#I remember not wanting to go for walks in broad daylight in my own neighborhood because men suddenly started shouting stuff at me from cara

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

Thinking about how being a girl is just being constantly aware of all the ways you could be harassed. Oh, a car passing by. Hopefully it's not filled with men who want to shout something at me. Oh a group of teen boys walking by me while I'm by myself. I sure hope they leave me alone. Oh, look, a construction crew. Better not go that way. Oh I want to go to a bar? Better not leave my drink unattended. In fact, it's better not to take a drink from someone at all. Even the bartender. Oh, I want to go for a walk but it's starting to get dark? Probably a better idea to stay inside.

It's any wonder more of us don't go crazy.

#I remember not wanting to go for walks in broad daylight in my own neighborhood because men suddenly started shouting stuff at me from cara #One of my classmates had seen me walking and tried to honk to get my attention #Later in class he said he wanted to say hi to me but I ignored him #Didn't have the heart to tell him why I ignored random honks I heard #Idk what it is about big cars especially that embolden men so much #They think being off the ground makes them Gods ig #Boys and men are monsters

[stitching-in-time]

Really long, very personal story

My favorite tea shop is closing next week. It’s hitting me harder than you’d think it would. It meant so much to me. Not just because it had the best bubble tea and baos and potstickers I’ve ever tasted. But because it was one of the first things that was my own little thing I did for myself. It’s a few blocks from my house, and I could walk there myself, and I did, all the time, in the past few years. My house doesn’t have a porch, so I’d walk down to the tea shop and sit on their cute little patio and watch the world on nice days. My neighborhood is full of cute houses with flower gardens, and some of the prettiest gardens are near the tea shop. I love my walks there. I love the feeling of having somewhere to go. I like the nice people who work there. I love being able to have a place I can bring my friends and show them this great little small business with authentic Taiwanese food that’s the gem of my neighborhood that everyone loves. 

It’s weird to lose it after really only recently finding it. I’ve lived in the same house for 17 years. I was here before the tea shop moved in. I remember when it opened- it was actually twelve years ago. I only started going two years ago. I remember driving past it nearly every day, always wanting to go inside. I’d say so, every so often, to my mom, who I used to live with. She’d always say no. So we never went. She said it was too much trouble, it was too expensive, it was totally unnecessary to go to a tea shop. And the thing about my mom, and my relationship to her, is that she is very messed up, and so our whole relationship has always been very messed up too. If you’ve ever seen Disney’s Tangled, Rapunzel and Gothel are me and my mom, exactly. Like down to verbatim arguments we’ve had. So, for most of my life, when my mom didn’t approve of something, I wasn’t allowed to have it, and expressing like for a thing she didn’t like was met with ridicule or hostility. So going to a little shop to buy tea was one of those things that was Only For Normal People, and one of those many things that she deemed simply Not Okay for me to have. So I didn’t. She was the absolute authority, her way was the only right way, you get in trouble if you fight her. So I didn’t. I didn’t drive, since she deemed that an unnecessary thing for me to do, and I had never even walked that far before, or even thought to try. I’d never walked further than around my block in all the years I’d lived here. She told me I couldn’t walk any further, that it would be too hard for me because of my disability, and that it would be too dangerous, even in broad daylight. And I believed her, because I had absolutely no one in my life but her to tell me differently. Her word became my reality, because she either made it too hard to fight for what I wanted, or because I simply never had anyone tell me different. 

And then a few years ago I got back into theatre. And it was like the world slowly started turning from black and white to color. I met people, I started going places with them. Suddenly, walking a few blocks or going to a restaurant weren’t impossible, hopeless, faraway dreams. They were normal things, that normal people just did. No one questioned that I was capable of doing those things. I called all the tech cues in a big old musical at a real live theatre, and if I could do that, I could make my own decisions about where I wanted to go or what I wanted to buy.

Learning to be a normal human was still a slow process though, and I usually went with friends to new places. About four years ago, I asked one of my theatre friends if they wanted to get tea with me at the little tea shop near my house that I’d been dying to go to for 10 years. A meetup with a friend was a legitimate excuse my mom wouldn’t be able to question. And for the first time ever, I went. I must have taken ten minutes standing up at the counter, just deciding what to order. It was so enormous to me, to be able to get whatever I wanted at this magical little tea shop like a Normal Person. I might never get another chance. I was terribly afraid of making the wrong decision, since in my mom’s view, any decision that didn’t turn out perfectly, or at least how she wanted it, was categorically wrong. I still struggle to ignore her disapproving voice in my head with everything I do.

Anyway, after some recommendations from the very patient employee behind the counter, I settled on a mango black tea, which was wonderful. It’s still one of my usuals there. My friend clearly thought I was weird, but was at least being gracious about it. It was a nice little thing I checked off my list, having been to the tea shop once. I’d had my friend drive me there (it was January and very cold/snowy), so I was as yet unaware that it was easily within walking distance.

The rest of that year, whenever I had to meet with someone for a theatre thing, I’d suggest we meet at the little tea shop. It was a great excuse to go there- in my brainwashed mind, I had to have an excuse, since just wanting to go because I liked it was never good enough for my mom, and she would always let me know it.

And then, the pandemic happened. Suddenly everyone was quarantining, right when the spring weather was getting nice. I was feeling cabin fever like anyone else, and without the option to go see friends, the only way to get out of the house was to go take walks outside. By this time, I finally had a smartphone (which had long been another one of my mom’s unnecessary, forbidden items), and so I could actually pull up a map of my neighborhood and see how far things actually were, and how to get to them. Turns out, they were never far at all. I walked all over my entire neighborhood; I found all the parks and restaurants. I learned all the street names, and which houses had pretty flower gardens. (There was a creek and bike path literally two blocks away from my house and I never realized- I can see part of it at the end of my street, from my bedroom window, but in over a decade, I had never ventured any further than a block away to find out what was right there in front of me.) 

And when restaurants began opening up for take out mid-pandemic, I walked to the cafe, and ordered my mango tea. At first, I was only brave enough to go with my friend, when we’d meet up once a month for socially distant, mask-wearing walks. We stopped going once it got to be winter and it was too cold to want to eat outside. My cafe friend and I had a pandemic romance. We broke up in spring, when quarantine ended. I felt very alone and very sad. So I started walking to the cafe myself. And ordering food myself. Because it was fun, and I wanted to. And it made me happy. One of my other friends had a commute that took her past the cafe, so we’d meet up for tea there every other week too. She got me to try new things on their menu. It was wonderful. I could go meet my friends without having to ask my mom’s permission. I could go and buy myself yummy teas and food without her even knowing. I could sit on their patio for an hour or two on a beautiful sunny day and just enjoy the tea and the view. By myself, for myself. It was something that was mine that my mom couldn’t touch or ruin. It was my own space, my own choice, for one beautiful year, last year.

My mom finally moved out this year. I've been wishing and waiting my entire life for that moment, and it was a very complicated and traumatic process, but I was very much looking forward to my new life of freedom, including my little walks to my little tea shop. I was disappointed to find that they reduced their hours by a lot this year; I was pretty sure it would spell the end for them, since I’d seen many restaurants go the way of reduced hours before succumbing to their eventual demise in this post-pandemic world. When I asked a month and a half ago, they said they didn’t know if they would be open past July. When I saw their open sign on again in August, I hoped they might stay open permanently. But when I went in today, it was packed full of people, busier than I’d ever seen it. The kind of line-out-the-door busy that only happens when beloved neighborhood institutions are about to close forever. While waiting for my tea, I checked facebook, and the first post that came up when I searched their name confirmed my fear- they’re closing. They have two days left next week, and then my little tea shop will be gone.

It hurts more than I can really convey. So many memories are there, including those with people who are no longer in my life. My friend that I first went there with was one of the closest friends I’ve ever had. We are not on speaking terms anymore, for reasons that are incredibly hurtful, and even though I’m very angry with them, I also miss them every single day. I feel like another little piece of what we had is crumbling away into the dust with the cafe. I know they’re gone from my life forever, but remembering how they bought me my favorite mango tea for the first time made me feel like they were still a tiny part of my life. 

And sitting on that patio on nice days, with my own little drink and sweet potato bao, made me feel like a normal person for some of the first times in my life. It was my routine, my ritual, my thing, that I chose. My mom couldn’t say no or take it away from me. And after a while, I finally felt like I had the right to be there, and to be happy, by myself and for myself, because I wanted to, for pretty much the first time ever. 

I hoped I would have it forever. I’d literally just figured out the perfect ratio of sweetener to ice to bubbles for the perfect black sugar milk tea last week, after a year of experimentation. They have the best matcha and the best taro buns and sweet potato baos I’ve ever tasted. And their potstickers are excellent too, even if they always get bits of the paper stuck to them from the cardboard containers they put them in. It’s just part of their charm.

I never even liked bubble tea till I had theirs. At my friend’s wedding, her husband brought boba for the wedding party, and I was surprised to taste something other than the dark sticky tapioca bubbles my little tea shop has- I guess I forgot other boba existed. 

There is another Taiwanese restaurant in town, I guess I could try them someday. They’re not walking distance from my house though, and they don’t have the variety of drinks that mine has. Or the same food. Or the same nice staff that would give you a large tea filled all the way up at no extra charge when they ran out of medium cups. Or the green walls with colorful travel photos and paintings by local artists. Or a little cork board filled with flyers for neighborhood events and business cards right by their door. Or a beautiful peaceful patio with tables and benches overlooking my neighbor’s front yards filled with sunflowers and dahlias and zinnias. It won’t be my home away from home.

There are a lot of things about my new life on my own that haven’t happened as I expected. The people who had been my closest friends not being a part of it has been hurtful to the core, and losing another thing I’d come to love, and expected to always be part of my life, is hard. There’s a new cafe being built a few blocks further away that’s set to open next year. I’m glad there will still be a cafe in the neighborhood, but I don’t know if it’ll have a patio, and I don’t know how it could ever compare to my little tea shop. 

I don’t know what will happen to the building when the tea shop closes. I hope another cafe moves in, so that they can keep things looking similar. They’ll probably redecorate, and I’ll miss those funky green walls that have all my memories in them. I’ll miss seeing their sign with their name out front maybe most of all though- even before I ever went there, driving past that sign let me know I was almost home. I’m so sad to lose what I just gained, and sadder for all the years when I could have had lovely tea and been happy, but didn’t, for no good reason except believing I didn’t deserve it. At least now I know I do.  

There are still two more days left. I’m gonna order a large tea and two baos next time. I’ll try not to cry in front of the staff. I hope someday I’ll find another cafe to love as much as this, but I don’t think any other could mean quite as much to me. It will always be my tea shop in my heart.

#personal stuff

[ecoamerica]

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[cherrycheolcoups]

Please please would you do a one shot that take place in season 3 episode 20. And the reader is jealous and hurt of hotch being close to Kaye Joyner and getting mad when he takes his side over Morgan's. They could already be in a relationship or not. if you would like. :) thank you

hey, anon! thanks for requesting! i wasn’t sure if you wanted it to be fem!reader, male!reader or gn!reader so i went ahead and chose gn!reader. i kind of got carried away and it became longer than i was intending, but i hope this is to your liking. enjoy! :)

pairing: aaron hotchner x gn!reader

You were at your desk doing some paperwork while trying to ignore Morgan when JJ had came and said there was a case. Getting up, you and the rest of the team made your way to the conference room where the team was usually debriefed of the case. However, as soon as everyone walked in, Hotch had said, “Don’t get comfortable. There’ll be time to debrief on the plane” without even turning around to look at anyone. Clearing your throat a little bit, you look to your boyfriend. “Where are we headed, exactly?” You asked, Hotch still having yet to turn around from the screen where a clip of the murder was playing. “New York,” he had simply answered.

Rossi then spoke up. “5 shootings in 2 weeks. It’s about time we got the call.” You see he finally turns around and looks at Rossi for a moment before looking to Emily when she asks a question. “What do we know?” “All the killings are mid-day. Single gunshot to the head with a .22,” Hotch had answered. “Any witnesses?” JJ pipes up and asks, her hands on her hips. Shaking his head a little bit, Hotch tells her no before looking to Reid when he starts to speak up. “.22-caliber pistol’s only 152 decibels. New York streets and subways are routinely well over 100. It could be people aren’t even registering the gunshot until the unsub’s already leaving the scene.”

You look to your right and listen to Morgan when he says, “They sound like mob hits.” Then, you look to your boyfriend when he responds. “Except none of them have ties to organized crime.” “Do they have any connection to each other?” Emily asked. “None they’ve found,” Aaron told her. “How about communication with the police? Has the unsub tried to make contact?” Morgan asked next. Aaron turns to look at the screen as he answers. “Surveillance cameras have captured video of 3 of the murders. This is the latest,” he says as he clicks a button on the remote and a video comes up on the screen. “That’s the best image they have?” JJ asks Hotch. “They’re all the same. He wears a hood and keeps his head down,” Aaron answers. Emily begins to speak. “This guy’s bold. Crowded areas, broad daylight.” Rossi furrows his brows a bit as he asks, “So they’re completely random?” “It seems that way,” Hotch says. You sigh softly and cross your arms over your chest. This whole thing just gives you a bad feeling.

“Son of Sam all over again,” Reid said. “Wheels up in 30,” you hear your boyfriend say as he then exits the room, probably to go back to his office and grab his go bag. You and the rest of the team all start to pile out of the room as well. Everyone returned to their desks to retrieve their go bags. Derek got hit and said he was going to get Garcia, to which everyone simply shrugged. After you got your go bag, it was time to board the jet. Once on the jet, you chose to sit next to Emily. Besides Aaron, she was the person you were closest with on the team. Though, to everyone else, Emily was the only person you were closest with. None of the others knew about you and Hotch. Well...except maybe for Rossi if the way he looks at you and Aaron sometimes is anything to go by.

You look to the entrance of the plane when you hear Garcia’s voice. “How come I only get to travel with you guys like once every 2 years?” Derek was the next one to talk. “Trust me, Mama. It can get old.” Garcia moved to sit one sit in front of JJ as she turned and set her bag in the chair behind her as she answered. “Oh, right. Like the way that spa treatments in 5-star hotels can get old,” she had said. Emily piped up while looking at Morgan. “Remember the time we got on board and they hadn’t chilled the cristal?” Morgan looked at Prentiss and answered. “Ooh. I almost quit the B.A.U. that day.” This encounter made you laugh some. It was nice when you guys got to joke around for a moment before remembering where you were. You notice Hotch looking at you from the corner of your eye, though you weren’t going to give in and return his stare. Rossi was sitting right in front of Aaron after all. 

Garcia stood and looked at Derek. “You know what? You guys can joke all you want ‘cause I am never leaving this plane.” This made you smile to hear how Garcia just loved the plane. You smiled at Emily when she nudged your shoulder with her own once she sat down. Turning back to look at Hotch, Rossi, and Reid, you turn serious once again. “The victims?” You hear Rossi ask as he sets the photos down on the table. “Each killed in a completely different neighborhood. Hell’s Kitchen, Murray Hill, Lower East Side, Chinatown, East Harlem,” Aaron told Rossi, though looking at all of the team. “It doesn’t make any sense,” Reid says with a shake of his head. “There’s no common victimology, no sexual component, no robbery, no geographical connection. Do the police have any leads?”

“He’s killing roughly every 2 days. The press is having a field day, and it sounds like the mood on the street’s getting pretty edgy,” Aaron spoke as he leaned forward a little bit. “It’s a joint FBI-NYPD taskforce?” Rossi asks. Aaron simply nods his head before answering. “Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office. She’s running point on the case and called me directly,” he says before looking past Rossi and to JJ. “JJ, would you tell them we’re ready to go?” “Right,” JJ says as she pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Kate’s starting to butt heads with the lead detectives and wanted a fresh set of eyes.”

“Joyner, I know her. She’s a Brit, right?” Morgan asked Hotch. “Well, dual citizenship. Her father’s British, her mother’s American. She was a big deal at Scotland Yard before coming to the Bureau.” “I heard she can be a little bit of  a pain in the ass,” Morgan says next. Aaron shakes his head a little bit while looking at Derek. “I didn’t think so.” Emily looked at Hotch. “You know her?” She had asked. At this point, you were a little confused and a little upset, but you couldn’t convey that since you were supposed to be doing a job and the team didn’t know about the two of you, either.

“We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard,” Hotch told Prentiss. Rossi then asked, “And she’s good?” Hotch looked to Rossi. “I think we’re lucky to have her.” This didn’t sit right with you, but you chose to try and ignore it for now. It was in the past, if anything had happened with him and this Kate Joyner you guys would be seeing. You looked out the window and felt Emily nudge you again. “You okay, (Y/N)?” You nodded your head and gave her a smile. “Yeah, yeah I’m okay.”

A little while later, you guys were now piled into the elevator, going to the floor you needed to go to. Once it dinged and opened, everyone got out, Hotch taking the lead. You were standing with Garcia and JJ, and clenched your jaw when you heard what JJ asked the two of you. “Is it just me or does she look exactly like Haley?” You didn’t want to see it, but there was no denying that Kate Joyner looked like Haley, and that didn’t make you feel any better about hiding your relationship from the team. You watched the two interact. “Kate.” “Aaron. How have you been?” Oh, so on a first name basis? That was not what you had wanted to hear. 

You didn’t want to be jealous. You wanted to give Aaron the benefit of the doubt and come clean to you later if he so chose to do so, but you couldn’t fight the feeling itching under your skin. “Well, thank you. This is my team. Kate Joyner, this is David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, and (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Aaron tells her, pointing everyone out as he said their name. Kate nods. “Thanks for being here. Anything that you need, just tell me. Please don’t stand on protocol,” at this point her voice was just starting to grate your nerves, especially when she was talking to your boyfriend. 

“What can you tell us about the city’s surveillance system?” Garcia had asked. “Um, it’s run by the NYPD. It’s still in the infant stages. It’s been rather controversial. American privacy laws. Um, but they’ve had some success,” Kate had told her. “And I’ll have complete access?” Garcia asked. “They’re already expecting you. Shelley?” During that entire time, you noticed how Aaron hadn’t taken his eyes off Kate. You tried to ignore it, but the thought stayed. Garcia pushed past to go. “I’d like to get a map of the borough. I want to do a comprehensive geographical profile of the area in order to ascertain the unsub’s mental ma before it’s clouded by our own linkage blindness,” you hear Reid say as two detectives walk up and stand next to him. The shorter one remarked, “I see you brought your own computer.” You didn’t like him already. “Detectives Brustin and Cooper. I’ll let you do the introductions,” Kate spoke. 

“You caught the first shooting?” Rossi had asked. “They’ve all been in different precincts. It wasn’t until the third murder that anyone even made the connection,” Detective Cooper had told him. “I guess this is where we play nice and ask you what you need,” Detective Brustin told the team. You really didn’t like this guy and his attitude. Kate let out a little bit of a laugh while she spoke. “I’ll let you all figure out what that is. I just ask that you run everything back through me. It’s been my experience that having one butt on the line is enough,” she says, looking at Detective Brustin who looked away and said, “Yes, Ma’am.” The next thing you saw really made you mad, and at this point there was probably steam coming from your ears. 

You watched as Kate stepped closer to your boyfriend and ask to “have a word with him in private.” “Sure,” was your boyfriend’s response. You crossed your arms over your chest and furrowed your brows. Emily and JJ shared a look with each other. You notice Rossi was looking at you from the corner of your eye. Sometimes, Rossi just knew too much. You watched as Aaron and Kate walked into her office. You didn’t like how close they were standing to each other. It just made your blood boil. “Woah, sweetness. What’s got you all red?” You hear Morgan ask you, to which you sighed and bit your lip, trying to decide if you should just come clean. 

“I...I probably shouldn’t say it here where all these officers could hear, but um...Aaron and I are...seeing each other. And have for some time now,” you told them quietly, making sure no one else was in ear shot. “So that would explain everything, then,” you hear Emily say as she then walked over to you and placed a comforting hand on your arm. “You trust Hotch, right?” She quietly asked you. At this, you gave her a confused look but nodded your head. “Yeah, of course. I trust him with my life.” “Then, okay. There should be nothing to worry about, (Y/N),” she told you. You sighed and nodded your head. “You’re right, Em. I’m sorry,” you apologized while shaking your head. 

A little while later, you were at the next crime scene with Kate, Derek, Detective Cooper, Detective Brustin, and Aaron. During that time, there seemed to be some tension between Kate and Morgan, and you didn’t like how she talked to him. You watch and listen as Morgan looks to Aaron. “You mind telling me why I’m catching attitude from her?” Aaron hesitates for a moment before he answers. “FBI brass has made it clear to her that if she doesn’t bring this case home, she’s gonna be reassigned, and you are at the top of the list to replace her,” your boyfriend explains to Derek.

Derek looks at him. “You’re kidding me.” “Why should you be surprised? You’re good at your job. People notice that,” Aaron told him. Derek turns away for a moment before turning back to Hotch. “What happened to the bureau patting itself on the back for stealing her away from Scotland Yard?” Aaron shrugs a little while shaking his head. “I don’t know. Politics here are different. And you can see she doesn’t pull punches,” Aaron said as he then walked away from the two of you. You and Morgan share a look before sighing and walking away as well. You really didn’t like how your boyfriend was sticking up for Kate the way he was.

After you guys find out there’s more than one unsub, you look at Kate when she asked if there was enough for a working profile. “Broad strokes,” was Rossi’s reply. “Dave, you and Reid talk to the agents here. Morgan, Prentiss and (Y/L/N), brief the police when each shift comes on duty tomorrow,” at Aaron’s demand, you nod your head. Morgan looks at Hotch. “I think we should get out on the streets,” was Derek’s reply. That was when Kate decided to speak to him. “I brought you here to create a profile,” she told him. “Which we can give in the morning, and then they can share it with the afternoon shift,” Derek told her. You really didn’t like how Kate Joyner was talking to Derek. 

“We’ve allocated every extra man we have. This is New York City. It’s not like a few more people is going to blanket the city,” came Kate’s reply. “I understand it’s a long shot, but these guys, they hit at mid-day. We could target Ingress and Egress to particular neighborhoods. Position us near express stops- 14th, 42nd, 59th-” Morgan was saying, but got interrupted by Aaron. “Morgan, it’s not your call,” your boyfriend told Derek with a shake of his head. You rolled your eyes and walked off, not liking how he just took Kate’s side and not Derek’s. 

