#bit of a short one but there is a SERIOUS lack of wonder woman fics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

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Enamored

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: The day Ron tells you he loves you.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: loss of a home, Fred is alive, mild angst, fluff, requited love, kissing

A/N: This fic is inspired by Pretty Boy by The Neighbourhood!

The last traces of summer had rapidly faded as the season changed to autumn, the once warm weather now chilled and brisk. It had been a whirlwind of a year thus far, one that was exceedingly more undesirable than most with the war having transpired. It brought with it a myriad of losses and misfortune for all that had been involved to fight against the Dark Lord.

The most noticeable loss for the Weasley family was the destruction of their family home. It was near ash and ruins but a few months ago, devastating and left in tatters as it no longer stood tall lopsidedly wonderful. While it was life altering and an act of complete and utter cruelty, they remained grateful that each and every member of their tight knit family remained alive and well. That’s what always mattered most to them, what will always matter.

Now that fall has rolled around after three months of hard work and effort put in from you and the beloved family, the Burrow was officially rebuilt. It didn’t house the same memories as it once had, it couldn’t have, but it stood tall and beautifully imperfect once more. It was a home that could only possibly be held up by magic otherwise it just might topple over with the number of floors it had. The pots and pans had scrubbed themselves once more, the chimney puffed out smoke yet again, the home was now bustling with a familiar boisterous energy once again in a way only they could manage to create.

Spending that time with them was time you were grateful to have, though you found yourself to be with Ron more so than anyone else. No matter what the instance may have been, you always seem to seek each other out as if it were a subconscious act. It was a wordless fact seemingly known to just about everyone but the very two people who’d been doing it, but that didn’t come as a surprise to anyone at all.

It’d been three years in the making of watching their lovestruck brother and equally lovestruck best friend pine for each other, of watching you both be so oblivious it was almost painful. Three years of catching him gaze at you with the softest of smiles when you weren’t looking, one so adoring Molly nearly cries every time, and of you doing just the same when his attentions were focused elsewhere. Three years of watching you two brush hands when you walk side by side followed by the promise of blushing cheeks when you realized the electrifying encounter. It had been frustrating years in the making of watching two people they loved so dearly be so blissfully unaware of just how in love they truly were with each other.

They were ready to take matters into their own hands and make it known themselves.

Currently, Mrs. Weasley has assigned both you and Ron the task of stopping by the bakery in town. She’d wanted an assortment of pastries as a part of a way to celebrate the finishing of their new home. She had made more than enough of her own in her newly remodeled kitchen of course, but she had her mind set on blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies made from none other than Hazel’s Bakery.

She most certainly did not send the two of you in particular in an effort to get you to spend some alone time. No, definitely not.

“Are you warm enough?” Ron asks as you leave through the front door, stepping out into the brisk weather.

You nod, cheeks staining a soft pink at the gentle caring he had for you, the question falling from his lips like it’d been second nature. Caring for you, being protective of you, it was second nature by that point. He doesn’t believe he could help it even if he tried, but he doesn’t want to. Despite the fluttering of your heart you couldn’t help your teasing smile. “Yes. But I suppose it’d be far warmer if we drove there.”

He caught onto your teasing and rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth nonetheless. “Are you ever going to stop teasing me for that, Y/n/n?”

You pretend to give his question some serious thought, puckering your lips as you squint your gaze and tap your finger against your cheek. His laughter broke you from your actions. “No, I don’t think I will, Ronnie.”

Your own laughter was immediate at the scrunch of his nose upon hearing the nickname he loathed so much, more so at the playful narrowing of his blue stare. Maybe he didn’t hate it when it fell from your lips. However, you quickly appeased his obvious displeasure of the name as you brushed the pad of your thumb over his chin, his blushing smile soon to return as he looked at his feet to steady his racing heart. He knew his cheeks had to have matched the leaves on the trees by now. They always had been when in your presence.

You shook your head with a smile as you focused your attention on anywhere but him to avoid worsening the heat in your cheeks. Rather, you focused on the graying of the sky and the way the grass rippled beneath the wind. You listened to the leaves crunching under both your footfalls and the sound they made as the breeze washed over them. For lack of a better word, this time of year had been the most magical, and it seemed as though Ron fit right in with the hues of his hair and equally his attire. Equally his flushed cheeks.

A single wildflower had caught your stare, standing tall amongst the fading green grass. You slowed your stride to bend down and pluck it from the ground, turning to look at Ron who’d now stood paces from you with a curious brow raised.

“What is it?”

You held up the yellow flower, the stem pinched between your fingers as you beamed. In a matter of seconds you ran to him the short distance he was from you, his smile now apparent.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a laugh, one to stave off the way his breath hitched as you leaned up to tuck it within the red hair just above his ear.

It appeared golden amongst the rosy ginger shade and he smiled down at you fondly for a brief moment before shaking his head, not making a move to take it out. You smiled up at him, biting the inside of your cheek to hide just how giddy he’d made you feel in that very moment. You suppose there wasn’t even a reason to feel as such, but that hadn’t mattered; the feeling occurred whenever it so pleased, and it was more often than not it seemed.

You reached the end of the long driveway and took his hand without a second thought, sharing a smile before apparating from the property.

In mere dizzying seconds you had appeared in the ever familiar and unfrequented alleyway, taking a moment to adjust before stepping into foot traffic along with everyone else in the town. It wasn’t as busy as some days it could be, but regardless it was always a fun trip to walk about, it was cozy.

Almost in the very same moment did the two of you realize you’d still been holding hands, releasing the other as you looked your separate ways for just a second. He’d wanted to reach out and hold it once more, to interlock his fingers with yours. He hadn’t really wanted to let go. You risked a glance and he risked his and it wasn’t hard to tell when Ron Weasley has been fighting a smile. Perhaps what was more obvious was the little yellow flower that somehow still remained in his hair. You decided then and there not to mention it.

The denim of your jacket proved to be far less warm than you had thought it to be, or maybe it’d just gotten colder. Either way, as you walked down that sidewalk, you weren’t ready to let Ron know he’d been right in telling you to wear something heavier before you left the house. He always seemed to be right about those kinds of things.

Ron grabbed your wrist to keep you from walking past the bakery, his grin teasing as he held open the green painted door. You were far too distracted by him for your own good.

The smell of coffee and sweets had been instant upon entering, a little bell overhead signaling your entrance into the small yet cozy shop. The showcase had been filled with fresh pastries and baked goods, the line not yet as lengthy it surely would be now that Hazel had switched the sign to ‘open’.

The kind older woman had greeted you as warmly as she did each and every time she’d seen you, making a point to pinch Ron’s cheeks much like his own mother had.

“Hazel! We’ve talked about this,” Ron whines, rubbing his newly reddened cheeks.

“Oh hush, my dear boy,” she says, turning to you. “How do you put up with him?”

You laugh at that, shrugging your shoulders. “I must admit, it is but a wonder indeed, Hazel.”

You look to Ron who’d furrowed his brows at you, lips pursed in faux offense as you smile beamingly up at him. One that dissolved any look to displeasure. One that caused the woman behind the counter to nearly gush about what a wonderful couple you’d be, something that was also very much like his mother.

You placed your order and asked for extra, knowing if you hadn’t that surely Ron would have eaten far too many for Molly not to notice. Though you knew for a fact she’d be able to tell either way. She talked you into staying for just a little bit longer, the promise of hot cocoa far too enticing to turn down as you still felt the shivering effects of the chilly fall weather.

—

“You really thought I’d eat three muffins?” Ron scoffs, mouth full as a few crumbs fall past his lips.

You roll your eyes and shake your head as you walk down the cracked sidewalk, the steaming paper bag clutched in your hand. “You’ve eaten two already.”

“Did I?” He asks, brows furrowed as he halts momentarily to recall it. The genuine shock and confusion painted on his expression had you laughing as you grabbed his hand, tugging him along the walkway before any more passers by all but run into you with looks of annoyance.

“Yes, you did,” you giggle, releasing his hand to link your arm with his once more.

“Well, they’re really good,” he defends as you continue walking. “Really good.”

You look up at him then, a soft smile on your lips as you do so. His cheeks were stained a soft pink from the chilly weather, accentuating the freckles dancing across them and the very bridge of his nose. At the curve of his smile and the dimples that formed when he did just that. Or perhaps it was the near unruly ginger hair that dipped over his forehead and covered his ears; he had yet to get a haircut much to his mother’s dismay. He was starting to resemble his fourth year self, a hair length he’d claimed he hated so very much but you were beginning to think otherwise.

“Are you staring?” He asks a short while later, a more than knowing grin on his lips that sent your stomach into a fit of butterflies and knots.

“You’ve got food on your face, how could I not?” You counter, though the scarlet in your cheeks is far too obvious. It was true, there were crumbs in the corner of his mouth that needed to be swept away, but you were not ready in the slightest to admit your admiring. “Plus you’ve still got that flower in your hair.”

His hand is quick to fly up and pluck it out, looking at the delicate little thing as his cheeks burned once more. So that was what Hazel was talking about. He smiles then with a soft laugh, stopping your stride once more to tuck it behind your ear.

“There, looks much better on you,” he mumbles, smile soft and adoring, one that lingered long after he’d looked away.

“I beg to differ.”

You’d noticed just how gloomy the sky had been, clouds puffy and gray as the breeze intensified just the slightest bit. It wasn’t something you minded, for it was rather scenic amongst the rapidly dwindling buildings the closer you got to the Burrow. You both had decided a walk back would be best given the bag of sweets you now have, not to mention the hot chocolates you each had provided just enough warmth for you to do so.

A sigh left your lips, one of contentment as you walked back in a comfortable silence and you rest your head on his shoulder. Your arm still hooked with his as he slowed his pace for you to keep up with him, and he’d since taken the bag from your hand so you wouldn’t have to carry it. It was the little things that you noticed that others might not; the little things that meant the most to you, that made your heart flutter. Like the way he will always wait for you when something catches your eye in a shop, not an ounce of impatience in him like he may have had with his siblings. Or how he’d save a plate of breakfast for you when you stay at his home because you’d woken up later than his brothers. It left your heart full.

He hadn’t been aware that you’d noticed those kinds of things; he finds he isn’t even aware of it sometimes. Living you had become second nature at this point, it was expressed in nearly everything he did. You were woven into his very heart and hadn’t even known as such. He doesn’t know how he made it quite this far without going absolutely mad, without his heart bursting in his chest every time you look at him the way you do. Every time you smile at him the way you do. It was his hopes that you’d reserved those kinds of looks, those kinds of smiles for just him. It had been his hope that somehow, someway, you had felt the same way.

He knew with all the certainty in the world that he needed to tell you. He doesn’t think he can go another day without telling you as such. He knows he can’t; he loved you from afar for nearly four years. If you don’t feel the same, if it’s all over after his confession, he can take this moment with him. Of your head on his shoulder, of the way you held his hand that day, of the way you looked at him. It needed to be spoken no matter how much it made his hands shake. He almost lost you in that war and he decided he couldn’t risk not telling you.

You reached the familiar stretch of trees lining the vacant road, the breeze having intensified more noticeably. The walk had been quiet save for the chirping of the birds and the crinkle if the bag Ron held, or the crunch of leaves and gravel under your feet. You couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend your afternoon, especially with the knowledge of the warm meal Molly had been preparing for dinner that night. The whole Weasley family would be there, Harry would be there, Hermione would be there. It was plans that made your stomach flip with excitement.

It wasn’t until then, at the very opening of the near dauntingly long dirt driveway that the rain had started to drizzle steadily. You suppose you expected it at that point, with the puffy gray clouds that rapidly blew over any and all sunlight, it had become more than evident that that would be the case.

You gasped upon the weathers sudden change in plans regardless, the icy downpour taking you by surprise. A jovial laugh soon sounded from your lips as you threw your hands up, looking around as it came down and rolled off the tri-colored leaves. They too fluttered down in a flurry of reds and oranges, and you were certain you’d never seen something quite so beautiful, quite so enchanting.

Spotting a nearby shelter beneath the branches of one of the large trees, you grabbed Ron’s hand, ready to pull him along with you though you quickly noticed he hasn’t budged any more than just a few steps. You turned to him then, rather confused in that moment and the more you stood exposed to the sudden storm the less useful it became to seek shelter from it. None of it seemed to matter as he stood there and gazed at you, ginger hair darkened a few shades as it stuck to his forehead and flushed cheeks. The smile on his face was quite possibly the softest you’d ever seen it be, and it held something different, remarkably different and you couldn’t put your finger on what it was. Though it seemed to be far too much as he looked away from you momentarily as if to gather himself, a soft laugh leaving his lips.

Everything felt that much more intense in that moment, and he felt as though his breath was caught in his throat as he stood before you. You were confused, that much was clear. You were still holding his hand in yours, still smiling at him with that smile. That had also been very clear. You were doused in the downpour and his heart beat wildly with each passing second, and if he opened and closed his mouth one more time he felt as though he just might look like an absolute fool.

“What are you doing?” You asked, taking a step closer as you look at him quizzically, “We’re just about soaked and you hate the rain—”

“I love you.”

The three words were spoken then, almost unheard against the heavy rain. They were soft and they were true, how could you not have heard them? Yet even though they clearly were, very clearly, it still hadn’t quite registered to you just exactly what he had just said. You couldn’t believe what you had heard.

“What?” You ask, a soft laugh leaving your lips. Not one of mocking, more of giddy surprise.

“I said I love you,” He repeats louder as he swallowed thickly, accompanied by a nervous laugh of his own as he wipes the wet strands of his hair out of his eyes.

The more time that had gone by, no matter how fleeting it made have been, the butterflies in his stomach were relentless. By this point the rain was of no importance, trying to stay dry was of no importance anymore. What was important was the way you grasped his flannel jacket and leaned on your toes, and the way you pressed your lips on his. Or the way you smiled against his lips as he pulled you close to him, as close as possible, dropping the soaked paper bag of pastries to the ground in favor of settling his hand on your cheek and tangling his fingertips in your hair.

You couldn’t help the quiet giggle that was threatening to break your moment; maybe it was the sheer loving intensity of it, or the fact that this was real and this was happening. But the way he kissed you, the way your heart beat so loudly you thought he could hear it, that’s what had kept you in that very real moment.

When you parted you hadn’t strayed more than a few inches as you looked up at him, beamed, his smile equally so as the two of you laughed softly. It was one of giddy love, of an unexpected moment of bliss. The feeling that the person you loved so wholly loved you back just as much. It was that kind of laugh.

“I love you,” you say, laughing once more as your foreheads touched in the fond moment. The tip of his nose had been flushed from the cold nipping at his skin, his smile brilliant and adoring and entirely telling of his love. “I love you.”

You kiss him again, soft and quick as you grabbed his hand before you spoke up after a short while to relish in your moment. “We’d better go inside!”

“Yeah,” he laughs, nodding in agreement even if he was perfectly content to stay there and kiss you. “I think we better.”

You pulled him along the muddy path as he laughed behind you at your antics. The two of you were breathless and soaked and still in a daze from the kiss you’d just shared mere moments ago as you rushed through the door. The look on Molly’s face changed from startled to quizzical as she took note of the sheer nothingness in either of your hands, her lips pursing and her arms crossing.

“Just where are the muffins? And the cookies?”

Ron looks to you with a smile and you the same, laughing softly amongst yourselves at the realization of just where they had been. The sight of your kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks was telling enough of the reasoning such a blunder occurred. Not to mention the way the tips of his fingers still grasped yours. She knew. “We must’ve forgotten.”

He hadn’t broken his gaze from you quite yet as he spoke, far too lovestruck to do so. Far too enamored.

—

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lalainajanes · 3 years

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For “neighborhood block party” on my bingo card! This one takes place in the same universe as Sweet As (quirky supernatural small town fic in which Caroline’s a dryad who owns a bakery and Klaus is the leader of the local werewolf pack and mates are a thing ;) ) though it’s more of a prequel.

The Fall Festival

Before he’d met Caroline, Klaus’ mornings had fallen into a predictable pattern.

He would wake up at the same time, wander into his kitchen to find a full pot of coffee and a pack member or two. Occasionally, there was an emergency. Sometimes there was an issue where his opinion was wanted. Most often, his visitors would come with a problem that could have been solved without Klaus’ input, though he’d never complained.

Klaus had been an outsider once, had become pack leader when the father he’d never known had died, and Marcel had shown up at his door in Chicago. At the time, Klaus had resented the disruption to his life.

Now, he doesn’t understand how he’d survived so long, locking himself in a cage every month.

His mother had explained his parentage when he’d turned twelve, and it had been revelatory, explained why he’d always struggled to wield even a hint of the power that came naturally to his siblings. Esther had told him what to expect, that he’d be dangerous, but she’d refused to tell Klaus anything about the man who’d passed him the werewolf genes, hadn’t even supplied a name.

The rift in their relationship had begun there, had only widened since. When Klaus had chosen to accept his birthright, he’d ensured he’d never be welcome in the home he’d grown up in. He’d never regretted it.

Most of his siblings happily defy their parents to visit, and the pack had become another sort of family.

Three months after Caroline had opened her shop, Klaus had trekked out into the forest to deal with one of the rare emergencies. A scent had been picked up on a security run two days prior, of a young, unfamiliar wolf.

A wolf who proved to have a gift for hiding.

Klaus and his inner circle had been trying to track the interloper, had to find them before the next full moon. His pack had long-standing agreements with the humans and the various local supernatural sects. A young wolf could have jeopardized the easy peace the town enjoyed without meaning to. Klaus and his pack would have had to pay the price.

Young wolves could not always assert human will over animal instincts, which could be deadly if any prey crossed their paths.

And to a werewolf, just about anyone can be prey.

That morning Klaus had decided to head west to an area of that woods that was dense with trees and wildlife. His pack usually leaves it be, understanding that there would be objections if they were to start messing with the local ecosystems. Besides, it offers little opportunity to run, something a werewolf is always eager to do when given a chance.

He’d been moving slowly and silently, examining the ground for prints that looked similar to the ones they believe belong to the young wolf. He’d frequently paused to see if he could pick up a scent, but he’d grown distracted.

Klaus had come across a grove of trees emanating a strange warmth. Curious, he’d rested his hand on the trunk of one.

Only to have the rough bark shiver under his touch and melt away, growing soft and smooth and scented of cherries and spice rather than earth.

He’d snatched his hand back and turned away as soon as he’d realized what was happening, had awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and wondered if it would be cowardly to flee. He’d heard rustling, soft footsteps, the glide of fabric over skin. Then a woman’s voice, dripping with amusement, “You can turn around now. I’m dressed.”

Klaus had turned slowly. “My apologies. I was unaware I was trespassing.” He’d averted his eyes, realizing that “dressed” wasn’t entirely accurate. The woman had only slipped on a robe, a pale green confection of a garment made from silk and lace, loosely belted and short. He’d looked closely enough to realize she was gorgeous, with a riotous mess of blonde curls framing a flushed face and friendly, curious blue eyes.

His body had reacted, and Klaus had forced himself to begin breathing through his mouth. Her scent had clouded his thoughts, tempted him to step closer.

He hadn’t understood what was happening, why he was reacting so strongly to a stranger.

Klaus might have grown particular about who he invited into his bed, but he was hardly inexperienced or prone to awkwardness in the presence of beautiful women.

He’d gone a little wild when he’d become pack leader five years ago, had freely partaken in pleasure just about any time it was offered. Offers were still coming, but Klaus had largely lost interest, leery of complications that could occur with attachments. At the time, he’d only occasionally indulged when an alluring visitor caught his eyes.

Which hadn’t happened in months.

Why was this woman, not even a wolf, so very compelling?

When he’d clasped his hands behind his back and carefully fixed his attention to just above her forehead, she’d made a noise, an aborted laugh. “Wow, never met a shy werewolf before. You guys are usually super quick to get naked.”

Klaus’ eyes had swung to hers, shocked and a touch suspicious, “How do you know I’m a werewolf?”

Her head had tilted towards the trees, “It’s hard to explain. When I’m in that form, connected to the ground, there’s a heightened amount of intuition. Most supernatural beings pull power from some variety of natural elements, and I can usually tell which one, feel the energy.”

“You’re a dryad,” he’d said slowly. He’d remembered reading about them as a child, in one of his mother’s books. An old, thick tome, with tiny print, that detailed the origin stories of all the known species that walked the earth. He hadn’t recalled much more than the basics, had made a mental note to check if the library in his home had a similar volume.

“Guilty,” she’d chirped. She’d held out her hand, “Caroline Forbes. I bought the bakery in town a couple of months ago. You should stop by sometime.”

He’d shaken her hand, that contact enough to ensure Caroline would never stray from Klaus’ thoughts for long.

That brief brush of her skin on his had spurred a change in Klaus’ morning pattern.

He’d visited Caroline’s bakery the next day. Had rolled out of bed, earlier than he had since he’d been obligated to attend morning meetings, and driven to town. Caroline’s business had been easy to spot, featuring a cheerful striped awning in the same shade of green of the robe Klaus had spent far too many minutes contemplating.

He’d slid into a booth shortly after Caroline had opened up. She’d noticed him, appeared pleased to see him and wiggled her fingers in greeting.

And thus began a new routine.

* * * * *

Caroline smiles at Klaus as soon as he arrives. His face immediately grows suspicious.

Oops. She might have overdone it. Klaus is weirdly adept at spotting ulterior motives, and Caroline needs a teeny, tiny favor.

Which is not to say that she doesn’t look forward to his morning visits. More often than not, they’re the highlight of her day. She happens to have gotten a delivery late yesterday afternoon, one that’s essential to pulling off something she’s been working on for ages, so she’s particularly excited about it. She needs to borrow Klaus’ artistic skills to realize her vision.

That she’ll get to spend a little extra time with him is just a bonus.

He walks up to the counter and leans against it. “You look like you’re plotting something.”

She tilts her head to the side, uses her sweetest tone, “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be accusing me of such a thing?”

She spots the twitch at the corner of his mouth though he maintains an impressively deadpan expression. “Honestly, I suspect you’re usually plotting something.”

Caroline had to give him that one, “Okay, true. I might need a hand from someone who’s more artistically inclined than I am. AKA you.”

“What can I do for you?”

She smiles again, kind of glad that there’s a counter between them because Klaus’ lack of hesitation has her feeling all sorts of fuzzy things, and she very well might have thrown herself at him.

Which is not a thing that they do, though she’s hoping that changes at some point.

“I bought some lights and paint for the window. I splurged on it because it’s supposed to be really pretty, kind of sheer, and shimmery. I was hoping to paint some leaves and vines around the borders of the window, but my test runs were… subpar.”

“Still a bit upset about the Summer Solstice party then?”

Caroline glares without any real ire, “Shh. You know that’s a sore subject!”

She’d been woefully unprepared for just how serious the town took its celebrations. The Summer Solstice had been her first one. She’d nailed the food, had baked up tiny, fluffy meringues, served them with a vanilla peach compote, topped with fresh whipped cream and toasted almonds. Everyone had raved about them. But a few people – mostly the members of the town council who are generally unpleasant and excessively gossipy, in Caroline’s not at all biased opinion – had made snide remarks about her lack of decorations.

She’d been mortified even though it totally hadn’t been her fault. She’d miscalculated, not yet grasping just freaking slow the mail was. She’d had a ton of fresh flowers, but the paper lanterns and candy-colored trays and linens she’d ordered had arrived two days too late.

Caroline’s determined to do better this time and prove that party planning is her super-power, damn it.

Klaus is shrugging out of his jacket, “Show me to the supplies, love.”

“You’re the best!” she exclaims, reaching over to flip up the top of the counter. “Come on, it’s all in my office. Along with my very bad diagrams but feel free only to use them as a guideline. Far be it for little ‘ol me to tell a professional artiste what to paint.”

“Willing to cede control?” he teases. “Shocking.”

Caroline shrugs, “Guess I must trust you.”

Whoops. Caroline means it, but it’s a weighty thing to say.

Klaus has stepped passed the counter, bent to stash his jacket underneath. He freezes, head bowing before he up back at her. “I’m pleased to hear that,” he replies.

Caroline’s teeth sink into her lower lip, and she glances around. A few people are watching her curiously and, though she hates it, she knows now is not the time to dig into anything serious.

Though she’s not sure how much longer she’ll be able to resist.

Caroline clears her throat, heading to her office. She unlocks the door, stepping back to gesture Klaus go in first. She turns around to check that April’s come out from the kitchen, motions that she’ll be back out in ten, and then she joins Klaus.

He’s eyeing the sofa, “How often do you sleep here, sweetheart?”

“How do you… oh, right. Werewolf.”

Caroline’s pretty careful not to think about Klaus’ senses. Intellectually she knows he can probably sniff out all sorts of secrets, that the way she reacts to him is entirely unsubtle. She lives in purposeful denial to avoid melting into a puddle of mortification.

“Rarely. I did it a lot when I was scrambling to get this place opened. Now it’s pretty much just the night of the full moon, or the odd day when there’s a big complicated order.”

“Why the full moon?”

Caroline snorts, “Has it escaped your notice that you guys pack away a ton of food after the full moon? It’s my most profitable day of the month.”

She leans down and hefts the box of paint. Klaus steps forward, “Here, let me.”

Caroline lets him take it off her hands, “You know I’m probably at least as strong as you are, right?”

“I had read that, yes.” His eyes flit over her speculatively, and not for the first time in his presence, she thinks about how nice it would be if telepathy were in her bag of tricks. She knows what she hopes he’s thinking. Caroline’s been spinning fantasies that run the gamut from sweet and sensual to hot and frantic since Klaus first wandered into her grove. She’s pretty confident her interest is reciprocated, but he gives her mixed signals.

Caroline’s naturally tactile. She tends to crank that up when she’s in flirt mode. Klaus is careful to stay at a polite distance. He doesn’t cringe when she touches him, but he doesn’t touch her back either.

It’s confusing.

Caroline had gotten tipsy and whiny about the situation last weekend at the bar. Bonnie had been sympathetic and knowing, refused to spill what she clearly knew. Bonnie had only said, in that infuriatingly cryptic way witches have, that Caroline would figure it out when the time was right.

She and Bonnie haven’t known each other long, but Caroline had sensed she wouldn’t budge. She’d pouted until Enzo had arrived with shots.

Things had gotten a little hazy after that.

“Ah, so you’re just gentlemanly?” Caroline teases, watching as Klaus sets the box on her desk. He’s focused on it, so she takes the opportunity to ogle a little. His grey t-shirt is thin and snug. She’s going to be thinking about the way his muscles shift underneath it when she’s alone.

“Something like that.”

“Well, never let it be said that Caroline Forbes doesn’t pay her debts. I’ll save you a bunch of the desserts I’m making for the festival. I’ve perfected them over the last few days – pumpkin with pecan crumble, a delicious marriage of the best fall pies.”

He shakes his head, a laugh rumbling from low in his throat. “Sounds delicious. Perhaps you’ll save me a dance? There’s always a bonfire once the shops close down.”

Huh. That seems like an unmistakable signal. One Caroline hadn’t expected.

She swallows her initial instinct, the urge to joke about how Klaus must have decided she doesn’t have cooties after all. Caroline licks her lips, wonders if he can hear that her heartbeat has quickened. “I’ll make sure my dance card has a spot for you.”

* * * * *

Klaus finds Marcel in the living room when he comes downstairs on the night of the fall festival. He stops short, dread growing in his stomach. He’d spoken to Marcel earlier, and he hadn’t mentioned stopping by. “What happened?”

Marcel’s eyes narrow, “Is that a new sweater?”

Klaus doesn’t understand how that’s relevant to Marcel’s presence in his home.

He lifts his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question. Marcel grins, “Alright, not in a talkative mood. Heard. No disaster, don’t worry. I added an extra few cases of wine to the regular order last month, remember? Just here to grab them for the festival.”

Right. The pack operates several businesses but nothing with a storefront in town. On festival nights, the shops on Main Street decorate and offer free food or small gifts to anyone who wanders in. The town council covers the food available in the square, and Klaus’ pack supplies a significant portion of the booze (only fair since Klaus is quite sure they partake more than most). For this one, if he remembers correctly, they’re providing mulled wine and spiked hot chocolate while Enzo’s bar will set up kegs.

Klaus nods, relaxing. He glances at the clock on the wall. “I trust you can handle the delivery yourself?”

“Why, got a hot date? I don’t remember you ever doing much more than making an appearance at one of these things. This eagerness to arrive early is interesting.”

Marcel sounds far too knowing. To an extent, as the pack’s second in command, it’s his job to know Klaus’ business. He suspects what Caroline means to Klaus, that his wolf has chosen her, but Klaus has never confirmed it.

He’s been resisting the pull, exerting iron control over his instincts, maintaining a careful amount of distance even when he ached to return her affectionate overtures. And it’s not because he doesn’t want her, but because the bond is permanent. Unbreakable, once it’s solidified.

Klaus’ path is set. Caroline’s not bound by the same magic, not unless she wants to be.

“Obviously, you have this under control,” Klaus says, spinning on his heel. “Lock the door when you leave.”

Marcel’s laughter follows him out of the house.

* * * * *

Caroline’s nervous. More nervous than she’s ever been before a date, and it’s not even a date. She’d selected her outfit carefully. Her cream sweater dress has a wide neckline that’s prone to slipping off her shoulders. She’d selected dark tights for underneath and thigh-high boots, which are saved from being too risqué for a family-friendly event by their minimal heel.

