s true. Look at how they treat us! Our people! They’ll treat her just the same. Even worse for what she is.” A kettle screamed from the kitchen, she threw her hands up and left the conversation to take it off the stove. 

He followed, the words becoming blurred as you looked out the window to towering buildings stretching for miles, wishing to fly over them and breath fresh air. 

The sound of heavy boots stomped outside the hallway. You ran to her, burying your face into her skirt. A knock sounded on the door. The couple looked at each other. The man went for a fire poker while the woman bent down to meet you. She pushed white hair out of your eyes. 

Her voice filled with worry, hissing like the kettle. “Hide. Hide, Moonchild.” 

In the small apartment, there were few places to hide. You ran to the bedroom and slid under the bed. You peeked out from the sheet, hanging an inch or two above the floor. Muffled voices and the sound of scraping feet. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe you should come out. Your heart thudded against your chest. Bang! A shot rang out through the air. A scream escaped your lips and your hands went to your ears, covering them from the woman’s cries. 

Her feet scurried into the room and her plea’s protested against the attacker. Another shot. Red dots speckled the floor where she fell with a thud. Her eyes open, staring at you. Your hands covered your mouth this time, backing up further under the bed until you hit the wall. Boots thudded around the room. You couldn’t breathe. They were right next to you. ***

You woke up in a panic. Your mouth and eyes dry, panting in the warm air. Sunlight crept through the cracks of the caravan. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. You repeated over and over to yourself until the panic subsided. 

Scuttling around your little caravan, you went for some water to quench your thirst but were out. A trip to the well then. You grabbed a large wooden bucket and rag; leaving the house, not bothering with a shawl or shoes. 

The circus was already up and bustling. They were all up earlier to be first in line for a trader from town. He came around monthly, selling goods and trinkets. Items for purchase that were not made available by John. You fancied a lotion he sold, that smelled of amber and vanilla. You took it in your hand. Strictly to use for your desire, not because you wanted to entice a certain someone. A smirk crept over you at the thought of him. Inspecting other items, you settled on just that and tossed him a few coins, before continuing on your way. 

You weaved through the stalls and shacks, waving to familiar faces as you went. You waved to Castiel who was meeting with Celeste, though he didn’t seem to notice your presence. Pausing to wait, it seemed they were having something of a debate. 

“Celeste, pull your act tonight. We’re running out quicker than I anticipated.” His arm leaned against her small home, watching as she brewed away some type of potion. “Things are going to get out of hand.”

“There are too many.” Celeste hissed. “I can’t remember them all.” 

“I’m working on it.” He assured. “Just do what you can. With both boys…” He stood straight when he noticed you. “Y/N, pleasant morning for a walk.” 

You swang your bucket back and forth, as if you only just arrived, hoping he didn’t realize you were eavesdropping. “Ay.” You agreed. “What brings you out to these parts?” You eyed Celeste suspiciously. 

Castiel pushed up off the house and joined you in the path. “Customers complaining that the love potions are too weak, making sure the next shipment has all of Celeste’s ingredients this time.”

“That seems more up Crowley’s alley.” You stood your ground, not being so easily fooled. 

Castiel sighed as your eyes darted between him and Celeste, working out what they had been discussing. “Walk with me Y/N.” He instructed. You followed him along the path to the well. The wooden shacks that passed as homes began spacing out and grass filled in the gaps. “Listen Y/N. I know how fond you are of Dean.” A blush filled your cheeks, you looked down to your feet and kicked a loose pebble. Had it already traveled that fast around the circus? He continued. “And Dean, he’s like a brother to me, but he’s been out of this a long time. With John gone, there’s a lot of gaps Crowley is trying to fill. I’m trying to help, is all.” 

You clicked your teeth, and shrugged away your suspicion, mostly. “Well, I’m not doing much of anything, so I’m happy to help.”

Castiel stopped as the path split and rested his hand on your shoulder. “That means a lot. I’m sure once we understand the scope of things, there’ll be something for you to do, no doubt.” His hand dropped as he looked down the path. “Well, I’d better get a move on it.” “See ya, Cas.” You headed down your own. “Oh Y/N.” Castiel turned from his direction. “How are you? From our last reading?” 