After being done at the office, you guys went to the hotel. You laughed some at a joke Emily made as you guys walked in, Aaron holding the door for everyone. You guys made your way to the lobby before stopping when Reid motioned for JJ to look behind her. You, Aaron, Emily, and JJ turn around and spot Will. This made you smile. You were always rooting for them. Walking over, you guys look between Will and JJ. Will looks at Aaron and returns his handshake. “Detective,” Aaron had said to him. 

“I’m sorry for showing up like this. I know you’re working. But, um...I can’t stand you being on this case and me not being here, not with what’s going on,” Will told JJ. This made you a little confused. ‘With what’s going on?’ You asked yourself. Aaron tilted his head a little as he looked at Will. “Is there a problem?” He asked. JJ slightly scoffs before turning around to look at the rest of you. “I’m pregnant,” she says. This brought a smile to your face as you pulled her in for a hug, missing the look in Aaron’s eyes as he watches. “We’re so happy for you guys,” you told her, to which she had hugged back and thanked you.

Then you pulled away, still smiling after hearing the news. “I’ve asked JJ to marry me,” you hear Will say. “Will,” JJ had turned around and scolded. “We’re still working out some kinks,” he told the group. Aaron nodded. “We’ll, uh, give you both some privacy.” And with that, your boyfriend had started to walk away until JJ stopped him. “Hotch.” He turned around and looked at her. “JJ, you could have told me,” he said to her, a small smile on his face. “I know,” was JJ’s response. 

You, Aaron, Spencer, and Emily leave the two of them alone and retire to your rooms. You were debating on stopping at Aaron’s, but decided against it. Instead, you went towards Emily’s room, softly rapping your knuckles against the door. A few seconds later, Prentiss opens the door and ushers you into the room. “Hey, (Y/N). Not talking to Hotch now?” She teased. You smiled some and shrugged. “Eh. I was going to...but I’m not sure what to say without getting upset over the whole Kate thing. I don’t want to dump that on him right now. Not while we’re working a case.”

“That’s understandable. But you do know you have to talk about it with him eventually, right?” Emily pressed, looking at you. You sighed and nodded your head. “Yeah...I know.” A little while later, after having a few too many drinks with Emily, your addled brain supplied you with going to Aaron’s room. You hesitated at the door for a moment before knocking. Better now than never, you figured. Almost immediately, the door had opened, as if he were impatiently awaiting your presence. 

“(Y/N)...are you alright?” Your boyfriend asked you, concern and worry etched into his features as he gently pulled you in, shutting the door behind the both of you. “Yeah. I just spent a little time with Emily, not to worry over,” you assured him, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Nothing to worry over? You’re drunk,” Aaron had told her. “Yeah, well...it’s what I needed after today,” you told him. With this information, he studies you for a moment. “What are you talking about?” He asked, confused about what happened to cause you to drink this much. 

“You and Kate. I don’t like it. Plus...the team ended up finding out about us,” you said, yawning some as you kicked off your shoes and laid down on the bed. “That’s what this is about? Kate? You’re not jealous are you?” Aaron asked. At your silence, he scoffed, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. You have no reason to be jealous. Nothing’s ever happened between Kate and I and nothing ever will,” he told you. For now, in your current state, it out you at ease.

The next day, you guys were listening to Garcia as she explained that the unsub was getting away. You were beyond frustrated, and so was Morgan. “We could’ve had that guy,” Derek said. Kate spoke next. “Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved on to someone isolated.” At this point, Morgan started raising his voice a little. “Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot.” Kate and Derek looked at each other. “We had every available man on the street,” Kate told him.

Morgan got a little closer to the desk. “And I suggested to you that you use this team,” he had told her. Aaron looked at Derek. “Second-guessing doesn’t do us any good right now,” Aaron told him. “Hotch, how am I supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we’re actually here to help them?” Morgan asked him. “We’re here to present a profile. That’s what we need to do.” Aaron was all too calm about this, you thought. 

“I said to put us at express stops, 14th, 42nd, 59th, and that’s exactly where they hit,” Morgan pushed. “It’s not your place to have this discussion,” Aaron told him. At this, you pursed your lips and watched them. “My place?” Derek asked. “You need to back off,” came your boyfriend’s reply. “We got 7 bodies, man.”

“Which is exactly why we need to stay focused,” Aaron told him sternly. “Focused.” Derek got closer to Hotch. “From where I’m standing, all your focus is on her,” you heard him say, which didn’t surprise you that he would bring this up. “Talk a walk. Now,” Aaron told him. You and Rossi looked at each other. You really didn’t like the tension in the air and quickly walked away, ignoring your boyfriend calling your name. You couldn’t deal with him right now.

You only made it to the door when Aaron had caught your arm, stopping you from going any further. “Let go, Aaron,” you said through gritted teeth, trying your best to not show any other emotion. Really, all you wanted to do was go home and scream and cry into a pillow or something. “(Y/N). Talk to me. You never storm off like that.” “Yeah? Well, my boyfriend also never adamantly takes someone’s side like that,” you spat, shrugging his hand off and leaving the office, getting into one of the SUVs and driving back to the hotel. 

Sometime later, Aaron found himself knocking on the door of your hotel room. “(Y/N). Please open the door. Let’s talk about this. Please...” you hear your boyfriend ask. You sigh and let him in, going back and sitting on the bed while having your arms crossed over your chest. “I know you’re upset with me right now. I know that this might take some time before it passes. I just want you to know that I do love you. And that I truly am sorry for you feeling this way. But please understand we’re not here to over step. Simply to give a profile. This is the NYPD’s investigation. And Kate happens to be the lead. Trust me when I say, nothing is going on between Kate and I. I only want you. Okay?” Aaron spoke softly, his hands encasing yours in his own, his eyes peering into yours the way he always does. 

After thinking about it for a moment, you sigh and close your eyes, the tears finally escaping your eyes as you hug Aaron tightly, burying your face in his neck. Aaron closed his eyes and engulfed you in a hug, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s all going to be okay, baby. I’m here,” he whispered into your ear. You eventually nodded and calmed down some, pulling away from him as you wiped your eyes. “I-I’m sorry...” you told him. Aaron gently cupped your face in his big hands, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Truly,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you took it a step further and pressed your lips to his, just wanting to be surrounded with nothing but him again.

okay so this was way, way longer than i was intending for it to be but i wanted to get some of the dialogue plots from the episode between morgan, kate, and hotch to give that drama that was there between them. but i do hope that you enjoyed and that it was something similar at least to what you were picturing! and thanks again for requesting! :)

[enigma-im]

I Want You Back

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Lizardman x F!Human

Warning: communication issues, displacement, arguing, confrontation of feelings, healthy communication, sex in the kitchen

          Feelings are hard, talking them out is even harder

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

The front door opens with a sudden click. I look up from my phone, listening intently. I hear the subtle taps of talons on the floor leading towards the living room. I look back down at my phone when I realize who it is.

"You are here quite late," I call out bored. His clicking stops near the couch just behind me. Out the corner of my eye I see his scaled hand slide over the top of the cushion. Quickly he climbs over the back of the sofa and settles with his feet over the top and himself on his back.

"I do things you know," he grumbles as he reaches out for my thigh. As he pulls me closer I feel a wave of annoyance at him. It seems unbridled, if not a little childish. He rubs his face to my leg as he hugs it close.

"What things could you possibly be doing in the woods," I find myself snapping down at him. I don’t bother looking at him, still seemingly stewing in annoyance. I flip through my phone as I wait for an answer. His nuzzling has stopped and out the corner of my eye, I see him staring.

"I do plenty of things, I did have a life before you," he growls.

"Oh, prowling around the neighborhood and taking young women to ravish in the woods. I can see how you can be busy," I snort with a frown. I don’t mean that, I don’t know why I'm being this way. Him being near is both calming and frustrating. It feels like arguing with a sibling or a parent as a teenager.

"you are the only one I have ever done that with and you know it," he barks back. He rights himself on the couch, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he glares down at me. "What the hell is your problem," he sneers. Feeling my anger bubble I snap towards him with my own glare.

"Nothing is my problem, I'm just curious why you were late," I answer.

"Why does it matter that I'm late, I'm here now," he argues.

"trying to hide something? Just tell me what you were doing," I lean into his space. I can't stop myself.

"I was going to telll you until you started snapping my head off so now I rather not," he sits back on the couch, growling like an animal. I glare at him, barely noticing how childish I'm being. To be fair he is being just as ridiculous. Then again, two wrongs don’t make a right.

Not being able to bring myself to calm down I pout back in my seat. I snatch my phone from my lap and angerly read through my feed. I know he wasn’t doing anything bad, I trust him. Still, I feel we are drifting a bit, and it's frustrating when I can't voice my concerns.

With a growl he shoots up," I'm going out." he marches out the room. His claws echo around the house along with the loud stomps. I feel myself panic a bit, not wanting him to leave on such bad terms.

As I hear him grab the door I call out," Heath!" I wait for a response. I hear nothing, not even the sound of the door opening. "I'm sorry," I call out softer. The silence is nerve-racking. Did he leave?

"I'll be back," he sighs. The door creaks open then slams closed.

"Fuck," I grumble as I rub my face.

It feels like weeks since Heath and I have had a normal conversation. At first, it was fine, I was so busy with work. It's a bit of a busy season and we have been so short-staffed. I'd leave early and show up back home so late. Most of the time Heath would be asleep when I got back so we never had the chance to talk. Then, since I was never home he took to entertaining himself. Since he wasn’t home during the day I never saw him on our days off.

Once everything slowed down that’s when the arguing started. I don’t remember who started it or perhaps we both have such a short fuse lately that we began this together. Generally, the harsh words would end with us just going to bed or sitting in stiff silence. Last night was the first time he has left. It scares me, to say the least.

Coworkers have started noticing my sour moods. I hardly acknowledged that I was bringing my anger from home to work but everyone else has. I've snapped at some people, snatching papers from others, answering in short words. It's been stressful.

"Meeting is moved to four," Casey walks into my office.

"Four, what was wrong with three," I huff, typing away at my keyboard.

"Not everyone was available for three so it was pushed to four," Casey leans against the door frame with a smirk. I pass an off-shoulder glance at her, sneering to myself when I see her grin.

"What are you smiling about," I grumble. She doesn’t answer for a moment so I turn fully towards her, cocking a brow. She gives me a once over before shaking her head with a smile.

"Nothing, just thought of something funny," she waves her hand.

"Well please do share with the class," I cross my arms, tapping my foot on the carpet. She continues to eye me, mounting my frustration of this conversation more.

"You have a boyfriend, right," she bites her tongue. I stiffen at the question. Everyone here knows I have someone but don’t know what he is. Can't imagine everyone here would be so open-minded with Heath and I's relationship. Even if he was human I don’t think anyone would approve of how we met either.

"Yes," I answer cautiously.

"Must be a shame you haven't been home much lately, what with all the late hours," she asks with mirth. What the hell is she implying?

"Yea, and," I squint at her.

She chuckles to herself, mumbling," you are a bit slow today, huh?" she straightens and asks bluntly," when is the last time you two had sex?" I choke on my breath, coughing while she laughs.

"There are some HR concerns here," I try to joke as I catch my breath.

"Yea, well, you have been a tyrant as of late so I think that’s more of a concern," she points out.

"I have not been a tyrant," I ponder," ok, I may have been less than civil but I highly doubt its because of my love life."

Casey walks further into the room, closing the door behind herself. " You poor naïve girl. Do you understand the importance of intimacy in a relationship? My husband and I went through a bit of a dry spell and we were at each other's throats. Wanting to be near each other but can't stand the feelings hanging over us," she gives me a sympathetic look.

"Yea, that doesn’t mean that’s what's wrong! Perhaps I am just stressed with work," I counter.

"Then you know a good way to relieve stress," she grins," sex. Preferably with your boyfriend." I grumble at her reasoning, crossing my arms and looking out the window. I hear her sigh beside me, stepping closer and turning my chair. "Has he been tense too," she asks. I glance over to her and nod slowly," have you two talked about this?" I shake my head," then go home tonight and you two talk then fuck each other's brains out. Do you both some good." my face heats up and I immediately cover it with my hands. She reels back and laughs as I grumble into my palms.

"Casey, you disgusting perv," I chuckle along with her.

"Hey, if I'm right then tell me about it tomorrow. Till then, have fun," she continues to laugh as she exits the room, leaving me to my own devices.

I huff in amusement as she leaves. I turn back to my desk and let my mind wander. She could be right, I never thought of it though. I have not been in a serious relationship like this one, never having a stall in my sex life with someone. Do people really get like this over something as ridiculous as sex?

In a rush of questions, I pull out my phone and Google 'What causes arguing in relationships'. Immediately I find a list with explanations on the first link. Most were simple like 'family issues' or ' unshared chore load' but the most common was lack of intimacy.

"Well fuck," I groan as I read. I never knew this was a thing. Who pushes someone away when all they want is to be around them? The article fits exactly what's happening though, down to a tee. I guess that answers it, Casey might be right.

After work, I sit down in the living room going over my thoughts. Heath isn't home yet which has been common as of late. It's still daylight out so I'm not too worried. As he said before, he does have a life outside of me. I find myself feeling a bit hollow as I think about him. I miss him. It’s a weird thought, I have seen him every day but… it doesn’t feel the same.

As I work around my feelings the back door opens. I twist around on the couch and look through the kitchen doorway to see Heath closing the back door.

"Hey," I call out. His head snaps up and I'm disappointed that I'm not greeted with his normal smile. I guess things have been bad lately.

"Hey," he grumbles as he walks further into the kitchen. He steps out of view and I hear the fridge open. I hop off the couch and head towards him, wanting to face him before I lose my nerve. He is hunched over with his head in the fridge when I see him. I can't help but look him over, admiring his strong body. I really have missed him.

I startle him when I wrap my arms around his middle, resting my head to his back. His posture softens as his hands engulf mine.

"I've missed you," I grumble into his scales. His sigh is content like he agrees with me. His hands pet over mine before his fingers separate them. He twists around as he holds me. He holds our hands close to his chest before leaning down and placing a gentle kiss to mine.

"I've missed you too," he nearly whispers. I try to bite back my smile but it has never worked around him. Instead, I pounce forward and hug him close. His chuckle rumbles up from his chest near my ear. His hands settle on my back as he holds me close too. We stand in the kitchen near the open fridge until the machine begins to beep. We part as he shuts the thing. I settle against the counter opposite of him and watch him. His gaze settles on me and I can feel the inevitable confrontation settling above me like a knife on a rope.

"Heath," I sigh," we need to talk."

His head drops with his own sigh," yea, we do."

We stand there for longer than we need to, no one speaking as we continue to prolong the issue. I know what I want to say but having to speak about it feels too vulnerable. It's too personal to explain how much our distance has been hurting. I hate arguing with him so this is necessary.

"I'm sorry-"

"I've been-," we both start at the same time.

We chuckle before Heath points to himself," I should start."

"Yea, go ahead," I lean back on my hands against the counter.

With a sigh he starts," I've been such an ass lately, and I'm sorry for not just telling you what I've been doing. It was never anything bad, it just felt wrong to tell you. We have been so apart lately that sharing things like my day has been alarming. I want to be around you but when I'm there I feel so frustrated. I've been taking that out on you and I'm sorry." I nod at his confession as I think on my own words. I feel the same way, I want him near but I push him away when he is there. Its been so confusing and frustrating. Thank god for Casey or I would have sat in my own feelings instead of confronting the problem.

I look at his worried face for just a moment," I have been less than fair with you. As much as I want to blame you for all of this as a stubborn proud woman I know that’s incorrect. I haven't been home lately and I know that’s been hard on us both. I think because no one said anything about it that we have just been suffering in silence till we just started snapping at each other like children."

"I wanted to say something about you not being here but it didn’t seem fair. It's your job, its how you pay for all this," he gestures to the house," I didn’t want to make you feel bad for me so I just kept quiet about it."

"That's exactly why I think we have been so distant, we haven't shared our feelings. I hate having to work late and not being able to sit down with you on the couch, watching some stupid show while we talked about anything. I adore actually going to sleep together more than showing up when you are already in bed. Also," I turn away with tinted cheeks," do you remember the last time we had sex?" he stares at me confused and in thought.

"Last month, I think. Fuck, has it been that long," he walks over," god, babe, I'm sorry. It has barely crossed my mind, you have been so tired lately I didn’t want to make it worse with my wants." he rests his hands on either side of me, cornering me to the counter.

"No, I'm sorry. I've been so busy I haven't even thought about it and it isn't till Casey brought it up tha-," I try to apologize.

"Wait, who is Casey and why are they more aware of this than us," he looks a bit offended. I reach out and smooth my hands over his arms.

"Casey is a lady from work, she confronted me in my office and offered a reason for my snippiness lately," I find myself chuckling," she said she has experience in this, having gone through it with her own husband. I didn’t believe her at the time but after doing some reading it made sense. I've wanted you around but pushing you away in the process. I love you, Heath, I'm sorry for being a lousy girlfriend." I look down at his stomach as I sit in self-pity. He startles me by grabbing my shoulder and crushing me to his chest.

"Babe, I love you too. I've wanted you around but not being able to talk to you about anything in fear that it will stress you out at work has been killing me. I've been talking with this Were who has trespassed here and I didn’t want you to fret because I had it under control. That’s what has been keeping me busy all week," he finally explains.

The relief of having everything out now is so sweet. I thump my head to his chest, sighing with finality. This whole thing has been ridiculous and childish. All we had to do was talk to each other, it was so simple.

"We are idiots," I laugh," if you want to have sex all you have to do is ask."

Heath snorts, pulling me into a hug. I wrap my arms around him, burying my face into his chest as he nuzzles my hair.

"If I knew it was that easy I would have had you sooner," he rubs his cheek to my head," so, doll, want to have sex?" I huff in laughter, shaking my head with a snicker.

"I think I can pencil you in," I joke," you think you can be free around 8?" I lean away from his chest, smiling at his amused annoyance.

"Shut up," he kisses me. I laugh against his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lifts me onto the counter, growling as his hands fall to my thighs.

Our kiss is hungry, demanding more every second as we begin to palm at each other. A brief split allows him to remove my shirt, diving back in shortly after. He snarls near my neck, licking and nibbling the sensitive skin.

"I've missed you so damn much," he growls," your taste rivals all others." his teeth pinch the skin near my ear while he pulls me into his crotch. I arch my back, pressing my chest to his. The sweet love bites bring my pulse up with every nibble.

"I've missed your fierce attentions," I chuckle, rolling my hips into his hardening cock. He rumbles with a growl, stopping his bites in favor of pushing his cock between my thighs. I lean away, thumping my head lightly against the cabinets, and watch his cock. The pointed tip peaks near my stomach, the sight too appetizing. With a grin I reach down and grab him, thumbing his tip.

"Damn," he seethes," I've missed your soft hands." he watches me jerk him off, nuzzling against my shoulder. His attention son falters as he catches sight of my breast. As I pinch at his tip he licks at my nipple, sucking the nub into his mouth with a purr.

I gasp, stopping my hands," I've missed your tongue." he chuckles against me, swirling his wet tongue over my chest with interest. The cold air cools the saliva covered skin adding more to the otherwise pleasurable assault.

Heath soon lowers his body into a kneel as he licks down my stomach. He is face to face with my clothed crotch. With ease he grabs the hem of my pants and tugs them down, nearly pulling me off the counter with them. He gently guides my legs outs of the clothing, letting it drop to the kitchen floor. He growls eagerly, parting my legs when he focuses back on my crotch. Fitting himself closer he buries his face against my cunt and licks.

He hums," I've missed your delicious pussy." he swipes a lick again, swirling his tongue along my clit with practiced ease. I nearly bang my head against the cabinet again as I arch into his mouth. The immediate pleasure screams to me, telling me how stupid I was for forgetting about this. How could I ever forget about how talented his rough tongue is, forget enough to not seek him out every night? I pet his head, panting as he laps at my folds.

My climax is quick, as to be expected from such an unnecessary hiatus. Also to be expected from someone who knows how to play me like a fiddle. He drinks from me, pulling as much as he can from me before he is willing to part. As he leans away I catch the glistening coming from his wet mouth. He licks around his lips, smirking up at me with that cocky smile.

"I've missed your pleased face," he says as he stands. He crowds me as I rest weakly on the counter. I place a hand to his chest, catching my breath still.

"I think it was my turn," I joke," I've missed your cunnilingus skills."

Heath hums as he rests his head against mine," one more and it's my turn again."

"Alright," I pet at his chest," I've missed how hot you make me by just being you." Heath smiles, the fire in his eyes dulling in favor of watching me sweetly. He presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

"I've missed you in general," he almost whispers," I love you."

I cup his cheeks," I love you, too. Now, show me how much I've missed your cock." he snickers, leaning away to look down between us. He grabs himself, pushing the pointed tip to my entrance.

"You have always had a way with words," he pushes in, sighing as he does," but I can confidently say, I've missed how tight you grip me." he releases himself, leaning forward to rest on his hands. His head props against my shoulder, his breath barely coming out. Without preamble he bucks his hips towards mine, burying himself quickly with a stuttering gasp. I copy him, gasping as my head thumps once more against the cabinet.

"oh yea," I pant," I've definitely missed your big dick."

He shakes his head with a laugh," such a way with words."

Heath starts slow, relishing in the retreat then enjoying the entry. The gentle push and pull are enough to ease me, relaxing my body but still stroking a flame. A light pleasurable burn begins where he reaches the deepest, trailing after him with every pull. The burn becomes demanding, taking us both and telling us 'more'.

"Heath," I grab at his shoulder, tightening my legs around him. He catches the message, snapping his hip harshly. He begins a quick climb, bucking his hips faster every second. Soon he is plowing into me, forcing breath from my lungs. His knee bumps into the cabinets below, adding to the sound of our bodies clapping against each other.

"doll," he groans near my ear," I'm at my wits ends here, te-agh-tell me your close." I claw at his scaled skin, pulling him closer as I roll my hips to meet his.

"y-yea," I pant, hugging him to me. We both eagerly take from the other, grunting and groaning as we reach our mutual ends.

He is first, stuttering his hips with a broken growl. I feel him cum, his warmth flooding my insides. The heat brings upon my own climax, squeezing onto his throbbing member. He leans into me, gasping as I milk him. We both stiffen till our bodies take their fill, soon falling lax against each other.

The kitchen becomes quiet, my ears ringing for a moment. I soon hear Heath's ragged breathing, the rushing of my ears fades. As we come back to ourselves I pet at his back, holding him with my legs.

"I've missed this," he kisses my shoulder," I just wish I had enough thought to take you to bed first but I'll take what I can. Though it's hard to cuddle like this." I laugh, resting my cheek against him.