She’s been getting compliments all evening, had smiled politely. She’d picked the outfit with one person in mind.

At nine, Caroline locks up, rushing into her office to let her hair down and touch up her makeup. A tap on the window comes at 9:06. She tucks a curl behind her ear, takes a deep breath, “You are not fifteen. Get it together,” she mutters to herself before she flicks off the lights.

She waves at Klaus through the window, grabs the small box where she’d packed up the portion of tartlets she’d saved for him and her keys.

Main Street is brighter than usual, street lamps lit and wrapped with strands of tiny white lights. Caroline steps outside, her eyes running over Klaus. He’s changed since this morning into darker jeans and a navy sweater. Is it a date outfit? She kinda thinks so.

“Hi,” Caroline says, impressed it’s not a squeak. She doesn’t trust herself to open with a compliment about how he looks – her brain-to-mouth filter is unreliable even when she’s calm, cool, and collected. Instead, she gestures to the windows, “Your paintings were a hit.”

Klaus doesn’t seem to hear her. He swallows heavily. “You look…” he trails off, but Caroline’s not an idiot. She knows exactly what the tiny ring of gold around his irises means.

Caroline’s grateful for the confirmation that her attraction isn’t at all one-sided. Her cheeks heat, “What, this old thing?”

He reaches for her, and Caroline’s heart stutters, mouth going dry. It’s the first time Klaus has made any sort of move, and it feels like the start of something she’ll want to remember.

Though she’s not capable of explaining that certainty at the moment. Caroline can’t claim to have a quiet mind, she’s capable of laser focus, but there’s usually a whole list of thoughts and questions in the background, each clamoring for attention.

Right now, there’s only Klaus and the shrinking distance between their bodies.

His palm lands on her upper arm, warm even through her sweater. His fingers tighten, skimming down, lingering when they meet the bare skin of her wrist before his palm meets hers.

She exhales shakily, returning the pressure. Caroline sways forward until her knees brush Klaus’, and his free hand clasps hers. He leans forward, and the hint of stubble on his face rasps against her cheek. “You are overwhelmingly lovely,” he murmurs, mouth brushing her temple.

Caroline’s lips part, and she’s seconds away from turning her head and rising to her toes when Klaus takes a half step away. He pivots until they stand shoulder to shoulder. He keeps one of her hands, and Caroline follows his lead when he begins to walk towards the town’s center.

She barely registers her surroundings, couldn’t name any of the people they pass or describe the decorations. She only feels Klaus’ hand, the solid strength of him next to her, is only aware of the addictive mix of comfort and anticipation fizzing through her veins.

He pulls her into his arms when they reach the makeshift dancefloor next to the bonfire.

It doesn’t feel like a first dance.

There’s no awkward shuffling or hesitant hand placement. Klaus’ grip on her changes, fingers threading between hers, and he wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline’s body melts into Klaus’, her hand rising to rest against his chest. She shivers when his head dips, his breath skimming across her bare shoulder.

There’s music, but it’s not important. She and Klaus move together seamlessly, closer than they probably should be in public, lost in their own world.

No one dares to disturb them.

#klaroline #klarosummerbingo #klaroline fanfiction

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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

Text

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Pasteles de Gloria (part 3)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: T for mature themes (mentions of sex and violence)

Summary: Javier thanks you...appropriately, this time. Connie and Javier have a chat <3

Tags: Mention of blood. Reader starts to have Thots (same, girl)

Word count: 3,740

A/N: So their POVs in this chapter overlap a little bit...sorry if that throws anyone off, I’m still getting used to writing reader insert fics. The dessert and the Spanish are explained at the end :) Enjoy!

Masterlist

You hadn’t seen Javier in over a week. The first few days after that conversation had been a whirlwind of emotions- worry over whether you’d said the right things, hope that he might feel the same (plus fear that he wouldn’t), and eventually anger at his total lack of response. Until Connie told you that he and Steve had been sent on some mission.

“Nothing dangerous, but they’ll be gone for a few days. Javi must not have gotten the chance to say goodbye.” Uttered without a second’s hesitation, like it was unthinkable that Javier wouldn’t have explained himself to you if he could.

Maybe Connie knew something you didn’t.

So another several days had passed, with worry becoming the dominant theme; all your other initial feelings faded into the background as you wondered how ‘not dangerous’ DEA work could really be.

You’re settling in for another restless evening when there’s a rap on the door. Your nerves leap and jangle- you aren’t supposed to being seeing Connie again until tomorrow, so who…?

You peer through the cracked door before wrenching it open the rest of the way, your heart roaring in your ears. Javier Peña stands before you. He holds a bottle in one hand and a paper bag in the other, and looks uncharacteristically nervous. You forget you’re theoretically supposed to be upset with him as you stare at each other, wide-eyed.

He clears his throat. “Hey. Uh, sorry I disappeared on you. Boss sent me and Steve on a mission, I had to leave from work.” So Connie had been right on both accounts. He hadn’t had time to call you, and he would have if he could.

When you wait, he continues. “I thought, since I interrupted your evening the last time I was here, I could make it up to you.” He holds up the bottle, which you’re surprised to recall is indeed the same wine that you had opened the night he came to your place after reopening his wound.

You look at him in wonder, but he’s not finished. “Also, well...I can’t bake for shit, but I know somewhere that can. You ever had a pastel de gloria?” He lifts the paper bag, cracks a small, still-nervous grin.

“I haven’t,” you confirm, an answering smile growing on your face, touched by the sweetness of his gesture and the implications it holds.

“Well, you can try them tonight, because-” his confidence apparently bolstered by your response, he holds the bottle out to you, brow quirking in request. You take it, bemused at the prospect of there still being more to his plan, and he digs something out of his back pocket with an air of presentation. “-I found the sequel to a certain movie while at a market recently. I was going to bring it to Steve and Connie’s but...now seemed like a better time to watch it.”

You almost laugh out loud as you take in the cover of the tape in his hand. It’s the sequel to that movie night travesty, all right. That Javier would do all of this...you hardly know what to say.

You hope whatever expression is on your face is saying it for you, though, as you look up at him. “Thank you, Javier. This is...amazing.” And it is, much more so than would have been necessary to thank you for helping with his leg, or to make up for his unplanned disappearance after you turned down his proposition.

He chuckles, looking down in embarrassment. “You don’t actually have to watch this shit movie if you don’t want to. That part was just a joke.” You could swear he’s blushing, the faintest tinge of color in his cheeks beneath the white hallway lights. “But you should try these pastries, because they are something else.” He offers you the bag, his body shifting sideways slightly, as if he intends to hand off his gifts and then disappear. As if his wide, guileless, puppy dog eyes and the unconscious pout to his lips weren’t begging otherwise.

Well. “Of course I want to watch this shit movie, Javi. As long as you watch it with me.” You give him a teasing grin. “It was much more fun with a spoilsport.”

Relief spills over his features, washing the tension from his shoulders and the breath from his lungs. Turning away toward the kitchen, you miss the true extent of it, leaving the door open for him as you head back inside. “Bring those to the couch, I’ll get us some plates,” you call over your shoulder.

Javier follows more slowly, collecting himself. By the time you join him in the living room, carrying, plates, wine glasses, and napkins, he’s fiddling with your VCR. You pour the wine while he sets it up, although you find yourself distracted by the shifting valleys of muscle in his back beneath his tight-fitting shirt, the bottle in your hands suspended uselessly above a glass. You curse as you almost spill.

“Everything okay?” Javi joins you on the couch, a careful, hesitant distance away.

“Of course!” You’re quick to assure him. “Now, tell me about these pastries,” you urge, eyes sparkling. He unloads them onto a plate, stacking rounded pastries into a rough pyramid, each one golden brown, sprinkled with sugar, and the size of a small fist. His voice softens as he tells you about the bakery and the older woman who runs it, who insists everyone call her ‘abuela’, even grown men and gringos like him. How he discovered it entirely by accident one day, following his nose.

“The filling is usually pasta de guayaba- guava paste- but they can also have arequipe, or cheese, or all three. She gave me a some extras, so I’m not sure which ones are which here,” he says, suddenly brusque. He gestures for you to take one first, a look on his face you can’t quite identify.

You’re definitely at risk of drooling as you pick up a pastel, Javier watching you intently. Puff pastry flakes over your plate as you take a bite.

And close your eyes in relish. A trio of flavors oozes over your tongue, each complementing the other, all of them ensconced in a sheath of sugary, flakey pastry. The creamy, neutral tang of the cheese mellowing the tart-sweet burst of fruity guava, both flavors coated in the thick, sticky-sweet burnt sugar taste of dulce de leche.

Swallowing, your eyes pop wide to look at Javier again. It’s a near-physical reaction he has to your sudden attention, an almost-flinch away from it as he awaits your verdict.

“Javier.” Your voice is serious. With slow deliberance, you lean toward him intently, reaching out to rest your hand on his forearm. You let the anticipation s t r e t c h.

“You have got to tell me how to make these.”

The breath leaves him in a rush, a huff of relief and and laughter at your dramatics. He’s hyper-aware of your hand on his skin- the casual touch reverberates through him in a way he should probably be more concerned about. It’s the first time you’ve touched him for non-medical reasons, but it heals him all the same; he feels warm, something inside him yielding in your presence.

He clears his throat. “Like I said, I can’t bake for shit. But...I can ask the abuela.” His free hand rubs at his neck, slipping beneath the collar of his shirt. The movement draws your attention, and your gaze continues lower, to the two buttons he seems to perpetually leave undone. The smooth, flushed skin beneath. Was it warm in here?

You stand abruptly. “Is it warm in here? I’ll flip the fan on. You want to press play?” You throw him a quick smile as you cross the room to the wall switch. You flip off the overhead light while you’re there, leaving just the tall floor lamp casting a bright but cozy glow.

Javi obliges, the space dimming briefly as the opening sequence begins. You plop back down on the sofa, deliberately settling slightly closer to him- friends distance away. Handing him a wine glass, you raise yours expectantly. “¡Salud!” you beam.

Despite your cheer, you feel a trickle of nervous anticipation. What shape would your relationship take with only the two of you to guide it? You’d never been alone alone together for the express purpose of just hanging out.

Javier clinks his glass with yours. “Salud,” he murmurs, his eyes crinkling upward slightly.

You order yourself to stop getting in your head. Humming around a mouthful of plum-purple wine, you set down the glass in favor of your plate, loading it with several more pastels. Blissful satisfaction fills you as a second bite confirms their perfection, and you lick sugar off your lips with a happy sigh. Beside you, Javi’s empty fingers twitch. He takes a large gulp of wine.

The movie rapidly proves to be of the same ‘quality’ as its parent. Just as quickly, you realize you didn’t need to worry about getting on with Javier. You end up having great fun at the film’s expense, frequently pausing it so Javi can explain in more detail why this or that would never happen in real life. It’s fascinating hearing him speak with such confidence, observing the minute ripples of his face as it contorts in thought. Despite his superior knowledge, he’s never condescending toward you, listening patiently to your questions and trying to answer in ways you can relate to. He sneers freely at the characters onscreen though, and you can completely picture him sitting at a one of those government conference tables, telling some poor bastard how bad his ideas are with his trademark dismissive, deadpan attitude.

There are other fascinating things about him, too. Like the way his short shirtsleeves to stretch over his arm muscles, subtle but visible, highlighted by the room’s long shadows. Like the tempting cords of his neck when he tips his head back to drink. Like more of his self-conscious glances, when he bites into a pastel and crumbs and sugar cling to his mustache. He hurriedly swipes his palm down the hairs, but you’ve caught him from the corner of your eye. You press your lips together to smother a giggle, but when he glides his tongue over his lip to catch any stray bits, your smile fades as your stomach swoops. You can sense him regarding you again as you fix your gaze on the tv. You wish you knew what was going on in his head.

Too soon the movie ends. The credits roll, but Javier shows no signs of leaving, leisurely taking out a pack of cigarettes and tapping it against his hand. “Do you mind?” he checks.

You wrinkle your nose but allow it. “As long as you do it at the window.” You stand, leaving Javi still seated, and spread your arms in a stretch, attempting to blink away some of the sleepy wine haze. “Be right back,” you tell him, taking the opportunity for a bathroom break.

After, however, before crossing the kitchen to rejoin him, you pause on the threshold of the hall. Your head tilts as you run your gaze over his unguarded stature. Javier leans against the window’s edge, his head and torso turned to exhale smoke out into the night. It doesn’t all escape immediately, gray twisting in the air around his profile, and you lose yourself in the brooding picture he paints. He believes he’s alone, but doesn’t look like he’s enjoying a peaceful smoke break- more like he’s weighed down by his thoughts, his eyes sweeping over the street without taking it in. Doesn’t he have anyone to share his burdens with?

You shuffle your feet loudly before you turn the corner, revealing your presence so he can react accordingly. As you approach, he stubs out his cigarette on the narrow sill and turns to face you, his shoulders relaxing.

“I thought of something else about that last scene,” he greets, and you’re happy to let him go on about the film, savoring the rich timbre of his voice. You talk for a little while longer, lounging by the window. He asks you more about yourself now, and you haltingly tell him about your background, how you came to arrive in Columbia. He drinks in every word, and you get the feeling he’s storing this all away, ready to reference later. As if he intends for there to be a later.

Finally it comes up. Your last interaction. “Look, I’m sorry about last time,” Javier begins. “When I, you know-” he nods jerkily in lieu of saying “tried to seduce you” out loud. “I, uh. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His gaze drops the same way it did when he was withholding how he got the cut on his leg.

You thought you had understood some of his thought process, but maybe there was more to it. “I think you do,” you disagree wryly. One shoulder lifts in a shrug. “But it’s okay, Javier. I just...didn’t want you to sleep with me just because you felt like you owed me.”

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze, yours ranging over his face and chest, searching for a reaction to what you’ve left unspoken. That you may well want him to sleep with you, but only because he actually wants to, wants you, specifically. Javier is smart, and clearly experienced with women- there’s no way he’ll miss the implication.

The longer you hold his gaze, the more clearly you see his thoughts churning, turning over everything that’s occurred between you and what it might mean, with all the analytical precision his career requires. That’s who you’ve been seeing, you realize, every time his provocative persona misses its mark with you- Agent Peña, the man who puts up a shield of derisive disdain so no one gets too close, so no one wants to. Until someone comes along who says fuck that, for whatever reasons of their own- like Steve, who demanded that Javi let him in as much as he could stand to because they’re partners, damn it, for better or for worse. Like Connie, who informed him that your well-being is important to my husband’s, so by god, you’re going to let me care about you. Like you- his neighbor and wallmate who, despite being faced with Agent Peña's rakish side, could see that there was more under the surface than just blood oozing from a knife wound.

As if realizing the window this moment is giving you, Javier shakes himself free of it, pushing off the wall. “Well, I won’t keep you up any longer,” he says gruffly. “Thanks for...this.” He gestures to the coffee table behind the couch you’re leaning on, the silent tv static jittering on the wine and pastries.

You stand too, unhurried. “Thank you, Javier. For the company, as well,” you say with sincerity.

He nods, seeming torn, perpetually caught in some internal struggle around you. Finally, he says a single word in farewell, his voice a low caress: “Vecinita.”

He starts for the door without waiting for a reply. Blinking in surprise, you spin in place. “Buenas noches, Javi,” you call, hoping your understanding reaches him.

You think it does, because he pauses for a second with his hand on the doorknob; before, with a last glance, exiting, leaving the hope kindling in your chest as the only proof it really happened.

Javier has a hard time focusing at work the next day. He and Steve have a lot of paperwork to get through, mostly material from their recent mission, but every time he shifts in his shitty desk chair he remembers how comfortable your couch was. How at ease you seemed sitting next to him on it. How badly he wanted to reach out to you, see if you felt as soft as you looked in that setting.

“Fuck,” he swears. The paper in his hand is the same one he’s been staring at for the past ten minutes.

Huffing, he shoves his work aside, snatches up his jacket, and heads home early. But his apartment offers even fewer distractions, so with a growl of frustration, he downs a whiskey and stalks back to the door.

Only to be stopped in his tracks by Connie, standing on his stoop with a coffee pot in hand. She looks startled by his sudden appearance, her fist still raised to knock.

“Hi, Javi. I heard you get back a little while ago, and I haven’t seen you since you and Steve returned. I thought we could catch up.” She speaks tentatively, clearly wary of his black scowl and riled energy.

“Did she send you?” he asks, eyes narrowing, jutting his chin to indicate your door.

Connie frowns in confusion. “No, I won’t be seeing her for a a day or three. She’s got an intensive-care patient at the hospital who needs around-the-clock attention.” Her own eyes narrow. “Should she have sent me? Did you do something?”

“No,” Javier retorts curtly. “Just- didn’t know if this was brought on by some of your gossip, is all.” Resigned to his interrogation, he steps back, opening the door for her.

Connie continues to glare suspiciously as she passes, but heads into his kitchen nonetheless, getting out sugar and mugs in a familiar ritual. She knew better than to bother checking the fridge for milk.

Once seated in the dining room, however, she doesn’t pry any further about you, or what he may have done, only continuing a previous line of conversation from their last chat. It helps, but as she gets caught up telling some work story, Javier’s attention drifts again.

He inhales from the cigarette between his fingers, remembering the taste of the one last night, filtering through the flavors of cherry-dark wine and sugar-encrusted pastry. He had tried to keep some figurative distance between the two of you, but you didn’t seem to want it, closing the gaps with questions, always looking so damn interested when the answers pertained to him or his life. Were you that fascinated by all your ‘friends’?

Javi doesn’t notice that Connie is scrutinizing him again, just like he hadn’t noticed that she’s been silent for the past minute.

“What’s she doing up there?” Connie asks loudly.

Javier chokes mid-drag, and a wicked smirk overtakes her face.

“What,” he croaks, trying desperately not to look guilty.

“Your neighbor,” Connie clarifies. “That’s what you’re thinking about, right?” She looks far too smug with herself.

“Hah,” Javier scoffs, trying to ignore the shivery goosebumps at someone calling you ‘his’. Buying time, he takes another long drag, letting it numb the sting from his cough.

Sometimes he wondered why he let himself get sucked into these coffee chats. They so rarely seemed to go well for him.

“Come on, Javier,” Connie coaxes. “I know there’s something between you two. Do you wanna talk about it?” A genuine offer, not just merciless teasing. She’s managed to wipe most of the mirth from her face, leaving a sympathetic expression behind.

He rubs his thumb along his mustache as he sighs a long stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what’s between us,” he finally says. “I’m not- I don’t do relationships.”

He isn’t sure he remembers how to. Nothing about his life here is suited to them- it’s intense, harsh, dangerous. Not to mention his network of CIs, who he pays for sex as well as information.

“Why not?” Connie asks simply.

A glance at her face tells Javier that it’s a serious question. He snorts. Lounging back in his chair, he raises a contemptuous eyebrow at her. “You can’t honestly tell me the DEA lifestyle is helping your marriage.”

Her face tightens, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he resolutely pushes it away- Connie knows who he is, she asked for this conversation- “My marriage isn’t up for discussion here,” she says evenly. “And besides, don’t you think that’s something for her to decide? She knows what you do, she sees you almost every day. She told me she was helping you with something- do you think she’d let herself get close to you if she was scared of your ‘lifestyle’?”

He doesn’t let it show how deeply her word affects him; but like ink dropping into water, he feels a ripple of shock. The change of color as his thoughts cloud, churn with sudden optimism. Because Connie was right, you had helped him- with a fucking secret stab wound, for christ’s sake. You’d already seen the blood and the secrets, understood that his life came with risks- and helped him without further explanation.

Javier brings the cigarette to his lips again without tasting it, unseeing gaze fixed ahead. Possible though it is that you’re not put off by the danger which hounds him, it still doesn’t mean you want to be more than friends. That was what you’d said, right? ‘Friends are a thing people have.’

But there was also what you hadn’t said last night. That- as long as it was for reasons other than feeling like he owed you- he was allowed to want to sleep with you.

Suddenly he slumps forward onto his elbows, sighing. The wrinkles on his forehead ache as he smooths his thumb over them. “I don’t know how close she wants to get,” Javi mumbles. He might be experienced at sex with women, but forming conections based on what was beneath the skin...well, not only was he rusty, but it required a frankly terrifying amount of vulnerability that he wasn’t sure he was up for.

Connie softens. “Listen, Javi, I saw the way she was looking at you during movie night. She’s interested in you, no matter how much you think she does or doesn’t know. Just- see what happens, or…ask her.” With her last words she shrugs matter-of-factly, content to drop the subject now that she’s delivered her thoughts.

His lips twist, the only begrudging acknowledgement he gives as he reflects on this. He picks up his mug and swirls the dregs of the coffee his friend had poured for him- black, like he usually takes it. He takes a sip.

For the first time, he thinks it could use a little sugar.

A/N: Get it, because he needs some of READER’S sugar AYOOOO...I’ll leave now lmao.

Spanish note for the less linguistically inclined: ‘Vecinita’ is the word ‘Vecina’ (Neighbor) plus the suffix ‘-ita’, which is attached to words as a way of describing them as ‘small’. So literally translated it says ‘little (feminine) neighbor’, but! This suffix is also used to say things in an affectionate way, so you could put it on the end of someone’s name (ie Pedrito <3), or on the end of another noun to indicate a nickname. (Disclaimer, I only speak Italian, but it has this same concept, so I think I did it right. Someone pls tell me if I did not). It’s used very casually, so it’s not really as deep as it sounded in Reader and Javi’s moment, but it was deep for Javi okay!!!

The dessert this chapter is named after translates to ‘Gloria pastries’, which according to Google, is a popular Columbian pastry. I have not actually ever encountered one of these personally, but I’ve had all the ingredients individually, so I cannot imagine them not being DELICIOUS all together. Here is a recipe I fully intend to try (it uses mozzarella cheese, but other sources say you can use any plain/white/farmer’s cheese). Guava paste is a really yummy, thick puree (think jam, but thick enough to stay in slab form at room temp) of guava fruit (obvs), which I’ve used in recipes before! I found it in a regular Weis market in central Pennsylvania lmao so I would guess it to be a thing you can find across the US. Arequipe is just another name for dulce de leche. I gotta get me and my sweet tooth to Columbia!!

Fic Taglist: @din-damn-djarin, @thirstworldproblemss, @remembertoreadthese

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos fic #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #shoutout to my boss for getting sick so I could have the last two days off to finish this #(he's fine tho it's not covid)

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

So It Goes...

full masterlist

Pairings: Rock star/Bassist!Bucky Barnes x female!reader (AU)

Word count: 7,149

Warning: fluff, SMUT! but mostly just me falling in love with bucky, really.

Summary: natasha romanoff aka your annoying roommate coerced you into the howling commando’s live performance at a divebar near your dorm. little did you know, it was going to lead you to the man of your dreams aka the charming rock star boy/bassist, james buchanan barnes.

a/n: this one’s written for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan‘s “Little Darlin’s Mysteru AU” challenge. i chose band/rockstar au. here’s another love letter to bucky barnes because i love that man with my entire heart and every fic that i write about him is basically just me expressing my deep affection for this man. hope you guys enjoy this one cause i certainly do! also, rock star/boy band bucky is such a concept omg i’m in love

You laid in your twin-sized bed as you heard the chirping sounds of the birds outside of your window. They were singing cheerily as if they knew what you were feeling and they were celebrating with you. It felt like you were in a Disney movie that you used to obsess over as a kid, where you are the lovestruck princess because you just met a handsome prince who swept you off your feet at first sight.

The birds outside of your window are your animal pals who swoon over you swooning and they spontaneously harmonize and dance to this newfound joy. You couldn’t resist the smile taking over your face. It was too early for you to be awake on a Saturday morning. You were always up by 10 AM. No more, no less. But it was currently 8.45 AM and you still had at least one more hour to get up and be productive.

But not today. Today, you were going to welcome this exhilarating sensation in your bones, and you were going to savour every second of it. Because you couldn’t shake away those baby blue eyes and that suave, boyish charm. The way, they electrified you by first glance and made you tremble when those pupils dilated. You could still feel the way his soft, plump lips hypnotized you last night. And the raunchy way he held you at the bar.

Even when all was said and done, he found a way to haunt you in your dreams.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

You were currently in the middle of a crisis due to your upcoming final week. If there’s any word to describe you as a college student, it would be ambitious. The idea of failing or getting less than B+ makes you go ballistic. You were an active student. You joined multiple organizations that expanded your social life. You got along with mostly everyone in your classes and you had your professors’ respect too for your excellent grades and polite manners.

But your lack of dating life irked no one else more than your roommate, Natasha. You loved Natasha with your entire heart, really. She was like a sister to you. You were an only child so you cherished her older sister role in your life. She was, in fact, several months older than you and she always protected you like her own. Starting from the asshole that broke your heart in high school, despite only knowing him through your story, to incessantly pushing you to stop being such a nerd and have more fun.

Natasha was the kind of woman you don’t wanna mess with. She was loyal, brave and quick-witted. She knows how to keep her GPA high, whilst also maintaining a fun social life. She managed to do it all so effortlessly.

“C’mon, y/n! Just one night! You need to let loose and release all tension on your shoulders, baby. It’s good for your brain before finals start!”

“Noooo, Nat. Rock bands are not my thing and I’d have a higher chance of acing the tests if I study now, okay? Just go. Have fun without me and tell me how it goes.”

“But my boyfriend’s performing, y/n. And I want you to meet him! I promise they are really good. Even if you're not into the music, you can still go for the drinks, right? Also, they’ve got other cute members available so, you might find your own rock band boyfriend too if you go.” She winked. Her smirk was menacing.

“Ugh, I’m not interested in finding a boyfriend, Nat.”

“I know, but wouldn’t hurt if you do, right? Then we can go on double dates and have them write songs about us. Oh God, it’s going to be awesome.”

“Whoa, slow down. I haven’t even learned their names, yet and we are already discussing double dates?”

“Alright, let’s just start with putting on your sexy clothes and meet them yourself. Then we can move onto picking one gorgeous beast for you.”

“What makes you even think that they’d be interested in me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, y/n. Have you never owned a mirror? You are a total babe. You just need to get yourself more action.”

“Ugh, I don’t know, Nat…”

“You are going. And I’m not leaving until you get up and put on something cool. I have patience, baby and I’m going to annoy you all night if you stay. What do you prefer? Going out and have fun and meet some cute boys or me annoying you all night so you can’t study productively.” She glared at you. Her tone indicated that there was no compromise.

“Alright, I’m going. But that’s only because I wanna meet your boyfriend, alright? Not because I wanna find a boyfriend or whatever stupid shit you’re thinking.”

“Yay!” She jumped in excitement. Her face was content with joy and satisfaction from succeeding in persuading you. “Alright, let’s dig through your clothes.” She started rummaging your shared closet and observed meticulously each one of your outfits. “Hmm… Let’s try this one!” She picked up a strapless black sequin dress that you hadn’t worn in forever. You didn’t even remember packing it up in your baggage and brought it with you to your dorm.

You began stripping yourself out of your oversized hoodie and high-waisted shorts. You didn’t feel embarrassed changing in front of Natasha, you had seen each other naked many times. You were roommates after all and sometimes, you just had to be comfortable with the fact that you had private body parts underneath and within the course of four years, eventually, you had to get used to flashing one another at some point.

You put it on as you started to feel a little uncomfortable. You weren’t used to wearing skimpy dresses. Already wearing it for less than three minutes, you were constantly lifting the hem of the dress to prevent it from exposing your boobs and revealing your inner thighs. And the material felt itchy on your skin too. “Nat, I’m not sure about this. Let’s just wear a leather jacket and jeans.”

“Nonsense! You look bomb! Give your leather jacket and jeans a break, alright? Okay, turn around so I can see your behind.”

You twirled as she said, restlessly.

Tonight was going to be a longspun night…

The air felt crisp against your skin, as the breeze swept through your freshly curled hair, causing a few strands shading your sight. You struggled to walk steadily in your 7-inch heels that belonged to Natasha because you didn’t have a pair of your own. You were cool with wearing ankle boots pairing them with a sparkly dress. But Natasha didn’t think it was a cute look.

“What? Boots and dresses don’t go along, honey. Oh my, you need a serious makeover!” She was derailed.

You eventually settled with a silk red dress with a seductively low cleavage on the front, exposing the globes of your breasts. You were already as uncomfortable as it is, this dress didn’t make it any easier to act normal.

So you had to endure walking in these deadly shoes of torture, whilst clad in nothing but a scanty material with makeup painting your entire face. Great. What had you gotten yourself into? Damn you, Natasha.

You and Nat were walking arm in arm to the bar where “The Howling Commandos” were performing. That’s the name of the band that Natasha’s boyfriend was in. They have been a group for 5 years now, they had been doing this since they were in high school. Clint and the rest of the members were several years older than you and Nat. As soon as they graduated, they decided that they wanted to keep making music rather than working mundane, dead-end jobs.

Yep, Natasha told you that much.

Clint and Nat had been dating for two years now. They rarely saw each other due to the band’s packed schedule. Although, they would FaceTime each other every night, talking about each other’s days. You heard it all, from their most disgustingly adorable flirtations, to the most inappropriate, not so PG-13 confession.