You chuckled. “Oh, fine. Just fine. It seemed like just a fluke. Maybe I’m only supposed to read humans, not angels.” 

Castiel nodded. “Makes sense. Take care.” He waved goodbye. 

You waved him along, silent with your thoughts; sorting out the whole ordeal. You pushed it away. Celeste and Crowley, now that would be a pair to be leery of. But Cas, no. You had seen the stress trying to run the operations had caused Dean. He needed all the help he could get. Not that he would ask for it. From what Castiel had said earlier, Sam was back. That should calm things down for the foreseeable future.

The well broke away from the surrounding trees, a small clearing in the forest. It was quiet today, others were not gathered around. You lowered your bucket in and brought it up, the water sloshing as it went. 

You smiled, finally being able to quench your thirst and cool the heat of the day. You cupped your hands and brought a drink to your lips, before splashing the remainder on your face. You wrung the rag, now damp and worked it behind your neck and down your arms. Pulling up your skirt and revealing your bare legs underneath, you scrubbed away at sweat and dirt. Finally satisfied, you indulged in the sweet scent of the lotion. The sun glistened against your skin as you rubbed it up and down your legs, humming as you went. 

A whistling tune joined your melody. Your cheeks flushed and you whipped down your skirt to cover yourself, turning towards the noise. “Ah.” You scowled at Dean and tossed the rag at him. “How long have ya been there?” He chuckled and came closer. “Only a bit, didn’t want to spoil the view.” He was standing over you, smiling ear to ear. As much as you tried to suppress yours, a smirk still came through. “You rotten scoundrel.” You playfully accused.

He sat down next to you on the edge of the well. “We do have facilities with running water, you know.” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “I find this more soothing, and typically more private. Though I do realize it may not be as effective, hygienically speaking.” 

He took your chin in his hand, turning you to face him. “You smell lovely.” 

Your lips turned up devilishly. “Perhaps I taste even better.” 

Dean leaned in. His soft lips working against your chapped skin. He trailed from your lips down your neck. You moaned from the pleasure, your hand snaking through his hair, pulling him further into you. His name faintly escaped your lips as his hand clutched at your waist. The crash of the wave settled as he finally came up for air. 

“Inconclusive.” He stated. “Further testing will have to be done.” He teased. 

He leaned in, yet you pushed him away, giggling as you did. “Rotten.” You repeated before lowering your voice to a sultry whisper. “As for further testing, you’ll have to come by later tonight.” 

“So actually…” As he spoke, you huffed in defeat. “With Sam back home, we were planning a small ceremony for dad tonight.” Your pouty-ness melted away at the good cause. “Of course you’re welcome to attend.” 

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

***

A full-length mirror was one of the very few items that adorned your caravan. Looking at it now you were displeased. Not because of the chipping gold varnish, or the discoloration in the glass, splotchy, and in need of a polish. No, it was because of what was looking back. You had ditched your traditional garb for a tea-length black dress. It was John’s funeral, after all. But the material picked at your skin. The dress itself made you appear darker, more sinister than you cared for. Like you were the demon-witch they all accused you of being. You swallowed the memory. This wasn’t about you or your comfort. You’d make a respectable appearance, you convinced yourself while pulling on stockings and sliding into shoes. It was suffocating, but you could deal with it for a few hours. 

Dean, Sam, Crowley, and a few others were gathered at the Winchester’s home. You greeted Sam with a hug, keeping the moment somber, but making a mental note to tease him about his astonishing height later. Dean and you kept close but avoided direct affection in the crowd. You made your way past the garden to an oak that matched the pair at the circus’s entrance. A white picket fence surrounded the area of stones within. John’s parents, brother, and Mary before him. A deep hole now in the earth for him to join them. 

Dean held the box, wrapped in parchment, close as a local minister led the group in solemn words of prayer. Words of comfort, healing, hope. None of which you felt. You tried to picture John now. What he had meant to you. A rescuer, a savior, a home. Blood speckled across his face. You gasped, your heart picking up pace. No, that wasn’t… you pushed it down, refocusing on the minister. 