"We can still go to bed," I answer with a shrug.

He nods," give me a moment."

We rest in the kitchen for a second longer before he lifts me off the counter. He carries me upstairs to our room, cradling me against himself as we lay in bed. I grab the blanket and throw it over us before relaxing into his hold. Everything feels peaceful, like the stress of the last few weeks have been lifted. I can finally fall asleep next to him, protected in his warm hug.

"you awake," Heath whispers.

"yea," I answer, humming in content as he pulls me closer.

"I'm sorry for not talking with you about my frustrations, I promise I will talk with you if something is bothering me," he says. My heart flutters at his words, pleased about his declaration.

"I promise I will do the same, I'm truly sorry I was so snippy with you. I hate that I was that way, you never deserved it," I answer.

He hums," so, let's not be idiots again and fuck on the reg."

I snort," That's one way to put it."

"it's a good idea," he shrugs," expect sex in the morning."

"Alright," I laugh," I eagerly await the morning."

"good," he hums," now go to sleep, you'll need it."

I shut my eyes, allowing sleep to begin its claim," good night."

"night."

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

Technically a second part to Crocodile Rock. Also very similar plot to Under Pressure. It just something that i tend to do in relationships. i’m so bad at talking it out that i will stew in my frustrations. its really bad thing to do, just talk it out.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

Crocodile Rock

Under Pressure

#lizard man #Heath #I want you back #communication is key #exophilia #Monster #monster boyfriend #Enigma-IM

[lumosandnoxwriting]

LMFAOAOA HOW DID I FOR GET TO TELL YOU WHO- well, uh probably fred or cedric :) i still can’t believe i didn that lol but thank you!

Thanks for the request!!!

Title: All treats, no tricks Pairing: Cedric x Fem!Reader Prompt: Trick or Treating with Kids / Was that supposed to scare me?

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

Y/N watches fondly as her son’s run up their neighbor’s front steps, both of them eagerly knocking on the door and shouting ‘Trick or Treat!’ in unison. When Y/N found out she was pregnant with the twins her and Cedric had many conversations about how they wanted to raise them. Since Cedric came from a magical family and Y/N from a muggle one, they both had different views on the best way to parent a child. She had been pretty blasé’ about most of the things, but Y/N insisted that their children take part in muggle holiday traditions; Halloween being the most important.

Some of Y/N’s fondest memories of her childhood surround Halloween. Whether it was watching as her mother sewed her costume together, running through the neighborhood with her friends or eating her body weight in candy, she always remembers having fun on Halloween. Now that the boys are 5 they can properly enjoy it, Y/N has spent the past week making sure everything was perfect.

“Aren’t they just the cutest?” Y/N asks turning to look at Cedric. A frown forms on her face when she finds the spot he had just been standing in empty. “Here we go,” she sighs, rolling her eyes.

Cedric has spent the past few weeks trying to scare Y/N. He had charmed their Halloween decorations to move on their own and jump out at her, he dressed the boys up as zombies and had them crawl at her and moan and he even spent two hours in their pantry so he could scare her when she opened it to start dinner. Much to Cedric’s disappointment and Y/N’s pleasure, all of his attempts had been absolute failures.

“Mummy!” Cal shouts as he and Cayden run back over to her.

“We got candy!” Cayden says excitedly, shoving his bucket towards her so she can see.

“Wow, that’s so cool!” she says back, trying to match their excitement. “What about you, Cal. Let me see what you got.” She inspects Cal’s bucket and gives him a smile. “Looks like you both got some good stuff! Did you say thank you?” When both boys nod she ruffles their hair. “Alright then, let’s go on to the next house.”

Y/N has each boy take one of her hands and she leads them down the driveway and towards the next house.

“Where’s Daddy?” Cal asks, looking around them.

“He was just here!” Cayden pouts, doing the same as his brother.

Y/N stops walking and leans down. “Can I tell you boys a secret?” Both of the boys nod excitedly and move in closer. “I think your daddy is hiding out somewhere so he can scare mummy,” she whispers, unable to keep the smile from her face.

Both of the boys giggle wildly as Y/N starts to lead them up the next driveway. “Alright, go on and get your candy.” Y/N watches as the boys head up towards the door with a small smile on her face.

“Boo!” Cedric yells suddenly, his hands coming down to grip Y/N’s shoulders.

Y/N laughs, turning around to look up at her husband. “Was that supposed to scare me?” She laughs harder when Cedric frowns at her, and she leans up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

“I give up. You’re impossible to scare,” he whines, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist.

“No offense, love, but you’re terribly obvious. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that you were suddenly gone,” she teases.

“I kinda figured you’d be more worried that I suddenly disappeared if I’m honest,” he admits with a laugh. “Thought it’d put you on edge so I could scare you easier. But clearly you have no concern for my well being.”

Y/N giggles at her husband’s dramatics and kisses him again. “Darling you’ve been trying to scare me for weeks. So, I apologize that my first thought when my husband, who is a Wizard, suddenly disappeared in broad daylight from our neighbor’s driveway wasn’t that you had been kidnapped.”

Cedric laughs, shaking his head. “Fine, Miss Logical. Don’t let me have any fun,” he says playfully.

“Daddy!” Cal and Cayden shout together as they head back down the driveway towards their parents. Y/N steps out of Cedric’s embrace, smiling as their boys run right into Cedric and hug his legs tightly.

“Did it work?” Cal asks.

“Did you scare Mummy?” Cayden adds.

“Unfortunately not, boys. Your Mummy is too smart for me,” he admits with a laugh, ruffling both of their hair.

They start to head towards the next house, Cal and Cayden running slightly ahead while Y/N and Cedric follow, their hands intertwined.

“Let’s have another baby,” Cedric says suddenly, looking down at Y/N.

“Another one of them?” she says fondly, gesturing towards the boys. “Now there’s a scary thought,” she jokes with a laugh.

Cedric rolls his eyes and squeezes Y/N’s hand. “Oh, come on, they’re perfect and you know it.” He pauses. “What do you say? Let’s make another one.”

Y/N looks up at Cedric, her free hand coming up to rest on her stomach. “What would you say if I told you we already did.”

#Cedric diggory #Cedric Diggory imagine #Cedric Diggory drabble #Cedric Diggory fic #Cedric Diggory fanfiction #Cedric Diggory fluff #hsd

[enkelimagnus]

Pork

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1777 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

Coming out of that disastrous therapy session, Bucky comes home and tries to deal with some of his feelings.

TW: mention of torture and death, of family member deaths.

Read on AO3

Part 6 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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The door slams behind him as Bucky storms into his house.

He has lunch plans but Raynor’s words and eyes and behavior stick to the corners of his mind, sickening like too-sweet candy he shouldn’t have eaten. Except he didn’t even want to eat it. It was shoved into his forced-open mouth. He tried to spit it out but he couldn’t. It was too late. It was already clinging to his teeth.

He rips the gloves off of his hands, then the jacket off of his back. There is light in the room, the light from the outside streaming in through the one window he keeps unshaded. There is the tv, playing an endless loop of soccer. The green and the gold bounce against the glass protecting the Smithsonian postcard he put up on the wall.

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, laughing at some stupid joke he can’t remember. He’s looking at Steve like he hung the moon, and in that moment, he knows that’s exactly how he felt about this sun-kissed Brooklyn kid.

It hurts to think about this picture. To see himself smiling like this. To know he was already Hydra’s, even if he thought himself free. To know he’d probably already lost Steve.

He forces himself to take a deep breath. The expanding of his lungs is uncomfortable.

Why is this upsetting to you?

Because I don’t get to have secrets. I don’t get to be a person. My mind is yours to tear apart and put back together and you’re just Hydra wrapped in star-spangled banner paper.

This isn’t the first time he’s come back from seeing Raynor feeling like there’s a vice-like grip on his heart.

She doesn’t care enough to do her job properly. She doesn’t care enough to do the paperwork to get him someone who will be good for him. So he’s stuck, because she can’t be fucked to make life less terrible for him.

No one fucking cares enough. Not Raynor, not the people at the VA, not his superiors in the taskforce. And not Steve.

The Smithsonian postcard is an insult. 4 dollars and change for a snapshot of a memory. 4 dollars and change and you can bring home Captain America and Bucky Barnes, and look at the card and think you know what it was like to be either of them in 1944. Best friends since childhood. Inseparable. Bullshit.

Bucky wants to tear that card from the wall and throw it away with all of his strength. But he doesn’t. He knows he’ll regret it. He knows he’ll hate himself for it. He’s supposed to keep loving Steve even if he’s gone. He’s supposed to think of him as this… beautiful, glorious, perfect man. He’s supposed to be okay with this.

He told him he’d be. He told him he would be fine, that he could go, that he’d manage.

And now it’s been a little over 2 months and he’s not fine. He’s not managing. And he wants to slap himself. He should have told Steve to stay. He should have told him he needed him. But he hadn’t. Because Steve wanted to leave, and Bucky’s always been the one to tell Steve to pursue what he wanted. Because he made sure he could afford those art classes by taking that second job on the docks, because he kissed his cheek and told him he was going to be famous one day. That he was going to be respected, too.

Bucky’s never been an obstacle in Steve’s way. And he wasn’t going to stop now. So he told him to go.

And now he wants to scream for him to come home to him. To come get him. To come rescue him from this horrible fucking life he’s made for himself.

He knows Steve won’t come though. He didn’t come in ‘45, when the Soviets got their hands on him. He didn’t come in ‘50, when Zola bought him from the Soviets, in the same breath he bought a bomb. He didn’t come in the following years, and eventually, Bucky forgot the name Steve.

Some nights, he hears his own begging. Steve, Ma, HaShem. No one came. No one saved him. And no one is going to save him now, in 2024. He’s going to drown in the sorrow of too many lifetimes.

What else can he do? Once his brain stops coming up with names to add to the list, what will he do?

He has no idea. And he doesn’t want to think of it. Once he’s not useful anymore, what will he be? The list is his expiration date. Sometimes, he hopes the names keep coming.

There is pent-up energy in his bones, but he doesn’t know how to get it out. It’s broad daylight, and he can’t go on a proper run right now. People will see. He has no desire to go into the military base’s gyms right now. He can probably go into the guest room and pull out the punching bag and rip it to shreds.

He doesn’t have a lot of time. Lunch is coming up. It’s Wednesday. One of the names on his list is waiting. He needs to do that. To fulfill the promises he made. It’s his purpose now.

He feels like an open wound, standing in his living room, bleeding out everywhere, burning and stinging with every miniscule spasm of muscle, every brush of air.

When he shows up at Izzy’s, Yori will ask what’s wrong with him, and he’ll lie. He can’t tell him. Yori thinks he’s just a sweet, if a little lost, guy. Moved away for a while, only recently came back to Brooklyn. Ex-military. All things that aren’t exactly lies. They aren’t exactly truths either.

Izzy’s a Japanese restaurant. The building it’s in is old, the kind of old that Bucky actually remembers. In his day, it was a butcher shop, a non-kosher one. Before his mother died, Steve would sometimes be sent to get some leftover pork trimmings from there, to thicken the soup. It smelled bad at the end of the day.

Now it’s a clean and chic place, all painted in dark colors. It’s busy at lunch time, every day. It’s also busy at dinner time, when he walks by on his way back to work. Sometimes, he grabs something to go.

He’s starting to know his way around a sushi restaurant’s menu. He’s not an enormous fan of the rice, so he usually orders those thin slices of fish, the sashimi. Izzy’s has this plate, red tuna and salmon with a side of seaweed salad. The red tuna has a meaty quality that surprised him at first, but he really enjoys it. It tastes thick and fat on his tongue. He surprises himself with the diverse arrays of foods his palate accommodates.

Thinking about the food, about Yori, and Leah, the lady that serves them at Izzy’s somewhat feels good. They’re relatively untouched by the horrors of his mind. At least for now. One day, he’ll have to tell Yori he killed his son.

For now, he wants to be a little selfish. Yori’s old. The kind of old that makes Bucky feel comfortable.

He still has to watch himself, make sure he doesn’t talk too much like an old man, that he doesn’t tell stories he shouldn’t know about. When he says things about the old Brooklyn he grew up in, he says they’re his grandfather’s stories. If no one looks too close at the details, it works.

It doesn’t help the weird distant feeling he has sometimes when it comes to his life. It pulls him away from it. As if it wasn’t really his life.

He guesses he has little in common with the James Barnes of the 1930s. A name. Some memories. Nothing else. His family’s gone, his neighborhood’s gone, his friend is gone, his shul is gone.

He eats sashimi now, with that spicy green paste - wasabi. He watches soccer on a tv in color that he can afford. He has a computer - that he doesn’t use - and a mobile phone. He’s a soldier. He never went to college.

He was smart, back when he was James Barnes. He could have gotten into university despite the quotas. That was what his father used to say. And then he died.

He departed years before Bucky lost his mind to Hydra. He was 16 the first time he led the family in Shabbos prayers. He remembers the quivering of his voice as he stood at the head of the table, in his father’s place, and recited kiddush. He remembers the tears in his ma’s eyes.

He remembers his father teaching him how to shave with steady hands. He asked him to shave him when Bucky was barely a man, before even his bar mitzvah. His hands still remember how to use both the safety razors and the straight-edged ones. Even with decades of Hydra, he remembers it. He’s thankful for that, because the clippers and electric razors people use now are out of the question for him.

The clock ticks and tocks, minutes melting away as he stands there lost in feelings and memories.

Suddenly, he’s late to meet with Yori and he almost runs to the restaurant where the old man sits at the counter like he always does, saving a seat for him.

“You’re late,” Yori points out and Bucky finds himself sheepish.

“Didn’t see the time.”

He takes his seat by Yori’s side. They talk about sports and the papers, and the obituaries. Bucky finds himself looking through the names and wondering if he knew any of them, if they were the loud kids from down the streets when he was a teenager.

Leah comes over with a smile. Today’s special is subuta.

“What’s that?” Bucky asks in a hushed voice to Yori as Leah walks away with a smile and lets them think through their options.

Yori leans back towards him. “Sweet and sour pork. Very tasty. Izzy’s the best in town. You should try it.”

“Ah,” Bucky sighs softly. “I don’t eat pork.”

It’s a lie. He’s eaten a lot of pork in his life. Pierce loved his bacon. But it’s also true. He hasn’t touched pork since he’s left Hydra. The smell of it cooking makes him think of Pierce. And there’s something inside of him that avoids it, even if he doesn’t keep kosher in any other way. He hasn’t ever announced it that way.

Yori nods quietly, not realizing what those four words mean.

There’s no way he can know. It’s Bucky’s secret.

#jewish bucky series #jewish bucky barnes #bucky barnes #steve rogers #marvel #mine #fic

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Non-Sequential [Ch. 3]

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers x Reader

One night, Steve Rogers met a beautiful dame named Y/N. He hadn’t intended on letting her get away. But fate had other ideas. Y/N appeared and disappeared in his life so hauntingly that Steve started to wonder if she was an angel meant to watch over him.

Word Count: 4,267

A/N: Inspired by the film The Time Traveler’s Wife. But not one of those fics that just literally rips off the whole movie and plugs in characters where they please.

Chapter 2

Brooklyn, NY - 1934

It had been 6 months since Y/N had spent the night in Steve’s bedroom. Steve was starting to lose his mind, wondering why Y/N could never stay. Why did no one know who she was? Was she OK? Was she in trouble? Was she homeless? Was she even human?

Steve was only mildly convinced he hadn’t gone crazy by the fact that her appearance had saved him from getting beaten to a pulp by those bullies. If she’d scared them away, she had to be real…right?

Steve was sitting in a park, sketching her. A part of him was scared that if he didn’t, he’d start forgetting what she looked like. 

Who knew if she’d ever come back? What if that innocent night where they slept in the same room was all they got?

“What’s this?” A voice said from behind him.

Steve panicked when he recognized the voice.

It was Charlie; a boy he went to school with. He made a habit out of teasing the living daylights out of Steve. However, he was never bold enough to do it in front of Bucky.

Steve tried to slam his sketchbook shut before Charlie could see anything.

But Charlie was already ripping it out of Steve’s hands.

“Charlie, don’t!” Steve tried to jerk it back.

But he was stronger than him.

Charlie shoved Steve away from him so hard that he felt to his bum and looked up at him helplessly. Charlie started flipping through the pages. He appeared bored until he reached the sketches of Y/N. There was a little less than a dozen. But all of them were so detailed that they were practically photographs.

Charlie started laughing, mocking Steve. “You peeping in girl’s windows now, Rogers?”

Steve got to his feet and shoved forward. “Give it back, Charlie!”

“You know what? This broad is a real looker. I think I’ll keep it. Look at it when I’m real lonely…if you know what I mean.”

Steve seethed at his gross implication. He tackled Charlie, but it hardly moved the boy.

Charlie shoved him to the ground again and took a step, readying his fist to beat Steve until he learned a lesson.

But suddenly, Charlie was being pulled back by the collar of his jacket.

“The hell you think you’re doing?” Bucky growled as he held on to the boy.

“W-W-We were just m-messing around, Barnes,” Charlie stuttered in fear.

Bucky wasn’t smaller than Charlie.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky chided as his eyes looked down to see Steve’s sketchbook in Charlie’s grasp. “You think you can just take things from people because they’re smaller than you?” He ripped it from Charlie’s grasp.

Charlie didn’t answer, just gulped.

Bucky brought his face closer. “I asked you a question,” he growled. Charlie shook his head quickly in fear. 

Bucky shoved him so hard, he fell to the ground. “Pick on someone your own size.”

Charlie stumbled back to his feet and sprinted away.

Bucky watched him go and then finally turned to his best friend. He helped Steve off the ground and brushed the dirt from his clothes. Then he carefully handed Steve his sketchbook. He knew how important it was to him.

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve muttered as his eyes stared downward.

“You OK?”

Steve just nodded, but his head still hung.

“He won’t bother you no more,” Bucky pronounced a little too confidently.

Steve finally looked at his friend. “Yeah, he will. He’s scared of you, not me. Soon as I’m alone, he’ll mess with me again.”

Bucky frowned and his shoulders sagged. He knew Steve was right. Yeah, Bucky was Steve’s protector. But he couldn’t be with his friend 24/7.

Steve slowly opened up his sketchbook. The drawing he had just been working on had ripped 3/4 of the way down. It must’ve happened when Charlie first ripped the book out of his hands.

Bucky watched him sadly. “That her?”

Steve ignored the question as his finger traced down the ripped paper. “What’re doin’ here, Buck?” He asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Was just lookin’ for you, punk.”

Steve looked around and sighed. “I think I’m just going to head home.”

But Bucky was already shaking his head. “Absolutely not. We’re getting somethin’ to eat.”

Steve wanted to try and argue further. But he knew there was no point. Bucky wouldn’t let him mope around. So Steve let him drag him in any direction he wished. It didn’t matter.

————

Bucky was talking about the baseball game from earlier in the day, giving Steve a play-by-play with such enthusiasm. Steve got excited at the right points and laughed at the others. Seeing Bucky’s face light up talking about it was enough to bring his friend joy too.

The diner was roaring with other conversations and laughter. It was their usual place, meaning that most of the people there were from the neighborhood and the diner’s usual customers.

Steve’s back was to the toward. But he wanted to turn around when he heard the bell ring. The conversations died down a bit. The laughter stopped. Steve felt the hairs on the back of his neck move on end.

Whoever had just walked in had grabbed the attention of the majority of the diner.

Then Steve looked up at Bucky to see that he had stopped mid-sentence to also gawk. His eyes were attentive and his mouth just slightly wide with awe.

Somehow, Steve just knew. He just knew it was her.

He kept facing forward, fighting every urge of his body to turn around and look at her. Goosebumps went all across his skin as he heard the sound of her heels tapping the tile of the diner. They were getting closer and closer. Steve watched Bucky’s eyes trailing her.

Then she was standing right next to him.

“Mind if I join you boys?” She asked.

Steve finally found the courage to turn and look up at her.

For once, Y/N was wearing her clothes that fit her. A black top and grey skirt, cinched to perfection by a fancy belt. She was even wearing sheer gloves and a hat neatly pinned into her flawless curls.

She seemed to be wearing makeup for the first time. Her eyes popped from their new outline. Her lips were a dark red that was almost too sensual to be worn in the daytime. She was a vision. And it was no wonder the entire diner had stopped to gaze at her.

Steve, so hypnotized by her, missed the question.

“Y/N,” he whispered in revelation.

That seemed to snap Bucky out of his daze. He blinked and looked at Steve, making sure he heard him right. “Y/N?” He gaped.

But Steve ignored his questioning.

The way she was looking at him and the way Steve was looking at her, it was like the rest of the world had disappeared for them.

Bucky cleared his throat, finally grabbing both of their attention. “Steve, I believe the lady asked you a question…”

Steve blinked. “Right. Of course.” He jumped out of the booth.

Bucky did too. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes, miss. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

Steve’s stomach tightened at watching his best friend’s charm get released. He couldn’t be mad at him. Bucky would find a way to charm a woman on his deathbed. It couldn’t be stopped. But this was the moment Steve had dreaded.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed playfully and she was clearly trying to hide a smirk. But she shook Bucky’s hand politely. “The infamous Bucky Barnes. It’s so nice to finally put a face to the name,” Y/N said just as charmingly.

But then she turned her attention to Steve, who was patiently waiting for her to take a seat. Her face softened and whatever charm had been in her expression had been replaced by pure sincerity.

“Hello, Steve,” she hummed softly. But the simple greeting said so much more.

“Hi, Y/N,” Steve managed to reply.

Then they booth slid into the booth.

Y/N seemed to finally sense all the eyes on her. The conversations had continued throughout the diner. But most of the men kept stealing glances at her every chance they got.

Y/N cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Uh…Is it just me or is everyone staring at us?”

Steve looked around finally and gave the deadliest glare to every man that ogled her. “They’re not staring at us, doll. They’re staring at you,” Bucky told her with a grin.

Y/N put some hair behind her ear self-consciously.

Steve caught it immediately and scooted just a bit closer to her in the booth. The gesture seemed to relax her a bit.

“So…Y/N, where have you been hiding?” Bucky asked.

Steve gave him a warning glower.

But Y/N seemed unfazed. “I’ve been out of town.”

Steve cleared his throat and started changing the subject.

But then Y/N took over the conversation, started asking Bucky and Steve questions. It was like she was a part of their longtime friendship. She fit in flawlessly. Whatever weirdness lingered from Y/N’s mysterious comings and goings was completely absent.