They would literally pretend to smooch one another through the screen when you were doing your homework or when you had your nose deep in a book. You’d try to cover your ears by putting on your earbuds and turning up the volume so you could give them privacy but also, you didn’t wanna hear them talking about what they wanted to do to each other if both of them were here.

You knew Clint well enough to not feel like you were meeting a complete stranger. Natasha would often tell you to say hi to him and she had told you a lot of wonderful things to Clint. Clint would often talk about the band too on the phone, how someone called “Bucky” would piss him off by stealing his leftover sandwich. Or someone called “Sam” would often interrupt their chat by reminding him that it was soundcheck time.

“I gotta go, babe. Sammy’s not gonna stop yelling.”

“Aw, okay, tell the boys I say hi! Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

It’s like a daily podcast for you every night.

The dive bar where The Howling Commandos were performing thankfully wasn’t that far from your dorm. Natasha was super thrilled when Clint told them that they were going to perform here. They were finally able to see each other after a while, and because this was going to be their last gig until they come back with a new album, he said he was going to stay and spend some time with Nat.

You were happy for both of them. You’d never say it out loud but, a part of you was secretly jealous of their love. They managed to maintain such a fun, loving, and healthy relationship despite the distance and differences. Natasha once told you that she was never one to settle with a man for too long but, Clint changed the game for her. You smiled at the thought. They were genuinely in love. If you were to find yourself a boyfriend, you wanted the type of love that they had.

But not tonight. You were okay with being single. Just because a part of you wanted what Clint & Nat had, doesn’t mean that you actually need it or you’d die. You were too much of a goal-oriented person to be chasing over something that should come naturally. You had grown so comfortable in being alone, that you stopped desiring love so much. It wasn’t getting you anywhere. So you lived your life, being grateful for your friends and family. You invested your time in your education and passion. You were content.

When you arrived at the bar, the room was full with a crowd. You walked in with Natasha trying to make a space for yourself so you could walk through them. You could barely anything else due to the number of bodies blocking your view. Natasha held your hand as she took the lead and fought through the crowd to get to the front, where she could get the best view.

There was a blonde-haired woman standing on the front, so close to where the band were going to play. When Natasha slightly grazed her whilst trying to stand next to her, she didn’t look the slightest bit happy. She glared at Natasha as Natasha noticed. She glared back at her.

“Excuse me, there’s more space in the back, maybe you can stand there instead of cutting through the line.”

“Excuse you, miss. I’m dating the band’s drummer, so I can stand wherever I want, thank you very much. If you don’t like that, then the exit is right there.” She pointed to the door of where we walked in from.

The blonde woman rolled her eyes as she folded her arms against her chest. After you stared at her reaction, you realized that you actually know her. She was in the same social science class with you. You had never really talked to her because she often sat in the back and immediately left after the class was done, but you remembered her name. Her name was Dottie Underwood. Your classmates called her Dot. The ones that she liked anyway.

You decided to stay quiet and let it pass. It’s not like she even recognized you even if you start a chat with her. You don’t think it was a good idea either since she and Nat literally just snarked at each other. You directed your sight to the stage and waited for the famous Howling Commandos to appear.

One of the spotlights turned and highlighted a man walking on stage before he talked into the microphone at the centre. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, a group of brilliant lads, that make all the ladies go feral wherever they go, and their showstopping music are going to make us sing and jump tonight. Please welcome, The Howling Commandos!”

The crowd roared with cheers, the sounds of their enthusiasm filled the atmosphere. Their claps were jovially in sync as four, drop-dead gorgeous young men stepped into the stage as their presence shifted the energy in the room.

The first one was a blonde-haired with breathtaking bone structure, forming a ridiculously handsome face. His hair shone under the spotlight like the sun amidst the clear sky. He had an amiable demeanour about him. His smile was gentle and welcoming. He waved to the crowd and stood directly behind the microphone.

The second one to walk in was a dark-skinned man with an undeniable charisma oozing out of him. He had a neatly trimmed beard that only added to his spicy appeal. His smile was radiant as he also waved the crowd. He stood on the left side of the stage, a couple of steps behind Steve who was apparently the lead singer.

The third one to walk in was Clint. He was everything Nat described him to be. Placid and nonchalant. His smile was amenable as he greeted the crowd. He walked directly to the background, where the drumset was placed. He sat down on the drummer’s chair as he picked up the sticks he was going to play with.

The last one to enter was a literal Disney prince coming to life. His prominent boyish charm completely bedazzled you. His blue eyes gleamed under the spotlight as they lingered on you for a second. He immediately shifted his gaze as he kept walking towards the right side of the stage, but you swore that when he caught you staring dumbfoundedly at him, you could see the flash of a quick smirk on his face.

He only nodded to the crowd as he confidently picked up the bass guitar that was previously placed on the floor and put on the leather straps around his neck. His eyes turned back to you as you found yourself still bluntly staring at him. Something about him just enchanted you. He had that boy-next-door charm about him but also, a bad boy persona that was irresistibly enticing.

That flash of smirk that you saw earlier resurfaced and it was getting harder for you to pay attention to anyone or anything else in the room other than him. His gaze grew more intense as the noises of the crowd faded into the background. You were lost in this lethal game of eye contact until Natasha accidentally elbowed you by screaming her lungs out to respond to the lead singer’s introduction.

“Good evening, SHIELD’s Nest! How are we feeling tonight?” The lead singer vivified the crowd. They responded with a reassuring reaction. “I’m Steve Rogers and these are my buddies,” he turned his head to the left, as he started introducing the other band members. “The handsome guy right there is Sam, and in the back, there’s Clint, our brilliant drummer boy and this ladies’ charmer right here is Bucky.” As he pointed to the magnetic man who had held your attention hostage since he first walked in.

“And we are The Howling Commandos.” He paused for a second before carrying on with his prelude. “Alright, so the first song that we’re going to play tonight is called ‘Rusted Love’. Enjoy.” Steve removed his mouth from behind the microphone and started cueing the band to play. “1,2…”

Sam and Bucky started strumming the first few notes as a few people cheered. Then Clint jumped in, flaunting his talent in mastering the drum with his sticks. The energy in the room felt more energized as people started moving a part of their bodies. Then Steve amazed the room with his sultry voice, singing the words that echoed through the Sound system of the bar.

“I’m a flying kite in a hurricane, you paralyzed me with your touch and your lips got me addicted…” Steve shut his eyes, relishing the rune. You had a feeling that those lyrics wouldn’t just stay lyrics tonight…

They played another four songs that night. The crowd danced, jumped and screamed the words to their song passionately. You, on the other hand, was probably the most tranquil person in the crowd. You didn’t really know much about the band, let alone their music. So when everyone was constantly pushing you because they were too lost in the moment, you eventually tried to get out of the crowd and sat on the bar instead. Natasha was also too lost in supporting her boyfriend, that she almost didn’t notice you leaving.

Through the vibration of the crowd and the music, you had to really lean in to get Natasha’s attention and to get her to hear you. “Nat! I’m gonna sit in the back and wait there. I’m a little thirsty.” She had a giant smile on her face due to the zest the band inflicted. “Okay!” She yelled back, then carried on with her foxy moves.

You struggled to walk through the crowd, trying to not step on anyone’s feet as you made your way to the barstool. What you didn’t notice was, Bucky’s disappointed on his face when he saw you walking out on him. He noticed that you weren’t exactly as thrilled as anyone else. Although, he noticed your stolen glances as you shied away from him when he stared back. He even tried to wink at you once but you immediately looked to the floor, hiding away your blush. He swore he saw the way your cheeks reddened. Not that he wasn’t used to getting that reaction anyway…

You exhaled a breath of relief as you finally broke out of the congested mass of people. You sat on the barstool as you ordered a glass of rum and you waited as the music still reverberated robustly in your ears. You sat there as you started looking through your Instagram. Nat’s icon was the first one to appear in the row and you clicked it to see what you were expecting. She recorded a video of the band, then zoomed in to Clint, as he was ardently drumming the beat.

She put on a heart eyes and fire emoji with the text; “that’s my man!”. The next one was her and you singing along to the second song they played that night. You were able to actually mouth the words after they played the last chorus and you were a quick learner, so you memorized the repeated words easily after the third time. You scrolled through your feed a few more minutes until your order finally arrived.

“Enjoy, miss.” The waiter winked at you. He was probably in his mid-20s, he had warm brown eyes and a sweet smile. His dark hair was slicked back as you stared a little longer than you should. He was obviously attractive, but, you didn’t say anything back to him. You just smiled back in a friendly manner and uttered silenced thanks.

After sitting by yourself for about a half and an hour, like all good things, the show must come to an end. Steve Rogers concluded the show with a final thank you and goodnight as the spotlight shut down, like the drapes closing over a theatrical show. The crowd clapped and some of them started leaving, while others immediately went to the bar to quench the thirst from screaming along to volatile rock music and jumping up and down, getting lost in the tune.

Natasha patted your back as she jumped on the empty chair next to you. Thank God, she was quick on her feet, otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to get a seat. “Hey! God, I need a full shot of whiskey right now.”

“Yeah, go crazy.”

She scoffed. “Huh. As if that wasn’t crazy enough, back there.” She signalled the bartender to make an order. “So, what do you think? That was fun, right?” The cute bartender from earlier walked to her as he asked her what would she like to drink and she quickly replied.

“Yeah, they’re pretty good.”

“Pretty good? They’re damn talented. Especially the drummer back there. He totally killed it.”

“Yeah, okay, they are amazing. But you know their music isn’t my kind of music, so can’t say I really enjoyed it that much.”

“Okay, but you must’ve at least enjoyed the view, right? Don’t think I didn’t catch you and bass boy making several eye contacts back there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You took another sip of your glass to cover your embarrassment.

“Oh my God, you totally do! Look at you blushing!”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are! Admit it! You like Bucky, don’t you?” She playfully pushed you to tease you.

“Oh my God, shut up Nat! You’re causing a scene!” You tried to lower yourself, now that you’re able to speak in a normal volume.

“Nope, I won’t stop until you admit it. Don’t worry, y/n, Bucky’s always been a charmer, so I totally get your attraction.”

That caused a peculiar sickness in your chest. It’s not like you were falling in love with Bucky, no. You didn’t even know him enough to like him. He may be an eye-candy but if he’s really as “charming” as everyone is saying, then that means, he’s one of those dangerous fuckboys that you should avoid at all cost. Because that means, he’s probably only going to manipulate you into thinking that he really cares for you, when in reality, he only wanted to get in your pants. Nope, not gonna happen to you. You weren’t going to be a new notch in his belt.

“Well, then that means he is bad news and that gives me even more reason to feel anything but attraction toward him.”

“Oh, no, y/n, I don’t mean it like that. He’s really sweet, and he’s always been the most chill one in the group. Trust me, you’re gonna love him. Just, give him a chance first, alright? I’ve known him long enough to know that he’s into you.”

“Into me? Nat, he doesn’t even know my name.”

“He will.” She winked again, as she took a sip of her whiskey.

Not long after that, Clint appeared from behind, without Nat realizing. He surprised her by wrapping her waist from behind as he whispered into her ears; “how’s my best girl?” Nat was slightly stunned but as soon as she realized it was her boyfriend, her expression instantly turned into a joyful one. “Hi, baby!” They immediately smooched as she wrapped her arms around his neck while standing face to face now.

“Did you like the show?”

“I loved the show, you guys killed it as always. Oh, and by the way, this is y/n, my number one bestie and the best roommate anyone could ever ask for. Now you finally meet her in person!” Her excitement was genuine.

“Hi, y/n! Heard so many great things about you, but you probably can’t say the same, huh?”

“No, actually I can. Nat wouldn’t stop talking about you every night even when I’m blatantly ignoring her.” You joked.

“Well, is that right?” He looked at Nat to assess the truth on her face.

“Yep,” you carried on. “She would say you’re hot, funny and kind, and all these wonderful things. Including the ones that I’m not supposed to hear.”

They laughed. They kissed once more, as Clint stood next to her seat, ordering a drink for himself. Next to you, you could hear Nat saying, “oh, where are the boys? Are they not thirsty?”

“They’re just packing up, babe, they’re gonna join us in a few.”

“Good, ‘cause I think there’s someone y/n would like to meet.” She teasingly wiggled her eyebrows at you, as you sent her a murderous glare. Your lips silently mouthed, “what the fuck?” but Clint picked up her tone and he quickly got the message.

“Oooh, who is it? Is it Steve, Bucky, Sam? Just let me know which one you like and I’ll deliver them at your door tonight, y/n. They’re all single and ready to mingle anytime now.”

You laughed nervously. “No, no, no, no. Nat’s just saying shit.”

She turned her head to her boyfriend and shook it. “No, I’m not. She and Bucky practically eye fucked on stage.”

You instantly slapped her arm, staring deadly into her eyes. “Ouch!” She put her hand on the spot that you struck, even though it wasn’t even that hard. Classic Nat. Dramatic as always. “Nat, you can’t just–”

Before you even managed to finish your sentence, she darted her eyes to somewhere behind you as she pointed at whatever got her distracted. “Oh, here they are!” She smirked. She raised her eyebrows at you before she stood on her feet and hugged the anticipated men.

“Hey, guys! Killer show back there!” Nat started hugging Sam and he kissed her cheek, and then she moved onto Steve and the last one to join was Bucky. You muttered ‘shit’ to yourself as you pondered on how you should act. Should you act like nothing ever happened during the show between you two? Or were you going to address the elephant in the room, and just straight up flirt with him, now that he wasn’t being so closely watched anymore?

You didn’t know which would be the best option so you just took a big gulp and drank down the entire glass of Rum you had left. Maybe if you were less sober, you wouldn't excessively overthink. You weren’t even sure whether he was really staring at you or not. For all you knew, he could be staring at another beautiful girl in the crowd that was standing beside or behind you. And if you act impulsively now, this would be like that cheesy moment on Rom-Coms, where a girl waved back to the guy who she thought was waving at her but it turns out, he was actually waving at another girl who was coming from the same direction as her.

Nope, you weren’t going to be that girl.

So you just smiled and nodded along as Natasha introduced you to the rest of the boys. You didn’t want to be rude so you sat on your chair, facing them with an interested look, even though all you wanted to do was just shrink and leave this goddamn place.

“Hey guys, here’s my bomb-ass bestie slash roomie. Her name’s y/n! Isn’t she stunning?”

When Steve was about to offer his hand to you, Sam immediately inserted himself in front of you and Steve. “Well, hello, good-lookin’. Can I buy you a drink?” Sam, being the cool dude he was, he leaned back against the bar counter on his elbows as he shamelessly flirted with you.

“Nope, thank you. I just had one.”

“Oh, you look like you could use another one. Here, let me get that for you.” He cued the bartender to make an order and you instantly tried to stop him, telling him that it wasn't necessary, but it looks like the bartender was already taking his order for you.

And then, out of nowhere, Bucky suddenly stooped in like a hero. “Hey, Sam, why don’t you back off? This one’s mine, alright?” That elicited a questioning look out of you. “Mine?” He didn’t even know you.

“Oh wait, so this is the one you told us about in the dressing room?” What the hell? You thought. They were talking about you as if you weren’t there at all.

“Yep, so why don’t you fuck off and get out of here before I get myself drunk enough to shit on your bed?” His tone was menacing but you could tell that this was a normal, daily conversation between the two.

“Jeez, alright. I’mma leave. You don’t need to wave your dick all over my face.” Before Sam moved to another spot, he patted you on the back and said, “good luck.”

What? What the hell was that for? The bartender came in with your order and served another glass of Rum right in front of you.

“You don’t need to drink that if you don’t want to.” He carefully spoke to you, as if he was trying to not scare you away.

“No, I think I need to. Tonight’s been a pretty crazy night.” You took a sip, the cold drink felt nice on your tongue.

He chuckled. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Oh, how crazy can it be for you? Isn’t this like, what you do, every night?”

“Yeah, but, you never really get used to it, you know? Sometimes you just wanna sit in the bar and have a nice talk with a pretty gal and hide in the booth or something.”

That… Warmed up your heart. Damn, if this is his way of flirting, it was truly working. You could see now why everyone was calling him ‘a charmer.’ He really had a way with words. And stares. His baby blues really know how to captivate you and froze you on spot.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.” He offered his hand to shake yours.

“I’m y/n.” You shook it with a smile.

“Did you like the show?” He asked.

“Gotta be honest with you, buddy, your music isn’t exactly my kind of music. But you guys were awesome.”

He paused for a moment as if he was contemplating what he was going to say next. “Think I got a little distracted up there.”

“Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“Cause there was this pretty lady in a red dress that I couldn’t take my eyes off of.” His gaze even grew more intense now. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the room. Then his eyes darted to your lips, as he licked his. And before you knew it, he started inching his face closer to yours as he held his gaze on your plump, painted lips, while you could feel his breath more and more as the seconds went by.

And then… His lips were on yours. It’s like the clock just stopped ticking and every noise faded into the background and you were the only two people in the room. His lips felt soft against yours, and the way he licked your bottom lip made your head spin. You ajarred your mouth to let his tongue enter as it got tangled with yours.

You were aware that Nat, Clint and Steve who were having a conversation are now watching you like hawks, but you couldn’t care less. Not when Bucky’s hands grabbed your face, so he could have more control over your mouth. You were practically out of breath by the time he looked into your eyes, that are now slightly darker than a few seconds ago. He loved the sight of you, with your lips slightly swollen.

“Let’s go somewhere more secluded.” You could only nod and then took his hand after he offered you his as you got off the stool. He led the way and you couldn’t help but notice the glances that were thrown by several women along the way. They were staring at him with incontrovertible full of hunger eyes, one even shamelessly put her hand on his shoulder, as she coquettishly smiled at him. Bucky only smiled back and nodded at her but he kept walking with you in his hand.

Even if you were practically a pair, you felt invisible. Everyone’s eyes were on you, but not precisely on you. This must’ve been something normal to him, you thought. You weren’t used to big crowds and inundated with attention, and you weren’t used with unquestionably holding a stranger’s hand and letting him take you wherever he had in mind. But you did anyway, and you weren’t having second thoughts.

Bucky led you to the cramped lavatory and locked the door. The lack of space made it even harder for you to breathe when Bucky was this close to you. He pressed his body to yours, as he kissed you once more. Slowly, but you felt the spell in your bones. “All I could think about on stage was tasting those luscious lips.”

You were spellbound by his magic. You could barely speak another word when his baby blue eyes were looking at you so intensely like that. But you gathered every cell in your body to utter the words anyway, “do it again, then.” You boldly challenged him.

He grinned a Cheshire cat smile. He grabbed your face again and eagerly consume you with his mouth. He then moved his hands to the back of your thighs to elevate you onto the sink. He put his hand on your thigh and the other hand went to the back of your head as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, while still kissing you even deeper.

He pulled away to stare at your distraught state and asked the question, “can I touch you?”

You licked your lips, as you nodded. “Please.” His mouth was on yours again, as the hand that was on your thigh moved to the bottom your dress, delicately inserted his fingers to feel you against your red lace panties. You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter as he motions his fingers in circle harder.

Your breath quickened. Your mind was getting hazy as the second passes by. The right strep of your dress had fallen off of your shoulder, and Bucky utilized that opportunity to pull down the other strap and he began groping your breast, tenderly pinching your nipple. That elicited a petite yelp out of you. He groped your breast once more as he was still toying with your nipple.

He began kissing your neck, shortly finding your sensitive spot as you threw your head back. You shuddered. Your hands grabbed his hair, wanting to feel him closer. “Bu- Bucky… Please. I need to feel you.”

You didn’t wait for his response and immediately lifted up his shirt. You were stunned by the sight under the dimmed light of the bathroom. Clothes really didn’t do this man any justice. He should never be allowed to wear any coverups, ever again now that you had seen him. He was sculpted by the Gods themselves. His biceps felt robust in your dainty hands and the V-shaped line on his hips led to somewhere you really wanted to wrap your lips around.

Your hands quickly zipped down his jeans and his boxer along with it, and you didn’t hesitate in feeling his throbbing member right there, right then. It felt tremendous in your trembling hands, and you felt it getting harder with every stoke of your palm.

“Oh, fuck, doll, don’t stop.” His voice was raspy in your ears. It was the sexiest goddamn sound you had ever heard.

“Yeah, just like that. Go faster, doll.” He sucked your earlobe and his hand fisted your hair, making a mess out of it. You didn’t mind one bit. You wanted to be a mess for him and only for him. You somehow still managed to pamper him with all the senses you had left, even if your mind was clouded with every part of him.

“Bucky, put it in me. Please.” You begged with a quavering voice.

“Your wish is my command, doll.” In a second, he pushed into you and it sent an electrifying jolt all over your nerves. You threw your head back in mingled pain and pleasure. He felt even more full now that he was fully seated inside you. He lifted you from the sink and pushed you to the wall on the opposite.

You circled your arms around his neck as your back was slammed against the concrete. Then Bucky began thrusting vigorously. You shut your eyes and moaned his name. Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t. He kept his eyes wide open to watch you with full attention. He loved seeing the way you were drunk in him. The way you forgot your name more and more every time he slammed back into you.

He loved the squelching noises ringing in his ears, better than the melody he was used to creating in the studio. The sound of your heartbeat was far more gratifying than the way Clint played his drum. Oh, how he could write an entire album solely about you in this state alone.

“You feel so good around me, doll. So. Fucking. Tight.” Your moans became louder with his filthy words in your ears.

“I’m gonna make you mine.” This time, his voice was sultry. It was rather beguiling than mortifying.

His hips kept moving and out of you with a vehement tempo, and then just like that, you crumbled. You screamed your pleasure, not caring if anyone could hear you. Bucky was still moving, trying to reach his own climax. Shortly, he was with you. He unleashed his cum deep inside you, adding the mess that was dripping all over your thighs.

You were a beautiful mess. And Bucky loved it.

After a few minutes, coming down from your high, you breathed into Bucky’s neck, not wanting for it to be over yet. You were a little scared that Bucky was going to walk out and pretend nothing ever happened between you. You didn’t know how many bathroom stalls Bucky had brought different women to and fucked them silly right there. You had a lot do unravel about him, yet, you weren’t certain whether he wanted to let you in or not.

“You okay?” Bucky whispered into your ear. You only nodded, still a little hazy from ecstasy.

“I’m gonna put you down now, yeah?”

“Okay.” He slowly set you on your feet, as he was still staring at your face. You leaned against the wall, trying not to collapse. Bucky picked up his shirt and put it back on along with his jeans and boxer.

“Let’s get out of here.” Bucky offered you his hand, like the gentleman that he was as if he hadn't just fucked you into oblivion in a public restroom.

You took his hand with a smile. You didn’t know what was going to happen after you walk out of the door, but you were going to savour every second of being in his arm if this was going to be last time you’ll ever see him.

You went home with a contented smile on your face. You were like a teenage girl who had just been asked to prom by her crush. How could you not, when Bucky offered to walk you home and left a kiss on your cheek before he called it a night?

Natasha was going to stay at Clint’s hotel, so you were supposed to walk home alone. You knew eventually this was going to happen but Natasha and Clint used it as a reason so Bucky and you would spend the night together too. You didn’t mind one bit, though. You wanted to elongate your time with Bucky and your wish was granted.

You offered him to come inside and stay for a little while, you were secretly hoping that you could go for the second round, but Bucky only chuckled and shook his head.

“Not tonight, doll. I ain’t that kinda man. And you need rest. But I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?” Then you and Bucky exchanged your numbers and he waited until you were really gone from his sight.

You walked up to your dorm with butterflies in your stomach and sparks fly all trailing over your footsteps. Thank God, Natasha wasn’t here. If she were, she would’ve relentlessly teased you all night and made you admit that she was right to coerce you to come.

And you would’ve had to admit that she was right. And you didn’t like admitting that you were wrong.

But tonight, you were going to admit it to yourself though. Sometimes, doing something that frightens you the most would endue you in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.

And you were going to thank your lucky stars tonight for embedding Natasha Romanoff in your life because, without her, you would’ve stayed in your shell and Bucky could’ve fucked someone else in that restroom instead of you.

That might’ve happened in another universe, but not tonight. Tonight it was you and you were really hoping that you were going to see him again in your dreams tonight. You had one taste of him and it wasn’t enough.

Bucky texted you not long after you took a shower.

“Dreaming of me, yet?” Wink emoji.

“Well, if I were, I wouldn’t be texting you right now, would I?”

“That’s true, but at least you’d be drenching your sheets because of me and I don’t think I have a problem with that.”

“I don’t need you to do that, maybe I can use some toys in my drawers tonight. They seem pretty bored.” Thinking emoji.

“Oh, doll, you are killing me here…” Drool emoji.

“You like it.”

“I do.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, doll. Thinking of you here.”

You turned off your phone and the screen went black. You changed into your pyjamas and washed off the remnants of your makeup and let the slumber take over you.

Bucky’s face loomed over you, somewhere in a fancy balcony, the view of the city stretching over, added to the beauty of the scenery. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white dress shirt and no tie. The first couple of buttons were unbuttoned, giving you a majestic picture that he was. His hands that were in his pockets, took yours as you exerted yours to him.

He leaned in with a bright smile under his stubbly face, his blue eyes sparkled like Sirius star.

“Fly with me, doll.”

“What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

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kimnjss · 4 years

Text

grand gesture | ksj

⤑ series: sugar free

⤑ genre: angst, rich!jin x artist!reader, college au.

⤑ rating: PG13

⤑ word count: 1.5K

⤑ warnings: there aren’t any, lmao.

⤑ A/N: this is a bit short, but it’s straight to the point and meant to be that way!! just felt like this part worked better written then told through text, so yeah you’ll see what i mean! let me know what you think x

A full week passed. A full week of ignored gifts being dumped on your front porch. You were seriously considering selling them, no desire to collect his half ass-ed apology. This was the exact reason why you were hesitant to get involved with him in the first place. He was exactly like how you thought he'd be.

Of course, he'd approach you on a bet. Of course, this would all be about money. It was all that kid cared about. The way he was flaunting it, trying to buy your forgiveness was proof enough. Did he not get it? Was he that dim?

The only thing that bothered you about this whole situation was the time you wasted hanging around him. All that time you could've used working on projects or perfecting your craft... spent and wasted with the hope of trying to get to know the guy. What a waste.

Despite the constant interruption of a knock at your front door, you had decided that you were going to use all this new free time to concentrate on your art. Summoning all the inspiration you could to create... something. It actually was harder than you thought, feeling unbelievably uninspired and a little bit sad.

From your friends, you had requested they didn't pop in whenever they wanted. Felt like you'd work better if you had a chance to be alone. What you didn't realize was that with all this alone time you really had a chance to evaluate your feelings... what you had been suppressing since that night out with Jin.

It had been obvious to the people around you, but you refused to listen. It was hard to ignore now. You were a bit sad, to be honest. It had been a while since you were able to let go and actually enjoy being around someone... romantically, and you hadn't expected it at first but you really were starting to like him.

Things were comfortable around him, he was funny in a nice way, cared a lot about keeping things light, and actually listened when you ranted about whatever was bugging you at the time. It had only been a few weeks spent with him, two dates in that time but you really enjoyed yourself.

A little bummed that it had to end this way. Couldn't help but wonder if you had overreacted, if you should have listened when he tried to text you about it. Stopped being so stubborn and forgave him like everyone had said that you should. Maybe then you wouldn't be this miserable, suffering from this horrible artist's block, you didn't even know if you were holding your paintbrush correctly.

The welcomed knock on your door had you standing a little too quickly, ready to ditch this blank canvas and see whatever had been sent your way. Nothing came in yesterday and you had assumed he got the hint... hoped he hadn't.

There's an arch in your brow at the lack of delivery man at your front door. With confusion written in your features, you're putting the front door open; eyes landing on a sad-looking Seokjin. He's dressed casually, opposite of the expensive tops and form-fitting jeans he usually put on. Pair of joggers and a plain t-shirt. The change was nice, made him look younger.

He shifted on his feet, hands behind his back eyes trained on his sneakers. You had to fight the smile that pushed it's way onto your lips, happy to see him standing in front of you – but quickly reminding yourself why he had to show up like this in the first place. Main priority was to be strong in this situation, figure out what he was doing here and deal with it. Not swoon and go all heart-eyed just because he showed up.

He should've shown up before all of this.

“What are you doing here? No ridiculously expensive coat to add to the donation pile?” Jin shifts at the sound of your voice, lifting his head to look up at you. He looks sad that you can't help but wonder if you're being a bit mean to him.

Although, him betting on your sex life was pretty mean in itself, right? Getting you to like him just to turn around and make you apart of some sick joke, that's mean.

“N-no, no gifts... they weren't working anyway,” He sighs, arm reaching up to rub at the back of his neck in the awkward way you notice he was always doing. Couldn't believe you had started to find the action cute.

“Yeah, sucks. You can't buy someone's forgiveness,” There's bite in your tone but he doesn't flinch, just looks down nodding his head. “Yeah, I deserve that. I shouldn't have treated this like some business transaction. I hurt you... I should've manned up and came to you.”

You're reading to rip into him again until his words are registering in your mind. Did he come here to... apologize? Eyes blinking as you stare at him, Jin takes your silence as a sign he should continue.