Dean’s pinky wrapped around yours. You gently squeezed against it, conveying you were there for him. When instructed he let go of you and placed the box of ashes into the ground. He took a shovel and sprinkled on a covering of dirt, followed by Sam and then others. The shovel passed to you. You dug into the mound, hovering over the hole for a moment. 

Anger flushed against you and a thought crossed your mind. ‘Rot in Hell.’

You blinked away the feeling, the emotion, and without sprinkling dirt over him, you passed it off to the next person. You shouldn’t be here. Aimlessly, you began wandering away, your head spinning with confusion. 

“Y/N. Hey.” Dean called for you, his voice out of breath. You looked back, realizing you had made it farther away than you thought. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean regained your attention, his voice filled with concern. 

“I…” Your voice faltered and chest heaved for air. 

A scream ripped through the air, both of you whipped to the direction of it. Shouting rang afterward, coming from the fairgrounds. Dean took off in a sprint; you followed quickly behind, shoes flying off as you ran. 

You slowed your pace as you neared. A large crowd circled around. Fire spitting up into the air. Dean and you pushed your way through to the front. Danny, the vampire, and a fire-spitting side act were riled up in the middle of it. Danny’s hair was noticeably singed. “Hey!” Dean’s voice boomed, with none of the gentleness you had previously known. “What’s going on here?” He demanded. 

The dragon spoke first, defending his actions “He stole it! I know he did. Saw him sneaking around earlier this morning.” 

“I did nothing.” Danny hissed. 

“Stole what?” Dean asked. “My watch. My golden watch.” The dragon begged for its return. Danny rolled his eyes. “I have no need for useless trinkets.”

“Take that back!” The dragon snarled, his throat turning red from the heat.

“Hey!” Dean pushed himself into the middle, separating the two. “Knock it off!” When he felt assured the dragon had calmed, he looked at Danny. “Turn out your pockets.” 

“I don’t take orders…��� He started. 

“Turn out your pockets!” Dean yelled again. 

Danny obliged. Nothing but an empty vial, a paper parchment, and a spare string. 

Sam caught up, pushing his way to the front, but not interfering with Dean’s authority. 

“Sam, round up a few volunteers and search Danny’s belongings.” Dean heard the vampire growl behind him. “If he is innocent, then he should have nothing to hide.” 

Sam nodded and called on a few to follow him. “As for the rest of you!” Dean’s voice boomed over the crowd. “We have a business and show to run, now get back to work!” The group began to disperse but Dean grabbed the dragon by the collar of the shirt. “Don’t make a habit out of quarrels.” He threatened in a hushed tone. “Come to me before taking it into your own hands. Understand?” The dragon nodded and Dean pushed him away. As a few straggled behind, he found you, himself at a loss for words or explanations. 

“Since when did the dragons here give a shit about treasure?” He asked you, perplexed as if he had forgotten the past. 

“They don’t.” 

Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead, waiting for the next disaster to strike. He was off to follow Sam to ensure Danny wasn’t causing any additional trouble.  

“Mr. Winchester, Mr. Winchester!” A shapeshifter ran through the grounds calling after him. “It’s the werewolf. She’s transformed. On her own!”

“What?” Was all he managed to mutter. 

“The angels have her cornered, trying to corral her into the cage.” 

He caught up to speed. “Is anyone hurt?” She shook her head no. 

“Fetch Crowley, have him meet me there.” He instructed. 

She jolted off. 

He looked at you, a young innocence shining through his eyes. He didn’t sign up for this but it was in his hands now. 

“Go!” You waved him on. “Go.” 

His feet sprung before he intended to, swinging into motion, running towards the tent. He didn’t look back. You thought about joining him, but a werewolf on the loose was out of your element. You’d just be another body in the way. 

Taking in the faces on the grounds, you slowly spun around as they got back to work. Sweeping steps, practicing tricks. Their faces, shallow and sunken. Stress and tensions high. The circus no longer felt like a sunlit field, a refuge from the world. No, this was dark. Gloomy. A horror people perceived your kind to be. 

 “Are we all going mad?” The panicked question caught your breath, rushing out unexpectedly, to no one in particular.