Steve didn’t know how she did it. He couldn’t fathom how she felt like an old friend when they’d only spent mere hours together collectively.

Some time had passed when Steve caught a glance at the clock.

“Jeez, I lost track of time. I promised ma I’d be home for dinner soon,” Steve muttered quickly.

Then he looked at Y/N. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet. Then he remembered how she insisted he introduce her to his mother next time they saw each other.

“Would… Would you like to come to dinner?” Steve asked her nervously.

A shy smile formed on her painted lips. “I’d love to.”

“Well, then let’s go!” Bucky clapped his hands together.

Steve narrowed his eyes and pointed at his friend. “You’re not comin’.”

Bucky looked offended.

“I’m sick of you eating all my food,” Steve warned.

This was a new feeling for Bucky. He didn’t know what it was like for a woman to be numb and unresponsive to his charm and advances. But it warmed his heart to see Steve look so enamored and captivated.

They started walking out of the diner. Steve moved unnecessarily closer to Y/N as he caught men leering at her.

Once they were outside, Bucky pat Steve’s back as his farewell. 

Then he turned to Y/N. “It was very nice to finally meet the doll that Steve won’t shut up about.”

Steve blushed.

To both men’s surprise, Y/N enveloped Bucky into a tight and loving hug. It caught Bucky off-guard, causing a delayed reciprocation.

Steve felt like he was missing something.

Y/N held Bucky tight and when she pulled away, she still gripped his shoulders firmly. “I’m glad we finally got to meet, Bucky.” But her voice was a little sad as she said it.

Bucky seemed to sense it too and just gave a shy nod, “I’m glad we did too, doll.”

They said their farewells and Steve started leading Y/N to his apartment.

He can’t help but try and steal as many side glances of her as possible.

“You look…different this time,” he told her quietly.

“You mean I don’t look like I’ve stolen someone’s clothes this time,” she laughed lightly.

Steve chuckled and shook his head, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I thought I’d make a bit more of an effort,” Y/N shrugged.

“How long you in town for?” Steve asked the dreaded question.

She sighed and gave him an apologetic smile. “I don’t know. I never really know.”

Steve tried to act like he understood. “Need a place to stay again?”

Her face softened at the obvious offer. “Maybe,” she admitted.

“Sure you want to stay for dinner? I don’t know why you were so adamant about meeting my ma.”

“Well, she raised you. I’d like to meet the woman that made the infamous Steve Rogers the man he is today.”

He scoffed at that. “I don’t know about ‘infamous.’ Don’t know about ‘man’ either.” He looked down at his small body.

“Size doesn’t make a boy become a man, Steve.”  

“Then what does?” He challenged.

She stopped walking so she could face him. Her face had never looked more serious since he’d met her. “Many things. You’ve already figured it out…you just don’t know it yet. But I promise none of them have to do with physicality.”

Steve’s face scrunched in confusion. “Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Then they were at his apartment building. 

When Steve glanced at Y/N, he saw that she looked nervous. 

Was it because she was about to meet his mother? No, that couldn’t be it.

Steve unlocked the door and was immediately met with the sounds of his mother cooking in the kitchen.

“Ma, I’m home. I brought someone back for dinner.”

“You tell that Bucky Barnes he better take his shoes of before he walks into this apartment,” a voice called with a muted Irish accent.

Despite the command not being aimed at her, Y/N took off her high heels.

Steve gave her an apologetic look, but led her toward the kitchen.

“It’s not Bucky, ma.”

His mom whipped away from the stove to look. She seemed utterly shocked to find a young woman standing next to him.

“Oh, h-hello…” Sarah Rogers stuttered. “Ma, this is Y/N,” Steve told her with a beaming smile.

Y/N rushed forward to properly introduce herself. Sarah went for the handshake and was surprised that Y/N immediately went for the hug. Sarah gave her son a questioning look over Y/N’s shoulder. But Steve just shrugged.

When Y/N pulled away, Sarah immediately became worried when she saw tears in Y/N’s eyes.

“Oh, dear. What’s the matter?” She immediately went into mom mode.

Y/N sniffed and rubbed the tears away embarrassingly. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized. “I’m just being silly.”

Sarah patted her cheek softly and wiped any remaining tears. “Why don’t you take a seat, love? Dinner’s almost ready.”

Y/N nodded and Steve rushed forward to pull out a chair for her. He gave her a look, asking her silently if she was OK. Y/N nodded and looked embarrassed.

But Steve still reached for her hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“So,” Sarah began as the food was finally on all their plates, “how did you meet this beautiful young lady, Steve?”

Y/N's cheeks turned pink at the subtle compliment.

“We just kind of…” Steve started.

“Met,” Y/N finished.

Sarah eyed the two of them, knowing there was more to it than that.

But once again, Y/N became her charming self. She overwhelmed Sarah with questions. She asked her about working as a nurse in the tuberculosis ward, what Steve was like as a kid, how Ireland was different than New York City.

Sarah barely got a chance to ask Y/N a single thing.  

However, Steve noticed that Y/N never asked about his father. It was almost strategic. 

“Ma, why don’t you two have some tea in the living room and I’ll clean up?” Steve suggested when they had been long done with dinner.

“Oh, I can help!” Y/N jumped to her feet.

“No, no, no. You’re our guest,” Steve shooed her away.

Sarah smiled at her son and pulled Y/N to their living room.

Steve could still manage to hear the murmur of their talking as he did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. But he couldn’t really make out what they were saying.

Y/N was glad to have this moment alone with Sarah.

She looked in the direction of where Steve was in the kitchen.

“You raised an amazing young man, Sarah.”

She smiled softly. “I’m not quite sure it was all my doing. Every so often, I look at him and wonder how I got so lucky to have such an angel of a son.” She sighed, “Sometimes I worry that other people won’t see him.” Then Sarah eyed Y/N knowingly. “Well…I worried about that until tonight.”

“Believe it or not. He saw me first,” a darkness clouded Y/N’s eyes as she said it.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Sarah asked.

Y/N looked pained from the question. “It’s…complicated. Everything about us is complicated. And it’ll get worse before it get’s better.”

Sarah nodded, as if she understood Y/N’s puzzle of words. She reached over and gripped Y/N’s hand tightly. “But you’ll look after him, won’t you, love? He has Bucky. But I have a feeling he won’t always have that boy to protect him.”

Y/N nodded fervently. “Steve means…” she struggled with how much she should say, so she stopped herself and nodded again. “I’ll always look after him, Sarah. I promise.”

“Hey, ma?” Steve leaned against the doorway, giving his mother a look that reminded Y/N of a puppy.

“Yes, Stevie?”

“Can…Can Y/N stay the night? I’ll sleep out here on the couch. She can take my bed. She’s got no place to stay.”

Sarah smiled, “Of course.” She stood up. “I think I’ll go off to bed myself.” Then she gave Steve a playful look of warning. “No funny business, Steven Grant Rogers.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied seriously.

Y/N and Steve sat on the couch. 

He had lent her some of his pajamas. And he tried to ignore the feelings it brought, seeing her in his clothes. Her makeup was off now and her hair was down. Steve wondered if this is how husbands looked at their wives while they were in the sanctity of their own homes.

They had been talking for hours now. Steve didn’t have school or work the next day, and he would stay up all night talking with Y/N if he could.

Then Y/N’s eyes stared into the distance. Steve could always tell when she was getting lost in her head.

“Y/N? What is it?” He asked her gently.

“I have to tell you something. But…But I know that you’re not going to believe me – that you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“You don’t know that,” Steve tried to argue.

“There are some things I can’t tell you, Steve. But I would never ever lie to you. It’s important to me that you know that.”

Steve nodded. “Please, just tell me. I could never think you’re crazy.”

Y/N took in a deep breath. “The reason I can never stay, that I come and go, that nobody knows who I am…” her eyes tore into Steve’s for a moment, “is because I’m not from here.”

“Y/N…I already knew that.”

“No, not Brooklyn or even New York City. I’m not from this time.”

Steve observed her, tried to figure out if she was yanking his chain. What a strange joke to pull. But Y/N’s face was absolutely serious.

“I’m from the future. I have this…thing…this-this problem. I time travel. But I can’t control it. It just happens. I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t know where I am, until I find a newspaper or a person or…anything.”

Steve was quiet.

“Do…Do you believe me, Steve?” Y/N whispered.

“Yes,” he answered immediately.

“You do?” She asked in shock.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Then she was hugging him. “I’m sorry for not telling you the night you met me. I thought it would scare you. It scares a lot of people. Or they just think I’m crazy,” she muttered into his shoulder.

“It’s OK. You don’t have to apologize,” Steve assured her.

Then they pulled away. “But…Where are are you from? Or I guess I should say when…”

She smirked. “I was born in 1992.”

His eyes widened at the date. But then…he felt his heart slowly break.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t spend his time dreaming about the day when he could actually be with Y/N. They might not know each other as much as he wanted. But he just had this feeling like one day they would know everything about one another.

Now that dream shattered before it even got a chance.

“1992,” he mumbled.

Y/N seemed to read his disappointment. “Come on…aren’t you going to ask me what the future’s like? Don’t you want to know if there are flying cars?”

He tried to force a smile, but failed miserably. Then he stared off, looking at nothing in particular.

“This isn’t the last time you’ll see me, Steve.” Y/N tried to tell him.

They were now walking a fine line. 

Y/N promised she’d never lie to him. She refused to break that promise. But she also couldn’t tell him they’d meet again in her own time. It could drive him insane knowing something crazy was going to happen to him in order for that to become their reality.

“It’s just…I thought,” Steve began. But then he shook his head, changing his mind. “Never mind. I was being stupid.”

Y/N wanted him to say it. But she’d let him hide his thoughts this time.

Steve stood then. “I should…uh…let you get to sleep.”

“Oh, OK.” She tried not to sound disappointed.

She walked to his bedroom and turned around in the doorway. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He stopped making up his bed on the couch to look at her. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Steve struggled to fall asleep, knowing Y/N was just in the other room. He knew the next night, his bed would smell of her. His heart beat faster at the thought. Eventually, exhaustion finally forced him to go to sleep.

The next morning, he was awoken by a slight shake and a whisper of Y/N repeatedly calling his name.

Steve winced and blinked his eyes open. “You’re still here,” he mumbled.

She smiled at the sound of his voice in the morning. “I won’t be for long. I can feel it coming. I just wanted to thank you. But also – figured you should watch me go this time…just incase you weren’t sure you believed me.”

Steve sat up a little, “What do you mean?”

But his question was answered as he saw Y/N slowly disappearing. It was like her skin was turning into clouds until she went transparent. But she wasn’t just transparent: she was gone. His clothes dropped to the floor now that there was nothing for them to hold on to.

Steve’s eyes widened and he shot up even further, blinking as if trying to figure out if he had just been dreaming. He looked around the room wildly, expecting to find Y/N giggle in the corner as if it had all been a prank.

But his piles of clothes remained on the floor and Y/N was gone.

—————

Avengers Compound - 2015

“So you guys never…you know?” Sam asked as he held the punching bag for Steve.

The super-soldier glared at his friend for the intrusive question.

“For the last time, Sam, we were just friends.”

“That girl travels around time, tethered to events in your life and you’re still trying to tell me you’re just friends?”

Steve took a step back from the punching bag and evened his breathing.

“Back then, she never told me I’d be a part of the future. She had to be careful what she told me about my life. And me getting frozen and waking up in another century was definitely one of the things she kept to herself.” He took a breath and shook his head. “I never – I didn’t think we’d ever have a chance, OK?”

“So that’s why Peggy was your first love and not her?” Sam asked carefully.

Steve shook his head. “It’s not that simple, Sam.”

“But do you love her?” Sam had a habit of trying to subtly be Steve’s therapist. He didn’t always mean to do it. But Sam knew Steve’s inability to talk things out was no a healthy habit. He always wanted Steve to know that he could talk to him.

“When we first met, I was just a kid. I had a crush on her. Then I kept getting older and older, and she kept visiting…and it turned into something else.” His brow furrowed at the memories. “But then I met Peg and I became a walking experiment and I got sent off to war. I just felt lucky to have Y/N. The fact that we could never be together – I wouldn’t let myself think about how I really felt toward her.”

“But now you know you can,” Sam offered gently.

“Hey, Rogers!” Natasha called from the entrance to the training facility. “I found something that belongs to you.”

Both men turned around to see Nat standing next to Y/N, who was wrapped in a blanket. Her hair was a mess and the blanket was a little short, exposing her legs and bare feet.

Steve’s heart almost leapt out of his chest at the sight of her.

He was oblivious to agents stopping their training and workouts to observe the weird guest before them.

Steve quickly made his way to her.

He eyed Natasha. “What? You couldn’t get her some clothes?”

She glared at him. “I tried. But she wanted to come see you first.” Then she disappeared, leaving the two alone.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted him shyly.

“Hi,” Steve replied.

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

Chapter 4

Yayyyy! THINGS ARE HAPPENING. Let me know your thoughts. It makes me happy and fuels my writing. ❤️

Once again, I do not to taglists. Here is the series’ masterlist: Non-Sequential

#non-sequential series #non-sequential chapter 3 #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers reader insert #marvel reader insert #pre-serum!steve rogers x reader #pre serum steve rogers

[halloweeneveryday]

Hands in the walls

The following is a story I have been wanting to tell for years. I have been on this site reading its multitudes of stories for some time, but this is the first time I am submitting my own. This story centers around a home that was in my family for years and the experiences encountered there occurred over the years to many different family members. I will do my best to relay the events as best I remember them and as chronologically as I can.

This home was purchased by my great aunt in 1946 and hosted a sort of extended family there. In addition to my great aunt, my grandparents (Father's side) my dad and his siblings, and assorted cousins lived there on and off over time.

There was a cluttered front porch that opened up into a dining room. The back right corner of the dining room would contain the entrance to the one bathroom in the house. There were two doors that opened off the dining room, one led into the kitchen and another into a middle living room. There were actually 2 small living areas leading toward the front of the house. The kitchen had an enclosed back porch that accessed the backyard. The kitchen also had an enclosed staircase complete with door that led to the 2nd story. The upstairs was a unique layout. The stairs led into a short hallway that opened into a large open area that was used for sleeping. At the opposite side of this room and parallel to the small hall, was another hallway. The first room off this hall overlooked the front porch and street and was the only one that wasn't wired for electricity. The hall led to an attic and off the back of the house, three different bedrooms which all linked together. To get to the 3rd bedroom which was my great aunt's you would have to walk through the other 2. It wasn't really designed for privacy apparently.

I'm not sure when the events actually started, but some of the neighborhood children playing alone upstairs, would come downstairs confused wanting to know who the woman was that was standing at the other end of the upstairs hall. They were certain that all of the adults were downstairs. My great aunt would go upstairs and look around and of course, no one would be up there. There was only one set of stairs and they were in the kitchen which is where my grandparents would camp out most of the day. It was a small town and many parents would just kind of watch the neighbors children by unspoken mutual consent. No one thought of kids wandering in or out or remaining unattended in the house if their playmates (cousins) would wander off.

It got stranger from there. One morning everyone was to leave for a fishing trip and only my Great Aunt and another aunt would be staying behind. My aunt went upstairs to be sure the beds were made and in one of the rooms, someone was apparently asleep huddled under the blankets. When my aunt went downstairs she mentioned to my aunt that someone stayed behind to which my Great Aunt replied she had just seen everyone off that was in the house, she knew everyone had left. This alarmed my aunt who went upstairs and saw the bed now empty but the sheets were rumpled, as if someone had just been in it. My Great Aunt had been downstairs and had seen no one come out of the stairway, while my other aunt was up there. The bed thing seemed to be a recurring issue, many times after all the beds were made they were found messed up again even with only one other person in the house. My relatives say it wasn't the kids wandering in and out because the kids always announced their presence and they could be heard when playing. This also happened after the kids were in school as well.

The sightings continued. One day one of my cousins wanted to know who the woman was upstairs who went into the attic. Of course another search found no one up there.

One cousin stated she had been pushed downstairs, but most of my family said she was kind of clumsy so they wrote that claim off. One of the cousins staying there had went to go downstairs to get a drink of water but as he entered the stairwell he saw a woman standing at the bottom of the stairs. He didn't recognize her but when she started to float up the stairs toward him that put an end to his desire for a drink, and he fled back to his room.

My Great Aunt would be woken up many nights to find a woman rummaging through her trunk at the end of her bed. The unidentified woman would look up and then fade away. Footsteps would be heard on the stairs at night, too many to be discounted as the house settling. Many nights my aunt would come down in the middle of the night and hear the sound of dishes being washed or the the floor being swept. The first time she was confused but didn't question it too much and went back up. The next morning the floor was still dirty and the dishes still dirty and in the sink. Many people had this kind of encounter over the years and to my knowledge no one actually investigated while the noises were heard. I finally heard years later from different family members that while they were having these experiences they rarely spoke of them for fear of being ridiculed and some just flat out refused to believe it was happening!

Finally one day, my dad while a teenager was upstairs getting something from under his bed. His bed was in the big open area upstairs. When he turned around, SHE was right there. It was the closest of the encounters that had occurred to my knowledge. My Great Aunt and grandparents (his parents) were at the kitchen table when he came downstairs apparently white as a sheet. He talked about it then but has clammed up over the years. He described this woman as wearing a purple dress, old fashioned, maybe like something from the 20's or 30's. She also wore a cameo pin. What scared him so bad was that she had no face, just a dark spot where her face should be. Prior to this, most people had only seen her in the dark, but this was in broad daylight. I had heard the story from my grandmother and fascinated I asked my dad about it, but he got kind of short with me and says it was so long ago he couldn't really remember.

My Uncle Pete, who was dating my youngest aunt had some interesting encounters. One night while he and my aunt were snoozing on the couch downstairs, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder and awaken him whispering his name. He came to and saw only my aunt near him sleeping soundly. He caught the movement of someone moving up the stairs. He knew full well that they were alone and so leaving my aunt he pursued the 'intruder' upstairs. He saw someone at the end of the hall go into one of the bedrooms, but when he went in there and turned on the light, no one was in there. As he turned around, he saw this 'person' go into another room further down the hall. When he got to that room, no one was there! This game went on for some time, before he gave up! Another night he came to their house drunk and though his memory isn't the best, he thought my aunt (his future wife) threw him out in the snow! In the morning my aunt told him she had stayed in her room the whole night and no one else had been at home at the time. My Uncle swears it was a stern angry sounding woman who tossed him out in a snow bank! No one admitted to this incident and my aunt says she didn't even know he had come.

In the 80's my Great Aunt leased the house to my aunt, my dad's sister, to have for her growing family while she moved into an apartment. My aunt woke up one night to see someone standing over her. She screamed and turned on the light but no one was there.

My cousin claimed someone grabbed him one night upstairs in the dark. Both of my cousins state that on more than one occasion they had seen a man lying on the floor upstairs and when they attempted to approach him, he would get up and go into another room and lay back down.

My Aunt & Uncle began to remodel the place and knocked out the walls to the downstairs rooms including the kitchen as well as moving the stairs from the back of the house in the kitchen to the front in the living room. They were making the whole downstairs one huge open area and in doing so found what appeared to be the bones to a hand, which they assumed to be a monkey's paw. They threw them out and didn't have them analyzed or notify anyone of what they had found. My other Uncle had told me that he had knocked a hole in the wall of the room upstairs without electricity and had found a mummified hand there. He also tossed it without telling anyone, god only knows why? This same Uncle one time entered my Great Aunt's bedroom while she was still staying there and saw a woman standing near the trunk, she appeared to looking for something in the trunk and promptly disappeared upon being discovered. I did hear that for a while, the footsteps on the stairs stopped and then eventually resumed. I guess moving the stairs must have confused the ghost for some time!

source: https://www.yourghoststories.com/real-ghost-story.php?story=27371

#My life is creepy #Halloween #halloween everyday #ghost #ghosts #paranormal #spooky #haunting

[lpdwillwrite4coffee]

BLOODY SUNRISE CHAPTER FIVE

Caitlin awoke with a jerk, arms flailing up. “What?”

“Rise and shine, darlin’,” Booker’s voice called from outside the car.

Where was he? She couldn’t see him…

Twisting in her seat, Caitlin blearily peered through the windows and back windshield. Booker was standing at the trunk—him closing it must’ve been what woke her—unfolding a map.

Fumbling with her seatbelt, she opened the car door. “What’s going on?”

“Ran outta gas,” Booker said, still staring at his map. “We’re not far from a few places to syphon—neighborhoods, parking lots, that sorta thing. But we’ll have to hoof it.”

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she squinted at him in the setting sun. “It’s almost dark.”

“Got a couple more hours of light.”

“Which we should use to set up camp.”

“Camp?” Booker chuckled. “Y’mean rolling a couple blankets out on the back seat?”

“You don’t have a tent?”

“Sure I do, but I’m not planning on settin’ that up on the side of the road for one night’s stay.”

Caitlin sighed. She should have stayed asleep. “Alright, fine.”

“Not gonna argue?” He glanced up at her. “Color me shocked.”

“I’m groggy. Give me a couple minutes and I’ll be back to my verbal sparring self.”

She stood up and stretched, glancing around. “Where are we?”

“About forty minutes outside of ‘If I lived here, I’d have a drinkin’ problem’.”

She laughed, his joke catching her off guard. She turned, still grinning, to look at him and spotted the delight in his eyes before he focused on the map again.

“Strip mall is closest. About a twenty-minute walk from here. If we hurry, we’ll be back with plenty of daylight left.”

“Think we can look for food too? My supply is low.”

Booker nodded, folding up the map and shoving it into his back pocket. “We’ll get ya sorted. C’mon.”

He grabbed up his pack, a couple gas cans, and his rifle from the back seat and started walking.

Caitlin gathered her stuff from the car, refusing to leave her meager belongings unguarded.

The first few minutes were quiet as Booker navigated them to a fork in the road and took the right branch. The area was pretty barren, save for a few patches of trees and occasional house or barn. Everything was deserted from what she could tell, houses boarded up and left in a hurry. They found a John Deere tractor in someone’s yard and Booker wasted no time syphoning the tank.

It was humid and sticky, sweat making her clothes cling to her uncomfortably. But she had to admit, the vastness, the open fields of crops gone unpicked, the lack of Geeks… It was enough to give her mind a reprieve from the horrible truth of the world, even for a moment or two.

“Were you with anyone before?” The question flew from her mouth as she stared at a light pole nearly covered in kudzu.

“With?”

“Like a group. People other than yourself?”

From a few paces ahead of her, she could see him shake his head. “Nope.”

“Not even family? Or friends?”