“Yn, I'm sorry. I hate that I fucked with you like that and even more that you're upset. I know you won't forgive me, I'm not expecting you to... I just figured I should at least say it, like for real, you know? We were having a good time together and I really like you, so I owe you at least a proper apology.”

There's a warmth that spreads throughout your body at hearing his words. Not sure if it was from the apology or the fact that he had just told you... to your face, that he liked you. What you had been wanting to hear this entire week was an explanation from him, not through text and not in the form of some designer shoes... like a real explanation. Could see yourself forgiving him if he gave you that.

“Why'd you do it?” Your voice is quieter than you remember as if you're afraid of the reason. Either way, you don't back down. Staring straight at him as if you're strong, waiting to hear what he has to say. “Because I liked you. And I know how stupid that sounds, but I was too chicken shit to do something about it... so I just used the bet as an excuse,”

Jin had said that you didn't have to forgive him, but that didn't stop the hopeful look in his eyes. Watching as you tossed his words around in your head, waiting for that smile of yours to appear as you told him that it was all okay. That you forgave him and if he promised he never did something stupid like this again, you two could go back to falling for each other as you had been before.

It didn't come. Instead, you were just nodding, taking a step back into your house. “Alright, well... thanks for coming here and apologizing.”

“So that's it?” The words are falling from his lips before he has a chance to stop them. Not realizing how expectant they sound, how he had promised himself he wouldn't act that way at this moment because he knew you hated it. “I mean... were you thinking we could, maybe, try again?” You can hear the hope in his voice and you don't miss it.

Did you want to try again? Let him in all over again as he attempted to break down your walls, he had done a pretty good job at it before. Were you ready for all that? All that came with being with him... like actually being with him. Before it had been different, you weren't sure of your feelings then, but now, you knew that you'd want more from him. An actual relationship. Would he even be able to do that?

“Was that what you were hoping for? Why you came by to apologize?” He's shaking his head before the words can fully leave your mouth.

“No, I came here because you deserved a proper apology because I was sick of being a coward about all of this. I want to be with you because... well because you're amazing and I don't want to miss out on that,” He's offering a small smile up to you, one you're returning almost instantly.

Still, there's something holding you back, but you're unable to place it. Needed to figure out what it was before you were leaping into a relationship with the guy. “Could I...? Could I think about it?”

“Yes, yeah!” The smile on his lips grows as he steps off of your porch, mission accomplished. “Take all the time you need to think about it... you can call me when you decide? My numbers the same!” You can't help but laugh at his quick shift of demeanor, the way he basically runs down your driveway before you can change your mind.

You stand and watch the entire time he jogs down the street until he's ducking into his car, and speeding off with a wave out the window. A hand lifts to wave back, heart thudding in your chest as you stepped back into your house. About to give this situation some serious thought... were you really going to be able to handle being with Kim Seokjin?

– rich, spoiled and a bit of a womanizer. but underneath all of that, there’s a heart of gold. and no matter how determined she is to reject him, he won’t stop trying until she sees he’s kinda sweet.

↲ masterlist ↳

taglist: @randomkoalablog @smoljams @dee-ehn @jaiuneamesolitaiire @lilacdreams-00 @sw33tnight @bangtansonyeondayyyum @okblve @jinhitwhore @tae165 @hellotherehoneybee @bangtansbun @betysotelo18 @cherriigguk @koostime @kooinluv @butterflylion @kookiesjoonies @uxwi @honeyoongles @imajiningseokjin @amoreguk @beeeb05 @tommasauras @bluefaeriefury @butterflylion @withlovestudyblr @samros95 @korkanswers @houseofarmanto @soulstaes @thesunisup-theskyisblue @jinsearth @aizuwusho @moonb0yy @tan-dulset @8sjaf @mini-coop25 @marifujioka @sunskook @elliemeetsevil @ratking101 @leovaldezisfire @greyaceupyoursleeve @emmy17jane

A/N: timestamps are important throughout the fic!! if you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask! also if you asked to be on the taglist and aren’t on there, it’s because tumblr sometimes doesn’t let me tag ppl for some reason.

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waitingfortheendtocome · 3 years

Text

Forced To Let Go CH 2

This is the second chapter of my Jemily fic Forced to Let Go. I’m sorry for delaying it, I kind of got caught up in the game Lara Croft: Tomb Raider lol.

Looking back at this story I realized I turned it into two chapters not Three. Whoops lol If you want to see a third part to this story let me know and I’ll be happy to write it. I was honestly going to make it more angsty by adding some ideas I have in my head but decided against it and ending it here.

I’m working on the second chapter to my Ocean’s 8 Lou Miller/Reader fic and I’ll pot it as soon as I finish it. I’m just working on the angle on how I want the story to go. :)

Warnings: No major warning except Angst andd even more Angst.

****************************************************

Two Days Later

Day of Wedding

Emily had arrived at the wedding a little late. It hurt too much to come and watch the woman she loved marry someone else and knowing she probably essentially pushed them together. Just the thought made her heart clench heavily. The other reason why she was late was because she technically didn’t have anything to wear since she packed all her belongings and put them in the trunk of her car. She had already given her landlord the keys to the apartment before she drove to the wedding. Her intentions were to come for the ceremony and sneak away and leave as soon as it was over, not able to bear to be there any longer let alone say goodbye to anyone.

Emily had gone to the bar to drink a little and be away from everyone only for Morgan to catch up unfortunately for her the man had been extremely observant since he had noticed how quiet and closed off she was after talking to him she confessed about her leaving much to his disappointment and Hotch popping up trying to talk her out of it but she shook her head stating she had already made the decision looking away and walking away but both men knew it was much more they where profilers they knew something else was driving Emily to pack up and leave but they didn’t pressure her. Instead they both made a point in making her final night with them worthwhile and memorable even though Emily doubted anything could cheer her up but nodded smiling not wanting to disappoint them.

The wedding ceremony started without delay and JJ walked down the aisle. Emily watched her walk down the aisle and Emily couldn’t look away. Emily thought JJ looked breathtakingly beautiful, she looked like an angel in her white dress and she couldn’t look away. The dress hugged her figure perfectly and her hair styled to perfection but what snapped her out of it was the smile. Emily saw JJ give Will the happiest smile she has given anyone and that broke Emily all over again but she pushed it back.

When JJ walked past Emily, Emily made sure not to meet JJ’s eyes instead she looked at Will’s direction and didn’t help but roll her eyes slightly. She looked around making sure no one noticed and was relieved when no one did. Emily after sat through the long ceremony and watched them say their final I do. After the priest asked if anyone objected and no one did despite the fact that Emily loved her but she wouldn’t be cruel despite the outcome. During that minute paused Emily caught JJ looking at her and Emily’s eyes flashed with pain but hid it instead Emily looked down and away pretending to look to see if anyone would object.

***************************************************

The reception party began quickly after, it had started a bit ago and Emily began walking around watching her team. Her now ex-team danced and partied the night away, celebrating JJ and Will now husband and wife’s wedding. It was at this moment that she decided to leave. Seeing them dancing smiling happily made Emily wonder why she did after so many times JJ expressed that she couldn't see herself marrying Will.

Emily herself found the man slightly controlling given how he forced JJ to tell the rest of the team that they were officially even threatening to break up over it and on top of that forcing JJ to tell the team about the pregnancy and even telling them himself when she wasn’t ready. Emily knew he made her happy but some of his behaviors unnerved Emily and she secretly had hoped JJ would choose to be with her but she knew it would never happen despite their fling and quite frankly she wasn’t surprised.

Emily watched Garcia dancing with Morgan, Hotch dancing with Beth and Rossi with Strauss. JJ dancing with Will. Emily walked near a tree and her eyes suddenly locked with JJ, Emily could see the look of regret and apologetic and Emily’s eyes betrayed how heartbroken she was. Emily simply walked on mouthing out congratulations, eyes more on Will than at JJ. Emily didn’t want to make JJ feel bad at her wedding so she locked eyes one more time to see JJ mouthing out an apology and Emily despite herself gave a single curt nod at her as a way of telling her it was fine and it didn’t matter.

She made sure she kept up a mask of calm and indifference all the while she pretended she was happy and enjoying herself. Despite feeling led on and hurt she was actually happy for JJ but at the same time she just couldn’t express it at the moment. Although Emily knew that JJ could see through the fake smile and sudden professional nod, JJ has seen her use it too many times it was the same indifferent professional nod she gave anyone she meets while working cases or even anyone her mother introduces her.

At this point Emily had to keep her distance and stay far from her best friend and being indifferent was the only way they thought she could. As well as running away Emily seems to be a pro at doing that too.

Emily walked to her table to grab another drink when she felt someone tap her shoulder. Looking over her shoulder to find Morgan staring intensely at her with a knowing look beside him was Spencer.

“What’s up guys?” Emily questioned

Morgan glanced at Spencer than at Emily, “I was going to talk to you.”

“Same, us coming here at the same time is a coincidence although I have to say Emily don't think I haven’t noticed.” Spencer told her eyebrow raised

Emily gulped nervously wondering what he was talking about. She knew he wasn’t aware of her leaving since it was a last minute thing and she has been very subtle when it came down to her crush on JJ not to mention her relationship with the blonde or lack of relationship.

“Emily I saw the look you gave JJ just now and could read right through it and no I wasn’t profiling. If that look doesn’t scream I’m not happy for you than I don’t know what is also I noticed a few months now how distance you’ve been with her, you only talk to her professionally when it involves cases and when she wants to have a casual conversation you either pretend you're interested or make an excuse and walk away.” Spencer explained worried

“I have noticed as well Prentiss. Tell us what’s really going on with you. I know you went through a lot and this is something that’s much more then.” Morgan told her arms crossed

“Ugh what did I say about profiling.” Emily told them irritated

“It wasn’t profiling Emily. You’re in love with her... Emily why didn’t you ever told her even before she meet him.” Reid tone was frantic and changed to disappointment at the last part of his sentence as if the idea of Emily never telling JJ was devastating to him

Emily froze and immediately flushed shaking her head, “Whatttt no what gave……..me and JJ? Nooo...we never…… I mean….” Emily stuttered but paused sighing taking a deep breath, “What I mean to say is nothing is going on between JJ and I.”

Morgan shook his head, not impressed by her excuse and Spencer rolled his eyes but his eyes shone in amusement.

“Emily who are you trying to fool, I’m a bisexual man I can tell you’re gay from a mile away and JJ is as closeted as they come and I know you two secretly slept together so I’ll asked again. Why didn’t you ever tell her, you know if you needed help I could have helped anything to get you two together.” Spencer explained crossing his arms equally disappointed

Emily’s jaw dropped for a moment shocked but sighed knowing they caught her and there was no way to lie to them and it would be nice to tell someone about it for a change.

“Okay fine I’ll tell you and I didn’t knew you where bisexual. How did I miss it?” Emily questions suspiciously

Reid laughed shaking his head and Morgan chuckled, “Emily I don’t exactly try to hide it you know. I didn’t just went to see my friend play you know.”

“Oh…��.OHHH.. Go Reid.” Emily cheered earning a blush from the man

“You’re evasive Emily.” Morgan pointed out and Emily sighed

“Fine… long story short JJ and I had something going on for years even while JJ was with Will. I tried to stop it a few times but when things got serious between them I stopped it somewhat I only agreed to be with her a few times feeling it wrong. In Paris she stayed a while with me until I recovered and during that time we talked a lot she told me Will had proposed a few times and she refused him. She told me he isn’t the type she would marry and would never marry him. I asked her about her type and she told me she would rather date me and give me a chance… she even promised we can date when Doyle was captured we can start dating.” Emily told them sounding sad looking down

Both men looked at Emily worried but confused. They both looked at each other and thought the same thing. If JJ was willing to be with Emily what happened? They both looked back at JJ and Will dancing and back at Emily.

“What happened? That could be you there not him. Nothing against Will but between us three I rather see you and her there.” Morgan told Emily

“I second that.” Reid stated smiling brightly

Emily smiled weakly at them, “She changed her mind a few weeks ago during the Oregon worshiping ritual case I told her and asked rather what we were. Anyways she told me she can’t leave Will and cant hurt him… well more like tell me she cannot bear to hurt him. She also said she isn’t ready for that commitment or the consequences that came with it whatever that means….” Emily shrugged. Reid gave Emily a sad look out of all the reasons that was the last thing he was expecting and all Morgan did was shake his head frowning, also surprised and baffled.

“So she didn’t love you back? She could have fooled us don’t think we didn’t know about you two but none of us said anything because it wasn’t our business and you never got in the way of work.” Morgan pointed out

“That’s not important anymore… She is married now I have to get over her that’s why I have to get away… Guys are alright, it was nothing but a fling between friends. Friends with benefits but I put an end to it completely weeks ago.” Emily told them shaking her head

“Wait! Leave what do you mean leave.” Reid squeaked surprised

“Sorry Reid but I’m leaving for London. I was offered a position to be director of Interpol and I took it… I wasn’t going to but I have to get away…. I….is not the same after Doyle I would have stuck around but after what happened a few weeks ago and now this I really need to leave I already gave up my apartment and packed but I wasn’t going to leave without at least saying goodbye to you Reid I was actually going to go tell you before I leave in a twenty minutes.” Emily promised

Reid looked at her sad and put out but nodded, “I understand Emily, I would want to get away for a while too if I was in your shoes.”

Emily hugged them promising to keep in touch; they then pulled her to dance which earned a real laugh for the first time in weeks. After Morgan winked and went to distract everyone alone with Reid while Emily snuck away but not before Hugging Rossi and whispering her goodbye to him. He was saddened but nodded understanding and she took advantage and walked away looking back one last time. The team was all dancing and partying Morgan and Reid doing a really good job keeping everyone occupied and distracted so none of them even noticed she was gone. JJ was holding Will tightly smiling brightly which made Emily frown saddened the ache coming back full force making her eyes water.

“Bye JJ. Despite how things turned out I’ll always love you.” Emily whispered one last time to herself staring longingly at JJ’s direction before walking to her car and driving off to the airport.

An hour later Emily sat at the airplane drained but she could never sleep in an airplane the days events catching up to her but she knew there was no turning back and she had to get away from it all. She wondered how it was that Doyle single handedly took everything from her yet it was JJ’s wedding that became the last straw. A lone tear fell from her eyes, feeling the plane taking off.

Is for the best Emily. You have to forget her, she chose Will. Emily thought over and over again trying to remind herself.

“Forgetting someone as special as JJ is the hard part.” Emily sighed softly looking out the night sky watching the lights of the city fade into the distance.

****************************************************************************

After the Wedding Reception

JJ looked around once she and the team finished cleaning up Rossi’s yard after cleaning they hung out for a while but JJ spent it thinking about Emily wondering where she was. JJ and Will an hour after it was all over drove home with Will originally they where suppose to go to a hotel to essentially have sex a couple but JJ wasn’t up telling Will another time but her mother had overheared and had none of it forcing her too thrilled to have her daughter finally marry what she described as an exemplary man who she always dreamed her daughter to marrying and JJ felt a wave of guilt thinking of Emily suddenly wondering if the wedding was a good idea when she knew who she truly loved was Emily.

She hasn’t seen Emily since they shared that look which hasn’t left her mind all night. She had a really bad feeling about it and she really wanted to talk to Emily and maybe straighten things she didn’t want to lose her best friend but something Reid said struck out just now that she couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. He had told her privately how sometimes during life and death situations is not wise to make major deciduous because you have the tendency of regretting them later on, that is why experts always say to wat twenty-four to forty-eight hours once the adrenaline is gone before making any decision and is worse if someone you care about nearly dies. What had unnerved JJ was the way Reid looked at her square in her eyes as they danced and said what he said to her made her heart drop but before she could ask they stopped dancing and went back to where Morgan and Garcia where and Rossi took over to dance with her.

“JJ I understand you almost lost the father of your son and want him around for Henry and to give him a family having him grow up with both parents close but why the sudden chance specially when you rejected the proposal so many times. Jayje as your friend and the godfather of your son know that experts say that you shouldn’t make big decisions like this as soon as you face extreme traumatic events or life and death situations you tend to regret them later.” Reid stated while spinning her gently

JJ looked confused at him, “What are you saying Spencer that I made a mistake marrying the father of my child who I love?” JJ looked baffled at him

Spencer shook his head at JJ, “There’s a difference between Loving someone and being in love with someone JJ for example I love you but as a sister I’m not in love with you romantically. They’re many different kinds of love JJ siblings, paternal, and you can love someone enough to procreate but not truly love them deeply in love with them.” Spencer spun them both gracefully while spinning JJ and catching her meeting JJ’s wide surprised eyes with his own knowing ones which JJ found unnerving.

JJ furrowed her eyebrows confused, “What’s w…”

Spencer interrupted her, his tone gently and kind, “I know more than I let on and all I can say is is stability, comfort, the obvious choice and family expectations really worth losing the person you’re truly in love with because trust me by the time you figure it out it’ll be to late. You said your I do’s to the obvious choice who had already giving up asking content with not marrying and trust me even Will had noticed. Think about it JJ and congratulations on the wedding regardless of your choice is your wedding and we are happy for you.” Reid stopped there dancing and winked walking away

“Wait Spencer.” JJ called out

“Yes?” Spencer quirked an eyebrow

“What do you mean and when did you learn to dance so well?” JJ’s voice was soft

“Just giving my best friend advice and Richard taught me.” Spencer gave JJ a wide grin and a knowing wink before walking away

That last part didn’t click to JJ right away until now the tone of pure fondness Spencer used when he said the name and when it clicked her eyes widen in realization that this Richard guy might be someone Spencer was dating but JJ didn’t knew Spencer way gay since she seen him show interest in girls too so that meant he was bisexual but that last part wasn’t what was in her head it was the entire conversation and when she looked around for Emily she couldn’t find her but before she could even go looking for her. Her mother and Garcia had shoved her in a car with Will sending her off.

*************************************************************************

The Next Day

JJ snuck out of the hotel dressed in casual and ran off. The entire night her mind was on Emily but unfortunately she had to focus for an hour on Will. Usually she can get off fine with him but last night she found herself faking it for her husband's sake. Thankfully he was no profiler and JJ was a pretty good actress and he didn’t tell a difference. She felt guilty for doing that on her honeymoon night but she did say she wasn’t up for it but not wanting to ruin it for him.

JJ got in her car thinking about Emily, she had asked last night about her but no one had seen her so she had called Emily’s phone but it was off. Today JJ called a few more times but it was off again and became even more worried JJ left a note to Will letting him know she’ll be back.

JJ drove as quickly as she could to Emily’s apartment. She wondered why Emily would walk out in the middle of her wedding like that, it wasn’t like Emily and she wondered why. JJ knew she was a coward and chose the easy way out and regretted it. Reid’s words sunk in and she realized he knew about JJ’s relationship with Emily so that means he knew something more and he was expecting her to choose Emily.

JJ ran out of her car and inside JJ’s apartment building and up the stairs JJ stopped at Emily’s apartment door and knocked frantically but no one answered. Now that JJ thought about it Morgan gave her the same look and felt dread that they knew that she didn’t.

“EMILY.” JJ shouted, knocking violently at the door feeling more dread.

JJ wiggled the doorknob to find that it turned. Unlocked? JJ thought confused and barged in knowing it wasn’t like Emily to leave her door unlocked. JJ didn’t even think of the potential danger she rushed in the apartment calling out to Emily. JJ ran in the dark apartment looking everywhere.

“EMILY.” JJ called looking from room to room finding no one except an empty apartment it looked as it was abandoned. As if Emily never lived there. JJ’s eyes widened and suddenly felt a wave of nausea at the thought. She felt the air getting knocked out of her lungs.

“No.” JJ gasped and ran into Emily’s closet yanking the door open finding it empty. “Noooooo.” was all that left JJ’s lips sounded like a broken whimper

JJ searched all of Emily’s apartment to find Emily’s belongings gone; nothing was left; it was as if she never even lived there. A broken sob escaped JJs lips at the realization and it all made sense. The phone calls and Emily brushing off the question when Reid asked, Emily being distant towards her, the smile yet JJ knew it was faked the heartbreak that flashed in Emily’s eyes at the reception party when she was dancing with Will and again at the ceremony. Everything hit JJ and she crumbled broken sobs escaping her lips followed by heavy regrets and realization now Reid’s words made sense. JJ fell on Emily’s bed curling herself into a ball crying inconsolably.

“Emily…….I should have chosen you…..now it is too late.” JJ sobbed crying her body shaking with every sob, “I love you Em please come back. What have I done...I choose you Em….” JJ sobbed

She chose Will because she knew she did but her heart was with Emily and JJ knew she was the reason Emily left and she didn’t know when she’ll come back or if she’ll come back. JJ knew she had made a mistake.

JJ laid there for what seemed like hours crying thinking about the what if and how happy she was with Emily and more importantly how she blew it due to her fears. JJ’s phone ran suddenly startling. JJ’s struggled to stop crying, taking deep breaths after a bit handling her emotions. She picked it up hoping it was Emily but her heart sank when it was Will who was calling. She answered and sighed telling him she’ll be right there hanging up. A fresh wave of tears fell curling herself into a ball again ignoring her now husband in favor of laying there crying over the loss and heartbreak she felt at the realization that the woman she loved was gone.

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” JJ whimpered sobbing. JJ grabbed on to the covers sobbing uncontrollably over having lost her best friend and the woman she truly loved. The once warm lively apartment now felt cold and empty the sounds of JJ's sobbing echoing on the eerily silent apartment a constant reminder that Emily is truly gone and JJ now realizing the mistake she made and not able to take back.

#Criminal Minds #CM #Emily Prentiss #Jennifer Jareau #spencer reid #Derek Morgan #Penelope Garcia #aaron hotchner #david rossi #jemily #jemily angst #jj #JJxEmily #jj and emily #jennifer jereau/emily prentiss #Jennifer Jereau x Emily Prentiss #I'm so sorry in advance for the Angst #angst

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

To Tell You The Truth Part Four

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: I promise I'm not doing this on purpose...I'll see you guys on Monday. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains vivid depictions of gore and minor allusions to previous abuse. Stay safe!]

"Well, there's our ride." Ezra observed, sounding relieved. You didn't blame him. The two of you had pushed yourselves hard to get to the camp with enough time to spare for harvesting after your short rest. Night had slowly fallen as you moved, so it had been a blessing to see the large fire from the mercenaries' camp.

"Let's go then, c'mon." You murmured, striding forward. A hand on your sleeve stopped you in your tracks, and you turned back to give him a look of confusion.

His eyes had gone wide, deep brown reflecting the greenish-yellow gleam of the fire. "Damon spoke of Karolclan mercs. He conveniently forgot to mention that they were the Karolclan mercs. The only ones that fucking matter." Ezra hissed, "That's fuckin' Mikken's crew, gentle soul, or I will eat my haul."

You hadn't actually been concerned about the mercenaries until Ezra resorted to dropping 'fucking' every other word. He hadn't cursed this much when you had taken a chunk out of his arm.

"Martyr's malfeasance, we are in the shit." He continued, sounding panicky. "See that woman? Inumon, the fuckin' Krebine defector. The fabled blood-soaked bloodhound from that whole mess with the Second Illumination."

Your stomach knotted nervously despite not even knowing who (or what) the Second Illumination was. "I...maybe I should go in alone?" You suggested. Ezra fixed you with an incredulous look, those heavy brows drawn tight enough to carve furrows in his forehead. "Look, I'm...I'm not threatening, right? If I go in first..."

"You wander into that camp of Fringeling mercs, raw at the end of tour--" He stopped, shaking his head grimly. "Gentle soul, the outcome of that particular negotiation technique has less and less favor as the seconds pass."

You swallowed hard. "They might be more willing to accept our terms if I...if I offer them something first. Damon said I-" You closed your eyes, not wanting to repeat what Damon had said about you and your potential bodily bargaining capabilities. "M-Maybe I could-"

"Damon is dead for a reason, gentle soul. And if that man did anythin' to you regarding something like that, he deserved every slug Number Two and myself placed in his churlish, thieving junkie guts." Ezra snarled. "Did he-?"

"I told you not to ask." You reminded him in a whisper. His fury made you feel warmer even as your stomach dropped out.

"That...you did." He allowed reluctantly. "I apologize. Intrigue will always be the death of my good sense." He pulled himself up a bit, squaring his shoulders. "All the same, no. I am not throwin' you into that lions den alone. You are no Daniel, gentle soul. Stay clear and close and I'll talk us through." Ezra bumped his helmet against your own, his tone serious. "When it comes time to dig, I'll need you sharp. I've never harvested one-handed before. I'm gonna' need some help. But we'll keep it creamy, and it'll all be fine." He assured you with a wan smile.

You did your best to smile back, but you were certain it looked more like a wince. Ezra gripped your arm tight, almost like a hug.

"Alright, gentle soul. Deep breaths."

…

The fabled Mikken's reception was...less than warm. As Ezra haggled carefully with him, all easy smiles, bowing and scraping, you watched the man's second in command slink closer in the light of the fire. Something about her eyes set off warning bells in your head; now this was a Krebine. She had the lethal grace, the jammer belt, and on her flank hung a red canvas square with a faded, complex insignia.

Inumon, Ezra had said. It sounded almost like inhuman.

You weren't particularly surprised when she lunged at you, but that didn't stop you from being scared stiff. Your back hit the ground hard and you felt her body press down on you, the square angles of her helmet skidding against the round dome of your own. Her eyes flicked back and forth, like she was waiting for you to start struggling. Prey, that was all you were to her.

"Inumon here has been lookin' for a way out since touchdown." Mikken remarked calmly to Ezra. "I'd reckon you'd best jump to it if you're tryin' to keep your pay...and your partner."

Inumon was muttering under her breath in Vayok, those eyes watching you as she palmed roughly over the front of your helmet. You didn't make a sound. You weren't sure if you even could have at that point, her weight concentrated on your abdomen all but cutting off your ability to breathe.

Ezra crouched next to your head, his knee rubbing your shoulder as he fixed Inumon with a fierce gaze through his helmet. "I am the gatekeeper to more wealth than any of us have ever seen." Gone was his easy smile, his words as strategically aimed as thrower shots. "And you've been wastin' in the Green for far too long to let that slip away."

Inumon slid Ezra's confiscated pistol beneath your chin. You cringed, giving Ezra a panicky look.

The prospector seemed unaffected by Inumon's threat, the knee pointedly digging into your shoulder the only indicator that he took note of your fright. "I'm afraid I am the only means to the successful end of your venture." He tipped his eyes up to Mikken. "And I say the terms have changed." Ezra rose to his full height once more, his voice firm. "Thirteen points, plus a ride for me and my partner on your handsome craft, or no deal. Find a way."

Inumon ground her helmet down against your own and you could feel the thrower pressing up into your gorget gasket. The chiclet of Brism popped free from its tape, landing somewhere behind your head inside your helmet. The side of Ezra's boot rested against your arm and you closed your eyes, attempting to center yourself with the steady pressure.

"Now, I do not intend to breach my station," Spoke up one of the other mercenaries, his voice humming mechanically. "But perhaps the secondary hydrogen four offers a viable solution to this stalemate." He hesitated, then continued, "one that will keep us all in pay."

"My boy, this is a winner." Ezra agreed, his genial smile back. "I think a little backup thrust is an easy drop under the circumstances. What do you say, boss?"

Mikken waited for what felt like an eternity before growling out, "Fine."

Inumon jerked away from you at the sound of his agreement, spitting more Vayok. It was clear that she was dissatisfied with this arrangement, and she made that lack of satisfaction abundantly clear when she grabbed hold of Ezra's filter and switched it off.

The man began to choke almost immediately, coughing and struggling for breath while Inumon just stared at him impassively through her helmet. You inched your hand towards her ankle. If you pulled, she would at the very least be knocked off balance; she would probably let go of Ezra's filter and then-

Mikken suddenly spoke up in Vayok, barking some sort of order, and Inumon reluctantly released the switch. She hissed something at Ezra that made his back go rigid even as he gulped air, the prospector glaring at her venomously before he seemed to be able to stop himself.

"Well…" he drawled, his tone dripping with forced joviality as he reached down to help you up from the ground, "gentlemen...and women, let's get rich." Acting like he was assisting you in dusting yourself off, he pressed the side of his helmet to yours and muttered, "too close, sorry about that. Glad you would have helped though." Obviously he had noticed your intent to go after her ankle.

You gripped his good arm tightly, nodding as you kneaded at the exosuit sleeve. You didn't trust your voice, certain that if you opened your mouth you would start crying and wouldn't be able to stop.

Ezra patted the back of your helmet and then pulled away. "Ready to dig?" He asked brightly.

...

It was indeed the Queen's Lair, or as close to it as reality could get. Rows upon rows of small mounds dotted the shallow crater, each one promising aurelac pearls that dwarfed whatever you had harvested previously.

Ezra was as giddy as a child, his exhaustion forgotten as he scampered around the dig site examining everything while you prepared the diffuser and the fazer squeeze bottle.

One of the hummocks had been pierced, the blood spattered around it serving as a clear indicator of the excavationary skill Mikken's crew possessed. "Somebody already gave her a go?" Ezra queried curiously, tugging free the knife that was still embedded in the hummock.