----

Tags:

Forevers: @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @jotink78 @blushingdean @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @dancingalone21 @carryonmyswansong @atc74 @superapplepie @cassieraider @adaliamalfoy @iwriteaboutdean @spnbaby-67 @monkeymcpoopoo @adoptdontshoppets @maddiepants @onceuponathreetwoone @thisismysecrethappyplace

 Dean x Reader: @akshi8278 @boxywrites @its-not-a-tulpa @tacklesackles @aubreystilinski @iamabeautifulperson18 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @ria132love

Winchester & Co: @flamencodiva​ @shamelesslydean​

[princesssarcastia]

the day that was(n’t)

edit 4/9/20: now on ao3, if you’d prefer

Allison buys two tickets for Luther and he still hunches his shoulders in, trying to make himself that much smaller.  She hasn’t let go of his hand since they left the park.  Everything is balancing on a knife’s edge in her mind, and if she loses him as an anchor right now she’ll crumble.

Her ears pop as they rise, rise, rise, and she clenches Luther’s hand and finally lets herself wonder if she can do this.  Wonder what words she can say to Patrick to make him understand that this isn’t a trick.  Allison only has two days left on this Earth to see her daughter.  (her daughter only has two days left on this Earth.  this Earth only has two days left) what if he says no what if he calls the police what if five is wrong and she destroys her last chance what if what if what if what if—

Luther pulls her hand to his chest and splays it flat, letting her feel the steady march of his heartbeat and the slow pull of his breath, in, out, in, out. Hers is coming in short, quick (quiet, always quiet don’t let him hear number three) bursts; panic like she hasn’t felt in years is rising in her. 

But.  But Luther is here.  Luther is here, and he’s holding her hand, and he’s breathing.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.

Allison lets her eyes close and focuses on him, for a little while.

                                                               —

Klaus shudders and sobs and smiles because he did it.  Dave is here.

“Klaus,” Dave smiles at him (Dave Dave Dave his heart beats).  “What are you doing to yourself, sweetheart?”

He crosses the attic, floorboards creaking in time with his footsteps, and crouches down next to him.

“I had to see you,” Klaus sobs and smiles and it’s all tangled up inside but it doesn’t matter, because Dave is here.  Dave died in his arms and Klaus scrubbed Dave’s blood out from under his fingernails, but he’s here.  It’s okay now.

“So you tied yourself to a chair?” He shakes his head.  “Wait, are you sober?”  A hesitant look takes over Dave’s face.  “Klaus, does this mean you can see—can see all the others, too?  You don’t have to—not for me.”

Klaus shakes his head.  “No, no, Dave, you’re—you’re worth every second of it.  I love you, Dave, so much.  I missed you so much,” he sobs again.  And oh, this won’t do; his eyes are so watery it’s hard to make Dave out.  He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ward off more tears.

Dave runs a hand gently over Klaus’s forehead, pushing his hair away from his eyes.  Memories of nights spent memorizing the way Dave’s warm, calloused hands felt against him flash in Klaus’s mind.

Wait.

Klaus opens his eyes and jerks back a little.  Hands.  Floorboards.

“Dave,” he breathes, shocked, and finally manages to pull his own hands free.  The space between them is illuminated with pale blue light.  He reaches up, shaking, as Dave leans down, and their foreheads collide somewhere in the middle.

They press against each other, just savoring getting to breathe the same air.  Figuratively.  Except, well, maybe not?

“How is this possible?” Klaus murmurs, trying to pull Dave even closer.  “Is this you?”

“No, this is all you, sweetheart.”  Dave smiles at him again (hasn’t stopped smiling at him, actually, not that Klaus is any better).

“Hmmm.  Sounds like a problem for tomorrow, don’t you think?”

Dave laughs, and it’s the greatest thing Klaus has ever heard.

                                                             —

“I won’t lie to my children anymore,” Mom says, and lifts her chin ever so slightly.

Diego feels something ease inside him.  It is the first time she has ever called them hers; Sir Reginald never allowed her the attachment.

But his father isn’t here anymore.