“Most of my family was gone long before groaners started walkin’ the earth. And my buddies all have families of their own to take care of. So, it’s just me.”

Caitlin nodded. “And you’re not married.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Y’don’t think I could be married?” Booker glanced over his shoulder at her, smirking.

“No ring, or tan line from where a ring used to be,” she said. “You’re not concerned about being somewhere soon, which means no one is waiting for you, and you decided to hitch up with me, so…”

“Observant,” he said, tone more impressed than his face would let on. “And you? Y’got someone waitin’ on you in New York?”

She shook her head. “I’m not married.” Then she remembered… “Well. There’s a guy.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. His name is Nathaniel.” She paused, brow furrowing. “Or… was Nathaniel. I don’t know.” She stared up at the side of Booker’s head. “Do we use past tense or present for people now? I don’t know if he’s alive or not… And it’s not like I can call him.”

He didn’t turn his head, but his eyes darted over as he said, “I guess you use whatever makes it easier to keep going.”

It was a surprisingly wise statement from a man with a Lynyrd Skynyrd patch on his backpack.

After a moment, she said, “Nathaniel’s nice. He’s sweet. He’s a fireman.”

“Dreamy,” Booker teased.

“I know, it’s almost cliché. And I’ve never been the type.”

“Type t’what?”

“Date a fireman. Date any stereotypically masculine guy. I usually go for nerds in comic tee shirts or software developers. Give me a guy with glasses and an obsession with PlayStation and I’m putty.”

“Please tell me you’re jokin’.”

“No, I’m serious,” she urged. “Something about a smart, kinda awkward guy… I dunno, they’re just dolls.”

“Nah, they’re still assholes, they’re just skinny assholes with carpal tunnel.”

“Excuse me—”

“Trust me, you get yourself an IT nerd, and they’re comin’ with a decade or two of baggage from bein’ bullied, never bein’ popular, always bein’ ‘just a friend’ and never gettin’ laid. And then if’n’when they manage to get themselves a girl—or guy—they don’t have any idea how to treat them ‘cause they’re flesh and blood and not some CGI wet dream.”

“You sound like you got dumped by an IT nerd.”

Booker chuckled. “Nah, just dealt with enough of ‘em. Served with a couple too.”

“IT Marines?”

“Made officer straight outta school and didn’t have any clue about service.”

“I think you’re making a lot of broad generalizations.”

“Just like you did about firemen?” He glanced at her, smirking.

Caitlin faltered. “Well… I have plenty of evidence to back up my theory.”

“’N I got a lotta evidence to back up mine.”

She huffed, disliking the stalemate she’d found herself in. Before she could come up with another statement, Booker spoke.

“So, this Nathaniel… Is it serious?”

She smiled at his use of present tense for her benefit. “Uh, well…”

“Take that as a no.”

“It’s not a no. It’s an ‘I don’t know’.”

“If ya know, ya know.”

“I can’t make a life altering decision like marriage after just six months of dating.”

Booker made a noise like sucking his tongue over his teeth. “I think if ya find the right person, you feel it. You know. Time ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.”

“That’s impractical. You have to know if they’re good with things like… Bills. How are they with money? Are they a Democrat or Republican? Do they put their dishes in the sink or directly into the dishwasher?”

“None of that matters,” he said, guiding them left, down a different yet still desolate road. “Bein’ with someone, really with ‘em, it’s all about how you work together. Ya gotta make a good team. It don’t matter if they’re the same religion or if they vote the same. Hell, it don’t even matter if they hog the blankets and kick ya in their sleep—”

“Clearly you’ve never slept with a blanket hog. It is absolutely a make or break thing.”

“All that matters is having each other’s backs. Bein’ on the same team. Even if you’re buttin’ heads all the damn time, as long as at the end of the day you want the best for each other, that’s what matters.”

Caitlin scoffed. “Says the guy who’s never been married.”

He laughed quietly, looking over at her. “Nah, but my parents were. Forty years. Never spent more than a night apart.”

“Wow,” she breathed. “That’s… Nice. Really.” She stared at the ground. “You’re lucky you grew up with that.”

Booker nodded. “They were good people. Honest. Loved me with everything they had.”

“And they’re… no longer with us?”

“Mama died of cancer a few years back. And Dad… I think he died of a broken heart. Found him in his Laz-y Boy two months later. Doc said it was a heart attack.”

Caitlin’s gaze lifted to his profile. “I’m… I’m sorry, Booker. That’s terrible.”

He nodded minutely. “They were meant to be. Real soulmates. Couldn’t live without the other. And now… I think they were lucky. Lucky in love, and lucky in death.”

He said it just as they spotted the strip mall in the distance, abandoned and surrounded by evidence that the world was no longer what it was.

Reality came crashing back down on Caitlin. Talking with Booker had helped her forget, alleviated the mental burden she’d carried on her own for the last month. But seeing broken down cars, buildings with smashed windows, blood splatter on concrete… It all was a brutal reminder life had changed forever.

“There she is,” Booker said. “Alright, here’s the plan. We go slowly, we stay alert, and we do not separate. If you see something to check out, tell me and we go together. Got it?”

“Sir, yes sir,” she teased, but his jaw was locked and gaze level.

“I mean it, Meadows. I don’t need you runnin’ off and gettin’ gnawed on. We’ll look for food first, then gasoline.” He looked over at her, waiting for her to nod in agreement before saying, “You got a weapon?”

“Uhh, just a knife I picked up. It’s not very sharp…”

Stopping to lower his pack, Booker dug around for a moment and pulled out a revolver. “Here. You’re not trained enough yet for hand to hand. This one’s trusty, not too much recoil, but she’s louder than a thunder clap, so don’t spook yourself. Y’know how to cock it?”

Caitlin took the gun from him gingerly. “Um, it’s this thing, right?” She pointed to the hammer and he nodded.

“Just make sure it’s pushed back like that—” he demonstrated for her “—and you’ll have a live weapon. While we’re walking, it needs to be like this, and tucked in your belt.”

“I’m not wearing a belt.”

“Then your back pocket.”

“What makes you think skinny jeans from Forever 21 are gonna have pockets big enough for that?”

Booker rolled his eyes and tugged her around by the shoulder. “Lemme see.”

“What are you—Hey!”

He flicked up the hem of her shirt to look. “Eh, it’ll fit. You’re fillin’ those out though, so don’t wiggle too much or the gun’ll fall out.”

Caitlin turned again, glaring up at him. “Did you just say I have a fat ass?”

He grinned down at her, brown eyes sparkling. “Not a bad thing.”

“Oh my God,” she muttered, walking away from him. “Careful jackass, I’m armed now.”

“Oh yeah, I’m shakin’ in my boots.”

The walk up to the strip mall was quiet as they kept their eyes and ears peeled for Geeks or threats of a more human variety. She spotted a couple Geeks shuffling around by the dumpsters of an abandoned KFC, seemingly oblivious to them. There wasn’t any wind to carry their scent and, given how sluggish they were, Booker jerked his head, signaling they’d leave them.

Making it to the parking lot, they stuck close together as they weaved between cars and silently jogged towards the SAV-MOR discount store. No Geeks yet, but Caitlin wasn’t optimistic about their odds of finding much. The store’s front windows had been smashed and trash littered the front. Still, Booker and she covered each other as they made their way inside.

One Geek in a store uniform shuffled and grunted down an aisle. Booker made quick work of dispatching it.

“Sweep first; then we’ll look for supplies,” he whispered to her, and she nodded.

The store wasn’t large and clearing it took less time than either of them expected. When Booker declared it safe, they started down each aisle, searching for anything edible or useful.

“I don’t know Booker, this place looks pretty wiped,” she said, inspecting a few cans without labels, trying to figure out if they were SPAM or peaches.

“Don’t lose hope yet, darlin’,” he told her, nodding to a door marked ‘Employees Only’. “Store room.”

“It’s either crawling with Geeks or empty too,” she muttered, following him. “You think people wouldn’t check back there?”

“Maybe. People tend to be idiots when they’re in a rush.”

Opening the door slowly, he searched for any undead, but the place was clear.

“And whaddya know…” he said, holding the door for her.

The stock room was full. Pallets of food, drinks, paper products… all untouched.

Caitlin gaped. “People are idiots.”

“God bless ‘em.”

She felt a little giddy staring at food she’d only dreamt of—Pop Tarts, Pringles, bottles of Coke, Lucky Charms.

“Damn,” Booker said, looking around. “None of this’ll do.”

“What are you talking about? This is as close to a cornucopia as we’re ever gonna get.”

“It’s all sugar,” he said. “Food is fuel. Eatin’ this trash’ll just spike your blood sugar and leave you starvin’ later.”

“Okay Doctor Atkin, you keep telling yourself that when you’re hungry tonight and I’m stuffing my face full of Doritos.”

She tore open the plastic wrapping, shoving mini bags of chips and pretzels in her bag. After a few moments she heard him make a noise of surprise.

“Ah, they’ve got jerky.”

“See? There’s your balanced diet right there.”

She moved on to the peanut butter, the Gatorade, and then Pop Tarts. She couldn’t pass those up even if she tried.

Booker came around holding plastic bags loaded down with bottles of water and jerky. Caitlin spotted the bright green of a Pringles can and had to bite her tongue to keep from mocking him.

“I think we’ve got enough to last us a while,” he said. “You get anything of nutritional value?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Four jars of peanut butter and more pretzels than you could dream of. And Gatorade.”

“Well look at you,” he said, lips curving.

“Gasoline?”

“Yep. Need anything else from out there?”

She shook her head and he took the lead out to the parking lot. They both spotted the small group of Geeks across the road at the same time, and Booker motioned for her to stay low by the cars. They’d try to work without engaging if they could help it.

Most of the cars were dry but a fancy looking Prius was a surprising goldmine with almost a full tank. Booker was almost done syphoning the gas into the cans when he stopped, head tilting like he was listening for something.

“What is it?”

“Shh,” he murmured, squinting as if that would help him hear. “Down the road a ways…”

“What, Booker?”

Keeping an eye on the shambling Geeks that still had no idea they were there, she listened intently. All she heard were insects and… an engine?

“Humvees,” Booker said, motioning for her to duck behind an SUV. “Stay low.”

“Humvees… as in the military?” She crouched down, and Booker followed, pressing his shoulder into the side of the car. “I thought the military flopped, what with the whole Zombie virus outbreak and ensuing chaos.”

“Military’s about the size of a grade school now, but they’re still around. And they’re not what they once were.”

He said the last sentence with a conviction held only by someone who’d had firsthand knowledge. She didn’t doubt it for a second.

Booker looked over at her. “Listen to me. The guys rollin’ up in those Humvees any minute now are not men you can trust, do you understand?”

Caitlin held his gaze as she nodded. “Don’t trust the government. Got it.”

“Armed forces bastardized into goon squads with tanks.”

The roar of the Humvees grew closer and Booker ducked down, making sure to stay out of sight.

“You know you’re gonna have to tell me this story later, right?”

“Sure, I’ll tell ya over a Gatorade and Snickers.”

The ground beneath their feet vibrated as the convoy drove up, engine noise tearing through the quiet.

But instead of moving on, the Humvees stopped. Male voices called to each other, barely audible over the machines. Caitlin could hear one of them say something about ‘hostiles’ before a machine gun fired.

Yelping, she nearly fell back, but Booker steadied her, shielding her momentarily. The gun wasn’t aimed at them, but at the small group of Geeks on the other side of the road.

When the gunfire stopped, the men yelled something else and she thought they were driving off. Booker shifted to look, just as something flew across the parking lot towards the building.

“Shit, get down,” he ordered, lunging for her.

Arms, hands protected her head, pushing her down to the ground. She cried out, but it was muffled by his chest as his body covered hers. Before she could comprehend what was happening, a deafening explosion engulfed the strip mall.

Caitlin screamed into Booker’s shoulder, hands feebly covering her ears. She fought to push him off, her body reacting as it always had—Run.

But Booker kept her pinned, arms cradling her head to shield her from shrapnel. He leaned into her, silently explaining. No, don’t. Not yet. They’ll see you. Stay down. You’re safe. Don’t move.

Smoke billowed out from the burning shell of a mall. After a few moments, the convoy started up again, driving down the road and out of sight.

Booker continued to cover her until he knew they were safe, that the Humvees weren’t doubling back. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he peeled himself off her and lifted her to sit upright.

“Y’alright?” He asked, checking her over.

Caitlin nodded, ears ringing painfully. “What the fuck was that?”

“Gentrification,” he said, standing up slowly and offering her his hand. “Military’s way of clearing the grid.”

“But… There’s… There was food in there. Supplies. Stuff people could have used. Why…”

“C’mon, I’ll tell ya on the way back.” He stooped down to gather their bags and gas cans. “Groaners ain’t the only things we gotta worry about out here.”

As they trekked back the way they came, Booker told her what he knew. About how evacuation teams had cordoned off sections of the country, shipped people there. At first it was for relief shelters, meant to be where everyone went when they could find their way. But soon things got out of hand. Supplies dwindled, people got sick, and more were still coming… All terrified, and lost, and in need. It became a Noah’s Ark situation. Only the selected few could stay. No more could enter. Everyone else outside the gates were damned.

What was left of the military was given orders—Kill on sight, undead and stray humans. Someone up top thought population control would stem the virus, give the rest of the people a fighting chance, keep food sources from getting over-taxed as they tried to rebuild. Barbaric, no matter the logic.

Buildings in designated “hot zones” were to be demolished, burned; how it was done didn’t matter as long as Geeks and people alike couldn’t hide out in them.

Thankfully, Booker was right about the size of the military. They were spread thin and not nearly as ever present as the zombies. Still a threat, but one that was rarely an issue unless you were near bigger cities or coming up to one of those Ark camps.

They were just about to the car when Booker slowed, cursing under his breath.

“What? What is it?” Caitlin squinted, dusk making it harder to see.

“The car…” He said and that’s when she saw the thin stream of smoke.

“They… burnt the car?” She stared up at him, horrified. “But…”

“Exterminators. All of ‘em.” He trudged closer to be sure, but he was right. Someone had torched the car. It was still on fire in places.

Caitlin watched the upholstery melt, realization twisting in her gut. “They thought we were in that building, didn’t they?”

Booker nodded. “Anybody not inside an Ark camp is just as good as a groaner to them. They’ll use us for target practice and not think twice.”

Taking another moment to look over the blackened remains of their vehicle, Booker said, “Guess we’re walkin’.”

“To where?”

“That shed ten minutes back up the road looked alright. Might be cramped though.”

“I’ve been sleeping in trees for a week. I can deal.”

“Atta girl.”

                                                               ***

Caitlin wriggled on her makeshift bed, grunting. “Okay, see, when I said I could deal, I meant with an even division of space. Not this.” She bumped her shoulder against the side of the shed. “What the hell, Booker. I’m not claustrophobic but geez…”

“I told you, you’re better off with me between you and the door. And if something busts in, gotta have enough room to react. Therefore—”

“Therefore, you put baby in a corner.” She shifted again, trying to figure out a way to lay down that wouldn’t put her right up against the dirty shed wall or pressed against Booker.

“Stop that, you’re makin’ the whole place rattle.”

Exhaling roughly, she brushed a strand of hair off her damp forehead. “I’m not completely helpless you know. I can stand guard too.”

“Never said you were helpless.”

“Oh yes, you shoving me into a corner to sleep just screams confidence.”

Booker sighed, leaning his rifle on the wall next to him. “Just try to settle down, you’re gettin’ yourself all worked up.”

“I’m trying,” she said. “But if I lay this way, I’m uncomfortable. If I try the other way, I’m right up on you, so—”

Booker’s laugh cut her off. “You mean you’re throwin’ a hissy fit ‘cause you’re tryin’ to respect my personal bubble?”

She paused, looking up at him in the dim light. “Well. Yeah…”

He laughed again, and she pushed herself up. “We just met. I know the world’s gone to hell in a decorative handbasket but I’m still trying to keep some semblance of politeness—”

“This is you bein’ polite?”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” She could just make out his profile in the darkness. “I don’t know your deal and I don’t… I don’t know, I don’t want to offend or…”

“Get caught in a nasty situation with a strange man.” He said it without any hint of being affronted by the insinuation. The world wasn’t picture perfect before there were zombies, they both knew that.

After a moment, he shifted over to give her more space. It wasn’t much, but it gave them a small area of neutral territory.

“Thank you,” she murmured, laying back down.

It was quiet, the only sounds coming from their breathing and the crickets outside. She was just starting to feel like sleep might not be far off when Booker cleared his throat gently.

“I, uh… I just need you to know,” he started, voice raspy. “I’d… I’d never.” He paused, and she wasn’t sure if he was searching for words or affected by something only he knew.

He started again. “Doing that to someone… It’s evil. Rips the soul outta person. I just… I need you to know I’d never…”

“I know,” she whispered, hand lifting to reach for him but pulled short. “Well, at least I do now.”

She heard more than saw him nod. “Alright then.”

“Thank you, Booker.” She said it slowly, so he’d catch everything she implied.

Thank you for reassuring me.

Thank you for looking out for me.

Thank you for being good.

“Night, Meadows.”

“Night, Booker.”

                                                               ***

Run, run, run, as fast as you can.

Caitlin bolted upright, gasping for air. That same dream… Like running and falling at the same time. The plane crash. Seeing Geeks eating someone. Running. Always running.

“Hey, hey,” Booker’s voice cut through the fog of panic. “Meadows, you’re alright… Hey…”

She heard him sit up, felt him tilt towards her.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I… It was a… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Y’didn’t.” He bent his knee to lean his arm on. “I only sleep for about two hours at a time anyway.”

She tried to take a deep breath, slow her heart rate. The shivering started, just like always. Too much adrenaline flooding her system with nowhere to go.

“Cold?”

She muttered a ‘no’, barely able to form words with trembling lips.

When she was alone, she’d gotten used to handling the nightmares herself. She’d wait until the worst of the shaking was over and then start humming to herself. Whatever song she could think of, anything to take her mind off the flickering horrors in her mind. She’d hum until her throat was sore and she was tired again. A self-soothing lullaby of sorts.

But now, with another person around… It seemed juvenile. A tough guy like Booker probably would think she was being ridiculous. Think she was too soft.

“Nightmares, right?” He asked, voice soothing. “You wanna talk about it?”

Caitlin shook her head, hoping he could see her. She didn’t trust her voice just yet.

“You… You need a distraction?”

She glanced over her shoulder, able to make out the line of his rugged nose and brow line in the dark.

“Buddy of mine used to turn the tv on when he’d get a nightmare. Play Nick-at-Night or somethin’ to help him fall back asleep.” He huffed out a laugh. “Not like we have a tv but… You want me to talk or somethin’? I can recite state capitols to bore you back to sleep.”

Caitlin laughed—a short burst of sound that surprised her. It was a kind offer, especially given that they’d barely gotten to know each other.

Jesus, had it really only been one day?

She paused, thinking it over.

“That… That song from earlier,” she started, voice weak. “The one you were humming in the car.”

“Willie Nelson?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Can… Would it be okay if…”

Booker leaned back against the shed wall. “Sure, darlin’. I’ll sing ya back to sleep.”

She expected a teasing tone, but he was sincere.

Shifting to give her more room to get comfortable, he started humming, just loud enough for her to hear.

After another moment, Caitlin laid back down, curling onto her side and drawing her knees up as far as she could. Booker continued to hum, and then sing a few verses. He wasn’t very good, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he sang, kept humming, gave her mind another soundtrack to focus on instead of the warped snarls and groans of Geeks playing over and over in her head.

“Booker, I—”

“Shh, it’s almost to the bridge,” he told her. But she knew what he wasn’t saying.

It’s alright.

You’re not alone.

Go back to sleep.

And she did. She slept through to sunrise.

#Bloody Sunrise #free novels for pandemic times #free fiction #my writing #ZA romance #zombie apocalypse romance

[the-roanoke-society]

Tell us about a mission that our Golden Girl, Seraphim, failed

once upon a time, two old friends stood side-by-side, looking out from a window on a snowy new york city.

i—have no had a very good month. and a lot of that negativity got channeled into this. there are details of child death, explicit violence, gore, forced self-harm and gun violence below the cut. proceed with caution.

writing music sampler is over here if you’re curious.

seraphim glanced back over her shoulder in time to to see whiskey poking his head through the conference room door. the familiar smell of bourbon, polished wood and old paper hit him right in the face. “… oh.” she watched one of his arms drop, relaxed. “morgan, uh. hey.”

“were you going to attack me?” she sounded exhausted. if the rumors whiskey had heard were true, then he wasn’t surprised.

his lasso stayed faithfully coiled on his belt as he came in, closing the door behind him. “i didn’t think anyone was up here. especially not you. did ginger clear you already?”

seraphim had her arms crossed her chest. he could see cotton bandages still wrapped around her forearms as they dove under the sleeves of her white button-up, one pad taped up next to her left eye. but her hair was down, over—

“yeah. as soon as they were sure i wasn’t going to die and the gel had worked.”

“and they did the uh—the test?”

seraphim turned away from him, sighing. he stepped closer to her as she answered, softly: “yes. ging—had a picture of merlin and i. did the trick.” she laughed. it was a joyless sound. “better than doing the sound test with that sword, i guess. don’t get me wrong, still traumatizing even with the picture. but i guess traumatizing in a way that i was… better equipped to handle, at the time.”

“that was your first time with the gel. does the quartermaster know that—you—?”

“no.” whiskey was careful to keep his gaze forward as seraphim’s voice cracked. he knew her well enough. instead, he focused on the snow. it wasn’t the first one of the season, but it was the thickest they’d seen so far. the flakes were huge, falling from a sky that was a single shade of slate grey. “but i’ll have to eventually.”

but that was when she lifted her hair. there was a medium-sized scar, running behind her ear. ginger had shaved a portion of her head but left enough to cover it, like a sheet. the mark was still raw, red, angry. and he winced as he realized that there was a slight dent. they would’ve had to have reconstructed part of her skull. seraphim swallowed. she still didn’t look at him. “i don’t think i’ll be able to hide this.”

“jesus, morgan.”

“it’s—it’s fine. it’s fine.” a hand went to her mouth and he could hear her shaky inhales and exhales. “i’m okay.”

“you sure?”

“mhmm.”

“… morgan.”

“yes, jack.”

“… what happened.”

she let out a sob and he felt the blood leave his face. the regret was immediate and acute, but then, she began, “i—i lost someone. in the worst way. the youngest i ever have.”

“how ol—“

“ten months.”

whiskey breath out a sharp breath. okay. so the rumors weren’t true. the real story was much worse.