"We found it diggin' for tie-downs." Mikken tilted his head back towards the fire, indicating the mercenary in the red exosuit. The empty left sleeve of his suit had been knotted and pinned at the shoulder. "Our boy dove in fist first, and it ate his arm."

Ezra shook his head, ruefully drawling, "That's the price of a dry breach." He seemed a touch too self-assured when he continued, "but my chem will calm the brine." He began using the knife to test the area, carefully tapping the hilt against the hummocks.

It was important to know how filled with brine each mound was, as the prudent prospector would begin with the least full and work their way up, nullifying and draining the brine as they went to reduce the potential risk. Of course, you had never seen a cluster of this particular magnitude. You were uncertain if there was even a way to safely 'runoff' the no-doubt copious amounts of brine, but you were game to try if Ezra was.

"Hello, sweetheart." Ezra crooned as a hollow noise rang out from beneath the knife's questing grip. The older man flipped the knife around and stabbed into the mounded earth, slicing it open gingerly. He was solely using his left hand, the right hanging limp at his side.

You pressed the square container of diffuser into his hand when he gestured you over, and you could feel him shaking. Whether from excitement or weariness, you couldn't say.

"You got the cocktail mixed, gentle soul?" He asked idly as steam issued from the hole, the nuller working its magic to render the gear-dissolving brine impotent.

"Of course." You replied, all business. This was what you knew how to do. "Are we pulling them all and then de-blistering and fazing, or are we fazing as we go?"

Ezra hummed contemplatively, working his jaw. "I'd say a bit of both." He murmured. "Lest our gracious hosts grow impatient with us." He cocked his head surreptitiously over at Mikken, who was looking back towards the campfire. "We'll pull a few, faze, rinse and repeat."

"How's your hand?" You asked softly.

"It is...not suited for delicate work." Ezra grimaced. "I can feel it again and it is not festerin', mind you, but I know better than to try and use it for anythin' important."

You nodded. "I'll handle the skinning, then."

The two of you worked nearly in silence for a time. You constantly checked your watch, the red indicators at the top blinking to warn you that the second cycle had long since shifted into the third.

Ezra was slow, almost too slow. The minutes between pulls seemed to be stretching longer and longer as he struggled along left-handed to extract the aurelac sacks, and you noticed Mikken beginning to get antsy.

"Want to swap?" You offered, climbing down into the crater. "Skin a few, rest."

"No, n-no no, I'm fine." Ezra waved you off with that easy grin, but his eyes were grave. "I would not be of any particular use for the de-blisterin', my hands...I'm not up to snuff, gentle soul." He sighed. "This is the more prudent option. I am simply weary due to our forced march, you can sympathize."

"Is there a problem?" Mikken asked, his thrower rifle whining as he primed it.

"We're just discussing a switch, maybe taking a short break." You squeaked before Ezra could pipe up.

Mikken shook his head. "No breaks. You work through to the end or you don't get on the rock jumper. Simple as that." The thrower remained primed, aimed lazily to the side of you.

"Indeed." Ezra replied dryly. "We'll get back to it then." His hand caught your own and he squeezed it, whispering, "I will endure, gentle soul. I have no choice. Salvation beckons."

The hours dragged by, that mercenary with the voice modulator (who apparently went by Jack) wandering over every now and then to collect the extracted pearls and package them up. Your neck and back ached, fingers cramping from how tightly you had to hold the scalpel. But if you wavered you would puncture the blisters of carrom acid that protected the aurelac, ruining the pearls beyond any hope of salvage.

Ezra's breathing was dissolving into hacking coughs yet again. His battered filter had clearly given out. You rose from your spot beside the crater and nearly toppled in, pins and needles flooding your body.

Mikken leveled the thrower at you and you raised your hands. "I-I'm just going to tether to him! If he can't breathe, he can't harvest." You reasoned frantically, tapping your tether tube and then gesturing down at the wheezing man. "We have enough length that he can still work, I promise. I can always move closer."

Mikken muttered something under his breath, but lowered the gun.

You stumbled into the pit, moving as fast as your half-sleeping limbs would allow. Ezra didn't even seem to notice your presence until the tube had been hooked up for several seconds, the man starting violently and stepping back from you. "Martyr's malfeasance gentle soul, don't creep up on a man unawares." He said blearily. "Liable to get perforated."

You scooped the large knife off the ground where he had dropped it and gave him a gentle nudge towards the lip of the crater. "I know you don't trust yourself to faze right now, but I'm sure you can at least skin a few. Hop out. I'll extract."

"Gentle soul, I-" Ezra shook his head, extending his left hand to you. His whole arm was trembling and jerking wildly, muscles in spasm from the prolonged toil. "I can assure you that is a poor choice." He said through gritted teeth.

"You need to rest." You insisted.

"No, I need to get the fuck off this pestilence-ridden Nessus before I lose the last tenuous fragments of my sanity!" He snapped, raising his voice in frustration. You cringed at his volume and Ezra swore again, closing his eyes tightly and taking several deep breaths. "I-I apologize, gentle soul, it's not you that I'm-"

"Hey." Mikken said sharply. "You're here to dig, not have a damn conversation."

"And how much longer do you expect us to do so, praytell?" Ezra queried angrily, attempting to pull himself up out of the shallow crater. "The shadows are growin' heavy. We were hardly a dose away from the freighter pass when we arrived, and it has been--"

Mikken interrupted him with a shrug. "Don't take more than five minutes to prime the jumper for takeoff. And Jack's been loadin' as you harvest, floater." He spat the term like a curse.

You could pinpoint the exact moment where Ezra entirely lost his composure, the prospector seizing your scalpel and wordlessly sawing it into Mikken's heel. The mercenary toppled into the pit, his thrower going off as he did. Hideously silent aside from his struggling breathing, Ezra caught the back of the man's neck and forced his entire head into one of the many open wounds on the Queen. The brine hissed and sizzled as Mikken thrashed, then everything was still.

You stared at Ezra, who was staring down at the still-twitching body at his feet. "The...the shot will bring the rest of 'em in." He choked out. "Don't say anythin'. I'll do my best to salvage this, alright?"

You nodded dumbly, setting the knife back down on the ground and instead grabbing the small squeeze bottle of fazer. If worse came to worst, you at least knew you could use the fazer as a distraction.

Ezra launched into a string of profanities under his breath, each one more creative than the last. The man was clearly furious with himself for losing his grip on his temper, but you could hardly blame him. Floater.

You heard the distant clatter of gear approaching, catching sight of Inumon and Jack storming past the campfire. Your heart leaped into your throat as the mercenaries clustered around the crater, throwers aimed at you and Ezra.

"Greedy fool!" Ezra announced, his smooth grin back on his face. "Couldn't help himself. Took a stumble gettin' a closer look." He gestured down at Mikken's remains. "Now, time presses! And I am going to need assistance if we are to-"

Whatever he would have said was drowned out by the deafening music and static from Inumon's jammer belt, the woman circling the pit as the sound overrode the transmission from Ezra's helmet com. Your ears rang at the sudden auditory assault, making you shake your head in a vain attempt to dislodge the noise.

Inumon knelt at the edge of the excavation, her eyes trailing down the length of Mikken's body. You clutched the bottle of fazer tightly and, as you heard the primer on her gun shriek to life, you yanked Ezra's arm and pitched the fazer into the nearest open mound. Ezra grabbed hold of you, pinning you to the side of the pit and shielding you with the bulk of his suit.

The resulting chemical reaction rocked the ground and kicked up a massive cloud of dust. Ezra snatched Mikken's gun, cradling it in the crook of his bad arm and then grasping your hand to all but fling you in front of him. A thrower shot whizzed past your helmet and Ezra shouted, "go, go!"

His heavy boots thundered on the ground behind you as the two of you fled into the surrounding woodland. The prospector jerked you down into a bush and you heard the thrower prime as he checked the ammunition.

"Fuck, how fortuitous." Ezra groaned, "best hope they come in singles."

As if in response to his comment, that merc named Jack emerged from the dust cloud, yelling, "over here!" when he caught sight of your headlamps. His shot went wide, but Ezra's didn't.

The older man jettisoned the empty thrower as Inumon came careening forward over Jack's body, her shots not nearly as haphazard as Jack's. Half-blind, you and Ezra ran through the woods while she pursued.

You finally skidded to a stop behind a large tree, gasping for breath and turning off your headlamp. Ezra began fumbling, like he was looking for something. You heard the whining buzz of the scalpel.

He suddenly said, "If we uncouple, you can run a distraction, opening me up for the backstab." You nodded quickly, already trying to undo the tube. Ezra grabbed your hand, halting you. "Are you sure?" He rasped, the concern in his tone causing your eyes to tear up momentarily. "I know that you are-"

The jamming signal blared through your coms again, making Ezra flinch and stiffen in pain at the ear-shattering volume. You, on the other hand, ripped yourself free and slammed your fingers down on your comm-box, killing the radio in your helmet. You then reached over and muted his channels as well, effectively nullifying the blaring jamming. Ezra seemed to stagger at the silence, grabbing onto the tree to steady himself before he turned back to you.

"I can do it!" You assured him, yelling so he could hear you through your helmet. Without the aid of your com, you had to resort to analog measures. "I can do it."

He looked torn for a moment, then leaned down to shove his helmet against yours. "You run fast, and you don't stop. You keep plenty of trees between you and her. You come straight back here as soon as I make the kill, so we can recouple. Clear?" He demanded, his own voice raised. His eyes met yours fiercely and you nodded, letting him know that you got the message. You switched your filter over into his purifier hurriedly before he could protest or stop you, and then you uncoupled from the tether.

You sprinted off, keeping low as you watched Inumon's headlamps advance through the trees. A shot rang out, but she wasn't aiming at you. It sounded like she was headed for Ezra.

No time like the present, you decided, and you quickly threw your head forward to locate the lone piece of Brism. A few shakes later and the gum tumbled against your clear dome for you to scoop up with your tongue. The second the smooth coating hit your mouth it was like something exploded behind your eyes. Chewing furiously, you felt energy surge through your body. Despite your weariness, your dwindling oxygen and your fear, the woods around you flared to new and vibrant life. And through it all strode Inumon, her attention focused wholly on where she thought Ezra was.

You bolted forward, keeping the trees between yourself and her for as long as possible, letting her get as close to Ezra as you dared before you finally lunged at her. The clumsy scuffle of your boots in the thick underbrush obviously alerted the woman to your presence, too late to change course now though. Her body swung around to face you as you charged in.

You hadn't realized she had a bayonet on her thrower. The deadly blade pierced your stomach, your own headlong motion aiding the plunge. The Brism cranked the pain bright, sensations dulled and heightened at the same time. You shakily dropped your hands to the barrel of the rifle, about to try and push yourself backwards off the bayonet, but then…

Inumon started cackling at you, more Vayok words you didn't understand laced in with her scornful laughter. It was plain to see that she was mocking you though, mocking your pitiful attempt at stopping her. She probably thought you were useless, a useless little floater--

You're a floater, who the fuck would even care?

The fledgling pride in your timid belly roared to life like a bonfire at her taunting and you leaned into it with every ounce of the Brism burst, slamming your helmet against hers with enough force to stagger the both of you. You didn't recognize your own voice when you screamed, "don't you fucking laugh at me, bitch!" Blood and saliva spattered on the inside of your dome and you gritted your teeth, continuing to bear down on her head with your helmet.

Her eyes went wide like you had startled her, and she began fighting to free up her thrower from your abdomen. You snapped one arm beneath the barrel, the other above it like you had done a hundred times before to get the rifle away from Damon and you managed to jerk it out of her grip with the superior leverage of the bayonet, staggering back a step.

Ezra loomed out of the darkness behind Inumon as the two of you struggled, the man brandishing the laughably-small scalpel with deadly intent. The blade stabbed into the gasket on Inumon's helmet, whirring wildly through the rubber gorget and then piercing the skin beneath it.

Her maniac gaze landed on your face inches from her own and she shrieked, clawing frantically at your suit and then at Ezra as he punched the knife home again and again.

You took another step back, sinking to your knees as you tried to maintain your hold on the gun so it didn't end up doing even more damage...

The next thing you knew, you were being eased back against a tree trunk. Ezra was fumbling with your suit, trying to retether the two of you and working around the thrower.

You pawed weakly at his arm and he jolted, staring wide-eyed through his helmet. "Go." You rasped, shoving the tube back into his violently-trembling hands. "Go…" His jaw worked and he turned his head away, seemingly to look at Inumon's body. Then back at you. "Leave, dammit!" You spat, slamming your fist into his good arm. "Don't let--all of this be f-for nothing!"

That appeared to do the trick. Ezra staggered to his feet, grabbed his confiscated pistol from Inumon's corpse and took off towards the fire of the dig site without so much as a goodbye.

Tears welled up in your eyes and your vision blurred, your body working harder and harder to pull what little oxygen it could from the air left circulating in your suit. Now that the Brism burst had faded you could feel every inch of the bayonet, and each quivering, shallow breath served as a painful reminder that you hadn't died just yet. Inumon's headlamps were all but blinding, exploding starry across your eyesight every time you blinked back the tears.

You had always assumed, somewhere, deep down, that you would die alone. Being a floater, you had been alone for the majority of your life, and after enduring Damon's noisome company, you had hoped to be solitary for the rest of your days. As you watched Ezra's form dissolve into the haze of your tears, however, you couldn't help but wish that, just this once, you didn't have to be alone.

Part Five

#ezra (prospect 2018)#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect imagine #eventual romance #slow burn #Forgive Me #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #SPACE #canon-typical violence

153 notes · View notes

keijikunn · 3 years

Text

All Of Your Soul

Part of the @babythotshq mini collab!! You can check the other parts here!

Pairing: demon!Tsukishima Kei x gender neutral!reader Genre: angst, crack if you squint for like 2 seconds Summary: Your superstitious grandmother always told you not to get involved with demons, but how could you not when Tsukishima Kei, the one you’ve summoned, was so alluring? Word count: ~3.4k

Author’s note: Happy Halloween!! I hope you enjoy this piece, and a massive shoutout to @hidden-otaku-stuff @kaitycole and of course @babythotshq who helped me out during the process of writing this fic! Love you all mwah mwah 💞

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, minor and major character death, yandere!tsukki, mentions of violence, mention of sex, swearing

Ever since you were a kid, your grandmother warned you about the evil creatures that cohabited the world you lived in. She was often called crazy because of it - after all, she was an old lady talking non-stop about demons. However, that topic amazed you rather than giving you chills down your spine. Your curiosity grew progressively as she told you the same thing over and over: “Don’t mess up with them, or else they’ll take your soul away”.

You always thought grandma told you those stories just to scare you off, to make sure you would stay in line. But the way you’d laugh it off at the age of 7 almost like daring the threat hinted your disbelief.

"The entire hell can come get me, they won't be able to touch me!" you once told your grandmother, which earned you a scoff and a flick on your forehead.

"Oh, Y/N" she cooed, almost in pity, patting your head. "You will regret it when you're older,"

And once again, you laughed at her.

It became part of your childhood, long forgotten as the years passed by and the concept of believing in demons appeared to be silly. Your memory permanently buried it in the depths of your mind after your dear grandmother passed away, leaving this world with her tales from underworld creatures.

A long time since she passed,, you remembered the spooky way the old woman would tell you different myths when you were packing your belongings to leave for college. The old box stuffed inside the attic filled with dusty and thick books lit a lamp in your head, concluding your grandma used to tell you those stories.

Not only did she have short terrifying ones, your grandma seemed to be way more superstitious than just believing in simple tales. Some of them had different symbols, with many side notes written - assumably - by your late relative. The barely readable handwritten overlapped one another, all information mixing into a big mess that you could hardly understand.

“Granny was really into it, huh?”

It wouldn’t hurt reading them - after all, it would be for the sake of your childhood.

And just like you found yourself drawing strange patterns inside a circle on the floor of your bedroom with chalk, it hardly appeared but you didn’t mind. It’s just some made up stories, you thought, proceeding to let an airy laugh just thinking about your grandmother tossing and turning in her coffin. Your disbelief in these surely came from your young age. After that, all you needed to do was a single drop of your blood and say some weird phrases.

“If it doesn’t work, it’s because of these freaking sentences,” you muttered, pricking your finger with a needle. As the red liquid fell on the center of the circle you drew, the difficult words slipped out of your lips.

A few minutes passed by after you finished the ritual and the bedroom was engulfed in silence. How you wished you could talk to your grandmother right now, just to rub it in her face that she was wrong - even though you had a mess to clean. Tossing the old book aside, you laughed at the situation you had put yourself in and undid a part of the draw.

“You know, ever since you were a kid your sassy attitude got me on my nerves,” a second voice echoed, a male one.

You have never turned your head so quickly in your life, looking for the person who just spoke to you. A tall, blonde guy stood on the other side of the circle; the black dress shirt had the first three buttons undone matching with the black slacks. He was handsome, and you wondered if it was your mind’s work to show you one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen (and imagined) in your life. “It’s rude to stare”

“I must be crazy,” you laughed, rubbing your eyes, when you opened them again, he was still there, with an annoyed look on his features. “Granny must be pranking me, there’s no fucking way I summoned-”

“A demon, actually you just did, haven’t you read the book, dumbass?” he hissed, rolling his eyes. The blonde man crouched to look at the poorly drawn summoning circle and scoffed. “I wonder how you managed to summon me, this shit is terrible, not to mention your Latin”

“Well, I’m sorry if it’s fucking hard to draw it, let alone speaking goddamn Latin!” This guy, this demon was pissing you out, and he had only been in your room for less than five minutes. “Okay, I guess you’re real, my grandma was right, go to hell”

“A lot of people have already told me this joke, and I have to remind every single human that it sucks,” he snapped angrily, before sighing in defeat and looking at you. “What do you want from me?”

“Me, nothing,” you chimed sarcastically. “I was serious when I told you to go to hell, demon.”

“Can you please not call me demon?!”

“So how should I call you? Rex?”

“Jesus, you’re so annoying-”

“I thought demons couldn’t say Jesus’ name, Rex”

“For fucks sake, it’s Tsukishima!” he said louder than he wanted, his voice vibrated inside your body sending chills down your spine. “You’re the worst human that has ever summoned me, and it was just for fun!”

“Then stop complaining and return to hell, it’s not that hard!” you shot back, just as annoyed as him. A part of yourself, the superstitious one, the same one that had believed for a short while in your grandma, was screaming at yourself for picking up a fight with a demon, but your prideful one wouldn’t let that go easily.

“I can’t just do it when you fucking used your blood while summoning me!” Tsukishima exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you know how to read? It clearly says that blood rituals are strong, they tie your soul to me.”

“You’re telling me you, a demon, can't undo this shit?” you asked, at the sight of the male shaking his head sideways you groan frustrated. "What kind of shitty demons are you?"

"A demon that is way smarter than you, idiot." he mocked angrily.

"What am I going to do with such a pain in the ass?" The question didn't look for a proper answer from him, but either way he grunted in protest. "If I pray to whatever god, will you be repelled?"

"You're really the dumbest human I’ve ever met," Tsukishima stated as he rolled his eyes. "Of course not, what do you think I am? An ordinary demon from a shitty movie?"

"Well-"

"You know what? Don't answer it," he cut you, shaking his hand as if the gesture would shut you off. "Clean this mess, it's giving me chills seeing such a bad job."

"Use your demon powers to clean it all!"

"I'm not a fucking fairy!"

Tsukishima was just a single demon, but his presence seemed to bring the whole hell to you. His witty and unnecessary comments easily threw you off the edge, and as if he noticed, which he probably did, the man made sure to say at least one provoking statement every single time he opened his mouth.

It wasn’t easy to get used with his presence, especially when Tsukishima made sure to remind you every minute you were awake that “it’s your fault”.

Yet, the demon did not tell you how to break whatever bond you established with him. You came to the conclusion that his duty whenever he was summoned was to annoy people out. What a useless demon, you thought once, just to hear him screaming profanities and insults inside your head.

You have never imagined that this situation would drag for so long. Tsukishima was there on your first day at college, and he made sure to make you embarrass yourself in front of your class. He was also there to ruin your first date with a cute guy from one of your periods, Inuoka ended the night a bit paranoid about someone following him around.

“I think you told me you weren’t a fairy to do this kind of thing, Tsukki” you commented sarcastically, feeling the anger bubble inside your chest.

“You heard it right, Y/N,” he answered, throwing himself at your not-so-comfortable sofa, stretching his legs over the coffee table in front of it. “That guy looked like a little boy scared of his own shadow!”

“Why did you do it?!” The question came out more desperate than you wanted it to be. Inuoka wasn’t the first man Tsukishima pulled a stunt on, and by the way your personal demon (as you address him) acts it’s not going to be the last. “He was so nice, he didn’t deserve this childish attitude of yours!”

“Well, he doesn’t have part of your soul like I do,” Tsukishima muttered quietly, but his eyes spoke volumes about his feelings. The possessiveness shone in his golden-brown orbs, a hint of jealous maybe, and you wondered once again if he had feelings like you.

“Tsukishima…”

All words left your brain as the tall man walked over you, holding your face with his hand. He ran his thumb over your lips and squeezed your cheeks with his grip, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “What are you-”

“You’re mine.” He spoke firmly, not giving a chance to say anything back. “I have a part of me in you and part of your soul is mine. You are mine”

Without a warning, Tsukishima leaned down to smash his lips against yours. His movements were harsh, but it didn’t take too long for you to give in into the heated kiss. Your head was empty, and all you could feel was his mouth on yours and a slender hand travelling inside your shirt. The lack of air in your system made you pull away from the contact, locking eyes with him with a clear question mark above your head.

“What the hell was that, Tsukki?” The anger vanished, leaving behind confusion and a bit of… desire inside of you.

“I’m just showing you who you belong to.”

At that moment you couldn’t see all the red flags on that simple statement. The frustration of many failed dates piled up on your nerves to the point that you were not able to see the meaning behind those words. The mere thought of a man desiring you probably the same way as you did blinded you, and that made you snake your hands around Tsukishima’s neck and bring him down to another feverish kiss.

The rest of the night passed by like a blur, Tsukishima’s touch was hot on your skin - and you enjoyed it. The sane part of your brain didn’t have enough room to question your actions: what on Earth were you doing hooking up with a demon? Were you that desperate to be intimate with someone? As quickly as those thoughts invaded your mind, the man towering over you proceeded to take your focus to himself

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but once you woke up, feeling sore as fuck, you noticed Tsukki lying next to you. His eyes were closed, yet you knew for a fact he wasn’t in a deep slumber- he didn't need sleep. Nevertheless, you took a few moments to appreciate the view, at the same time flashes of your previous activities together came to you just like a fever dream.

“You don’t have a brain to think too much, dumbass,” he said without even looking at you, a sly smile graced his face nicely and you wondered if he was, at some point in his life, an actual angel. “Do you know who you belong to?”

“I’m not really sure,” you replied shamelessly. Tsukishima’s eyes opened to look straight at yours, arching his eyebrows at your daring tone. “All I remember is a very annoying demon being a bitch about a guy I was interested in”

Messing with Tsukishima became one of your favourite things, because his immediate response was to pin you on the next hard surface and engage in a messy kiss. Being with him was way different than any other relationship you've had, which weren't many since that demon was on your ass ever since you started college.

Either way, you loved the push and pull between you two. The constant bickering would eventually turn into a heated make out session, and sometimes even more than that. You completely forgot that the man you were in a sort of relationship (if you could call it that way) was a supernatural creature; your mind chose to bury the important information of who Tsukishima really was: a demon.

His actions started to change after over a month or two since you fucked for the first time. Although the snarky and teasing comments were far from coming to an end, you found yourself curled next to him every night. Tsukishima would hold you before you sleep, even if he had to spend a few hours in the same position (which never lasted long, he learned in the hard way that you toss and turn a lot).

You also changed around him, much to your surprise. You no longer found other men at college attractive; your Friday nights were spent on your couch with Tsukishima next to you, with a random movie on the TV while the two of you kiss. He was your getaway when things got too rough for you, with his hot touches and endless desire.

Maybe it was the attention Tsukishima gave you, or perhaps that he has been with you for so long, but he managed to win your heart completely. Every time the blonde demon hissed “you’re mine”, how he always satiates your desires and even the awkward moments when he tries to cuddle you. Every little thing this man does pull the strings attached to your heart and mind.

And you knew Tsukishima noticed your change of demeanor as well, how you got clingier as the months passed by, the soft tone on your voice and the lack of sarcastic responses to his mean comments. You were falling in love with him, and it was the most obvious thing Tsukki has ever witnessed during his whole life dealing with humans.

“I think I love you, Tsukki” you managed to say, your body trembled due to the intense pleasure the man above you just provided. His eyes were unreadable as he looked down at you, but you could dare to say there was a hint of fondness swimming in them. “I never thought it would be possible to fall in love with in all creatures, a demon”

“Yeah?” he caressed your cheek, tracing down to your neckline and pressing on the reddish marks on your skin. “And you were the almighty kid who didn’t believe in demons”

“A pretty annoying demon changed my mind, I have to add” the smile on your face was small, but held so much meaning. However, Tsukishima didn’t mirror your feelings, displaying a rather sadistic one instead. “And you, have you changed your mind about humans?”

“Who knows?” Tsukishima asked rhetorically, letting his body fall next to yours on the bed. "You're the most… interesting human I've met."

You laughed at his comment, pressing your face against his side in a loving manner. The fact that Tsukishima stood still instead of responding to the display of affection went unnoticed by you; he was being himself, you tried to justify his stiffness.

Your relationship with him was just like that: you being overly affectionate and Tsukishima… being himself, the hard to approach demon with beautiful looks and with a magnetic aura. You fell easily for him, like getting used to a new daily routine. In a matter of time you found yourself being more vocal about your quick paced heart, the butterflies flying inside your stomach and even the high pitched tone of your voice whenever you couldn't retort one of his comments.

The man, on the other hand, didn’t follow this demeanor - in fact, Tsukishima started to act the opposite way. He would avoid your touches like the plague, leaving your apartment late at night and returning near the afternoon with purple marks on his neck and collarbones. Something inside you, jealousy, lit up like setting something on fire: wild, uncontrolled and destructive. Once it starts burning, it won’t stop easily.

“Can’t you stop fucking other people around?!” You screamed at him, not caring if the clock on the wall just hit three in the morning. “Am I not enough for you?”

“Stop making a case out of it, Y/N” Tsukishima rolled his eyes trying to pass through you, only to be blocked by your body. “Jesus, why are you being so jealous?! We have nothing between us”

“I am fucking in love with you, dumbass!” Your high pitched voice was followed by a dead silence. Tsukishima stared at you blankly while you took deep breaths in order to calm yourself, but the adrenaline of your confession didn’t help you stay quiet. “I’ve been head over heels for you for the longest time and you proceeded to hook up with other people every night… Am I that easy for you? I love you with all my heart, a part of my soul is yours- why can’t you do the same?”

All you could hear at first was your erratic breathing pattern, then the room was filled with his laugh. He was laughing as if someone had just told him the funniest joke he ever heard, the way his torso bent forward to accompany sick amusement creeped you out. Tsukishima pretended to wipe a tear and smiled at you.

“Oh, Y/N… You’re definitely something else, huh?” He said rhetorically, stretching his arm so his hand could cup your face. You stood still, suddenly unsure about his actions and words. Tsukishima has never used such a cold and psychotic tone with you, let alone that sadistic smirk hiding so many feelings. “So you finally accepted that you’re mine, right?”

“H-How can I be yours if you don’t give yourself to me, as well?” Never in your life have you felt so terrified, something in Tsukishima’s demeanor screamed that he wasn’t joking around. He was about to do something bad, and it would be against you. “Isn’t my love enough for you?”

“Well, to be honest? It’s almost enough” he agreed, his index finger traced down your cheeks, following down your neck until it pointed directly to the left side of your chest, above your beating heart. “So, shall I claim what is mine?”

The time seemed to be slowed down, your heartbeats were loud in your ears and your limbs were numb - you couldn’t move them at all. Regardless, it would be impossible for you, a mere human, to stop Tsukishima from slamming his hand against your chest. You didn’t feel physical pain, but the sensation of something, someone wrapping slender fingers around your inner self made you scream.

“Tsukishima, w-what are you doing?” Your trembling voice made him laugh, the same hand he used to hit you fully on display for you to see him close it. The immediate reaction of you was a shriek, as if the demon was squeezing your insides. “What the fuck, Tsukki?”

“Why are you so surprised?” Tsukishima asked with fake innocence, wiping the tears you didn’t know you shed. “You just told me you loved me with all your heart, that a part of your soul is mine… So I’m claiming my belongings, after all, this is the kind of demon I am: whenever a stupid little human like you summons me with blood, they sell their souls to me. It’s a matter of time for me to get it”

“I… I trusted you, Tsukki…” Your sobs interrupted your own speech. All the intimate moments you two have spent together were pure acting, meaningless, just to make you give your everything spontaneously to him.

Your grandmother was right. You regretted every single interaction you had with Tsukishima, the demon you summoned before entering college.

“Well, it’s your own fault.” With that, Tsukishima harshly pulled his hand backwards, leaving behind only an empty body with no soul.

TAGLIST

crossed users are the ones i couldn’t tag!