“Mom,” he says softly.  “Mom, whatever it is, it’ll be okay.  I understand, I promise.”

She doesn’t smile and says, “Sir Reginald killed himself, in the hopes that it would bring you all together one last time.”

She doesn’t smile and says, “Pogo has been sabotaging my programming to arouse your suspicions, to keep you all investigating and focused, as a team.  As long as I was a suspect, you children would stay.”

She doesn’t smile and says, “Do you remember when I first came to stay with you, Diego?”

He sucks in a breath; it’s—what?  It’s too much at once, but also not enough.  “Why would.  Why w-w-would he kill himself?  What could possibly m-m-m—”

“Diego,” she cuts him off.  Something in his chest curls up; she’s never interrupted him when he was struggling with a word, not once, and it hurts.

Mom reaches out and grasps his shoulders. “Diego.  My sweet boy,” and now a smile flits across her mouth, as she’s looking into his eyes.  “This is important.  Do you remember the nannies you had before I came to stay?”

Something vague drags itself from his memory.  “I.  Yeah, one of them spoke french, right?”

She smiles again, but this time it’s one of Reginald's. He can always tell the difference; this one is meant to be encouragement for answering a question correctly.  “That’s right!” 

And then it slides off her face.  “They were human.  But humans are,” she pauses, “breakable.  Your father stopped employing human nannies after you all turned four.”

Breakable.  “Did we,” he swallows, “did we hurt them?”

She doesn’t smile and says, “You didn’t.  But Vanya did.”

                                                        —

Vanya presses her father’s journal to her chest with one hand and grips her case with the other as she walks the length of the city.

After Ben—when she first moved out, the only thing she could think was away.  Far away.  And Leonard’s house is close—was close—

There’s blood on her face.  There was blood everywhere, my god what have I—

No cabs.  No friends to call.  Just Vanya, making her way to the house she ran away from twelve years ago.

She is a liability you have to have powers to go this is a family matter I heard a              r u  m  o   r

But she loves them.  She loves them.  It’ll be okay.  They can help, her family can help her.  Her family will help her.  Sisters.

Time collapses.

Vanya knocks quietly at the manor’s front door, but nobody answers.  Late.  It’s late.  Her family isn’t ignoring her, they’re just asleep.  She could knock louder, but—(he beats his fist against the book until it’s the only thing she can hear, until it fills her mind and she  s c r e a m s).

Through the kitchen.  Her key fits into the lock and the door creaks open and she’s in the kitchen.  There are dishes in the sink, why are there dishes in the sink?  Mom always puts the dishes away before bed.  (the new nanny cracks as she hits the ground, and doesn’t get up again)

Maybe they’re in the living room.  They were meeting there earlier, maybe they’re still—

She’s in the living room, and she’s alone.  Just Vanya.  Some of the lamps are still on, casting a warm glow on everything.

Late.  It’s late.  Her family is probably asleep.  Vanya could call out for them (she  s c r e a m s) or Pogo (did you know?) but. 

Vanya can wait here.  She can sit here, and wait for them to notice her.  Then they can help, her family can help her.

She perches on the edge of the cushion, journal pressed to her chest in one hand, case gripped tight in the other, and waits.

                                                           —

Seven seconds from the time he drops the grenade to the explosion.  Just enough to get the year, the month the day, but his hands are too goddamn sweaty to fix the hour.

“Shit!” He grinds his teeth and flips the catches anyway.  Two days is better than nothing, which is what he’ll be if he stays any longer.

The heat of the explosion reaches him just as he slips into the void, and gets unceremoniously dumped onto the unyielding oak of his father’s wet-bar.

He gives himself two seconds to lie there and groan.  God, that hurt.  He’s thirteen years old, but you wouldn’t know it from all the aches and pains littering his body.  This is what fifty felt like the first time around. What he wants, more than anything, is to sleep for the next sixteen hours and then drink a gallon of coffee.

What, are you going to sit there and whine all day? Dolores says in the back of his mind.  Get up.  We have work to do.

Everything hurts as he pushes himself to his feet, and there’s a particularly stabbing pain in his right side, but that’s irrelevant right now.