“look, i’m sure it wasn’t yo—“

“it was.” her answer was so firm it startled him, and when he looked at her, her expression was… there was just a sheer veneer over barely-contained grief. one tear escaped her eye and she rubbed it away roughly, her hand shaking.

“walk me through it, then. talk to me.”

for a moment, she said nothing, but then she nodded. “it—it was a normal resident call. normal as can be, anyway. something had gotten inside of the hensons’ daughter. her name—“ a cough covering up a much sadder sound. “—her name was olivia. olivia kate henson.”

whiskey could barely standing to listen to her speak. he knew seraphim’s field record wasn’t perfect—no agent could boast of a hundred percent success rate, not in roanoke, not in statesman, and not in kingsman. but when it was a roanoke-flavored failure, the consequences tended to be a bit more horrific.

“i… underestimated the entity that i was dealing with. it’s very, very unusual for people that young to become hosts. demons generally want a body that can y’know, walk. form complete sentences. all that shit. something they can use. so my initial impression was that it was just an low-class imp. something that maybe had done it on accident, even. so those were the tools i brought with me. that was… that was my mindset.”

seraphim opened her mouth to speak and then convulsed. he couldn’t tell if she’d choked back a cry or was trying not to be sick. whiskey reached out and put one hand on her shoulder, but he didn’t take a step closer. seraphim, likewise, stayed where she was.

that wasn’t who they were anymore.

the next part came slowly, measured. “it was a soldier demon. the ones that were john’s specialty.” she started shaking her head, her brows knit together, “we never see those in children, in babies, jack, not ever. this seemed like it was supposed to be part of a bigger trap or something. i’ll have a lot of research to do when i get—when i go home. something else was at play here.”

seraphim sniffed. “but that doesn’t take away the fact that that demon still had to be taken out and deported. that doesn't take away from the fact that i was unprepared, and so when i… when i had to…” hands in her hair. whiskey felt pops as she bent forward, her spine curving underneath an invisible weight. “… her body was too small.” that was all she said.

whiskey brushed his thumb in one reassuring stroke before taking his hand away. “you aren’t a medium. there was no way you could have known.”

she snorted. “… that should have been the end of it.” her tone was a resigned anger. “i should have simply done a circle there, sent that thing back into whatever dark pit it crawled out of. but instead.” she pursed her lips together, jaw clenching. “i was too busy being mortified, mrs. henson wouldn’t stop screaming, mr. henson had fainted in a corner, and before i had a chance to do anything actually useful—it manifested onto this plane.”

seraphim uncrossed her arms, lifting them. whiskey could see red flecks in jagged patterns. “it launched itself at me. tried to turn my forearms into spaghetti noodles. get me to bleed out while i was still standing. it would’ve been deserved.”

“morgan—“

“i fought with it through the house.” she continued. turning her hands over to look at her knuckles. they were bruised and scabbed. “and it shoved me through their front door and onto the street. at high noon. in a busy brownstone neighborhood.”

she laced her fingers together, putting them behind her head. “so of course i had a lovely message from lilith on my specs when ginger finally let me have them. how i’d come so close to compromising our organization, how they had to send a retcon group and warp the memories of over thirty people, half of which weren’t even fourteen yet.” a heavy sigh. she let her arms flop to her sides. “… she didn’t even mention the baby. not once.”

whiskey watched her step up closer to the window. she put one palm up against the glass, and a silhouette of fog blossomed around her fingers. “i forget how fragile it all is. you and i are standing right here, routinely between them—“ she tapped on the glass “—and everything they don’t know that wants to kill them. or control them. or some godawful third thing. the nature of our work is both necessary and damned to exist in the weird grey area of internet conspiracy material.”

“do you ever wish you could go back?” he asked gently. “y’know, take the blue pill?”

“… sometimes.” seraphim answered honestly. “but i don’t think i could now. after everything. could you?”

whiskey thought of jenny—then lauren. the blur of bullets, trauma and blood that had led him to where he was standing. it hadn’t been an easy path. but it’d been the one he walked. he’d never want those steps wasted. “… no. no i don’t think i could either.”

seraphim didn’t start when he went to move her hair, staring at her scar. “so a demon… did this?”

she leaned away from his touch. “no.” she smiled, brokenly. “i did.”

“… what?”

“as soon as i got some solid footing, i pinned it down in the middle of the street. i had it right where i wanted it. but it—it called out.”

“called out? like—in english?”

“no, it was more like a—not a distress call, more like it saw something else and was trying to call it closer. and seventh strike of the day—i glanced up to try to see if there was something else i needed to take care of.”

whiskey felt his mouth go dry. “when you turned back around…”

“i had my own gun pointing straight at my face.” she met his eyes. he’d never seen her look so haunted. “i tried to get out of the way, but—“ she wiped at her eyes, her nose. “it went off. i don’t—i don’t remember anything after that. the next thing i knew i was waking up in medical with ginger over me. said i’d been out for a solid day.” she tried to grin. “bet they worked that into the cover. some poor methed-out woman finally snapped and tried to blow her brains out in broad daylight where everyone could see…”

“morgan, i’m—“

“jack i killed someone’s daughter.”

“you are not a murderer.”

“i was a proxy.”

“look at me.” he grabbed her by the biceps, turning her. she didn’t fight him, and it dawned on him that if she was still recovering from a bullet to the brain, she probably wasn’t strong enough to do much.

and her face crumpled as he spoke. “you fucked up. and you know what that means? it means you’re a hundred percent, certified bonafide human. which means that you are always going to have the potential for mistakes, and for failure, and when it happens it sucks. it will always suck. and you can let it stop you, or you can learn from it. this is just—how it is. for the people like us.” his grip loosened. “our fuck-ups tend to be on a more viscous scale.”

he brushed her hair back, as he had before, long ago. but it was different now. her eyes dropped to the floor. “i know… i know. i sent a message to lilith, asking her to send lady to the henson house. not sure if it’ll actually do anything if i don’t have a job.”

“i think we both know that if lilith wanted to fire you—she wouldn’t have called us.”

“true.” seraphim shivered as whiskey let her go, bringing her arms up in an x over her chest. “she would’ve let me die.”

“look… things look a little bleak right now. just take it easy for a few days. ging’ll probably want to keep you around for at least a little bit, make sure you don’t have any side effects from the gel. and when you get home, then lilith, well—”

seraphim lifted a hand to press on a temple. “god, i don’t know how i’m going to handle this debriefing… i don’t know how i’m going to tell hamish…”

“he worked with recruits for kingsman, right? i don’t think you’ll be the first or last person that has to come to him with a mistake. he’ll understand.”

“i’m glad one of us is sure.”

“what, you think he’ll leave you when he finds out?”

she answered without skipping a beat. “i always think he’ll leave me.”

“well, that sounds healthy.”

seraphim lightly touched at the pink forming around her eyes. “i’m not a hundred percent sure you’re the right person i should be talking about this with, but i am a hundred percent sure i’ve heard you tell me multiple times that you don’t deserve lauren and if she had any sense she’d find someone better.”

whiskey—didn’t immediately have a response to that.

“that’s what i thought.” seraphim turned away from the window, walking up to the conference table. her eyes flickered to champ’s liquor and decanter once, but she left it. drinking so soon after being exposed to alpha-gel was probably not the best idea. she leaned back, letting the hard edge of the table press into her back. the pain was grounding.

seraphim buried her face in her hands. “… this wouldn’t have happened if john was there. he’d be so disappointed if he knew.”

“john can go eat satan’s dick for all i care.”

“don’t say things like that.“

“you’re telling me merlin didn’t have that same reaction when you talked to him about that son of a bitch?”

seraphim stayed silent. just looking at him. it took him a second, and then: “… he doesn’t know.”

“i—am working on it.”

whiskey opened his mouth, but when he saw her face all his anger left him.

this wasn’t the time.

instead, he strode over to the decanter, pouring two glasses of the statesman trademark bourbon. seraphim watched him. “i don’t know if ginger would want me to—“

“do you want to?”

her shoulders sagged. “… yeah.”

“alright then.”

seraphim took the glass he offered with a grip that was still a little unsteady, looking at the liquid amber. “should we toast? that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”

“sure. always something to celebrate.” whiskey answered, lifting his drink. “to life after failure?”

and seraphim smiled. it was thin, but it was genuine. her voice was thick when she spoke again: “to olivia.”

clink.

once upon a time, two old friends stood side-by-side, looking out from a window on a snowy new york city.

“so—have you proposed yet?”

“… you could say i’m working on it.”

#agent seraphim #agent whiskey #(background lies & lessons.) #(and background hymns & holograms.) #the things we carry #once upon a time in new york

[mxliv-oftheendless]

New Beginnings

Okay, so this one takes place in @cosmicrealmofkissteria‘s Assassin AU (that is the link to her Ao3 page where the story is if you haven’t read it) because jeez, she really puts Vinnie in a dark place. So naturally, I had to give Vinnie a happy ending, and that’s how BETH came into the picture! She’s Vinnie’s younger cousin, and while their backstory isn’t really relevant to the story, they were really close when Beth was younger. Enjoy! 

Beth wasn’t sure why she was still in New York.

At first, it had been because her brother insisted she come to see his new baby, and she could never refuse her brother, even if he was still living in New York. His new baby, a girl named Emily, was definitely adorable, and his wife was wonderful, but Beth was only planning on being there for a few days, three at most. It was nearly five days now, and she was very sure her boss wouldn’t understand if she called and asked for more time off.

What was she still doing here? This city had been the place she felt trapped in for the first seventeen years of her life. It wasn’t a home; it was a prison. A prison that at any second could riot and cause her or her brother’s death. So when she received the scholarship to University of Phoenix, she’d left with her scholarship money and saved tuition money and never looked back. She hated New York. So why hadn’t she left yet?

On the fifth day of her visit, Beth was walking down the street from her hotel, thinking she would take a subway to her brother’s neighborhood, when a black car rolled up to the curb. For some reason, Beth’s legs slowed, and came to a stop as the car stopped beside her.

The tinted window of the backseat rolled down, and a dark-haired man wearing sunglasses looked out at her. “Elizabeth Cusano?”

Old instincts began to kick in, and Beth gave him the best glare she could manage in her sunglasses. It was equally reassuring to remember the small Ruger handgun she kept in her purse. “Who’s Elizabeth Cusano?”

“You’re the granddaughter of the current head of the Caringi family in the Italian mob. You left seven years ago to attend the University of Arizona, and now work as a bartender at the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas. Am I wrong?”

Beth tried her best not to gawk. Just who the hell was this guy?

She glanced around, then got closer to the car, leaning down and grabbing the top of her purse so she could easily grab her gun. “Listen, man, who the hell do you think you are, and what do you want?”

“My name is Gene Simmons and I have some information for you regarding your cousin, Vincent.”

Beth froze. Immediately memories flashed in her head, of a young man with dark eyes and sad smiles and unconvincing laughs. “Are you bullshitting me?” she snapped.

Simmons waved for her to get in the car. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Beth paused. On one hand, she could shoot the guy and run. But run where? She was in broad daylight, hundreds of people were surrounding her, and she would be running on foot while he was in a fast-moving car.

On the other hand…

Beth looked around to make sure no one was watching, then opened the door and slid into the car. 

--

The office Gene brought her into was big and windowless, and had three huge monitors showing security footage behind a desk. She was shown into a chair in front of the desk while Gene himself sat down behind it.

“Okay, I came with you,” Beth said, trying to sound in control. It was something Papa had drilled into her head: Always seem like you’re the one in control. “Now what do you want to tell me? And remember, if you’re bullshitting me, I can shoot you right now and throw your body into the Hudson. I know how to cut up a body.”

Gene looked almost amused. “I don’t doubt it.” He tented his fingers together. “When was the last time you saw Vinnie, Miss Cusano?”

“Er, eight years ago, I think. At my Nana’s… well, that doesn’t matter. Then he dropped off the grid; I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

Then again, she had been too wrapped up in her own shit at the time.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Have you ever heard of Peter Criss, the Brooklyn Wildcat?”

The name wasn’t ringing any bells. Then again, she’d been away from New York for long she didn’t know how many gangsters she knew about were still alive and how many were dead. “No, I haven’t. He sounds… interesting.” Read: fucking dangerous. Another thing Papa had told her: if they have a nickname, they’re either insane or very dangerous, or even both. “Did Vinnie get mixed up with him?”

“We know that Vinnie was working for him. Well, “working” is a bit of a loose term. We don’t know for how long, but what matters is now. And right now, Vinnie needs to get out of New York, and you just so happen to be the only family member he remembers giving a damn about. We need your help getting him out of New York.”

Beth hesitated for only a second. “Of course. Where is he now?”

Gene pressed a button on his desk. There was a buzzing noise, and a side door opened. A short man with unbelievably fluffy hair walked in, followed by… Vinnie.

His hair was longer and his skin was paler, and he looked horribly thin. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face was gaunt. His head was turned to the floor and he looked… defeated. Heartbreakingly defeated.

Beth’s mouth dropped open at the sight of him. “Vinnie?” she said aloud, unsure if it was really him.

Vinnie looked up, and his eyes widened. Tears welled up in them. “H-Hi, Bethie,”

His voice was croaky and hoarse, but it was him.

Beth shot out of her seat and ran to him, feeling like a young girl again, and threw her arms around him. Vinnie hugged her back tightly, and she heard him start to softly cry. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“If you want my advice,” Gene said behind them, “I’d leave tonight. We don’t know if Vinnie has any other enemies, and there’s a chance Criss will find out he’s still alive.”

Still holding onto Vinnie, Beth looked over at Gene. “Of course.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d gotten into, but all that mattered to her right now was that her cousin had returned, and she was returning to Las Vegas with a probably-permanent companion.

--

Back at Beth’s hotel, Beth was on the hotel room phone with the airport while Vinnie showered in the bathroom. It would be last minute, but there was a two AM flight from New York to Las Vegas they could take. And Vinnie had procured a fake ID and passport, probably from Gene, so there was a good guarantee nobody would figure out he was really a notorious assassin.

Just as Beth hung up, the bathroom door opened and Vinnie walked out. He looked much better; still tired, but better.

She looked up at him. “I just changed flights and bought a ticket for you. We’re leaving on the two AM flight.”

Vinnie nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly. He stood where he was, eyes darting about.

Beth furrowed her brow and gestured to the bed. “You can sit down if you want,”

Without a word, Vinnie sat down on the bed.

“So we’ve got the rest of the day before our flight. What do you want to do? We could go out and do something.”

“I don’t think that’d be wise,” Vinnie replied timidly.

Beth nodded in assent. “Yeah, you’re right. You hungry? I think the restaurant opened a while ago.”

Vinnie shook his head. “No thank you.” He looked down at his lap.

Now Beth frowned. This was not the Vinnie she remembered. The Vinnie she remembered was not this timid and submissive. Her blood boiled in her veins as she wondered what happened to him. Whoever this Peter Criss was, she wanted to hunt him down and cut him into bits; the image of that made her feel slightly better.

“Uh… you remember Anthony, right?” Vinnie nodded. “Well guess what: he’s married and has a kid.”

Vinnie looked up at that, looking amazed. “Really?”

Beth nodded. “Yeah. The kid’s name is Emily and she’s adorable, and his wife is nice too. We could go see them if you want.”

But it seemed that was the wrong thing to say, because at that suggestion Vinnie looked down at his lap again. “No, that’s okay. They sound nice. I’m… I’m glad Anthony is okay.”

Honestly, Beth doubted Anthony would even remember Vinnie anyway. He’d never been as close to him as Beth had been.

Beth got up from the desk and went over to the bed, sitting next to Vinnie. She went to take his hand, but when Vinnie visibly blanched she thought better of it and withdrew her hand. “Listen, I don’t know what happened to you, and I can’t being to understand it, but I promise I’ll get you out of here. When we get to Vegas, I can find you a job too, if you like. It could be at the Luxor, same as me.”

Vinnie looked at her in confusion. “Why?”

The question caught Beth off guard. “Why?”

“Why would you do that… for me? Why would you do all this for the person who left you alone?”

Beth frowned. “Because you’re the only person in our family I care about. And I don’t care that you left. Honestly, if I had been older, I would’ve asked to go with you.”

Vinnie looked like he was going to cry again. “But I—”

“I don’t care,” Beth stressed, trying not to be too loud. “What matters is, you’re here now, and we’re getting out of the city. And you know what else? We’re never coming back.”

Vinnie sniffled, and a tear rolled down his cheek. A small smile appeared on his lips. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. “I—I missed you, Bethie,”

Beth smiled and wrapped her arms around him. “I missed you too,”

--

LAS VEGAS – ONE MONTH LATER

Beth walked into her flat, exhaustion coursing through her body. She had just gotten off the late shift at the Luxor, and she could not believe how many people ordered drinks tonight. Jesus… She loved working as a bartender at the Luxor—it paid well and mixing drinks had always been a talent of hers—but the people that came to it could sometimes be difficult.

Beth threw her purse onto the kitchen table and got a glass of water, then gulped it down as she walked into the living room area and flopped down on the couch. She opened one eye and looked over at Vinnie, who was sitting on the other end of the couch reading a book. “What’re you doing up?” she asked tiredly.

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep,”

Beth nodded in understanding.

Vinnie had certainly begun to change for the better after moving to Vegas. It took time, but he gradually stopped being so timid and quiet, and started to be the first one to talk instead of Beth being forced to make conversation. He started smiling more and laughing more; Beth still smiled at the memory of when they, bored out of their minds, watched a Looney Tunes rerun and Vinnie laughed so loud her upstairs neighbor came down to see what was going on. He was doing better, but still had a ways to go. He slipped sometimes, back into who he had been before, and sometimes, like tonight, couldn’t sleep due to night terrors. Beth wasn’t sure what she could do about it, but she did make sure to stress every time that Vinnie could always talk to her whenever he needed to.

“Well, I’m so tired I’m not tired, so what do you want to do?”

Vinnie shrugged again. “Not sure.” He looked in the direction of Beth’s radio. “We could listen to music.”

Beth shrugged herself. “Sure. We just have to make sure it’s quiet.”

Vinnie closed his book and went over to the radio as Beth kicked off her shoes.

“—listening to 92.3 KOMP, Las Vegas’s official rock n’ roll station. Coming up next, we’ve got Elton John!”

Beth immediately perked up as the opening piano music to “Bennie and the Jets” came through the speakers. She loved this song. “Oh, sweet. You ever heard this song?”

Vinnie shot her a look as he sat back down. “Of course I have. Who hasn’t heard “Bennie and the Jets”?”

They both sat in silence. Beth’s foot tapped and her head nodded along to the beat as she looked over at Vinnie, who was sitting and listening silently. His head bobbed slightly along.

She wondered if Vinnie knew just how much she worried about him. She was happy with how far he had come, but sometimes, whenever he slipped, she wondered and worried if this would be the time he slipped back completely and never went back again. That, realistically, was impossible, but she still wondered; it had only been a month, after all.

“Say Candy and Ronnie, have you seen ‘em yet? Oh, but they’re so spaced out—”

“B-B-B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets,” Beth sang aloud. Vinnie looked over at her, smiling slightly. Beth smiled back, and sang more confidently. “Oh, but they’re weird and wonderful. Oh, Bennie, she’s really keen.”

She sat up and pretended she was singing into a microphone, moving dramatically. “She’s got electric boots, a mohair suit. You know I read it in a magaziIIIIIIne, ohhhh. B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets!”

Vinnie laughed. Beth smiled wider and got up. She grabbed Vinnie’s hands and pulled him off the couch. “C’mon, Vinnie, dance with me!”

And soon they were up off the couch and dancing around the living room, singing along and not giving a damn who heard (well, they would apologize if anyone knocked, but still).

“Oh, Candy and Ronnie, have you seen ‘em yet?” Vinnie sang. His voice was melodious. “Oh, but they’re so spaced out. B-B-B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets! Oh, but they’re weird and wonderful. Oh, Bennie, she’s really keen.”

“She’s got electric boots,” they sang together, “a mohair suit. You know I read it in a magaziIIIIIne, ohhhh. B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets!”

Laughing, Vinnie grabbed her hands and twirled them both in circles. They continued dancing until the song ended, and when it did, they flopped back onto the couch, breathless from dancing but laughing in pure joy. Beth leaned her head on Vinnie’s shoulder, smiling.

He’d be okay. She was sure of that now. He’d be okay. 

#seriously shandi you put vinnie in a bad place didn't ya? #the reason there's a huge timeskip is because I don't know much about psychological abuse recovery and I didn't want to get anything wrong #vinnie needs all the hugs #beth is a survivor #they both are really #gene is an enigma #as usual #ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN BITCHES #also Elton john #Elton john makes everything better #it's facts #I've been writing a lot of angst lately #next thing I write will be more lighthearted I promise #kiss au writing #assassin au #hope you enjoyed!

[ecoamerica]

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[onehighlight9-blog]

The night I felt like me

I shaved my legs today, my torso too. Took a long warm shower, grabbed my sharpest razor blade and removed as much hair as I could. It was hard because I couldn’t see all of it, so I couldn’t see if it was gone or not. As I went over my legs while a shower of warm water falls on my back, the razor blade got duller and duller. It started squeaking which means I needed a new one. I opened the shower door, stepped out onto the cold floor and walked towards the cabinet containing my toiletries. I searched through the cabinet, moving my toothbrush and cups out of the way, grabbed a bag which held the blades and took a new one out. Quickly I jumped back into the shower, so I could continue my work. I started down below, working my way upwards. My waist, belly, upper torso and armpits all got thoroughly checked for any hair which then got removed as close to the skin as possible. Some hair on my arms would be alright I thought, so I put aside the blade and grab the shower gel and creams. I wash my hair three times over, each time grabbing more shower gel and going through them with my hands buried deep beneath my hair. Next up was the rest of my body. I used lavender shampoo, purely for the smell. After this I grabbed the cream of which the bottle said it would soften my skin. That’s what I wanted. I went over my body using the cream twice, trying to make sure my skin felt fresh and soft. My recently shaved body felt great. I could feel my arms going over my body which now was incredibly soft.

I stepped out of the shower and looked into the mirror, scanning my body from the bottom all the way to the top. Any spots of hair I could notice got removed immediately. I looked at my head. I couldn’t remove the hair on my head, I thought. People would think something is wrong with me. No matter how much I hated it I simply couldn’t touch it without consequences. So, I got to dressing myself. I picked out a brown pantyhose, a black mini skirt, a blue bra, a white sleeveless button up shirt and a light gray cardigan from the room next to the house owner. After grabbing my stuff, I went back to my room and booted up my laptop on my desk. After watching some TED talks I started to feel my migraine again. I took some painkillers and sat down on my bed. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep, right then and there, in my clothes, on bed.