@jovialnoise @paripedia @angmarwitch @shinhiromi @mariachiiii @elianetsantana @moonlightaangel @vicassa @boosyboo9206 @shrimpypenis @sunshine-hina @kozupresh @humanitysbiggestsimp @atsumubabe @sachirou-senpai

#bbthots #spoofythots #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader

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kaleidescope-writes · 4 years

Text

Rest Your Mind, Darling

Requested By @the-departed-patato

~~~~

Hi I don’t know if I’m dong this correctly or not but I was wondering if I could request a Loki imagine/one shot/fic or something. Between the pandemic making my anxiety spike, being really sick right now (not with covid), and currently being on my period all at once I really need some Loki in my life. So I was wondering if you could do something with the reader in a similar spot (doesn’t have to be exact. Just kinda that ballpark) and Loki helps her feel better. (I would like it best if they lived with the avengers but no pressure you can do whatever you like.) I know this is super long so sorry for that but thank you.❤️~~~~

Loki x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, slight angst, Tears, Soft Loki, Fluff

The level of stress in a human body is rated on a 10-point scale. One being the ideal and almost completely impossible to reach level. Ten is the level at which the stress can take a serious toll on one’s mental health. Before the pandemic began, the average level of stress one experienced was between 4.9 and 5.8 on the ten-point scale. At least, that’s what you read.

Reading seemed like the only thing to do in your quarantined isolation in the Avengers compound. It started off well in the beginning. Having the choice to train, explore the compound, read something from the massive digital and physical library, spend time at the pool, and tons more activities. All of which you’d already done at least a dozen times. It was only supposed to last a few months until the summer months came around, allowing the heat to decrease the contamination rate. Unfortunately, that was not the case. For six months you were couped up in a compound with people you’d gotten used to seeing. That’s not to say that you had become bored of them, it’s just that after months of being in this situation everyone has become more irritable and on edge. In the beginning, it was entertaining to see Sam and Bucky bicker, but now it happens so often that it’s become background noise.

You too have become more irritable with everything going on. It was fine at first, only going as far as being so bored you start snacking on everything and everything you find. You had friends around you that you could talk to about certain things; Nat and Wanda being your go-to girls for woman-specific things. But at this point, you’d heard everything they would have to say. You heard every story, every complaint, every pet peeve, and everything in between. There was a feeling growing inside you that made hundreds of negative thoughts surround your mind. You could only describe it as a deep frustration-filled anxiety You tried desperately to soothe it, but nothing seemed to work. Things got worse when your period came rolling into town during the frustration and anxiety. It wouldn’t so awful had the frustration been at a manageable level. That was not the case.

So now, you’re laying in bed, lacking the motivation to do anything other than move around to get more comfortable. It was well into the hours of the afternoon but you still refused to get up and greet the day. You were well past the point of tears, feeling nothing but an unnervingly high feeling of anxiety as you laid in bed with the sheets covering your entire body. Despite your current position, you didn’t feel any ounce of comfort. Instead, it’s like all you knew was this awful feeling of dread that surrounded you.

“Darling?” a deep, sultry voice greeted as he silently entered the room. You didn’t move. You didn’t want to. All you wanted was to be here and stay in your room until uneasiness either magically disappeared or was eased by someone else. You felt the bed dip near your torso, cold hands grabbing the covers and slowly pulling them off your head. Once your eyes met’, his expression softened, taking in your disheveled and tired appearance. “What’s troubling you?” he asked in a soft tone that showed you just how much he cared. You sighed heavily, closing your eyes as you pondered whether or not to tell him what was going on. Loki took your hand in his, making you open your eyes. He silently urged you to tell him what was wrong in the same way he always does; looking at you intently as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles.

You sat up, not pulling your hand away from him. Opening your lips to speak, your words got caught in your throat. Your frustration increased as you weren’t able to form words to explain what was wrong. Struggling to say anything at all, your breathing began to increase at the same rate as your anxiety, rendering you a hyperventilating mess. Loki instantly sensed your troubles, leaning in to hold you as you breathed. “It’s alright. I’m here,” he soothed, letting you clutch onto his clothes as you began to sob softly. You rested your head on his chest, letting him hold you.

“I don’t feel ok,” you confessed in a whisper, “I haven’t in a while.” You felt him sigh, hold tightening slightly as you cried into his chest. “I’m here, darling,” he whispered into your hair, “I always will be.” You calmed your sobs to look into his eyes, tears still staining your face. “I haven’t been feeling well lately. I’ve been anxious and frustrated with the world and I don’t know how to make this go away.” Loki shushed you softly as he wiped the tears from your eyes. He held on to your cheeks and gave you the warm smile he only ever gave you. “I can help,” he cooed, “No matter what you need, I can grant it to you. I’ll do anything in my power to lift your spirits, my love.” You gave him a sad smile before burying your head in the crook of his neck.

You stayed in that position for a while, not wanting to pull away from the comfort that he surrounded you with, strongly smelling of pine and mint. Loki didn’t let go. He knew that the best thing he could do for you at the moment was to just hold you until you were ready to let go. He meant what he said about doing anything to make you feel better. You are his queen. He’d do anything for you. Your sobs began to calm down and were soon gone. You still held onto him, embracing his presence as your breaths became calmer and steady.

Slowly, you pulled away from him, looking into his deep green eyes once again. “Lie down with me?” you begged, voice still a little hoarse. Loki smiled softly, nodding once as he moved to lie down with you. He wrapped his arms around your center as you rested your back on his chest. Intertwining his legs with yours, Loki made sure you felt completely comfortable with him. You took in a deep breath, letting go of any remaining tension you had with the exhale. This is what you needed. To be embraced by the man you loved and have a calming moment where the only thought that crossed your mind was peace.

“Thank you, Loki,” you murmured, interlacing your fingers with his. “Of course, my queen,” he smiled, “I will always be here for when your unsettled mind clouds your thoughts. I will always help you carry any burden and make your uneasiness go away. I love you, Y/N. I’m here for anything you need.” You yawned as the weight of your emotional state made you feel incredibly tired. “Rest, my love.” Loki continued, “I promise tomorrow, your mind will be at ease. Whatever you need, I will be more than happy to comply. For now, rest your mind, darling. I love you, Y/N”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

It’s a bit short, but I hope you liked it!! I hope this helps you feel better even just a little. If there’s anything else I can do to help you feel better, please let me know. I hope you enjoyed it😘💖💖💖💖💖

Oh, and here’s a hug, just in case you need it.

I Love You, Stay Safe, Be Careful, and I wish you the very best!! Thanks For Requesting!!!😘💜💜💜💜💜💜💖💖💖💖💖💖

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strawberriestyles · 4 years

Text

Chapter 5

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: Reading and responding to my fic are not a priority right now! If you have a moment or need the escape, by all means take a break and read. I will continue posting for this reason. I ask that when you have finished to please take another moment to contribute to the cause. If it's within your means, donate to a fund set up to post bail for protesters. If you don't (and even if you've already donated), take a few minutes to sign some petitions. Share information about organized protests. And LISTEN to the black people around you who are grieving and angry. Do not speak over them. Please, stay safe and healthy. Xx

“Yeah, she’s a heavy sleeper.”

“Oh, trust me, I know.”

Melody didn’t open her eyes as she awoke the next morning, her stretched-out legs aching from their angle against Harry’s bed and her neck cramped. She wound her fingers together beneath her blanket. Harry’s voice drifted from the top of the bed.

“That chair can’ be comfortable.”

“She's never complained.” Vanessa’s voice.

Harry hummed and Melody heard the rustle of his sheets. “She wouldn’.”

“I think Aiden should be ready for you soon. Should I wake her up?”

Another hum. Melody felt Vanessa’s hand grip her shoulder, shake her lightly. “Melody.”

She sighed, opening her eyes for the first time that day. She blinked against the sunlight glinting off of the floor tiles. Harry was watching her, sitting up on the edge of his bed. Vanessa must have helped him into a pair of pants, and Melody was surprised that he had even let her.

“Good morning, you sloth,” Vanessa said, tipping Melody a sly grin. “I swear you sleep more than anyone I know.”

Melody straightened out her neck, pulling her blanket up to her chin. She dropped her feet down from the bed and batted her tired eyes up at the nurse.

“Yeah, yeah,” Vanessa dismissed. “Get up and help Harry.”

“Do you need help?” Melody asked as Vanessa left the room.

Harry shook his head. He was staring at the wheelchair just a few feet from his legs, pulling his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He looked lost in thought. Melody raised a brow.

“Are you sure?”

He ignored her question. He leaned forward, reaching toward the arms of the wheelchair, and Melody was on her feet in only a moment. She slipped her arm around his back before he could lean too far, catching the brunt of his weight. It reminded her of that awful night she’d had to walk him home from his fight, when his stomach had blossomed black and blue, when she’d feared he was concussed. When he’d kissed her for the very first time.

Melody helped him the couple of steps to his chair on his weak legs, turned to settle him down onto the seat, and then stood straight in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Didn’t need help, right?” she challenged.

“I didn’,” Harry insisted. He grabbed at the hem of Melody’s t-shirt and tugged her toward him. It was a moment before she realized he was lifting the end to peer at her hip.

“Harry, stop.” She tried to step back but was pulled forward again, smacking her knee into the front of his chair and rolling her eyes up to the ceiling as she bit back a wince.

Harry caught her opposite hip in his hand, fingers still wrapped around her shirt. His eyes lifted to her face, brows drawn low. “Yeh okay?” he asked.

“Mhmm.”

Harry watched Melody as she looked back down at him. He peeled her shirt up again, resting the end at the bottom of her ribcage. There was a purpling bruise just behind her hipbone, splotched and fanning out into the surrounding skin. Harry switched hands to hold up her shirt and turned her by her waist, examining the deepest shade at the center of her hip. He shook his head slowly.

“Yeh got this in a fight?”

“Spar,” Melody muttered.

“Are yeh jokin’?” Harry lifted his eyes away from her hip, and that divot had appeared between his brows again. “Someone gave this to yeh sparring?”

“It’s fine, Harry. It doesn’t even hurt, it just—”

Melody cut herself off with a gasp as Harry’s fingers fell to prod gently at the tender skin. She jerked away from his touch but he pulled her back once again, and she was frozen in surprise as he pressed his hand into the bottom of her spine, touching his lips to the middle of the bruise. His breath fell over her skin in a cloud.

“Know what would be a big help to me?” he asked as he sat back, dropping her shirt and pulling both of his hands back into his lap as though nothing had happened.

Melody inhaled quickly in an effort to recover her wits. She shook her head.

“‘F yeh got naked again.”

Melody didn’t even crack a smile. She still felt the weight of Harry’s kiss on her hip, beneath the cotton of her t-shirt. She didn’t know how he could shift so quickly, easing comedy into things that seemed so serious. And this strange dynamic wasn’t funny to her. She didn’t know how to navigate the space between them. This was the Harry that had explicitly broken up with her, claimed that he didn’t trust her. He might be kissing her and looking at her like he was preparing to sink his teeth into her skin, but she really didn’t know if that same energy connected them emotionally. Did he trust her now? Could he trust her again?

“‘M serious,” Harry said. “Can yeh get changed so we can get downstairs? Unless yeh wanna just meet me down there.”

“All right, speed racer. Chill out.”

“‘M chill. ‘M fuckin’ icy."

Melody shook her head as she turned to rifle through her bag for clothes. She slipped out of her sweatpants and into a pair of leggings, but just pulled a thick hoodie over her t-shirt instead of changing it. Harry’s disappointment was palpable.

“You are a child, Harry,” she said with a roll of her eyes as he frowned at her.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just go.”

Melody shook her head again. She slid her feet into her shoes and then wheeled Harry out of the room, through the hall, and to the elevator. By the time they reached the therapy room, Aiden was waiting by the entrance, posted up against the wall.

“Slow morning?” he asked by way of greeting.

“No, this one just never wakes up on her own,” Harry accused.

Melody huffed half-heartedly. “Can you please shut him up?”

“Gladly.” Aiden grinned at the two of them and followed as Melody pushed Harry through the doorway.

She was surprised by how empty the room was. There was an older woman against the far wall working on her left arm with a therapist, and that was it. Aiden flipped an extra row of lights on before they made their way to their first station. The rain still hadn’t let up. The windows weeped and the outdoors cast a gray gloom over the floor tiles. Melody hoped the weather wasn’t an omen.

Harry sighed as they approached the dumbbells. Melody knew that it was his least favorite activity. Not because it was hard—although he was frustrated that he couldn’t handle the weights he was used to lifting back when he trained with Sean—but because this wasn’t what his main area of focus was. Harry wanted to walk. He wanted to run. And everything else, his strength and flexibility and endurance, that could all wait until he was back on his feet for good. But Melody didn’t fail to appreciate his progress. At first, he’d lacked even the coordination to simply lift and roll a rubber ball.

Aiden helped Harry onto the nearest bench, laying him back, and Melody settled into his abandoned wheelchair. She watched silently as they began through a circuit, working his chest, his arms, his shoulders. She was anxious, jittery. Aiden would determine today whether or not Harry was ready to be discharged tomorrow. He didn’t have to be perfect and he wasn’t going to be completely independent. Melody knew that was going to bother him, but she hoped that if he just showed that he was making enough progress to be allowed home that the new setting would give him some more motivation.

And then there was that new environment that added to her worries. They needed to have a conversation and she wasn’t sure how it would go. Now, probably wasn’t the best time but she was sure if she held off any longer she’d lose all of her gall.

“Hey, Harry,” she began carefully. She glanced up at Aiden, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was hovering over Harry, hands positioned to catch a fallen weight if need be.

Harry huffed in response. He was pouring sweat. It slid along his forehead and dripped to the floor on either side of him. If he was sitting up, it would be stinging his eyes.

“I, uh—” Melody slid her lips back together and took a moment to steel herself. “You couldn’t keep your apartment. The landlord needed to rent it out.” Rip the bandaid right off.

His arms paused, the dumbbells straight above his chest. He was silent for that short moment and then he continued with the next rep, grunting as he pushed his muscles even harder than before. Melody didn’t think this was a good sign. And that idea was reinforced when he didn’t respond.

“Are you gonna say something?”

“What d’yeh want me to say, Mel?"

Aiden no longer looked as focused as before. His gaze flickered between the two of them, unsure of how to moderate if an argument were to ensue.

“I want you to tell me that it’s okay and you don’t mind, or I want you to tell me that you’re pissed off.”

“Well, fine then.” Harry huffed once more as he finished out a rep, nodding to Aiden so that he could catch Harry’s weights. “‘M pissed. But ‘s not your fault. And that doesn’ change anything, does it? Bein’ pissed doesn’ get me my flat back.”

Melody was surprised by his attitude. She’d expected a little bit of a fight, a little more anger, but even as he said he was pissed it was like his emotions were dissipating. She wondered if he had made a conscious decision to control himself. In easier situations he would have been ready to hit something.

“Are you okay living with me, then?” she asked, emboldened by his reaction.

Harry was silent as Aiden helped him shift up into a sitting position. He took the weights back and began with a new exercise, glaring at himself in the mirrored wall before him. Melody watched him grit his teeth with every rep.

“Do I have a choice?” he finally muttered.

Melody couldn’t help the wounded expression that found her face. She took in a sharp breath. Harry’s eyes met her reflection as she made to stand up.

“Mel,” Harry grunted, dropping the dumbbells to his sides. He looked like he was about to try standing himself before he thought better of it, and he squeezed his eyes closed for a short moment. “Tha’s not what I meant.”

“And what did you mean?”

“Nothing. I just—” He huffed, almost grunted, and shook his head. “Nothing.”

Aiden whistled under his breath. “Dude,” he mumbled.

“Fuck off, mate! I didn’ mean that, okay?” Harry stared hard at Melody through the mirror, muscles along his jaw straining. “‘Course I don’ mind stayin’ with yeh. Just would’ve liked if it wasn’ just because I have to, yeah?”

She blinked at him, very aware of the way Aiden was rocking back and forth on his feet. “You could live with Sean. I just thought...”

“Definitely don’ wanna live with fuckin’ Sean.” Harry tilted his head. “Will yeh sit back down, please? ‘M sorry.”

Melody shifted until she was looking across the room at the older woman and the other therapist before she sat back down. Her front teeth gnawed painfully at her lower lip and she could feel Harry’s gaze still on her, but she didn’t turn her head. She remained silent even when she finally reverted to watching Harry work, even when they moved onto his legs. She didn’t speak until Aiden did.

“Well, I think you can leave tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Harry said at the same time Melody asked, “Really?”

Aiden smiled at them, although he looked like the decision had caused him some inner turmoil, like he was somehow condemning them. Melody, however, wasn’t paying him any mind. She was watching the way that Harry’s face had opened up. He was clutching the bars on the little walkway so tightly that his knuckles had whitened and she almost—almost—forgot the uncomfortable reaction he’d had to coming home with her. For now, she let her fingers sift through the hair at the side of his head and drank in the way that he grinned.

Chapter 6

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles series #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #boxer!harry #boxer!au #harry styles ferocity

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

A Thousand Years...

Chapter 2

Heart beats fast. Colors and promises. How to be brave. How can I love when I’m afraid to fall. But watching you stand alone. All of my doubt suddenly goes away…..

Summary: A soulmate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master. – Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

A new town, a new job, and a new life, one that you didn’t even expect……

Pairing: Reader x OFC Crystal, Reader x OFC Jessie, Jensen Ackles x Reader, Gino x Reader, Danneel x Reader

Word Count: 3039

Warnings will include… Smut, language, unrequited/ requited love, cheating, and possibly more. This is gonna be a slow burn y’all!! This is brand new, so I will add to it as I know. Chapters will have warnings of their own if need be….

A/N: So my little cousin was watching breaking dawn in the living room, and I was folding clothes in the guest room… When the credits rolled and this song started, this fic hit me right in the face… I couldn’t escape it.. I don’t know yet how many chapters it will be! But If you want to be tagged let me know!! As always all mistakes are mine!! Feedback is gold!! Hope you guys enjoy this one!!

Fic Based on the Song A Thousand Years, by Christina Perri

Want more? Check out my Masterlist?

*****MASTERLIST*****

*****SERIES MASTERLIST******

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Nervous, why the hell were you so nervous? It was just a trip to a brewery. It was very unlikely they were going to give you a job there. So it’s not like you were going in with your hope high here, that would be just stupid.

If Justin had done anything in that facade that you thought was a relationship, it would be to never get your hopes up on anything. Those that expect little were seldom disappointed.

Nothing happens for a reason. There is no such thing as a higher power. People tell you that they love you when really they are just trying to use you to get what they want from you. The bottom line there is love doesn’t exist. It’s just a gimmick.

The only thing that is real and constant is yourself. No one is going to look out for you, no one is going to care about you, at the end of the day when things fall apart you are the one you have to face in the mirror and go to bed with at night. You have to live with your decisions, not family, not friends, not “lovers”, no one…It’s just you. It’s always been you. It will always be you, and there is nothing in this life that will convince you to change your mind on the subject.

“You ready,” you heard Crystal call from the living room of your apartment. You all had decided to go early to the brewery before people really started to get there for the day so that you might have a chance to talk to whoever was managing it about possible job openings.

Standing there looking at yourself in the full-length mirror you couldn’t help but wonder why even bother. You wouldn’t hire you. Even though you were in your 30’s you looked young. Younger than you would have liked and employers usually look at young as lack of experience.

You wore only a light coat of foundation because it was rainy today, and you didn’t see the point in painting up like a french whore just to go to a brewery. You wore a black spaghetti strapped shirt with a grey and black flannel you had bought from Target, a pair of black ripped jeans, and black and white converse with your hair pulled up in a messy bun.

You vaguely wondered exactly when it was that you just stopped trying when it came to your looks, and if it was normal for people your age to just stop caring at this point. You were who you were, and that was it. There was no point in trying to fight it, and if they couldn’t expect you for who you were, you didn’t want anything to do with them.

You’d spent your whole life trying to please everyone. School was about pleasing and keeping up with the other classmates that were more popular than you were. In your relationship with Justin, it was always about him. Pleasing him, doing what he wanted to do. Being who he wanted you to be.

Growing up it was about your parents. Trying to be the golden child. The kid they could be proud of. Well, that sure got you far didn’t it?

So you decided that you were done with all that nonsense. You were going to be you, dress how you wanted to, talk how you wanted to, listen to what music you wanted to listen to, and do whatever you felt like it was you wanted to do. End of discussion. What you see is what you get.

Turning away from the mirror mumbling something to the effect of, “this is as good as it’s gonna get”, you walk into the living room where you found your brother and sister-in-law waiting for you.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” you say without much enthusiasm, grabbing your cell phone and shoving it in your pocket before getting your Id, your liquor license just in case you got lucky and they decided to give you a job, along with a little cash and stashing it in your other back pocket as well.

You hated carrying a purse when you went somewhere like a bar or brewery where people would be walking around drinking. You’d seen people lose their shit too many times at the bar you used to work for back in your hometown. It just wasn’t smart.

Crystal looked at you and took a deep sigh, but said nothing. She was the girly, girl, always has been, always will be. If she had her way about it, you would have thrown on a flowy, girly, sundress that showed off your “assets” and applied enough makeup on to scrape off with a butter knife along with a cute hairstyle and maybe a hat before she would have even stepped out of the house.

Which oddly enough was exactly what she was wearing…go figure…

Less than an hour later you were parking at the parking lot of the surprisingly expansive grounds of the brewery. This place was shockingly huge. You did not expect this at all. You expected a bar with a brewing system in the back. There were also more people there than you expected, and it was also only around noon.

“I wonder if Jensen is going to be here today?” Crystal turned and asked Jessie as you three started to take a walk toward the big red building that you assumed was the main part of the brewery.

“I don’t know. You really never know when he’s going to be here,” Jessie said with a shrug.

“Uh…who’s Jensen?”

That question made them both stop dead in their tracks and look at you like you’d just grown a second head or something.

“Who’s Jensen? Seriously? You're shitting me right?” Crystal said, her mouth was all but gaping open.

“Yes, I’m serious. Who is Jensen?”

Jessie and Crystal turned to look at each other for a moment.

“One of the leads on the TV series Supernatural. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Supernatural?” Crystal asked. “It’s been on TV for like 15 years…”

You said nothing, just shook your head no.

Pulling out her phone, she quickly started to google before finding what she was looking for and shoved it under your face.

“That guy with the short hair and the insultingly beautiful face,” she said a little too loudly, causing two girls passing to stare at you as they walked past.

You looked down at the phone and you saw two men on the cover of a TV guide magazine photo. Both of them attractive, but there was something about the one with short hair. His eyes…They were just …captivating.

“He’s cute, but how much of that is a filter, and computer-generated muscles,” you ask, handing her back the phone.

“Very little. That’s all him babe, if he’s here today you will see for yourself,” she said with a smirk.

“You do know your married, right?” Jessie asked as the three of you started to make your way closer to the brewery.

“Just 'cause I’m on a diet doesn’t mean I can’t drool over the menu,” she retorts back to her husband with a smirk.

“He’s not even on the menu he’s married too!” Jessie said, aging her on more.

“That’s a flexible arrangement, Hollywood marriages never last,” she said with an absolute tone.

You walked a little ways behind the couple as they “couple bickered” all the way to the front doors of the brewery.

You were impressed by the massive size of this place. It wasn’t what you expected it all. It was peaceful, beautiful. It didn’t have the bar feel that you expected. It was almost homie.

You walked past the solid wood tables towards the bar, taking in the sites around you. You didn’t want to get our hopes up, but you honestly would not mind coming to work here every day if it stayed this quiet and peaceful. Even in the gloomy, rainy weather, you were having today.

There were more people hanging around outside than there was in the actual main building. When you walked in you were impressed by the modern feel of the place. It was brighter than you expected. There were no drunk men hanging all over the place, hitting on anything that moved. There were no creeps hiding in dark corners. It was clean. You hated to admit it, but you were downright impressed, and starting to get a little wistful, which you really didn’t want to do because you knew if you got your hopes up, more than likely this was never going to happen, and you’d lived through enough rejection in your life, you didn’t want to live with yet another letdown.

Jessie and Crystal walked up to the bar to place an order, and you hung back a little taking in the room and the furnishings around you.

“Hey, what can I get for you?” The woman standing behind the counter asked you, and you blinked for a second, surprised that she’d addressed you directly because you weren’t really paying attention up until that point.

Actually, not right now, but I was hoping to ask someone if you guys were looking to hire someone,” you tell her, not getting your hopes very high.

She looked at you and thought for a moment, shaking her head slightly.

“I’m not sure if we are, but let me give you this to fill out real quick, and I’ll give it to Gino, he’s the one that kind of gets to hire and fire around here.”

You nod and thank her as you take your paper to a nearby table to fill out the job application. Crystal and Jessie were walking around looking at the different merchandise that was for sale giving you a little bit of space.

You were just about to get up and go bring the Job Application back to the blonde behind the counter when a man came and sat down across from you. His name that was embroidered on his shirt informed you that this man was Gino.

“Hey, I’m Gino Graul,” he said, extending his hand for you to shake it, which you did.

“Y/N,” you tell him, putting on your best smile.

“I’ll go ahead and have a look at that while I actually have you right here in front of me,” Gino said, taking the application from you.

He looked over it quickly, nodding his head as he read. You held your breath. You couldn’t believe how nervous you were right now, but it felt like your whole future was riding on what this man was going to tell you.

“I see you have on here that you have a license to distribute alcohol. Can I see that?” He asks, and you pulled out your license and handed it to him.

Gino looked it over and smiled when handing it back to you.

“It’s rare that you find someone that wants to work here that not only has experience working around serving alcohol and things, but to already have a license is almost enough to make me hire you on the spot, I just have one question though, and I ask that you please don’t take this the wrong way. Well, two questions really.”

You nod your head slowly, afraid of what was going to come out of his mouth next. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Are you a fan of Supernatural, Jensen, Jared, or anything like that? I know that seems like an odd question, but I ask you to answer me honestly, please. Jensen is around here a lot, especially during the summer. He’s part-owner of this place, and If I’m going to hire you I need to know that you can conduct yourself like a professional, and not a fangirl.”

You stopped him before he could go any further.

“I’m not a fan, I didn’t even know of his existence until my sister-in-law was telling me about the place a little walking in here. I’ve never seen the show, I don’t know who Jared is, and I probably couldn’t even pick Jensen out in a crowd. I have no problem working for him, or around him. I’m not one to “fangirl” over anyone or anything. That’s not going to be a problem for me.”

Gino seemed to breath a visible sigh of relief. Apparently fans tend to constantly bug them about working here to see Jensen.

“Okay, last question, and if you answer this correctly the job is yours if you still want it. Are you willing to sign a Non Disclosure Agreement? It protects our secrets for brewing, and it also will have a gag order of sorts to protect Jensen and his family. Jensen’s children tend to be up here when my sister, who is his wife, is here. It states that you can not give out their physical address to anyone. You can’t give out their phone numbers, because you will probably end up with at least Danneel’s number for work purposes, and you can’t take pictures of their children. No posting to social media about the job, anything like that, that could be dangerous to Jensen or his family, because not all fans are good people, and the protection of his children is our first priority. “

You thought it a little strange that an employer was asking you to sign an NDA, but you also never worked for anyone that was famous before, and you really needed this job. Also, he did make some valid points as to why he wanted you to sign one.

“I have no problem with that whatsoever.”

“Good, then the job is yours. Give me your ID and I’ll go make a copy of these and I’ll print out the paperwork for you to sign. After we’re done with all that I’ll give you the tour of the place…Jensen is in the back. He will want to meet you as well.”

“Thank you so much! You have no idea how much I appreciate this opportunity,” you tell him, shaking his hand.

For once in your life, it seemed like things were starting to go right. Even though you were afraid to let yourself hope, because it seemed like everything you had ever hoped for, ever dreamed about, had fallen apart at your feet.

This time though, this time something just felt right, even if you were afraid to admit it to even yourself. Something deep down told you for the first time ever you’ve walked right into where you need to be. That a piece that was missing just maybe was about to be filled, and you just maybe could walk away from all this mess that you called life so far whole after all.

Maybe….

An hour later you had toured the entire brewery with Gino, which had a whole lot more to it than just a brewery, and had filled out all the paperwork needed to go to work tomorrow.

“So, what do you think so far? Gonna like working here?” Gino asked as you rounded the corner to go to the back where they were brewing the beer.

“Yeah, I actually think I’m really gonna like it,” you tell him, following Gino through the brewery to the back office where only employees went.

“Good. Well, there’s one more thing I got to do before I turn you loose for today so you can go get yourself ready for tomorrow,” Gino said, coming to a stop in front of the office door.

“Okay…”

“You have to meet Jensen and my sister.”

Opening the door there were two people waiting on the other side. A skinny woman who Gino introduced as Danneel, and a man that honestly knocked the wind out of you without saying a word, all he did was turn around in his chair and look at you.

“Hey, I’m Jensen,” He said, getting up from behind the desk, and walking around it to shake your hand.

His grip was firm, his hands were a little calloused and warm, just the touch of his skin to yours made your stomach do a backflip. The picture that Crystal showed you before did NOT do this man justice at all.

In person he was breathtaking. His emerald green eyes searched yours with his grip firm on your hand. His t-shirt did little to hide the muscles that covered his arms and chest. His tall frame towered over you He had a light dusting of freckles that seemed to stick out under the florescent lights in the office, and a strong jawline that seemed soft under his light beard.

Mentally slapping yourself because you had already promised Gino that you wouldn’t “fangirl” all over him, you smile at him like you would do any other employer on your first day or interview for the job.

“Y/N,” you tell him simply, hoping your voice didn’t give you away, it was so hard to concentrate though, he smelled so amazing.

“So Gino told me he hired you today, when did he tell you to start?” Jensen asked, walking back around the desk. Danneel was leaning up against the back wall, saying nothing, but watching your every move.

“Tomorrow,” you tell him, watching him pick up his phone and start scrolling through it.

“Good, 'cause tomorrow we’re having local vendors out and there will be more people here than normal. Especially because I’m going to be here as well. Looks like we might even be working together tomorrow, because I like to get to know my employees.” Jensen said, and all you could do was nod your head, wondering to yourself how in the hell you were going to survive it.

You didn’t understand it, because you had never experienced it, but there was something about this man. It struck a chord deep in your soul the moment he put his hand on yours. It dug itself in deep and made itself at home. There was no getting rid of it now, even though you didn’t know exactly what it was yet. Almost like an invisible cord that jumped out and tied yourself to him.

With only one touch he’d intoxicated your very spirit and nearly knocked you off your feet. No man alive had ever done that before, and you wondered what made this man so much different.

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103 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 30 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Dramaaaa tonight, enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Willam finally got into Fame’s office, and Pearl got back on track with Violet--or so she thought.

This Chapter: Courtney and Pearl are both in for a very rude awakening, but someone is in the right place at the right time.

***

Courtney hurried out of Fame’s office, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“Oh, hey.” Alaska looked up from her desk, where she was writing a note. “I thought you’d stepped out, so I was...is everything okay? You look like you’ve been running.”

Courtney hated to lie, and especially to Alaska, who’d been so wonderful to her, but she didn’t know what else to do.

“Oh, yeah, I was just, um, doing some deep cleaning so that everything will be nice when Miss Fame comes back. More strenuous work than I expected…” She gave a nervous laugh.

“Okay…” Alaska pressed her lips together, clearly not 100% convinced, but thankfully willing to let it drop for now. “I came to talk about Miss Fame’s schedule, because we’re starting that campaign and she’s the most important part of it.”

“Right, of course.” Courtney scurried into her desk chair, trying not to worry about Willam, trapped in Fame’s office, just hoping he’d stay quiet until Alaska’s business was through, when she’d hurry him out.

It was a terrible idea, inviting him here, and she already regretted it. When they spoke this morning, she thought that having him come by would be a nice break in the day, something that would make her feel good, but instead the whole thing was just an anxious nightmare, completely not worth it.

Alaska dragged over a seat and pulled out her notebook as Courtney opened her calendar. It took them a few minutes, but finally, she seemed satisfied with the tentative dates that Courtney provided.

“I think we can make it work,” she sighed, sitting back. “I didn’t think about what a logistical nightmare this would be when I pitched the idea.”

Courtney smiled. “It’s a good idea, though. I mean, that’s why people are buying Galactica makeup, right? So that they can pretend, even just for a little while, that they’re as glamorous as Miss Fame?”

“Exactly.” Alaska smiled at her. “So…I believe we owe ourselves a tea party, don’t we?”

“Oh, um…” Courtney’s gaze shifted to Miss Fame’s office, where she knew Willam was still waiting.

“Come on, you can take a little break. After all, it’s almost 9 pm in Paris, right?”

“Yeah, true.” Courtney sighed. Willam would be fine, he’d just have to wait. “I’ll go turn on the kettle.”

She rose and walked towards the little kitchenette, Alaska following her to assist, helping her get cups and saucers down from the shelf, putting everything on a tray. Alaska was truly different than the other executives at this company, who always expected to be served. It wasn’t that Courtney minded doing it--after all, that was her job--it was just that some people had the tendency to look right through her, barely acknowledging her as a person. It got a little tedious after awhile.

Alaska was different, despite being a department head. She always looked right into her eyes when they spoke, always said thank you when anyone gave her anything, and lent a hand whenever she could.

“So...how’s it been going? You’re been here for awhile, are you settling in okay?” Alaska asked.

“Yeah, it’s been...I think I’m starting to get the hang of things.”

“I bet you’re enjoying the freedom of having the boss lady out of town, huh?” Alaska’s brown eyes twinkled conspiratorially.

“Well, uh...actually, it’ll be nice to have them back,” Courtney said honestly. “I mean, I’ll definitely be super relieved when Violet’s back.”

“Yeah, I imagine that running the office on your own is a handful,” Alaska said, stirring her tea thoughtfully.

“Mmhmm…” Courtney took a sip of her tea, wishing once again that she worked for Alaska. She was so kind and understanding.

The sound of muffled, distant clattering made Alaska’s head snap up sharply, and Courtney cringed inwardly.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Courtney asked, twirling a lock of blonde hair in her fingers.

“It sounded like it was coming from inside Miss Fame’s office,” Alaska said.

“Oh, um, I don’t think that’s…” It was no use. The bright pink flush creeping into her cheeks was a dead giveaway, and as Courtney trailed off, Alaska put her hands on her hips.

“Who’s in there, Courtney?”

Courtney gulped, admitting, “My boyfriend…”

“Ugh, Courtney…” Alaska clucked disapprovingly, walking over to the door, using the key card clipped to Courtney’s skirt to open the door. “You!”

She pointed at Willam, who was busily cleaning up papers he’d somehow knocked off Miss Fame’s desk.

“Playtime’s over. Say goodbye and be on your way.” Alaska snapped her fingers and Willam hurried out of the office.

“I’m sorry, Alaska, I know it was stupid, please don’t tell-” Courtney began, but Alaska was scrutizing Willam with narrowed eyes.

“What’s your name?” she asked, and he blanched, but Courtney quickly stood in front of him.

“It’s not his fault. I’m the one who suggested we go into the office. I just wanted a few minutes of privacy, but I know it was dumb.” She turned to Willam, saying, “You should go. I’ll call you later.”

Willam nodded, bolting from the office quickly, practically running to get to the elevators. Even though that’s what Courtney had asked him to do, she couldn’t help be a little annoyed at how eagerly he’d gone, a strange spring in his step, not looking the slightest bit regretful. But there wasn’t time to dwell on that right now.

Courtney faced Alaska again, steeling her shoulders, prepared for the worst.

“Are you gonna tell on me?”

Alaska tapped her long nails against Courtney’s desk, thinking.

“I know that kid.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, but I just can’t remember how…” She squinted, trying to place him.

“Well, maybe you-”

“Oh, shit.” Alaska pulled up her phone, tapping away on the screen, making Courtney grow agitated.

“What are you doing?”

“Hoping I’m wrong, for your sake…” Alaska finally found what she’s looking for, heaving a deep sigh. “Here.”

She slid the phone across the desk, over to where Courtney stood.

“I knew I’d seen him around. His husband is an accountant, he does my taxes.”

“Husband?” A terrible, terrible feeling began to creep into Courtney’s stomach. Willam was married? To a man?

“Yeah.”

Courtney picked the phone up slowly. That was Willam, alright. Willam with his arms wrapped around a handsome older man, Willam with the same man and a group of other guys on the beach, Willam with the man and a huge Saint Bernard.

A million confusing thoughts swirled in Courtney’s head, and she sat down heavily, trying to make heads or tails of them. Was Willam cheating on his husband with her? And if he was, why the slow, chaste, Victorian courtship? Even today, in Miss Fame’s office, she was the one who took things to the next level. She was the one grinding against him, trying desperately to feel something, to prove to herself that this was more than just a platonic relationship.

She’d known, of course, that their (lack of) chemistry was weird. But she thought it was due to Willam being respectful, and to her own hang-ups about guys. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.

“I think you better ask your boyfriend some questions, Courtney,” Alaska said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah.”

What she really needed was to talk to someone about this. Someone who understood her, someone who could help her sort through her confusion. After Alaska left the office, she immediately went to her purse to pull out her personal cell, calling the one person she knew could help her feel less alone.

***

“And this one,” Pearl grinned. She was showing Violet the photos she had taken that day, their legs pressed together. “Matches her dog perfectly.”

“What?” Violet looked up from her vodka cranberry, a smile on her lips, and Pearl couldn’t get over how sweet she was, how beautiful she looked.

They were sitting at the bar at an overly fancy cocktail hour, both of them waiting for Fame. They were on the outskirts of the party, everyone else rubbing elbows and kissing ass, but Pearl didn’t care about any of that, not when she had Violet’s attention.

It felt great to finally be okay again, to be them. Pearl flirted with a lot of different women, and had slept with quite a few since that fateful night at the Fashion Fund party, but this was something else, something special.

“I’m serious.” Pearl smiled, and Violet reached out, trying to grab the phone, her chest bumping against her arm.

Pearl didn’t want to be too forward in her advances, they had a week in the city of love after all, but if the way Violet’s eyes shone was any indication, if the giggle in her voice held any promise at all, they’d be curled up in bed together soon enough.

“Damn pumpkin, getting frisky huh?” Pearl raised an eyebrow, making sure that Violet saw that she was attempting to look down her top.

“Pearl-” Violet groaned, sitting up straight, holding a hand in front of herself to make sure Pearl couldn’t see anything at all.

“Just wanted to check if you were wearing a bra.” Pearl grinned, the fact that Violet was blushing the exact reaction she had gunned for.

It felt great to be back on track, to be able to play Violet again, the other woman so perfectly easy once Pearl wormed her way under her skin.

“You do know that Galactica has a strict policy about appropriate public behavior.” Pearl reached for her drink, making sure that her leg was glued to Violet’s. She couldn’t remember much from when Violet had fixed her up, but she did remember the other woman nagging her about the company guidelines.

“Please.” Violet rolled her eyes, but Pearl could see the smile lurking in the corner of her mouth. “Like you ever cared for a policy in your life.”

“Oh I care, Violet.” Pearl smirked. “I care very, very deeply.”

Violet snorted, a short laugh leaving her. “Show me the photo.”

“Ask nicely.”

“You’re so annoying.” Violet went for the phone again, but Pearl put an arm around her back, her hand resting on her hip.

“You love me.” Pearl grinned as she tilted her phone, showing Violet the photo of a woman who was wearing an outfit entirely with black and white polkadots, a dalmatian sitting by her side.

“Oh my god.” Violet looked up, a gigantic smile on her lips. “This is amazing!”

Pearl grinned, turning slightly so she could rest her cheek against Violet’s head, the smell of her hair in her nose. It was incredibly intimate, Violet flicking through her phone.

She could stay here forever, Violet commenting on everyone’s outfits, fashion a subject she could discuss endlessly.

“So,” Pearl used her free hand to reach up, gently touching Violet’s hair as she tucked it behind her ear.

“Hey,” Violet giggled, trying to twist away , but Pearl held her close, “that tickles-”

“Violet,” Pearl twisted her upper body, Violet looking straight at her. “Do you want to-”

In that exact moment, Violet’s phone started vibrating, and Pearl groaned.

Violet raised a brow, clearly not understanding why Pearl was acting that way as she reached for her phone.

“You don’t have to take the call.” Pearl tried to put her hand on top of Violet’s, “We’re having fun, right?”

“Pearl,” Violet sighed, evading her hand. “Please.”

Violet took her phone, turning the screen. Pearl had expected it to be Fame, for Violet to look exasperated, but instead, her entire face lit up as she accepted the call.

“Hello?” Violet smiled.

“Who are you talking to?”

Violet ignored Pearl, not answering her question.

“Mmh. Yes. Yes, I’m at the bar. Where are you?”

She stood up, shaking Pearl’s hand off before she turned around.

“Ah!” Violet grinned. “I see you.”

Without as much as looking at her, Violet left, not even giving Pearl the chance to say anything else.

Pearl turned, confused and annoyed at what could possibly have captured Violet’s attention so thoroughly.

Violet was making a beeline towards Sutan Amrull, stopping in front of him, eyes bright as she eagerly chatted. Pearl had no idea they even knew each other, and Violet never talked like that to anybody, barely even her.

Sutan was Raja’s twin though, so Pearl decided to let it go, the two of them probably discussing something boring and business related.

She had decided not to watch, when Sutan placed an arm around Violet's waist, pulling her in, and Pearl felt her body light on fire.

She was ready to get up, willing to make it a fight if she had to, no one else allowed to touch her Violet like that, good reputations be damned, but then, insteading of struggling to get away, Violet leaned in, placing a sweet but quick kiss against Sutan’s lips, causing Sutan to laugh.

Pearl felt her jaw drop, her fingers tightening around her glas.

What the fuck? Was Violet with Sutan?

Pearl bit her lip, hurt rushing over her, her stomach clenching.

Had she been acting a fool?

Pearl Liaison always got what she wanted, but as she watched Violet, a sense of dread settled over her.

Sutan had to have been the man at the bar. There was no other way around it, all the puzzle pieces falling into place.

Pearl emptied her drink in one big gulp, the alcohol burning on its way down. She flagged the bartender, ordering another drink, determined to drown her sorrows.

She had decided on alcohol, had figured that would be the quickest way to forget how humiliated she felt, but as Pearl made her way through her third cocktail, she spotted Adore from across the bar, the other woman in deep conversation with Raven.

***

Adore was in ecstasy, finally getting the attention from Pearl that she’d been craving, not even caring that it was happening pressed against the sinks in a club bathroom. Her mind was empty of everything except Pearl’s fingers expertly working her into a quivering mess, those sleepy, knowing eyes raking over her body as she arched into Pearl’s touch.

It was so hot, the way Pearl had caught her eye and then marched over, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her roughly into the nearby restroom. The dominant, brooding energy she was exuding right now was everything Adore wanted, made her heart pound with excitement and just a perfect hint of fear.

“Someone’s obsessed with you,” Pearl murmured into her ear, making her shiver.

“Mmm?”

“You’re buzzing out of control,” Pearl clarified, gesturing to the phone in Adore’s jacket pocket.

“Oh...sorry.”

Adore pulled the phone out, quickly shutting it off and stuffing it back into her pocket just as Pearl’s fingers curled against her g-spot, making her cry out. Whoever was trying to reach her would just have to understand.

“Omigod, Pearl, yes! Right there…” Adore moaned.

“Come for me, baby,” Pearl husked into her ear, then sank her teeth into a particularly tender spot on her neck.

Adore gasped, hips rolling, fingers tangled in Pearl’s hair.

“I’m coming, I’m coming...oh gooood…”

***

Willam was so screwed. On the subway, he’d gleefully clicked through all of the pictures, only to have his heart fall further and further with every one. The whole mission had been absolutely futile. Page after page of design ideas, marketing notes. The only thing remotely scandalous was a vibrator in the bottom drawer of her desk, a locked part he had to jimmy open with a paperclip, but even that amounted to a big Who Cares.

Certainly not groundbreaking journalism.

But he couldn’t give up. Not when he’d come so far. There had to be something. So he took a deep breath and fired off a few texts to Courtney.

WILLAM: Hey beautiful, so sorry for racing out like that

WILLAM: I hope I didn’t get you in trouble

WILLAM: Are you okay, baby?

The response had been entirely unlike her. ‘Meet me at Radicchio. 7.’

No emojis, no exclamation points - nothing cute or flirty to tell him that things were still good. Which meant that they probably weren’t. That this wasn’t gonna be a nice, normal date, but in fact a Serious Talk, which was just not something Willam had prepared for in this plan.

Part of Willam thought he should just ignore it. Cut ties, walk away, be done with the whole thing. File this one as a loss and move on. But the stubborn part still didn’t want to give up. He’d lost his fucking job over this story, how could he just drop it without a second thought? So she might be mad, he might need to do a little damage control. He could handle that, right?

When Courtney entered the restaurant, he was already sitting at a booth waiting, hands folded in front of him. He jumped up, moving to give her a hug, but she avoided him and instead sat down, stone-faced.

Courtney didn’t remove her jacket or take her purse off her shoulder. More very bad signs.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Willam asked carefully, reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry for leaving you, I didn’t think it would help you to make a scene, I just-”

“Are you married?”

Willam flinched. He’d been so incredibly careful to mask his personal life. He’d deleted his Facebook account, only communicating through that fake Instagram he’d set up to talk to her. How could she possibly have found out?

“Why would you...why would you ask that?” he ventured.

“Oh god.” Courtney closed her eyes briefly. “It’s true, isn’t it? You’re married. To a man.”

“Well, I-listen. It’s not a traditional marriage, we have an open-”

“Then why not tell me?” Courtney demanded, then answered her own question, shaking her head. “Are you even attracted to me? You’re obviously not. I guess I knew, but I just wanted so badly for this to be real, I’m such an idiot-”

“Courtney, listen-”

“No! I don’t get it, is this just some kind of sick game? Why? Why all the lies? Why pretend that you like me?”

Willam shut his eyes. A million excuses were on the tip of his tongue, lies to cover up lies, but none of them would work. None of them would satisfy her. He could see that clear as day.

“I’m sorry. Okay? Really. I didn’t mean for it to go on this long, I thought I’d get something I could use much quicker-”

“Something you could use?” Courtney’s eyes suddenly widened as she put the pieces together, and that’s when Willam understood, until that moment she wasn’t even thinking about his job, about the fact that he was a journalist, about how much she’d told him.

“I would probably have dropped it, but then I got fired, and I needed something, Court, I really-”

“So all of this...all of this was for a story?” she spit out.

“I...yeah.” Willam swallowed, looking at the horrified expression on her face, the single tear that slid down her cheek. God, what a mess. There was nothing he could say now to win back her trust, so he might as well unburden himself.

“I really thought there was something, something big that Fame was hiding, especially after Detox got so angry, and-”

“Oh god.” Courtney covered her mouth. “And I left you in there, alone. I’m not even supposed to be in there alone. What did you do? What did you find? Oh god, I’m gonna be fired.”

She was starting to panic, gripping the edge of the table, breathing growing shallow. Willam shook his head vigorously.

“Nothing! Okay? I found nothing. Here, look for yourself…” Willam opened his photos and shoved his phone across the table. “It’s just fucking fabric samples and design notes and marketing plans. That’s it. I can delete it right now if you want.”

“And how do I know this is everything? How do I know you’re not gonna fuck me over?” Courtney asked, green eyes red and watery.

Willam hung his head for a moment. He didn’t mean for this to happen. She was just a nice kid, maybe a little too trusting, maybe a little over her head, and seeing her brokenhearted face made him feel more wretched than he ever had.

“You don’t,” he finally said, looking directly into her eyes for the first time that night. “You don’t, you just have my word, which...I guess you already know is worth jack shit.”

Courtney handed Willam’s phone back to him, shaking his head.

“It would serve me right if I did get fired,” she said, voice breaking. “Because I was stupid enough to think you were a nice guy.”

“Courtney-”

“Goodbye, Willam.”

She stood up abruptly and walked quickly to the door, leaving Willam with nothing but his own guilt.

***

Courtney stood in her tiny studio apartment, looking at her face in the old, scratched-up mirror. She couldn’t remember ever being this humiliated. She felt like an absolute idiot. A grade-A fucking moron. And the worse part, the worst part was that she’d known all along that something wasn’t right.

She’d known it, from the beginning, but she’d gone ahead and trusted him anyway, because he said all the right things and told her everything she wanted to hear. That she was beautiful, she was talented, she was going somewhere.

All of it had been a lie.

And now, she was back to square one, but it was even worse, because she’d allowed herself to voice her deepest fears, about what if she really didn’t have what it takes, what if she’d never make it, what if she was doomed to be a mediocre girl in a mediocre job for her whole life? She’d allowed those thoughts, the ones that used to be buried deep, to come to the surface and rear their ugly heads and now she had to face all of it.

She wasn’t an aspiring actress, or on a path to becoming a musician. She wasn’t anything but an assistant, and even that wasn’t guaranteed, if anyone at Galactica even got a whiff of how majorly she’d fucked up by allowing Willam to get so close. Or if he’d been lying, if he really had gotten something to use and publish--it would immediately be traced back to her. So there was something to keep her awake at night, as if she didn’t have enough.

She closed her eyes, hot tears burning down her cheeks, feeling more alone than she ever had. She was lucky, actually, that Adore didn’t answer earlier, because once she found out Willam’s real reason for playing her, she realized that she could never ever tell Adore, or their other mutual friends, for fear that it would get back to Miss Fame somehow.

That was when Courtney made a promise. She would do whatever it took to make this job work. So she wasn’t Violet, she wasn’t some robotically perfect assistant. Well, she wanted to be an actress, so she’d act like the perfect assistant. She’d show all of them that she could do this job, that she was valuable, and if she really took it seriously, maybe there was a snowball’s chance in hell that she wouldn’t be fired, deported, and sent back to Brisbane a miserable failure.

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baronessblixen · 5 years

Text

Coming Home

It’s here! My fic for the @xfpornbattle. At some point I knew I had to give prompt #18 a try: Mulder comes back to Scully. They can't stop kissing in the station. Two very embarrassed Doggett and Monica remind them that they should probably get going. Hot home reunion while William is at Maggie's house. Tender reunion with Mulder and his son the next morning.

Also tagging @today-in-fic

The chilly night wind blows into Scully's face, making her eyes water as she stares into the distance where she sees nothing but dark, inky blue and black. The train station is dipped in soft light, far more awake than anything should be so close to midnight.

Midnight.

Mulder has never been punctual, but for once, it's not up to him. He's on that train; the one that's supposed to arrive shortly before midnight. Her heart pounds in her chest. It's been so long since she's seen him. Touched him. Felt him. Her yearning threatens to overwhelm her. It's making her careless too.

Somewhere on this platform are Doggett and Reyes, her shadows. They're looking out, making sure everything will go smoothly. This should be her job. But tonight, her eyes set North, all she can be is Dana Scully, the woman who misses the father of her child, her partner. When he left, he took half her heart with him. Once, so long ago, he told her she made him a whole person. Truth is, she only feels whole when he is with her, too.

A soft rumble precedes the explosion of yellow lights as the train comes into view. Her heart pounds with every inch it comes closer. She hugs her middle, her fingernails digging into her skin through all the layers. What if he's not on the train? If something has happened to him? She knows, has known right from the beginning, that this is dangerous. When Doggett asked her to call it off, she knew he was right. And yet.

The train slows, the wheels squeaking on the tracks. Nervous business breaks out on the platform, spreads like an infection. Some people prepare to get away from here, others dread it. A few, just like her, are waiting for someone to come home. Her eyes scan the doors as soon as they open in a swoosh. At this time of night, not many people get off the train. None of the people who do are Mulder. She hasn't seen him in months, but she knows she'd recognize him in an instant.

"No," she whispers, tears in her eyes. Her heart plummets. Just before the doors close again, she sees it. Sees him. It's the last door on the last car. An involuntarily, half-choked laugh leaves her lips. Where else would Mulder be? The train starts again, but Scully has no longer eyes for it. Mulder is still standing there, unmoving in the shadows. But he's not hiding; he's waiting.

"Mulder?" His name tastes funny, having gone so long without addressing him. Then she starts running. The train is passing by her and picking up steam. When she gets closer, he grins. It's a wonder she sees anything at all as the tears run down her face. His arms open and she throws herself at him.

"Someone really missed me this time, huh?" he says it into her hair as she presses her face into his neck. Mulder. It's him. His scent fills her nostrils and she hugs him tighter. Being in his arms is like coming home. With reluctance, she loosens her grip on him so she can see his face.

"You're here," she says, amazement in her voice.

"I missed you so much, Scully." She almost swallows the last of his words as their lips find each other. Her mouth opens under his and he doesn't hesitate. His arms are around her waist and she no longer feels the ground under her feet. There's only Mulder pressed against her, warm and solid and right. One of them moans and she thinks it might be her.

"Uhm, I don't want to- Dana? Mulder?" The hesitant voice cuts in from somewhere behind them. Scully is reluctant to let go of Mulder. She lets her lips linger a second longer and smiles at him. His eyes, so dark, make her shiver. She knows what he wants; she wants the same thing.

"Agent Reyes, Doggett," Mulder says, still holding her. She turns in his arms, unwilling to let go of him. They've never been that couple, holding hands in public, let alone grope each other. Today she'll make an exception. She needs to touch him, to assure herself he's really here, with her.

"Good to see you," Doggett says and from the small smile on his face Scully knows it's true.

"Sorry to interrupt your reunion," Reyes says, "but we should get going."

Mulder reaches for Scully's hand and interlaces their fingers. He smiles down at her, his face bright. Scully can't help herself and touches his cheek. No stubble. "I shaved on the train," he says, winking at her and she chuckles.

How long has it been that she's felt this carefree? This happy? She doesn't know.

"Did you bring your own car?" Mulder asks quietly, watching Doggett and Reyes. They look like a set of parents, making sure the kids are behaving.

"No.” She bites her bottom lip; that never occurred to her.

"Damn. I just-" he doesn't finish his sentence and his mouth descends on hers again. This time he is more insistent. His rough lips glide over hers and she whimpers as his tongue traces her bottom lip, turning gentle and asking to be let inside.

"Guys." This time it's Doggett who stares at them. His hand runs through his short hair, obviously uncomfortable. Scully blushes, having forgotten their company for the moment. Unlike Mulder, who just grins. "There's time for that later, all right?"

Their hands are all over each other in the car, but Scully makes sure they remain appropriate. She doesn't dare kiss Mulder again while they have an audience. Their eyes lock and she knows she wants to stay in this moment forever. They don't speak. There will be time for words later. Their thighs pressed tightly against each other, their hands touching, this is enough. For now.

When the car stops, finally, Scully's breath hitches. In a few short moments, it will just be her and Mulder. Alone.

"Thank you," she says. "For taking us home."

"We'll call you tomorrow to make sure you're safe."

Scully nods at Doggett, mouths another thank you and then she and Mulder are out of the car and on their way upstairs. She can barely get the door open, her hands shake so much. Mulder is pressed against her back, his hot breath on her neck, his lips teasing her there. When he starts humming, she thinks she might lose it right here and now.

"Mulder," she murmurs, "inside."

"Then open the door," he breathes against her skin. Once they're inside her apartment, the key falls to the ground. As does her scarf, her jacket, and his. One moment, Mulder is peppering her face with kisses, the next he stops, his whole body leaning away from her.

"What's- what's the matter?" She feels woozy, drunk almost – or high. But Mulder is serious, almost sad.

"Is… is he here? Is he sleeping? William?" A warm smile breaks on her face and she takes Mulder's hands into hers.

"He's at my mother's. You'll see him in the morning." Mulder's whole face lights up.

"He's good?"

Scully nods. "Very good. You should see how much he's grown. I took pictures for you, Mulder. So many pictures. You'll think you were there."

"I was," he says, drawing her closer again. "In my heart, I was always here." His hand is on her hip, drawing lazy, repetitive circles there. It reminds her of their first time; a bit of uncertainty, an unasked question of 'is this all right?'. Fierce desire spreads through her belly. Right now, she wants to feel him, all of him. She needs to.

"Mulder," she whispers, nuzzling his neck. "Make love to me. Now."

They don't speak and later, Scully won't be sure how they made it into the bedroom at all. They lose their clothes on the way, piece by piece. Once they reach the bed, they're breathless. It's dark in the bedroom, but their hands and their lips make up for the lack of sight.

"Is it not too soon?" Mulder asks against the swelling of her breast, still clad in her simple, cotton bra. It's been so long that she's dressed for any other reason than comfort.

"Hm?" Her mind is foggy and Mulder is taking entirely too long. She runs her fingers over his back, the skin baby-soft and warm.

"After the baby," he says, trailing off. His fingers wander over her breast and make her nipple stand up, begging for attention. "Is it too soon to… do this?"

"No," she breathes, "I've been… it's been fine for a while. There's nothing to worry about."

That's all Mulder needs to hear. His lips still on her skin, he gets rid of her bra and throws it somewhere. Scully giggles until she feels him breathe heavily on her skin, causing goosebumps.

"Oh Scully," he whispers and there's so much awe, such deep love that she moans. His lips find her nipple, lick and suck carefully as if testing it out. She holds his head, afraid he might leave any second. They have all night, she reminds herself until she can't think at all anymore.

Mulder moves south, mapping out new territory and taking his time. Up until now, she hasn't thought about it: her post-pregnancy body. Now, with Mulder's lips trailing her skin, she can't help it.

"Am I- is this all right?" Mulder stops and looks up at her. It's too dark to see his expression, but she can guess it. "We don't have to-"

"Mulder, I want this," she says, her fingers playing with his hair. "My body is-"

Mulder's warm weight disappears for a moment and then the room is filled with the soft light from her bedroom lamp. Her first instinct is to cover herself, but Mulder holds her gently, looking at her. Everywhere his eyes touch her, little fires burn.

"Perfect, Scully. Your body is perfect." He kisses her everywhere, from her abdominal scar to her stretch marks. "Just let me love you." She feels his hands on her thighs and she shivers. Gently, he parts her legs and stares at her licking his lips and making her tremble all over.

"Missed you so much." His breath hits her inner thighs and she is about to grab him by the hair and bring him where she wants him so badly. Just for a moment. But Mulder must hear her silent pleas and her back arches the second his lips touch her heat.

"Missed this," he says with a long, slow lick against her folds. "So," another lick, "much," as his tongue finds her clit. She grinds against him, feeling wild. She's missed this – him – so much, too. Unlike him, she incapable of speaking right now, the pleasure overriding any higher brain function.

"Dreamed of this." She hears his voice as if from far away. The next moment, she feels one, then two fingers enter her. He knows exactly how to do this, how to touch her. His finger pressing against her g-spot, he takes her clit into his mouth and she's flying, bucking against his chin. When she comes back, still panting, his head is on her thigh, his fingers still stroking her.

"Thank you," she sighs.

"My pleasure," he replies, with a chuckle.

"Mulder?" He looks up at her. "I want to feel you inside. Please." He moves up on her, leaving kisses on her breasts and her collarbone. Her own hand reaches out, finds his heavy, throbbing cock. They both moan.

"Please," she repeats, wanton with need. "I need you." He doesn’t break eye contact as he lowers his body between her thighs. His length grounds against her hot, wet center and her eyes roll closed.

"Open your eyes," he says. As soon as she does, he pushes inside. He stays perfectly still, gazing down at her.

"Move," she begs, lifting her hips to meet his. He shakes his head and kisses the tip of her nose.

"I want this to last," he croaks.

"No," she says, grabbing his ass cheeks. "We can make it last later. Move, Mulder. Make love to me."

"Fuck, Scully." He plunges into her but his eyes don't leave hers for a second. His thrusts are deep and hard, should be painful in their intensity. But she doesn't feel anything but pleasure.

"Faster," she says and he groans.

"Love you," he pants, his mouth seeking hers. She digs her fingernails into his back, needing more, more, more and he responds with increased pace.

One of his hands slips between their sweaty bodies and finds her clit; he knows exactly how to work her and after a few more thrusts and his finger playing her perfectly, she comes again, exploding around him.

"Come for me, Mulder," she says as he picks up the pace again, his hips snapping in rapid motions. And then he's there. His mouth opens in a silent 'O' and she strokes his back as he fills her.

"Love you, love you," he chants as his muscles give in and he collapses onto her. She manages to roll them so they're side by side.

"I love you, too, Mulder," she says with a kiss to his sweaty brow. For the moment, right now, the world is quiet and peaceful, simply perfect.

At some point they wake in the night, finding each other again before they fall into deep slumber once more. When Scully wakes in the morning, Mulder grins at her, excitement evident on his face.

"Morning," he says, drawing her closer to him.

"I can't," she mumbles, "'m sore." She's barely awake as it is.

"That's not… you said we could see William this morning. When is your mom expecting us?" She smiles at him, touching his cheek, where there's the slightest hint of stubble.

"We can go there whenever we want."

"Even now?" Mulder asks, his eyes sparkling.

"Even now." He kisses her again, sloppily, before he jumps out of the bed. She watches him, content despite her sore muscles, knowing something he doesn't yet; whatever happens now, whether he'll have to go back into hiding or stays with them, she is not leaving him ever again.

"Do you think he'll recognize me at all? Do you think I can hold him?" Mulder can't stand still as they wait for her mother to open the door. It's only been a few seconds, but looking at Mulder, it could have been half an eternity. The door opens and there's her mother, holding a happily gurgling William.

"Ma, ma, ma!" he exclaims, his little pudgy arms reaching out to her.

"There she is," her mother says softly as she hands over the baby. "Hello Fox, it's so good to see you." But Mulder only has eyes for his son. The boy grabs a fistful of Scully's hair, trying to stuff it into his mouth. With a smile, she takes his hand away.

"I have a surprise for you, William. Look, here's your daddy." She’s talked about Mulder every day. Told William how his daddy would do this, what he would say about baseball, basketball or the news. He knows who Mulder is, she made sure of that. The boy turns in her arms and looks at him now with curious eyes. Mulder has tears running down his face.

"Do you want to hold him?" Scully asks, her own emotions overwhelming her. Mulder just nods, his whole body shaking. "Be nice to Daddy." She kisses her son's ear and he giggles.

Mulder holds William in his arms as if he's done it every day. "Hey there," he says, grinning brightly.

"Wa, wa, woooo," William gurgles and grabs Mulder's nose. They all laugh through their tears; Scully looks at her mother, who's clutching her heart.

"Remember me? I held you when you were a baby." William stares at him, captivated by his father's voice. "You're still a baby, aren't you?" Mulder kisses the boy's soft head, his cheek and holds him tight.

"Let's go inside, hm? William is hungry," her mother says. "So Fox, do you know how long you'll be staying?"

Mulder looks at his son, then at Scully. They haven't talked about it yet. Her mind is made up, no matter what he thinks about it. Running away with a baby won't be easy, but nothing is worse than being apart. Before she can voice her thoughts, though, Mulder speaks.

"Forever," he says and the door closes behind them.

THE END

Notes:

A huge thank you to @frangipanidownunder for the beta and making this whole thing sound better!

Thank you to @suitablyaggrieved for the constant support and kind words. You’re awesome.

Also tagging @alienbaby-babymama, @patienceaintmystrongsuit, @cultureisdarkbeer, @peacenik0, @skullsmuldon for their support when I originally decided to give this a try! (no need to read the fic - I just want you to know I appreciate you guys)

#I DID IT!#proud of me for once #I hope you guys like it too #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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jane-fucking-seymour · 4 years

Text

Legend of the Six Chapter 21: What Must Be Done

AO3 Link

Words: 4,804

We’re almost close to 100k words on this monster of a fic. Thank you for all the support.

Reblogs are appreciated!!!

“Are you ready?”

Katherine takes a deep breath, focusing herself, before she opens her eyes and nods. With a nod back, Catherine is instantly on the attack, throwing magicks and sword strikes alike at the younger Blessed.

Maria watches with a sharp, attentive gaze, continuing to take notes about the girl’s form and style. Next to her is Anna, taking a bird’s eye view of the spectacle thanks to some trees nearby, always alert when it comes to the younger woman. Anne, too, had decided to drop by, leaning against the trunk of the tree that Anna was sitting in, a bit more relaxed than usual lately. Usually, she’d be up in the tree with Anna, but she wanted a closer look at, quote, “when Katherine kicks Catherine’s ass.”

Though only a Blessed for a few days, Katherine had become remarkably skilled within that short amount of time; she could control the powers a lot better, for one, and her Druid skillset seemed to only be amplified by the sudden burst of energy infused within her.

“She’s gotta be a Phoenix,” Maria says casually.

Anna nods. “I agree.”

Anne raised an eyebrow, looking over at Maria. “What’s that mean?”

“There’s different types of Blesseds,” Maria replies, smirking as Katherine dodges a particularly complex surge of magick from Catherine. “Blesseds can be many things - straight healers are Dawnbreakers. Those that use their Blessed skills for the search of knowledge are Templars. The more active, combat-based ones are Wildfires - they’re also the rarest and most powerful. And the ones that are the most in tune with nature are part of the Blessed Phoenix group.” She nods her head towards Catherine. “Catherine is a Wildfire, for example. And the best damned one that has ever been.”

“I think you’re a bit biased,” Anne teases, making Maria roll her eyes fondly.

“She is, though. It was decided by the Council, before… things got messy.” Maria sighs, running a hand through her hair.

Anna frowns at that. “Maria… we saw a lot of ash piles at the Sanctuary. Those… those were Blesseds, weren’t they?”

“And Squires,” Maria confirms, nodding solemly. “When Blesseds die, they turn to ash.”

“So… Henry marched on the Sanctuary and killed all the Blesseds?” Anne asks softly, gaze down towards the ground as she came to the realization.

“We could revive them,” Maria says, “but it’s risky. And time consuming. It takes years just to revive one Blessed, and don’t get me started on the resources involved. I don’t think there’s enough to bring everyone back, with the Realm in control of as much as it is - and even then, it could take centuries of dedication. We simply don’t have the time. And considering what we know from trying to summon Blesseds to Hidden Gem that one time… it’s possible that the rest of the Blesseds have either died or gone into hiding and won’t appear again until it’s safe. It’s possible to hide your Blessed powers - Catherine does it all the time - so people could just be doing that, but...”

Anne looked up to find Catherine there, still fighting Katherine. She looked completely focused on the task, as serious as Anne had ever found her.

“That’s why she’s training Katherine so hard, right?” Anne asks. “Because it’s very possible that they’re the only ones left.”

Maria nods. “You could be looking at the last of the Blesseds, yes.”

They’re very silent for a moment before, suddenly, a victorious cry rings through the air. They look up to find Katherine, her hand up and aimed at Catherine. Catherine had her entire form bound with golden vines that sprouted up from the ground. Try as she might, Catherine didn’t seem to be able to break them.

“I yield,” Catherine says with a grin. “Wonderful work, Katherine.”

Katherine is so excited about beating the other Catherine that she fails to see the Wildfire very easily break from the vines and stand up, much to the other’s amusement.

“Hey, you lot wouldn’t have been able to break through them,” Catherine says. “It’s a Blessed thing. So yes, she won, because she isn’t going to be facing me when the time comes.”

Katherine, however, is still celebrating.

“Wonderful work, love,” Anna says with a big grin.

Katherine smiles brightly at that before they all look towards an approaching figure.

“Hey, guys?” Elizabeth says. “Cathy wanted to me to grab you all. We’re ready to get going again.”

They all head back up to the hideout. Inside, the place had gotten larger - a magickal trick that Cathy was all too pleased to pull off. With her vortex magicks, the woman had managed to make more than enough room for the new additions to the team, as well as some extra rooms should others be summoned.

The only room not active was Jane’s, still untouched and sealed from when the last time the woman had closed the door. No one had decided to go in there, and Catherine had demanded it be left undisturbed.

Anne, begrudgingly, agreed once Katherine returned.

Anne and Katherine kept their usual room, though Maggie would be in there until she was fully recovered. Elizabeth took a room as close to her mother as possible. Maria has her own room, but would often stay up all night in Catherine’s that it rarely mattered. The room next to Anna’s was currently unused, but that would change when Bessie and Avril joined for the final assault.

It was in the infirmary in which everyone gathered, where Maggie was still resting.

Anne gave her closest friend and confidant a gentle smile, running a soft hand through her hair. Maggie, with a gentle smile back, leaned into the touch.

“How’re you feeling, Mags?” Anne asks.

“Far better than before, thanks to Cathy and Elizabeth,” Maggie replies. “Feels like I’m back in m’ own head.”

“We’ll keep her for observation for a while longer,” Cathy says, “but I don’t see why she couldn’t be up and moving around in a few days. She responded well to the potions we made, especially the ones that were infused with Blessed Magicks.”

Anne looked over at Catherine at that, who simply nodded in Anne’s direction. As Anne mouthed “thank you,” Cathy looked to the rest of the team.

“We’ve made very good progress towards where the festival will be, right?” Cathy asks, prompting Catherine to step forward.

“We’re pretty close, but we still have some things to take care of,” Catherine replies. “The festival is in a few months time, after all, but thanks to bad roads and lack of transportation, people will start to show up sooner rather than later. So we’ll need to stick around this area until then.”

“Still gives us a lot of options,” Anna says. “We’re fairly close to Holbein. From what I’ve heard, they’ll likely do this in the Capitol, possibly make it the biggest Moonlight Festival there’s ever been.”

Maggie slowly raises a hand. “What… exactly is the Moonlight Festival?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Cathy says, “it’s only been around for a few years, so you wouldn’t know about it, huh?” Cathy smiles sympathetically at that. “It’s the biggest festival in the land. It celebrates the passing of the moon into a new year.”

“It’s actually just a big scam on Henry’s part,” Catherine says bitterly. “There weren’t any non-Blessed holidays around this time of the year, so he made up one. Said it was the most important holiday of the year because it’s his birthday, which isn’t even true, but he altered the records to make it so. It really was a way to undermine the Blesseds and our theology.”

Maggie frowns. “Sounds terrible… and petty. Who would even consider doing such a thing?”

“People that want to make money and seem more important than they are-” Maria starts, but when Catherine chuckles at the hostility, Maria smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m still angry about that.”

Catherine readjusts.

“The Moonlight Festival brings in the best and most expensive merchants to the area. It’s a way for people to give and receive. Transactions are a major part of it, and many people figure out their year worth of work due to the deals made then.”

“So that’s why people show up months early,” Anna finishes. “It’s not just the festival, but the deals made in the months before it. It’s a huge thing.”

“So we’ll stick around here to see who is coming and what type of security they’ll be setting up,” Catherine nods, “and altering our plans due to that.” she looks at Anne. “I’ll need your help with the scouting.”

“I’m at your call,” Anne replies, nodding. “Once Maggie is ready, she’ll be helping me with that.”

“Great,” Catherine looks at Elizabeth. “I’ll need to pick your brain about the castle, the people working there, and the current royal family.”

Elizabeth nods. “Any information I have is free to you. Whatever helps.”

Catherine smiles. “That should be it for now. Let’s see what we can do with this first, then we can get to the next stage of preparation.”

The group leaves, save for Cathy, Anne and Maggie.

Anne sits on the side of the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“A bit weirded out, if I’m honest,” Maggie replies. “It’s all very strange. Trying to think about it all is… a very interesting experience.” She shakes her head. “I’m just… I’m glad you’re safe. I didn’t think you would be.”

Anne chuckles, kissing the top of the girl’s head. “Of course I would be. I always get out of trouble, don’t you worry.” She looks over at Cathy. “Can I stay with her tonight?”

“Of course,” Cathy says, standing up. “I’ll leave you two to catch up. I’m sure there’s still a lot more to be said.”

Cathy leaves as the two start to chat, closing the door behind her. She turns away from the door to find Elizabeth standing there. “What’s up?”

“I… I think I need your help,” Elizabeth says. She gently takes Cathy’s hand and rushes towards Catherine and Maria.

“What’s going on?” Maria asks, tilting her head.

“Where’s Katherine?” Elizabeth asks.

“She’s down in the trees with Anna, she wanted to take on Peleazar’s magicks,” Catherine replied. “I wanted to see that, but it looks like you’ve got something else on your mind.”

Elizabeth nods.

“We need to go see Jane.”

The rest of the group’s eyes go wide.

“What?!? Why?” Cathy asks, a bit angry at the question. “She betrayed us, if we go to her she’ll just do it again!”

“That’s not the case,” Elizabeth promises. “I’ve been working with her since this began, remember? I knew this was her plan, but… she never had the intention of doing it. So why did she do it now?”

“Because she got caught?” Catherine asks. “Because we found out she was the one that put the hit on Anne? That she ordered her execution?”

“That information was never supposed to be found, though,” Elizabeth presses. “Isn’t it weird that, in the tens of thousands of books that were on those shelves, Anne Boleyn happened to find the most damning piece of information she could find?”

“Are you saying someone planted it?” Maria asks.

“I’m saying SHE planted it. That Jane Seymour herself planted that information, wanted to get caught,” Elizabeth replies. “That part, the part where Anne realizes the truth, it was never in the plan. She was supposed to keep everyone in check, to report back to myself or Mary on the movements you all made, then only strike like that once the time came. I don’t understand why she did it early.”

Catherine sat back and thought about it.

“If she wanted to get caught, then… maybe this is something she’s thinking up?” Catherine asks, tilting her head. “Maybe she figured out a new way to take down Henry?”

“Doubtful,” Elizabeth says. “It’s not about her taking down Henry. It’s her moving the cards in a way that no one expected.”

“Well, not in a way that any of us on either side expected her to,” Maria says. When everyone looks at her, she shrugs. “What’s her big motivation, Elizabeth? She talked about him more than enough times.”

Elizabeth thinks about it for a moment before her eyes widen in realization.

“Edward? She’s doing this for Edward? But why?”

Catherine steps forward.

“How about we find out? We’ll talk to her, as you requested, Elizabeth.” Catherine shrugs. “It’ll be nice to see how she’s doing anyways, to see if she’s really that far gone.”

“You think she can be saved?” Maria asks.

“I think she’ll be a good ally to have if we can have her,” Catherine asks. “And I think she’s playing a very, very good political game here.”

She stops, though, looking down at the corridor in which the Infirmary was.

“Just one thing. We can’t allow Anne to join. We need Jane alive.” She looks at everyone else then. “So we keep this a secret from them, and from Katherine.”

“Another secret in this little circle of ours, hm?” Cathy asks, sighing. “What can possibly go wrong?”

They all agree, though, and with that the next immediate step in the plan is set: to some, it’s to wait for Maggie to recover; for the majority, however, it’s to leave at nightfall to meet the newly-minted Lost Queen of the Realm.

Back in the Capitol, the land of the Realm was celebrating the return of the Lost Queen, the one and only Jane Seymour, who had been recovered from the face stealing band of bandits. Any mention of Jane herself being with the criminal group was erased from history, she found, and she was welcomed home as a hero.

Funny how fast history can be rewritten by the victors.

A crown of white and purple lilies adorned her head, her usual outfit now remade with jewels and the finest of materials, there had been celebration over the lost queen’s return for over a week now. With the last day of celebrations upon them, Jane was more than happy to finally be done with the whole affair.

The only thing that made it even tolerable was, of course, her son.

Edward was more than delighted to see his mother once again, and even more excited when he realized that she would be staying for a long, long time, according to his father. He was basically always at his mother’s side at any given moment, catching her up with everything she missed. His enthusiasm over her coming back seemed to lighten the mood not only around him, but within the entire castle.

“It’s been quite a while since he smiled like that,” Mary had mentioned, a soft smile gracing her own features at the thought. “It’s nice. And Henry seems to be a bit more relaxed currently as well.”

It’s the second part that gave Jane a chill down her spine.

She’s not sure what to think of Henry currently; she knows that everything the queens had said to her during their little adventure was true. She knows how much history Henry has edited, how much pain and sorrow he’s caused. Still, she went on with it, continued to play her part.

All for him. For Edward.

He was safe, and that’s what mattered. This entire thing - the original plot, the sticking with Henry, the betrayal… it was all just a way to-

“Jane!”

Her thoughts are cut short by Henry’s arrival. He walks into the throne room with a smile, extending a hand towards his wife. She takes it immediately, not wanting to make him angry, and rises to meet him. He moves towards the throne room… and then passes it.

Jane frowns.

“Where are we going, my love?” Jane asks, curious.

He smiles. “Just follow, my love. Edward will follow, won’t you, boy?” When Edward nods, Henry smiles even wider. “That’s a good lad.”

They walk through the halls of the castle into a room. Henry closed the door and opened a painting, revealing a stairwell that Jane couldn’t place, before eventually finding their way into what looked like a cellar.

Jane frowns.

“What is this place?”

Henry smiles proudly. “This is how we win this war against Holbein, my love. I’ve taken what you’ve learned and I’ve put it to good use.”

He extends a hand towards a glowing green orb of energy in the middle of the cellar. It’s on a pedestal of black brick, energy violently moving around it.

Jane focuses on it, and immediately backs up a few paces.

“Edward shouldn’t be here for this,” Jane protests, but Edward gently puts a hand on Jane’s own. He gives her a soft, sympathetic smile.

“It’s alright, mum,” he says quietly. “I’ve learned.”

Jane’s terror is clear in her eyes. “Learned what, Edward?”

Edward moves away from Jane, who holds onto his hand as long as possible before she has to let go, staying in her own place while Edward pushes forward. He goes to the ball of energy.

“Edward, don’t-!” she starts, but he’s grabbed it anyways. The energy swirls around his small form, but it doesn’t hurt him. He seems to be able to control it just fine.

It’s the most terrifying sight Jane has ever seen.

“It’s alright, Mum,” Edward says with a grin. His eyes are lit up with the energy. “I know how to make the dead return, too.”

Despite the green illuminating the room, Jane can only see red.

She turns on Henry then, furious. “We made a deal. He was not to learn any of this, was not supposed to be part of your plan-”

“And this is not in my plan,” Henry replies, hands up in the air as he takes a few steps back. “But, Jane, my love, he wanted to be just like his mother.” Henry’s grin in the shadow of the energy makes Jane ill.

“Who am I to deny him his wants, hm?”

Jane shakes her head. “This is despicable. So what will you do? Use him? He’s a child, Henry-”

She stops when, suddenly, Henry moves impossibly closer in the blink of an eye.

“He hasn’t been hurt yet, but he can be,” Henry growls out, low enough that only Jane hears him. “If you don’t want him hurt, then you’ll do what you’re told, hm?”

With a frown, Edward puts the energy back, moving to hold onto Jane’s hand again, separating the two.

Henry smiles.

“Besides, he’s really only here for the morale support at this moment. I need you to do something for me, Jane.”

He takes out a medallion from under his shirt and holds it to the green light. It warps the light into what looks like a…

“Is that-?!?” Jane asks, eyes wide. She immediately shields Edward from it, pulling him behind her. He stares at it for a moment before looking back up at his mother, eyes clearly questioning and curious.

No, Jane thinks. It will not take her boy.

“You remember, do you?” he asks, pleased with the reaction he got from Jane. “Very good. So you know what you must do, then?”

She tenses. “I didn’t cut the deal, why must I-”

“Because it has to be someone who understands the magicks,” Henry explains. “Ones that are already attuned to it. You know that as well as I do.”

Jane shakes her head, fearful of the artifact in front of her, and Henry shrugs.

“Alright then, you’ve made your choice. Then it looks like little Edward here will just-”

“NO!”

The force of her yell makes Henry smile even wider. It’s creepy in the soft green glow of the artifact.

“He’s the only other one in the Realm that can tap into the magicks directly, my love,” he says softly, almost sympathetically; she knows he’s using her, that he’s using her emotions specifically, but she can’t help but feel her heart painfully beat in her chest as he continues. “I need someone who can do just that. And you’ve made some of the best necromancing soldiers I’ve ever seen. I don’t think Edward would even come close to your talents-”

That maternal rage kicks up again.

“If you’re even THINKING of making him do that-” she starts, but Henry shushes her, like a child acting out.

“I won’t, if you do this.” Henry says. “If you do this, just one more little thing, I will make sure he is safe. He will never be commanded to work the Forbidden Arts again.”

Jane watches him for a moment, then looks over at the staff. She can feel Edward gently tug on her belt, but she can’t look at him right now.

Henry’s got her right where he wants her.

She gently moves away from Edwards grip, takes a deep breath, and, before Edward can call out, takes hold of the power offered.

And with that, the Pact was sealed.

It happens late at night, when the others are asleep.

Cathy, Anna, Maria, Catherine, and Elizabeth all meet up in the Portal Room. They’re all wearing black clothing, masks covering their faces.

“We all know what we’re doing, yes?” Catherine asks quietly. When they nod, she returns the nod to Cathy, who opens up the portal.

They end up in the middle of castle; it was within range of the latest portal and she had been in the room many a time before this, allowing the magicks to work.

When they step in, they instantly split up: while Catherine and Maria take the bed chambers, Cathy and Elizabeth take the study rooms. Surely, they thought, Jane would be in there somewhere.

Catherine and Maria instantly drink the potions Cathy gave them; suddenly, they’re soldiers of the Realm, able to walk through the halls freely with the easy alibi of being on patrol. As they walk around, checking each room, they strike up soft conversations.

“Do you think this is wise?” Maria asks softly. “I’m surprised you agreed to this, honestly.”

“I don’t know what to think,” Catherine replies. “But I would also like to talk to Jane for a bit. Just to know why.”

“Why she betrayed us?” Maria asks.

Catherine shakes her head. “Why she even revealed herself altogether. It’s clear that she wanted to do something. That there’s a plan. Elizabeth’s right; she’s too smart to actually have been caught.” Catherine shrugs. “Something’s up, and I don’t like it.”

“So you’re going to find out the direct way,” Maria quips. “Of course you are. Shoulda expected nothin’ less from you.”

Catherine chuckles at that. “What can I say, if there’s a direct way, I go for it.”

Catherine stops suddenly, though, halfway down a corridor. Maria is instantly on alert, until Catherine speaks.

“Split up. You go south, I’ll take north. Be safe, Maria.”

Without a question, the Squire of the Blessed obeys, leaving Catherine in the hall by herself.

She instantly slips into the throne room, closing the curtains behind her. Once the door is shut, she drinks another potion, returning to her normal self.

A noise of recognition can be heard from the other person in the room.

“I honestly didn’t expect you to come alone.”

Catherine turns to face her.

“I didn’t. Because I’m giving you one chance to explain yourself, Jane Seymour.”

Jane stands there, in the middle of the empty throne room, leaning back on her heels.

“I’ve got much to explain, don’t I?”

“You definitely do,” Catherine says, though not unkindly.

“Well… it’s all gone to shite already,” Jane says bitterly. “So I’m afraid there’s not much that will make sense.”

“Try me.”

Jane says nothing, so Catherine continues.

“Why did you let yourself be caught?”

“Because Anne deserved to know, and because you needed an excuse to kill Katherine.”

“Because?��

“Oh, you know why, Catherine, you’re not an idiot.” Jane shakes her head. “But it’s all gone wrong. Anne told me.”

“You’ve seen Anne? And you’re alive?”

“Yes. She said Katherine is dead.”

“And you believe her?”

“She wouldn’t lie like that. Not about Katherine. But why she stayed dead, why Katherine isn’t with us, I-”

Catherine holds up a hand, shaking her head.

“Anne didn’t know the plan. It worked. Katherine is a Blessed.”

The relief Jane feels is almost palpable. Her body sags a bit in relief, a smile on her face.

“I knew Anne was wrong,” she says. “I knew it.”

“You knew as well as I did that she was a Blessed, right?” Catherine asks casually, not really paying any mind to the situation they were in. It was like she was talking to an old friend of sorts. A colleague, even.

In some respects, she kind of was, after all.

“Yes, since Avril in the caves,” Jane says. “Surely you knew for longer than that, Catherine?”

“I had my suspicions,” Catherine agreed, shrugging. “I imagine she got her abilities when my Mary lost hers.”

“That makes her your charge, no?” Jane asks.

“It would,” Catherine nods.

“I’ll have to take care of her after you,” Jane warns.

“Who’s been alerted?” Catherine asks.

“Majority of the castle will be in just under five minutes,” Jane replies. “You broke some of my wards, and I’m sure the others broke some of Henry’s men’s. Shouldn’t be too long now. And once I’m done here, I’ll take care of her, too.”

Catherine smiles at that.

“You won’t be getting that far, I’m afraid.”

Suddenly, Maria rushes inside, looking around before she steps to Catherine’s side, clearly wary.

“We’ve got trouble. Cathy and Liz are already out, they said they found something, but I came to get you-” she starts, but then she spots Jane. “Are we picking up another stray?” Maria asks.

“Bold words coming from you,” Jane says. It’s not nasty, but teasing. “Are you still going by Lyrena?”

“Maria, now,” she replies.

Jane nods. “Good. At least one of us has a chance at redemption.”

“Do you not?” Maria asks, tilting her head.

“Not really,” Jane arms herself with her staff, a glowing green crystal at the top. The staff itself was made of what looked like rotting wood.

Maria blinks. “Is that an Artifact?”

Catherine’s eyes go wide. “You... you made a Pact, didn’t you?”

Jane says nothing. Catherine presses.

“Jane, who did you make the Pact with?”

Jane shakes her head, tilting it slightly. Suddenly, Catherine is absolutely furious.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She asks, voice raises. Maria tenses as Catherine continues. “Did you... did HE-“

“I don’t know who he did it with, but he couldn’t fulfill his end of the bargain until someone took control of this staff,” Jane explains. “And it was either me or Edward. And he would have made Edward do it.”

Catherine is even angrier. “Was he seriously going to damn that child to-”

“Enough,” Jane says. “Enough, please. All you need to know is that it’s too late for me.”

Maria steps forward.

“All can be redeemed through the Light, Jane,” Maria says quietly. “You have not gone too far just yet. But you will, if you continue.”

Jane shakes her head. “You have no idea what I did for him. You have no idea the pain I’ve caused. I am the reason for the mind magicks, I am the master of the necrotic arts, I-“

Jane’s voice catches in her throat. She needs a moment before she continues.

“I am well beyond saving.”

“You were manipulated into doing-“ Maria starts, but a bolt of green energy sent Catherine’s way shuts her up. Maria goes to defend her mistress, but Catherine gently pushes her to the side, sword already out. Her sword glows faintly as she strikes at the bolt, deflecting it back at Jane. It only barely misses where Jane stands.

“I had a choice.” Jane says, shaking her head. “I always had a choice. You know that, don’t you, Catherine? You know what this staff is, how many chances I had to not do what I did? What I’ve been doing?”

The Blessed sighs, nodding.

“I know.”

Jane steps forward, staff at the ready.

“I’m sorry, Blessed Aragon,” she says, emotion clear in her voice. Still, she stands tall, staff starting to glow with eerie green energy. “But your story ends here.”

Catherine stares for a moment, eyes narrowing, before she readies her sword. Maria is a bit hesitant but she does the same, moving slightly closer to her Blessed, shield held firmly out in front at the ready.

“I take no pleasure in what I must do,” Catherine says.

Jane’s grip on her staff tightens, glowing with eerie green energy that seems to surround her.

“Neither do I.”

Catherine’s sword glows brilliantly.

“By the Light, you will be cleansed.”

And with that, she pulses forward.

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