Coffee.  He can give himself one out of two, and then round up his idiot siblings to stop the apoca—

“Five?” Someone croaks.  He recognizes that kind of voice; that’s the voice of someone who’s screamed their vocal cords to shreds.

His eyes land on Vanya, of all people, sitting alone on the couch.  Why would she be—nope, doesn’t matter.  Apocalypse first, issues later.

“Good.  You’re here.”  He marches across the room.  “The apocalypse is in two...” his voice trails off.

She’s covered in blood.  It’s splattered across her face, her chest; her hands look like she dunked them in a vat of it.  There’s a familiar looking book clutched to her chest like a life-line.

“Five,” she croaks again.  Her eyes.  The look in her eyes...Five notes distantly that it’s a wonder she can speak at all, if she’s that shell-shocked.

“Vanya,” he says warily, “what happened?”

“I didn’t mean to,” she says dazedly.  “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t.“

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t,” he says quietly, and takes a slow step closer to her.

“I just...” she looks down and seemingly pries her arm from around the book and holds it out to him.  “I found it.  Under his bed.  He had it under his bed the whole time.”

Another step, and another, and gently, he lifts the book from her hand.  He hesitates for a second and replaces it with his own hand, letting her clutch at him instead while he examines the book.

It’s dad’s journal.

A slow, uneasy feeling stirs in his gut.

Vanya blinks, and turns her head to look up at him.  She looks fragile, and not all there yet, but it’s progress.

“Vanya, where is everyone?”

“It’s late,” she says dully.  “I didn’t want to wake anyone up,” she continues, and then shudders. 

Right.  He’s pretty sure even Diego would have gotten up to help Vanya if she showed up looking like this, but there’s clearly something else bothering her about the idea.

“I was waiting for them to notice me.  They can help me. They can help me,” she repeats, and sounds a little stronger.

“Of course they can.  I can help you too, Vanya.  Just,” he sets the book on the end table and sits next to her, “tell me what happened.”

She starts shaking.  “I think—I think I killed him, Five.  I killed him.”

There’s enough blood for her to have killed several ‘hims.’

“Who did you kill?”

“Leonard.  It was an accident,” the word start pouring out of her, “It was an accident, Five, I didn’t mean to, but I found dad’s journal and he’s been reading dad’s notes about me, manipulating me, and he wouldn’t stop hitting it it was so loud I couldn’t help it and I screamed and he was,” she gasps, “He was dead, I killed him, I killed him!”

Vanya keeps gasping at shorter and short intervals until she’s crying, sobbing.  Five throws his other arm around her shoulders and pulls her into him and feels helpless against the onslaught of tears; he’s never seen her this emotional before.

Then again, to his knowledge, she’s never killed anyone before.

“it’s okay.  It’ll be okay, we’ll fix this.  I mean, do you have any idea how many people I’ve killed?”  He tries for levity and then immediately regrets it.

But somehow, it works.  At least a little.  “You’ve killed people with your powers, too?”

He blinks in shock.  “Powers?”

Dad’s journal, the one he took notes about their training in; it’s bound to be full of dangerous information about all of them.  This “Leonard” had their Dad’s journal.  He was manipulating Vanya with it.  There’s information about Vanya in it.

Vanya has powers?

She jerks her head in an imitation of a nod, but doesn’t say anything.  Five doesn’t say anything either, just absently pulls her a little closer while he mulls this over.

His equations were always off.  It all makes sense now, though, because he was missing a crucial piece of data.  Vanya has powers.  How could he not have known?  How could any of them have missed this?

She still has tears running down her face, which is a step above shock, but not great.  All it means is he can worry about the details later.  He can feel the pieces of their lives slowly coming together in the back of his mind, but Vanya can’t wait until he figures it out.

“Alright.  Here’s what we’re going to do.”  He pulls away from her enough to help her sit up.  “You’re going to wash all the—take a shower,” he awkwardly switches tacks when he sees the look it gives her.  “And then we’ll find the others and figure out what happened.” 

And then he and Diego will go hide the body, he adds silently, but even he can tell Vanya is in no state to hear that.

“We can help you, Vanya.  We will help you.  Everything’s going to be okay.”