Once I woke up I got messaged by my girlfriend who wanted to call for a bit. Sure, I said. She told me about her day and I told her about my day. We got to talking about when I could visit her again because it has been a month since she moved to the other side of the continent. It ended up being a heated discussion. I didn’t find a cheap flight and everything in the upcoming month would be too expensive for me as a 22-year-old student. I sent her a screenshot of what the best flight might be, and we agreed it might be best to wait a bit longer, so it would be more affordable. After that she asked me something I didn’t expect. She asked me what I’ve been looking up online. She got the idea from the title of a tab which was visible on the screenshot. I quickly fabricated an excuse which didn’t make sense at all. I didn’t want to talk about it with her. It was something I’m struggling with and I know out of experience she won’t be able to make me feel better right now. The call ended shortly after that and I started looking for a movie to watch.

I couldn’t find anything I wanted to do as I was searching the web, sitting on my bed in the clothes I put on after my shower. All of the sudden a crazy thought came into my head. I got this sudden urge to sneak outside and go for a very short walk. It’s insane, I thought. By now it was half past midnight and all kinds of things worried me. What if somebody sees me? What if people notice me sneaking out? What if people notice me sneaking back inside and upstairs? I couldn’t keep asking these questions to myself because I realized this is exactly what is keeping me from figuring out what is going on in my head. I got up, grabbed my keys and my phone, opened my door and started my way downstairs. I remember there being some not too high heels in the living room, one floor down. So, I start making my way there. I move my feet as slow as I could and tried to make as little noise as possible. I refrained from using my phone for light too because people might notice. I managed to get to the living room and understood I wasn’t supposed to be in here. I looked around, but the heels were nowhere to be found. To me this was a big bummer, because I really wanted to go outside, in some heels. I put on my sneakers, tied them up and decided to continue downwards. I sneaked past some rooms where I could hear the guy inside snoring and made my way towards the door which would take me outside. This door is known for being a bit squeaky, so I tried to open it as slow as I could, preventing it from making any noise at all. I stepped outside and quickly jumped off the pebbles and onto the grass. I walked towards the gate and opened it. There was no grass here anymore, and people might look out of their window and see me. So, I decided to make a quiet run for it. As light and fast as I could I moved over the pebbles towards the road and hid behind a bush, blocking me from view. I got out.

I felt relieved. I am outside, free to go where I wanted. The first thing I felt was surprise. The pantyhose kept my legs warm and the cardigan managed to keep the rest warm. I didn’t need a coat at all. I started walking down the road, keeping my arms crossed over my body. In the distance there were some noises in a bush. This frightened me. What if there is some person in there who sees me. What will they think if they see somebody with a makeshift feminine walk wearing these clothes at this hour out here on the road? I pushed on, keeping a close eye on the bushes. The noise didn’t come from a creepy person hiding though, it was a small dog who was curious as to what was happening out here on the road. With nothing holding me back anymore, no fear or cold, I set out and continued my journey around the block. I never felt so free in my entire life. This was the walk of a lifetime for me. I felt like this was exactly how I should feel. I felt free, happy, beautiful and euphoric. When I got back to the house I didn’t want this experience to end and decided I will do another round, following a different path. I walked through a park and as I stepped into the light of a nearby lamppost everything changed for me. These feelings I was experiencing weren’t just an experience anymore. They crept into me and changed who I was inside of my head. My thoughts ran wild as I walked through the park and soon I came across a little playground with some benches. Once I saw the benches I felt like I had to go to them, sit down and cross my legs. I wanted to pretend everything was normal. I did it. I went there, sat down in the middle of the bench overlooking the dimly lit playground and crossed my legs. I looked around and I couldn’t believe it. I was seeing people, children, running around. They were playing and talking with each other. One got hurt and started crying as he ran to his parents. A small girl found something in the sand and ran towards me, looking at the stone she found. She looked up to me in the broad daylight and said “Mom, look what I’ve found!”. It went dark again. The only things I could see were the things the few lampposts placed in this park were lighting up. The rest was all covered in a mixture of the darkness of the night and the light of a full moon shining down to earth. There was nobody here. I was alone.

I stood up again, pulled a bit at my skirt to get it to look normal again, and continued my walk. On the other side of the park I took a turn and ended up in a nice neighborhood full of small houses. Next to the road there were trees and small patches of grass. I walked down the road and looked around, imagining how life would be here during a warm summer day. As I looked around I lost myself again. I wanted to live there, and I wanted to drive that mini cooper, which stood parked in front of a house. I wanted to come home to the house I saw in the distance, where a small night lamp was on in what looked like a kid’s bedroom. I wanted to enter my future house and see my spouse and young child having fun together. I want to see them drop it all and come running towards me to give me a hug and a kiss after which we all get started on making dinner together.

But I couldn’t, could I? I didn’t have enough money to make my dreams come true. People here don’t like talking about these thoughts I have flying around in my head. I push myself forward, telling myself I should enjoy it here and now, when there is nobody around to judge me or say that I’m weird. As I kept walking I kept imagining all kinds of scenarios in which I would finally be that what I wanted. I got back to the house in which I rented a room. I sneaked back upstairs and as I close the door I feel the joy I felt this entire night one last time. I pulled it off. I went for that walk which I felt I needed, and I liberated my mind. It all became so much clearer to me what I was feeling. I got undressed and put on my snoopy pajama pants and a gray top. After grabbing my laptop from my desk, I fell onto my bed and decided I should write this story. It will help me remember what I felt, and it might even make people understand what’s going on in my head, even though I highly doubt people will just accept it. Maybe this story will make others in a similar situation know they're not alone.

As I started writing this story I came to realize a hard truth though. I don’t rent the room next to the owner. I don’t own these clothes and pajamas. I didn’t have long hair on my head. I couldn’t remove the hair which was right in my face when I looked in the mirror because it literally was right in my face. When I looked in the mirror I could see the body of a 22-year-old guy, rocking a beard because it’s manly. This body I was given, this horribly taken care of body, stared back at me. Stretchmarks covered my belly, taunting me by making it very clear what I am not. Looking at this body made it worse. The shoulders stood broad and there is this obnoxious doodle hanging in front of the pelvis. When my girlfriend confronted me with the open tab, it said “transgender InfoPoint”.

What I experienced this night meant the world to me. Because with enough imagination I wasn’t this 22-year-old guy anymore. I was a 22-year-old girl wearing the clothes which expressed what I felt like inside, walking around in a park and looking at cars and houses, imagining what life could be…

If only…

#nonfiction #short story

[kpop-and-lemonade]

Here is a rough draft that I started a long time ago and I’m never gonna finish

“Fuck me in the ass” you yelled.

It was 7:14 am and that was the time your school bus came, so you frantically ran around your house trying to get ready for school. You threw on some clothes, and tried to make your hair look as decent as possible, but you still looked like a washed up beach whale.

You frantically ran around your house, trying to get your things for school. "I can't be late to school again; I'll get the late shift." you groaned just thinking about it.

The "Late shift" was just slang for detention at night. It was just a type of cruel and unusual punishment created by the teachers to torture students. It forced us to come back to school at 6pm, and then sit there for an hour and a half before getting to leave. You cringed knowing that it was late November, and the sun went down at 4:30p.m

You got on your bike, and rode to school as quickly as possible, but you got to school 20 minutes late.

"Fuck" you groaned while locking your bike away. “You look like a dried up beach whale.” you jumped as you heard somebody behind you. Turning around you saw your best friend Doyoung looking at you with the goofiest smile.

"Douyoungiiiee!" You squealed; while running up to hug him. " You still look like a pumpkin!" you teased, ruffling his bright Orange hair.

Doyoung has been your best friend since elementary school, but You guys were like complete polar opposites, though. He was gentle and Innocent, while you were naughty, rough, and adventurous. You had a huge crush on Doyoung ever since Middle school, but you never had the guts to tell him yourself, and you knew that dating your best friend could end badly, so you suppressed your feelings for him ever since 8th grade.

“you're late too!” You squealed. “Now I don’t have detention by myself!” you  jumped up and down in excitement, knowing that you wouldn't be alone. Doyoung rolled his eyes. "I missed my school bus, so I had to walk." he explained while walking with you into the building.

“Shit! I forgot to do my homework.” he groaned.

“Ha! you little dipshit you’re going to fail all your classes at this rate" you continued walking down the hall.

“Can I get the answers from you?” he said while looking at you with huge puppy eyes. "Did he really think this was going to work?" you thought to yourself.

“You’re going to have to try even harder to get me to consider saying yes” you teased.

“Is that so?” He smirked. “I have a few tricks of my own.”

(This is usually where a smut starts, but is she really going to get fucked for some homework, though? Smuts are so random the main character is always like." I spilled the coffee on the couch; Oppa is going to punish me!" To be honest, that sounds like a good smut!)

Doyoung grabbed you, pinning you against the locker raising your hands over your head. You tried moving, but his thighs were between your legs. "Doyoung? what are doing" you gasped, but there was no response.

He leaned into the crook of your neck, lightly sucking on your pulse. You quietly moaned trying not to be loud. “You smell really nice today.” he said in a husky voice. Doyoung started biting your neck lightly causing your moans to become louder. he put his hand on your mouth preventing you from making any more noises.  You whimpered in place as he attacked your neck. You couldn't take any more of  the pleasure, so... You bit his hand.

"Ouchie!" He yelped. “If I give you the homework will you stop?" he nodded eagerly in response.

“I knew that this would work” he smirked. He held his hand out for you to give him the homework, but you bolted out of the hallways into your classroom.

You awkwardly entered the class as everyone stared at you; doyoung entered the room soon after you.

“Where have you two been? Class started 30 minutes ago” you didn’t have any time to say anything before the teacher cut you off. “Both of you have detention tonight” he yelled before going back to his lesson.

“The teacher seems to be on his period” you giggled, but he didn’t say a word to you. Doyoung was pissed. You groaned he was so sensitive he always got mad over the tiniest things, but he honestly scared you when he was mad.

The things he would do for revenge. You remember the time he pushed you off a monkey bar, causing you to break your arm, but that only happened once, and you had made him extremely mad. Honestly, if doyoung wanted to act petty he could do whatever he wants.

- ~time skip~

“Doyoung is being a bitch.” You said bluntly, “and also he was being so weird today.” You said picking up your cardboard pizza.

“How so?” she questioned.

“Well he asked me for my homework, and I said no, then it suddenly turned into a raunchy movie” you sighed. “Omo! Tell me the juicy details.” She leaned in closer.

“Well...He pushed me against the locker and started biting on my neck. I wanted to move, but my body was telling me something else.” you explained to your friend. “After that, I told him that I would give him the homework, he stopped and I ran to class” you finished explaining.

“I’ve never seen him act like that before.” You worried. “Do you think he knows I liked him?” You asked with a panicked tone.

“Omo! You are just overreacting, he will probably forget about it by the end of the day” she reassured.

~time slip~

You took a nap before getting up and getting ready for the tortuous events that were bound to happen that day. You put on a nice dress and cardigan before walking out your house. You Lived in an area where it wasn’t really cold. You walked out your house and got on your bike. It was dark and you rode through a sketchy area. It was bad enough to get kidnapped in broad daylight, but it was the fastest way to your school. The time was 5:40pm and you took your time enjoying the scenery of graffiti.

To your luck there was nobody outside; this always made you happy because the people in this neighborhood were really intimidating, so you always tried to block them out from your head as you rode through. You were halfway down the street until you heard a scream from alleyway closest to you. Slowly and quietly you rode past trying to see what was happening.

Your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. The scene of a man hovering over somebody’s limp body slowly tearing the person apart like a hungry wolf. The man or THING was  pale and skinny. You looked a little longer to notice the man's unusual hair color. “No” you whispered to yourself. The man had hair as orange a pumpkin. “Doyoung” you blurted out; you quickly covered your mouth knowing that your mistake could cost you your life. He looked up at you. Your eyes widened in shock and fear. You must be crazy you thought to yourself. Right in front of you; your best friend stood covered in blood. His eyes were a deep red and his teeth had fangs. He slowly walked towards you, but you hightailed your way to school.

He looked up at you. Your eyes widened in shock and fear. "You must be crazy." you thought to yourself. Right in front of you; your best friend stood covered in blood. His eyes were a deep red and his teeth had fangs. He slowly walked to you, but you hightailed your way to school.

You ran into the building going to class. You sat down in your seat crying.  "I must be crazy." you thought to yourself. How could someone you’ve known your entire life be able to do something like that? You walked to the front of the classroom and started writing out an apology on the board. You tried reassuring yourself; Thinking that maybe he wouldn't come after an event like that. Not even ten minutes later, you heard the door open behind you. You were immediately on edge knowing that doyoung had just entered the room.

“Now that the both of you are here; I have to go help the other math teachers plan senior finals. Please excuse me.” the teacher said abruptly before suddenly leaving the room. Your body started tensed knowing that you were now in the same room as a monster.

“Hi Y/N,” he said nonchalantly from behind you.

“Hey doyoung” You tried to make yourself sound as normal as possible, but even somebody deaf could sense the fear in your voice.

You continued writing on the board until you suddenly felt his hands wrap around your waist. Your body started shaking violently in his embrace. "shit" you thought, you knew that he could feel you shaking, and it made everything obvious.

“How was your day?” he asked while kissing your neck. You felt tingles course through your body as he kissed your neck.

You didn’t reply to his question.

He leaned in from behind you placing his mouth right to you ear “Did you see anything unusual today?” he purred lightly biting your ear.

his words made you start crying hysterically. You tried to escape his grasp, but he was too strong.  “Please let me go” you cried. "You know, You were the last person I expected to see today. I was actually really surprised when I saw you at the end of the alleyway. Naturally, If you were anybody else... you would be torn to pieces.” He explained devilishly with a grin.

“I promised not to tell anyone; please let me go.” You pleaded with Doyoung but nothing worked.

“Go ahead tell anybody you want. Who the fuck is going to believe you anyway” he scoffed.

“OMG! DOYOUNG IS VAMPIRE EVERYONE GATHER THE PITCHFORKS.” he said In a mocking tone before laughing. “Stop being a dumb bitch and think for a minute” he scoffed.

“The only reason you are still breathing right now is because we are friends. You should be thanking me for not sucking you dry.” He said.

“Honestly” he began “I love the image of you weak beneath me,” he said seductively.

“It turns me on in ways you could imagine,” he said lightly nibbling your neck. you continued crying as he started moving his hands up your dress. "I always knew you liked me" he giggled. "It was painfully obvious' he joked.

He continued snaking his hand up your thigh hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear. You moaned as you felt his left hand massaged your clit."Fuck your so wet." he teased, applying more pressure to your clit. beads of sweat rolled down your body, and your back arched every time his fingers moved up and down your, but you knew in your head; what he was doing to you wasn't right, none of this was right. He suddenly stopped turning you around and pinning you against the chalkboard.

"Why the sad face kitten, Isn't this the moment you've always dreamed of? Me pinning you against the wall while fucking you senseless." he licked his lips.His expression suddenly turned cold. "COME ON ISN'T THIS WHAT YOU WA-" he yelled, but you cut him off. "I didn't want it like this," you screamed. "I never expected that I would be fucked in a classroom by my best friend, who I just witnessed murder some poor innocent man." You sobbed. " I wanted my first to be romantic and meaningful. A night to remember." you said quietly.

Doyoung hugged you while playing with your hair. "I'm sorry kitten for hurting you." he cooed "But honestly I really think you'll enjoy it." he mused. You wanted to yell at him, but the truth was under the shame and disgust you felt: you really did enjoy the feeling of being touched by doyoung. Your mind was telling you no, but your body wanted so much more.

"It's ok If you don't want me to con-." you cut him off for the second time. "No, please this is something I want." You pleaded. Doyoung looked at you confused. "But, you just said you didn't want it," you gave him a pleading look, and he acknowledged you. Doyoung quickly picked you up and put you on top of the teacher's desk

I hoped you enjoyed this steaming pile of trash admin J

#Nct #nct smut #doyoung #Kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #nct fanfic #rough draft #draft #sorry for this trash

[swanderful1]

Duplicity: Ch 5/?

Notes: So.... it has been a long time since I updated this story. And I could list all of the reasons why, but I won't. Instead I will leave this chapter here and promise to do my best to get on a regular schedule with it again.Writing has always been and will always be a passion of mine, but it's easy for me to let day to day life get in the way of that. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy what I put out in this story (and others in the future) and I am forever grateful for all of the support.The next chapter will not take so long to be posted, that much I can guarantee, so stay tuned and let me know what you think! Thank you :)

A special, special thanks to my beta @resident-of-storybrooke who is a gift and also to @shady-swan-jones for the incredible art and also to @onceuponaprincessworld for keeping me accountable and reminding me to keep writing

Summary:  Secrets shroud the homes of the idyllic Willow Lane. Its newest resident, Emma Swan is no exception. In a place where perception is everything, the facade begins to crack. And Emma finds herself staring down the deep, dark secrets that the neighborhood was built on and that nothing is as it seems. Not even the blue eyed gardener.

Read the whole thing on AO3 and ffnet

For as long as Killian could remember he loved being on the water. It didn’t matter if he was in a canoe, a speedboat, or just swimming around he was at ease. He and Liam used to spend as many weekends as they could, off fishing in their favorite spot. A lake not far from Storybrooke that they had gone to as children. It was the only example of a vacation they had ever known. Their family never had much, so anywhere that required planes or trains was out of the question.

The day he had told Emma about the cabin, and how it had been the inspiration for what his current home looked like, was the first time he had ever said that sentence out loud. Making it all the more real.

All of that changed seven years ago. His comfort on the water completely disintegrated when Killian lost his brother. Liam’s death altered the entire course of his life and even now, standing near the small creek behind his house, he felt the crippling anxiety of being near water. Which was why it was surprising to him that he had even uttered the words aloud to her. To Emma.

It was Saturday morning, and the day was crisp. Overcast. Chilly. The warm April weather had shifted quickly, as it sometimes did in the northeast. So today he wore Liam’s old Storybrooke High sweatshirt. It was ripped and threadbare but it kept Killian warm. And his family didn’t exactly have heirlooms to pass down, so he kept their memory alive in little ways that he could.

An old tree sat, tall and gangly near the creek where his old fishing boat rested in the grass.

Old was an understatement, as the small boat looked as if it hadn’t been used in thirty years. Grass growing around it, like an ornate lawn sculpture that was intentionally planted there to make it look rustic.

From the creek he looked up at his modest home and compared it to the cottage he had once loved so much. The pitched roof. The simple stonework that made up the walls. The modest back porch with two rocking chairs where he used to sit every morning. The green shutters, where the paint was now peeling. He would have to redo those eventually. But it hardly seemed worth it. He had no neighbors and never any guests.

It was interesting to him how he spent his days making the outside of other people’s homes so lovely while his appeared to be falling into disrepair.

What he should do was sell the house. Between losing Liam and Milah, there was too much history. Too many ghosts lingering in the floorboards. And all of it was painful. At least the most recent ones were. It was why he hid in the apartment above Robin’s bar for so long, and why he went back there on weekends when he needed to not feel so alone. The one room, impersonal space with a stranger was about all he could bear.

A gentle breeze rustled the trees around him. His house was surrounded by foliage that had been there for years. And at one point he found it to be peaceful on a Saturday morning like this, when there was a chilly breeze bringing it all alive. But today all he felt was morose.

His phone rang, bringing his attention away from his general bad mood. The caller ID told him it was Will… and that the time was already almost 9 am. Bloody hell. He was going to be late.

“Top of the morning,” Will said on the other end. “Can I expect to see you at any point today or should I tell your friend you aren’t coming?”

“My friend.. What… who?” Killian was startled by the question. His friend couldn’t possibly mean….

“Mrs. Gold.”

Her last name is Swan, Killian thought to himself, but chose not to correct Will over the phone. The last thing he wanted to hear was the relentless teasing about Emma Swan. Who he found himself thinking of a lot, especially when he shouldn’t be.

“The pallet of bricks arrived at her house this morning and are good to be laid for next week, but she hates them…” said Will. “I told her you had said her husband already gave specific instructions about the brickwork…”

As much as Killian normally would have rolled his eyes and made some comment about the unimportance of the tile pathways, he softened a bit. He remembered the last time he had seen Emma, and how unsettled she looked. Like a deer in the headlights, in her own home.

That had been on Monday, and Killian hadn’t been over there since. Now that it was Saturday, he figured he had avoided checking in at the Gold project for as long as he could. It was hard, he felt torn between wanting to know everything about Emma Swan and wanting to keep a safe distance.

“Tell her I’ll be right over,” Killian said quickly hanging up the phone. He took one more look around his own backyard. There were no gazebos or hand laid brick. There were no intricately plotted flowerbeds. No fountains. But when he and Liam had bought the place all of those years ago, it had been the proudest day of his life.

So perhaps all of the memories here were not bad, perhaps he just had to work a bit harder to uncover the good ones.

The plumbing for the sprinkler system had gone in the front and the backyards during the week. When Killian’s truck pulled up to the curb, he could see his workers putting the wooden fence in place. It would all be fine if he avoided the place, he knew that. Still though he wanted to be there.

“There he is,” Will said removing his gloves and walking over to Killian. He had been making his way around back when Will had caught sight of him. “Thought I would have to take over the business if you didn’t start showing up here.”

“It’s a busy time of year, you know that.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Will’s arm pointed to the pallets of bricks that had been ordered weeks ago to be used in the yard. “She’s not pleased.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Killian said looking toward the house. Emma wasn’t outside so he would have to go to the door. He would use the back, safer from prying eyes that way. He caught enough shit for following her in on Monday, he didn’t need to amplify it.

The back porch was not as empty as he had last seen it. Gone were the empty moving boxes that had scattered the space that was now filled with furniture. A bench with colorful pillows and a small table with a candle on it. A yoga mat sat in the far corner with a dog eared book and a bottle of water. All of which he assumed belonged to Emma. He could oddly picture her out here, even amongst the chaos surrounding her yard.

She just seemed like one of those people who was immune to the insanity, but allowed it in her life anyway.

“Killian… hi,” Emma said when she answered the door. Her expression was surprisingly readable to him, if he didn’t know any better he would say she was happy. It was a stark contrast to the last time he had seen her. “I’m sorry to make you drive all the way out here, I know you’re probably busy…”

“Don’t worry, love, it’s my job.”

Her face fell a bit but not for long. In an instant she was back on, pleasant even and guiding him into the kitchen. Her long hair was tied in a braid that fell down her back, and she was dressed in jeans with a sweater in a lovely shade of pale pink. Everything about her reminded him of a doll, so poised and careful.

This time he felt a bit better about being inside her house. He wasn’t covered in filth from work, and he didn’t have on dirty work boots. Killian was still in his jeans and ragged sweatshirt. But it also meant he forgot to put on his gloves before coming to talk to her. He had left his truck so quickly he didn’t cover his prosthetic hand.

“I saw the bricks and they’re terrible…” she started, heading over to the circular dining table in the kitchen nook. The surface was scattered with her laptop and some papers and home magazines. Clearly she had done some research before arguing the yard’s design. “I found some other examples that I like better….”

“I see that,” he laughed. For someone who didn’t care too much about living here, she certainly managed to keep a pristine home and gather a lot of ideas. He tried to tuck his hand in his pocket to hide it from her view. In the gloves or in dim lighting he could normally get away with the fake hand, but he had forgotten to put on the gloves and it was broad daylight… so it was pretty obvious.

“I know Neal gave you instructions already but do you think we could use those bricks in the front and maybe this limestone in the back?” She pointed to an image of a lush backyard garden with a limestone path in grass leading to a bird bath. Her hands were so soft looking, her painted fingers gliding across the glossy page as her bracelets dangled.

Killian was uneasy. It had been her husband who ordered them in the first place, and if the Gold’s were as powerful as Killian suspected they were, he didn’t want to go against them. Even in such a seemingly small way.

“If it makes you feel any better, all of the homes on this street used those bricks for their pathways…” Killian chimed in. He remembered putting them in across the street at the Mills’ house and then at the Nolan’s and even at Ruby’s grandmother’s house. It was all part of the uniform structure that was the cul de sac.

Emma looked up at him, her green eyes were lighter today. Not quite so concerned as the last time he had seen her. From that alone he was relieved. It was interesting though that, even in her most relaxed state, she appeared caged. Like there was so much more she wished she could say and do.

“I can talk to him if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said finally. Behind her was the bay windows that looked out toward the backyard where he saw the fence being put up. Normally he would just allow the wife to start the fight, to bring up her dissatisfaction with the landscaping design choices the husband made, but the look in her eyes made him want to be the one to take that hit. “He can be tough to deal with.”

“It’s all right, I will make some suggestions,” Killian offered with a soft smile. Again, interpreting that she wanted to say more about her husband but biting back on it. “I may not be able to get him to agree on the front yard but perhaps the backyard could be negotiable.”

Emma smiled back at him. One that reached her eyes.

“Which tiles would you like me to suggest?” he asked, pointing to the magazines on the table. Not even realizing that he had used his prosthetic hand to do so. He tried to pull it away before she noticed but her head had frozen. And not on the clutter on the table. “I... um…”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize…” she stumbled over her words, an adorable shade of pink highlighting her cheeks. “I would have never noticed, you usually wear the gloves.”

“Boating accident… when I was seven years old,” he said, catching her looking. He remained calm though, mostly because she wasn’t riddled with disgust or judgement. Emma’s face was simply kind in expression.

“I didn’t mean to stare…”

“It’s quite alright, love.” He took a step toward her, now they were only a few inches apart, as his prosthetic hand extended in her direction. She took it, with much trepidation, and other than the day he met her when they shook hands, this was the only other time they had touched.

Her fingers slowly traced the palm, the soft manicured tips dragging along the prosthetic. He felt himself wishing it was his real hand she was touching, but then again wouldn’t that be incredibly inappropriate?

“It doesn’t prevent me from doing anything.”

Emma considered him, her eyes searching his face. He turned away, knowing that if someone were to walk in right now it would be a horrible scene.

At the same moment, she seemed to also realize that the two of them had crossed a line. It was unspoken, not entirely obvious, but nevertheless the air in the room had shifted.

“So,” Killian cleared his throat, stepping slightly away from Emma. “The tiles. I will have a quote for you by the end of the day.”

“Perfect,” she replied. Her posture stiffened and she busied her hands with sorting the magazines on the table. Out of the corner of his eye Killian could see the fencework coming along, and while he could have let Emma Swan trace his palm all day he had no business doing that. “I’ll um, I’ll be around so just let me know.”

“Certainly.” His smile was terse and he knew it, forced. But hers was the same.

And as he headed back into the yard to continue doing his job, he wondered if Emma Swan was thinking the same thing that he was.

That night, after spending the rest of the day working in the Emerald Forest, Killian and Will plopped their arses down on two barstools for a well earned round of drinks at The Rose and the Thorn.

“What’ll it be, boys?” Robin joked as he poured their usual two fingers of rum into tumblers and slid them down the wooden bar.

Killian graciously took the glass and tilted it so the liquid coated his throat. It went down smooth, it usually did on Saturdays when he found himself planted on a barstool washing away the week. He twirled the empty glass in his hand, focusing on the surface marks from frequent use.

“Another?” Robin asked, pulling Killian’s attention away.

He thought on it, hesitating a little too long before setting the glass down for his friend to finish it.

“Ah, there he is, I hoped you weren’t getting lazy,” said Will nudging Killian on the shoulder. They both went through another round and then rose from the barstools to claim the dartboard before it got busy. The night was young, it had just gotten dark outside, which meant soon enough people would start pouring in.

“Don’t look now but someone’s already staring at you,” said Will, taking the darts from the pegs and handing them to Killian. Who looked in the direction Will was. “Hey, I told you not to look.”

“I’ve never been a great listener.”

Killian gave Will a sardonic look. This was all part of their normal banter for a Saturday night. It was the familiarity of it that Killian appreciated, because it wasn’t like he had a family with traditions or dinners. His friends were his family now.

“One of these days I want to trade faces with you… just to see what it’s like.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Killian muttered while throwing the first dart, it landed just below the center.

“Oh don’t pretend.” Will threw the next dart. “You draw a crowd everywhere.”

“It’s just the dim lighting.”

“Normally you would have been over there in a heartbeat.”

Killian looked to the small table of young women, specifically the one who had also been looking at him. She was pretty, brunette, dark eyes, a knowing smile on her face. She was his type and someone that usually caught his eye, Will was right. He politely nodded and went back to his dart throwing. Robin brought them over another round and stayed for a drink of his own before the bar got busy.

They spent so much time at this bar because Robin owned it, and Ruby worked there also. They could all spend time together, but on nights like tonight when the place was packed to the gills it was hard to have any sort of quality time.

The air was thick, with all of the bodies packed in the tight space. Will had wandered off to talk to some girl who often spent her weekends in the bar. Which left Killian alone with his drink, he toyed with his phone and let his mind drift to when he used to spend his Saturday nights in the company of a woman he actually cared for.

The crowd drowned out many other sounds but it couldn’t quiet the voice in his head. The one that told him to stop using these distractions as a means to avoid opening back up again. It was so much easier to take the easy way out.

His eyes locked with a woman a few feet from him. Not the same from before, she was different. Her hair was long, it hung in curls down her back and it was a light blonde. He had to look twice, to make sure it wasn’t Emma. It wasn’t, the woman was beautiful certainly but she wasn’t a match. Not even close.

Killian downed the rest of his drink and made his way over to the blonde. Her hair was a few shades darker and her skin wasn’t the same smooth, fair complexion. Her eyes weren’t a striking shade of green. But if he was honest with himself, truly honest, he knew why he allowed himself to be drawn to her.

Sunday morning bright and early, Emma was throwing in a few loads of laundry. The basement of the new house was unfinished, for now, but that was where the washer and dryer were. So she spent an awful lot of time in the dark, cinder block space throwing in load after load of clothes.

The boxes that had been on the back porch were now down here, stacked neatly in a corner. Emma had decided to assemble the deck furniture on her own one night when Neal neglected to call before coming home.

That was the thing with him, he would make grandiose promises to her about the future, and then they would fall by the wayside as quickly as they had been dreamt up.

She had sorted out all of the delicate clothes, wanting to do some of those to save money on dry cleaning when she stumbled upon a pair of Neal’s pants with his house keys in the pocket. Emma rolled her eyes, if she had a dollar for every time she found something he had forgotten to take out she could have bought all of Storybrooke ten times over.

It was a small inconvenience for her, to have to check Neal’s pockets, but these days the tiny things were adding up to mean more and more.

Like the surprise party Neal was apparently planning in their backyard. The one that had kept Emma on edge for the past week. It was probably why she had snapped so quickly when the bricks had arrived. The ones Neal had picked without talking to her.

Was it odd that her first instinct had been to call Killian and not Neal? Well, that wasn’t something she was willing to dive into.

After doing the laundry, and thinking far too much about things she couldn’t control, Emma began to get dressed in the master bathroom.

And a car horn began honking. She was just about finished, securing her watch on her wrist, putting small gold studs in her ears, zipping the knee high brown boots she wore over her jeans.

Mary Margaret had asked Emma if she had any interest in going to the Storybrooke farmers market. And it seemed like just as good of an excuse as any to get out of her house. To get out of her own head.

“I got us coffee for the ride, it takes a bit to get into town,” Mary Margaret said when Emma climbed into her car. The steaming to-go mugs left an aroma in the car of coffee that was calming. The morning was chilly, and it felt cosy in the car. She wasn’t sure what it was about this woman, but everything about her felt like home.

“Thank you,” Emma said taking a cup and sipping it. “How far away is town?”

“Well, on a good day… twenty minutes but today probably closer to forty. There’s a lot of construction.”

There was a time when Emma lived within walking distance of a farmers market. That was a trade off of living in the wide open suburbs where she had to get into a car anytime she needed a gallon of milk.

The highway was sectioned off by large orange cones from all of the road work that was happening. Emma noticed a few other incomplete neighborhoods that she remembered Neal pointing out to her as the work of his father. Well… and now Neal she supposed.

The trees were few and far between as the housing developments took over and the landscape became more manicured. Row after row of box houses lined up ready for families to move in. That’s where Neal had been all weekend, working on some plumbing issue in one of the developments. She fixed her eyes elsewhere, on anything. An old gum wrapper on the floor, an air freshener hanging on the mirror, the name of the radio station on the screen.

Neal hadn’t been around since the brick incident. So he had no idea she was angry, no idea she felt like he micromanaged her even when he wasn’t there. But for her, it wasn’t so much the appearance of the bricks, it was more so that they were exactly the same as everyone else’s.

Emma didn’t consider herself to be particularly high maintenance, but one thing she didn’t like was falling in line with everyone else. Her whole life had been a rebellious streak where she continuously ran the other way from what was expected of her.

It was how she had run away from several group homes even though it would have been easier to just stay there quiet. It was how she had met Neal. In a bar, in a shady neighborhood, that took fake ID’s and let her in without so much as a second glance at 17. It was how she had run from him the second she found out he would be working for his father. It was how she had done it again when he told her they would have to move to Storybrooke.

The closer they got to the central city of Storybrooke, the more Emma felt intrigued. Where she was living was such a stiff, suburban complex but the town at the center was much different. The symmetrical neighborhoods and manicured shrubs turned to old townhouses and apartment buildings. Little sidewalks lined with unique, quirky structures where no two looked the same.

Young people flooded the streets, which were narrow and crowded. There were couples walking dogs, groups of friends sharing coffee on stoops, and cars parked all along the sides.

“I’m so terrible at parallel parking, that’s the one issue with coming to this,” Mary Margaret mumbled as she cut the wheel and backed the car into a narrow spot along the street. “They block off half of this street.”

Emma looked ahead at the wooden structures blocking off the roadway. Just beyond that she could see the farmer’s market bustling with people. The tops of white tents were visible and Emma could smell the fresh scent of donuts and sweets as she climbed out of the car.

“This is quite the operation isn’t it?” Emma said, taking in all of the activity. It was probably the most at home she had felt since moving here. She was a city person, always had been, and while it wasn’t Boston she was stepping into, it was a place that was different.

“I think you’ll like it here, there’s all kind of fun things to see,” Mary Margaret said, her steps on the cracked sidewalk falling in pace with Emma’s. “Thanks for coming along.”

Emma looked over at Mary Margaret. Her face and smile were soft, she wore a pretty blue sweater. Even though they hadn’t known each other for that long, she was one of the few people she had warmed to not just in Storybrooke but in years.

“Are you kidding? I love this kind of stuff.”

“You do?” Mary Margaret seemed surprised at Emma’s admission. “I only mean that you seem like you aren’t interested in the town much…”

She looked over at the dark-haired woman again, trying to gauge what she was getting at. Her soft face had gone concerned, her brows furrowing in on one another. Emma made note of how tense she herself had gone. Instead of holding onto that resistance, she let it go. Mary Margaret wasn’t being nasty, she was a nice person just scared to breach the guardedness.

It was then that Emma realized how good she had gotten at reading people.

They made their way through the crowd. Mostly young people perusing the various stands. Between the food options and the boutique tents there was a lot to see. Mary Margaret led them through the maze of people toward a restaurant on the corner. The front windows took up the face of the building and inside Emma could see people eating breakfast at the checkered cloth tables.

“I figured we could stop by Granny’s and grab Ruby.” Mary Margaret held the door for her to the sound of a ringing bell above. “She works Sunday mornings so she should be good to leave soon.”

“There you two are I was beginning to waste away here,” Ruby said from behind the breakfast bar. The brunette was tall, and clearly garnered a male following, the men at the bar stools eating the breakfasts right where she was polishing silverware. Her long legs were in a pair of tight red shorts and her hair was in two pigtails. She and Mary Margaret were night and day in comparison.

“Sorry, it took a while to get into town,” Mary Margaret took a seat on one of the swivel stools on the end, Emma followed. “You know how it is Sunday’s.”

“That’s why I get here at 6 am,” the brunette smirked as she polished off the last fork and walked over to take her apron off. Emma could practically hear the men at the counter sigh.

“Emma, this is Ruby’s grandma’s place, it’s a bit of an institution…”

“Yeah, years ago when the city started the revamp, some developer offered her big money for this place… to turn it into apartments. And she wouldn’t do it.”

Emma looked around. The place was certainly charming. It wasn’t massive, the whole space was cozy. Filled with booths and a jukebox, metal chairs and checkered floors. It was the quintessential small town diner, in a city that had exploded around it.

The swinging doors the led to the area behind the breakfast bar swung open, and much to Emma’s surprise, out walked Killian Jones. Looking more worse for wear than she had ever seen him.

“Morning sunshine,” Ruby said when she noticed him. He had hardly looked up. His black hair a raggedy mess, his eyes fixated on the cup of coffee he was pouring, his feet dragging on the floor. When he finally looked up his eyes landed directly on Emma and she felt her whole body spike in response.

“Rough night?” she said quickly, not knowing what else to say when his gaze was still aimed at her. He was in the outfit she had seen him in yesterday at her house. And now here he was on a Sunday morning, fresh off a one night stand. But why was that any of her business?

“I’ve had better,” he said back.

Emma realized they had company. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Ruby’s gaze, who watched on pensively. She wasn’t sure what pull she felt toward him or why, but it was something. Each time she saw Killian Jones, or thought of him for that matter, that tether got the tiniest bit stronger.

And she caught herself thinking of him more often than she would admit out loud.

“Last I saw you were twelve drinks deep buying another round for a bachelorette party,” Ruby chimed in thankfully, bringing the other two people into the conversation.

Killian’s right hand reached up and scratched behind his ear, a soft hint of red hitting his cheeks. Emma tried to picture him in a bar, buying drinks for women, maybe going home with one of them. And then she stopped there. For whatever reason, her imagination couldn’t go beyond that.

“The bar next door is owned by an old friend of ours,” Mary Margaret leaned into Emma’s ear and said.

“You can get there through those swinging doors,” Ruby pointed. Now she was assembling some sort of sandwich on a plate for Killian. It was an intimate act, prepping someone’s favorite food when they were worse for wear without them even asking. “I’m gonna grab my bag then I’ll be ready to go. Killian, eat something so you don’t look like a zombie all day.”

Ruby handed him the sandwich and almost immediately he leaned over the counter to dig in. His hands wrapped around the buttered biscuit on either side.

“I’m gonna run to the ladies room I’ll be right back,” said Mary Margaret before hurrying off.

Then it was just the two of them.

“I apologize for you having to see me in this state, love,” he said before taking another bite. His face almost immediately perked up at the taste of the greasy sandwich, a feeling Emma knew well. After a late night, a breakfast sandwich was all she ever needed. And back in the day it had been all she could afford.

“It’s ok, I recognize that face…” She used to look like that on Sunday mornings. Before becoming a housewife, she thought but chose not to add.

“Ah, well, I must have missed you out last night.” He smirked.

“Unless you were in my living room watching Lifetime movies, I don’t think we would have crossed paths.”

“Sounds far lovelier than anything I partook in,” he shook his head. Emma smiled, he was oddly an easy person for her to talk to.

“In fairness, this is your side of town, not mine. You were just doing what you do.” Emma didn’t necessarily want to know what it was that he did, and with whom but she tried to remain nonchalant as she toyed with the sleeves of her sweater that peeked out of her jacket. “Unless you don’t do this every weekend….”

He stopped chewing and looked her way, his facial hair grown longer than usual, his eyes foggy from lack of sleep.

“I try not to,” he offered. “Every other Sunday I don’t schedule myself any work.”

“Interesting…” Emma studied him, it felt like he wanted to say more. “That must be hard to do though, especially during this time of year.”

A beat went by, and Emma thought that would be the end of it. It certainly seemed like a nice end point for a conversation between her and her gardener.

“Every other Sunday I go to see my mum.”

“Oh.” It surprised even Emma that he said it. Mostly because he had told her he had lost his parents. “Does she live far away….?”

“It’s about a two hour drive from here.” He stood up, his sandwich gone and the coffee drained from the cup. “I can’t go that often…. She’s in… It’s complicated.”

“I get complicated…” Just as Emma was about to tell him he didn’t have to get into it if he didn’t want, their conversation was cut off by Ruby and Mary Margaret returning to the counter.

“Alright, let’s get me out of here, I’ve already worked a full shift and I need some food truck nachos,” Ruby said.

“Perfect,” Emma replied, standing up from the stool a bit too quickly. It made her nervous, that he felt so comfortable talking to her. Because she was starting to feel it toward him, and she had spent most of her life repressing that sort of thing.

“Killian seems to be doing a bit better these days,” Mary Margaret said a little later when the three of them were walking down a city block with a shared order of pulled pork nachos.

“He has his good days and bad days,” Ruby replied, eating a glob of sour cream off of her finger. “Sunday’s are always tough though, cause he goes to see his mom.”

“It must be brutal.”

“Is she sick or something?” Emma asked. She had never had parents, so she had no idea what it would be like to make a decent drive once a week to visit family. “He was saying it’s hard to visit her…”

“He talked about her with you?” Both Ruby and Mary Margaret stopped walking, their eyes locked on Emma who was not expecting that reaction.

She treaded lightly, nervous to say the wrong thing.

“Just a little bit, before we left the diner when you two weren’t there…”

“Oh,” Ruby said, falling into step again. “He just doesn’t bring her up much.”

Emma wasn’t sure why this felt like such a victory for her. Maybe it was because she enjoyed talking to him, maybe it was something beyond that. Either way she was starting to feel a comfort with Killian Jones that was unlike other dynamics in her life.

“I didn’t know his mother was alive, he had said before that his brother raised him. So I assumed his parents were both-”

“He talked to you about Liam?” The women stopped yet again to look at Emma like she had a third eye.

“Briefly.” Emma went on the defense. Her guard up even though Ruby and Mary Margaret weren’t threatening in any way. But the last thing she needed was her new friends worrying. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“His mom is in prison. For killing his father.”

Now Emma was the one staring wide eyed. His mother had killed his father?

“Ruby…” Mary Margaret interrupted.

“What? It’s public knowledge, if she wanted to look it up she could.” Ruby picked up another chip and ate it. “Besides, it seems he’s more open with her than normal.”

This thought made Emma squirm. Not because she didn’t like being around Killian, she did, but perhaps a little too much. Certainly too much for someone who was for all intents and purposes ‘married’ to someone else.

Later that night, as Emma returned to her new home on Willow Lane, she breezed past Neal’s car parked in the driveway and headed inside where she could already hear him on the phone with someone in his home office. She had stayed out with Ruby and Mary Margaret all day, enjoying the farmer’s market and then eating dinner at Granny’s after. Emma had to admit, it was probably the best grilled cheese she had ever tried.

The entire house smelled like fast food, and Emma crinkled her nose, not that she was opposed to it. Her career as a personal trainer didn’t prohibit her from being human and craving a greasy burger. But it was the mood that accompanied the whole thing. And all of the good feelings that had come as a distraction during the day, were gone.

When Neal caught sight of her from the office, she could see the greasy bag on the edge of the desk. Their eyes locked and his were only filled with contempt. Like he couldn’t fathom the idea of her not being there to cook him.

Ice shot through Emma’s veins at his stare. And then just as quickly as it had happened, it was gone. All of his focus went back to his work. As per usual.

Neal could run late, miss meals, birthdays, take calls at parties, and Emma would say nothing. But the second she fell out of step, he turned nasty.

It had been a while since she had seen it, and standing in the kitchen right now watching through the french doors as he ignored her, she was on her best behavior all the time without realizing it.

“I’m going to bed,” she said coldly, careful to make her steps extra heavy as she made her way upstairs to the bedroom. The sound of the office doors closing made her jump but she kept walking. Not that she would be sleeping anywhere near him tonight. Emma quickly changed and crawled into bed in the guest room.

Emma wondered what it would be like to curl into bed next to a warm body. It was something she felt herself wanting more these days than she cared to admit. Nowadays the only warmth she got was from her pillows.

She rolled over onto her side so she could see out the window. The sky was foggy, so she couldn’t see the stars. Emma reached her hand down between the mattress and the boxspring. For what she had found in Neal’s pants pocket earlier that day when she was doing laundry. The tiny plastic baggie that had been buried underneath his forgotten house keys. It was only a matter of time before he noticed it was gone.

The white powder glistened in the moonlight, the baggie resting between Emma’s fingers. Cocaine. It was his. It had to be. Why else would it have been in his pants pocket that he thought was going to the dry cleaner’s?

She had done her best to forget about it, all day but that was easier said than done. Emma had no idea what to do with it. For now, she would slip it back between the mattresses, rest her head on the down pillow. And for once, allow herself a few minutes to think that somewhere out there, a better life awaited her.

#cs ff #cs au #captain swan fanfiction #cs fic #cs ff au #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones