#like I can just see Annie getting ready and checking off a to do list in her binder and grabbing her plane ticket and passport and leaving | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bruhstories · 3 years

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Dazed and Confused

Summary: You and Connie have been friends for ten years, crushing on each other like a bunch of idiots who can't confess their feelings for one another. Until you go on a trip with your friends. Pairing: Connie Springer x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: 18+, language, oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected sex, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, f l u f f Word Count: 4.2 k

A/N: I got so pissed at that last anon that I finished this oneshot quicker lol. @fiaficsxo here it is!

You loved parties. Not the loud music and thick smoke, not the booze and smell of vomit, but your friends. Every time they gathered at someone's place, your heart fluttered, filled with happiness and content and long-lasting memories.

Connie had the brilliant idea of spending a week in the mountains during your spring break, and you wasted an entire night searching for the perfect cottage to rent. Luckily everyone was down with his suggestion, the only problem was how you'd sleep. Historia obviously wanted to share a room with Ymir. Mikasa and Eren were an item now, so they'd have to sleep together. Armin wanted to try his luck with Annie, so no one objected to that. Jean declared that he wanted to bunk with Connie, like the two eligible bachelors they were, and that left you and Sasha to share a room together. You didn't mind it, in all honesty you loved Sasha with all your heart — but you secretly hoped someone would pick up on your feelings for Connie and let you sleep with him. You weren't that lucky.

You packed your bag the night before the trip, obsessively ticking everything on your list and double checking every item and pocket. It was ready, with one item missing — the white lace babydoll smoothed on your dorm bed. You chewed the pen cap, debating whether to bring it with you or not. You bought it for special occasions, but you haven't had a dick appointment in a long time, and you doubted you'd have one this week. With a shrug, you decided to bring it — you never know what might happen. Nighttime passed quickly and you soon found yourself all dolled up, albeit still sleepy from all the tossing and turning, excited to make more memories with your friends.

The train station was packed with people, especially students who went back to their hometowns for the break, and you were relieved to find Armin and Mikasa there. You three were always punctual, followed by Jean and Annie. Eren, Sasha and Connie were always late, which is why you told them the train leaves at 7 am instead of 7:30. It was a dirty strategy, but no one wanted to miss such a fun opportunity because of those lazy fuckers. And lo and behold, they decided to appear at 7:15.

"That was some good thinking." Jean shook his head, hand sympathetically placed on your shoulder.

"I'm only glad you guys rolled with it." You laughed without noticing the way Connie stared at you, and even he didn't understand exactly what he felt. Was he grumpy because he hated morning, or was it Jean's hand on you that irked him?

"It's not polite to stare." Sasha pulled Connie out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring, I was looking." Connie rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase a bit too tightly.

"I just don't get it why you don't tell her you like her." The girl popped a bubblegum baloon, proceeding to chew it very loudly.

"Are you kidding me? She obviously likes Jean. Look how she's laughing!"

Sasha placed an arm on his shoulder, a sheepish smile on her face. "You, my friend, are a dumbass."

"Takes one to know one."

To say that your friends were loud during the train ride was an understatement. They didn't really care about the nasty glares other passengers shot at them, opting to talk, sing, eat and practically embarrass themselves. But two hours later you arrived, and the fresh, crisp air of the mountains was a blessing. You didn't regret coming, all of you deserved a break after all the exams, studying and all-nighters you guys pulled.

"We could visit the military museum!" Armin suggested, but Connie scrunched his nose.

"We came here to get high, drink and spend time together, why the fuck would we visit some old ass building?"

"I'd like to go to the museum." You awkwardly smiled, earning a 'see?' from the blond. Mikasa, Eren and Annie backed you up, and since it was a democracy, you ended up leaving your bags at the cottage and touring the small town to find the military museum. The building wasn't massive, and inside it was dark, with crimson carpets and dim lights. It was actually quite a romantic atmosphere, had it not been for the weapons and armours displayed in glass cases. Connie watched you intently, taking in every movement, every flinch, every hair tucking, every scrunch of your cute nose. You absorbed the information, hungry for knowledge. This was something you and Connie didn't share — yes, you were down to drinking and smoking, but you were also eager to learn and study, while he always preached how 'you can always retake an exam but you can't relive a party.' He wasn't stupid by any means, but unlike you, Jean, Armin and Mikasa — who alwaysstudied and never skipped lectures — Connie would wing it and somehow end up getting better grades. His strategy didn't always work, and sometimes, when you were in college, he'd ask you to tutor him. Now you were second year undergraduates, and while you were studying different subjects, you still made time for each other.

"That's a nice, uhh..." Connie squinted, "...shotgun."

"It's a musket." You chuckled, your fingers accidentally brushing his as you turned around to face him.

"Shotgun, musket, same thing."

"Actually, muskets are muzzle-loaded and fire a single bullet, but shotguns pack multiple pellets in one shell." You explained. "I'm sorry, you're probably not interested in my ramblings."

"No, no, it's... interesting. I just wasn't expecting you to know so much about guns." He rubbed his nape and smiled at you.

"Well, I do study history, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You awkwardly elbowed Connie. Why was it so hard for you to just tell him your feelings? Oh, right, because you've been friends for ten years and if he didn't like you back, it would only ruin a great friendship.

"It means you brag about it so much it's kind of hard to forget." He told you, quickly realising just how insulting that sounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt..." You sighed, eyes darting back to the weapons.

"No, I didn't- forget it." Connie shook his head. Well played.

Back at the cottage, with enough food and booze to last the group a month, you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the day. It wasn't the first time you had embarrassing moments with Connie, but this particular one made you anxious to be around him. Did he really dislike you that much, or was it just friendly banter? If you were to ask him, you could find out, but every scenario in your head had a bad outcome, so avoiding him for now was the smartest choice. Sasha pleaded with you to spend the evening in the living room with everyone else, but you brushed her off, telling her you weren't feeling quite well.

"Text me if you need anything." She told you before leaving. It was immature to act this way, you knew that all too well, but it wasn't like Connie cared, right? You eventually decided to go downstairs after finishing a long episode of your favourite tv show, your stomach begging for nourishment. As silently as possible, you tiptoed behind the couch. The hallway was dim, the sun had already set, and the only lights were the ones from the wide TV screen in the living room where your friends were watching some corny horror movie. You could cut the suspense and tension with a knife, and when you dropped a teaspoon, everyone jumped.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me!"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack." Jean got up from the floor and walked behind the couch. "How are you feeling? Sasha said you're ill."

"I'm fine, don't worry." You picked the spoon up and threw it in the sink. "It's just a headache, I'll sleep it off."

"Good, we need you here." The man wrapped an arm around you. "You're missing how Connie's crapping his pants at this shitty movie."

From the outside it would seem like you and Jean were a couple, but the truth was far from it. You two grew up together, his family was friends with your family, and what you had was nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. Jean's little remark earned a disgruntled look from Connie, you quickly picked up on that, and so you playfully jabbed him in the stomach.

"Connie's crapping his pants? You're the one who almost had a heart attack." You grinned.

"Oi, that was only because you dropped your stupid spoon. I was invested in the movie."

"Mhm, sure you were."

"Hey, you sure you don't want to join us?" Mikasa waved at you from the living room. You pondered over her question. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awkward to sit with them.

"Alright, sure, why not?"

"Come, sit next to me." Sasha shuffled to the side, but what she really meant by that was 'sit next to Connie', because she shuffled to the otherside.

The following two nights were surprisingly quiet, all you did was play board games, watch movies and walk around the town taking pictures. The tension between Connie and you seemed to dissipate, and you both forgot the unpleasant interaction you had on the first day. But on the fourth night, that's when shit hit the fan. Annie and Armin left for a date, and Eren and Mikasa wanted to spend the night alone in their room, leaving you, Sasha, Jean and Connie unsupervised, bored and tipsy. There was absolutely nothing good to watch on the TV, and you almost wanted to scream when your friends wanted to play truth or dare. It was one of those games you despised, because the whole point of it was to put the players in uncomfortable situations. And you didn't like being uncomfortable, unlike your friends.

"Jean, truth or dare?" Sasha beamed.

"Dare, duh."

"Alright, I dare you to switch roommates for the rest of the week." She sipped her blackberry cider.

"Okay? So, I'll stay with Y/N, then."

Good lord, if looks could kill, Connie's would annihilate Jean and Sasha off the face of the Earth.

"No, no, you'll stay with me. Y/N will stay with Connie."

"Eh? Why does your dare involve us?" You asked, confused and curious of your friend's proposal.

"Because." She shrugged. "Don't pussy out."

"I'm not pussying out. A dare's a dare." Jean scoffed. "I'm gonna go take my shit in your room and shower."

"Y-yeah, I'll go bring mine, too." You got up, using this time to hyperventilate alone. What the fuck was Sasha even thinking? Was this some stupid joke? But your friends wouldn't harm you, so why would she suggest such a stupid thing?

You took a quick shower before curling up in the bed, blankets covering you from neck to toe. Connie wasn't back yet, and you didn't want to go after him, that would just be odd. You were hoping you'd fall asleep before he returned, to avoid any unnecessary fuss, but just as you closed your eyes, the door opened. Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? He struggled to find his pyjamas in the dark, stumbling over furniture and knocking things down, and you turned the bedside lamp on to ease his search.

"Did I wake you up?" Connie bit his lower lip, and through the dim light you watched the way his grey eyes glistened, the way his short brown hair was ruffled, and how the sage green t-shirt hugged his toned abdomen.

"No, no, 's alright. I wasn't sleeping. I can't exactly fall asleep." You clutched the blanket at your chest as you shook the intrusive thoughts away. Connie was your friend, damn it, there was no room for romance between you.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Oh, God, no, it's... stiff."

"Um, yeah, it kinda is. Alright then, I'll jump in the shower real quick before going to bed." He stumbled into the bathroom and you really wanted to fall asleep now.

But you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes, Connie's face popped in your head. So much for resting. You tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing helped. It didn't take long for him to finish his shower, and you mentally chastised yourself for not falling asleep when you felt him shuffle under the same blanket that was covering you. For a minute, you didn't utter a word, you barely breathed, afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

"Are you asleep?"

"Nope." You heard the click of Connie's phone and turned around. You couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"Do you wanna talk about something? Until we fall asleep, I mean." You suggested.

"Hmm, sure." He turned on his side and you felt his breath fanning over your cheeks. You were too close to him. "Actually, d'you wanna smoke?"

"Aren't the others gonna be mad if we smoke without them?"

"They don't have to know. Besides, you and I never smoked together." Connie was already up, rummaging through his backpack with the flashlight of his phone. "And then we can talk as much as you want."

"Alright, I'm down."

You laid on the floor, your head next to Connie's as you looked at the ceiling, smoke leaving your lips. He took the joint from you, fingers touching yours and you blushed, the haze of the weed melting your worries away.

"Do you want me to skip the song?" Connie asked, and for a moment you forgot there was a song playing.

"No, I like it." You confessed. "I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin."

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Y/N." He passed you the joint.

"Okay, tell me something else I don't know."

"I like it when you randomly say historical or scientific facts."

"Didn't you say I brag too much about it?" You took one final drag before you stubbed the joint out in a makeshift ashtray filled with a bit of water. By this point you were high as a kite, every trace of rationality gone.

"That doesn't mean I don't like it." Connie smiled and you could feel it in his voice. "Now you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I can't sleep with open doors. It freaks me out." You sat up, a breeze blowing through the window sending shivers down your spine. "It's a bit cold, do you mind if I close the window?"

"Go ahead."

You got up and picked the ashtray up but before you could close the window, you stumbled over a chest of drawers, the ashes mixed with water spilling over your t-shirt.

"You okay?" He quickly crawled to you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm just clumsy." You laughed it off and waved your free hand. "I'll go get changed, I should have a spare shirt."

But you didn't have a spare shirt. All you had was that stupid white babydoll, and anxiety seeped through your veins. You couldn't exactly show up in that in front of your crush. And you didn't want to ask him for a shirt either. Fuck it, what else could you do?

You peeked out the bathroom door and saw Connie back in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. God, this was embarrassing.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed, but when your facial expression didn't change, he frowned. "Y/N?"

"Um, so, I didn't have a spare shirt and- Jesus, this is awkward." You opened the door and his eyes widened. "Is it alright if I sleep in this?"

"Oh, I get it now." Connie scoffed.

"Get what?"

"You were hoping you'd share a room with Jean, right?" He sounded almost disgusted.

"Excuse you? Where did you even get that idea?" You slammed the bathroom door shut, arms folded across your chest.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I've seen the way you two act. Do yourselves a favour and just fuck already."

You were speechless. Completely reactionless. The weed amplified your anger, but his words brought tears to your eyes.

"You... you fucking asshole! You think I brought this for Jean? I brought it for you!"

"Eh? M-me?" Connie was confused, and you were pissed.

"Yes, you. Jean's like a brother to me, oh my God! Ew!"

"Wait, so you and Jean are not in love with each other?"

"In love?? Connie, how high are you exactly?" You walked closer to the bed, arms still crossed.

"But- Fuck, I am stupid." He shook his head, the memories of you flirting with him flashing before his eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"A bit..." Your muscles relaxed and you sat on the mattress. "Really, Connie, I... I like you. A lot. But you're always giving me mixed signals."

"That's because I always thought you liked Jean!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, you're the only one."

"Huh, guess I've really been dazed and confused."

Calloused fingertips ran across your hips leaving goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed his back and the way Connie kissed you was better than any high you've ever experienced. He was touch-starved, and you were just as needy. His knee found its place between your thighs and you moaned when it barely brushed your cunt.

"I've been dreaming for this moment for as long as I can remember." Connie breathed into your neck, the hot breath tickling your skin.

"Me too, you blind bat." You laughed and he turned you over, hovering over you.

"'M sorry I didn't notice quicker." He kissed you again. One hand travelled lower, pushing your underwear to the side before he pushed two fingers between your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Well, at least now I don't have to finger myself thinking about you." You whimpered with a grin.

"Oh?" Connie arched a brow. "Is that what you've been doing?" He curled up his fingers and you threw your head back with a moan. "I thought you were a prude."

"T-there's lots of things you d-don't know about m-me!" You replied back between oh’sand ah’s, imitating his words from an hour ago. That only earned a sneer from Connie, his head dipping between your thighs. "Wait, what are you do- ooh fuck!"

His tongue lapped at your cunt, fingers pumping in and out of you, and you completely sunk into the mattress, moaning his name over and over again. You gripped the sheets, flexing the muscles in your legs as you squirmed and thrashed. Connie stopped and you almost crushed his skull with your thighs at the empty feeling. He pulled your underwear down and shoved the cotton panties in your mouth.

"Don't wake everyone up, Y/N. You don't want them knowing what a little slut you are, do you?"

You shook your head and Connie went back to circling your clit with his tongue, adrenaline rushing through your entire body with each lick, each suck. Tears of pleasure pooled at your eyes, nose and cheeks red from the thrill of your incoming orgasm. The way he was sloppily eating your pussy and moaning while doing it drove you insane, and within seconds you came undone, thighs trembling with delight. In fact, you were so sore you had to push his head back, begging him to stop so you could return the favour.

"You taste so sweet." Connie licked his lips. You don't know what possessed you to pull him into a kiss after you removed the makeshift gag, but he was right, you were sweet.

"Can I...?" Your eyes drifted down to his twitching cock, your voice soft and quiet.

"You wanna suck it?"

"Yes."

"Later. Right now, I wanna fuck you."

Connie gave you no time to protest, his elbow pushed one of your things to the side, the blushing tip of his cock grazing over your overstimulated clit, up and down your slit. Inch by inch it disappeared into your cunt and he let out a satisfied sigh. You bucked your hips, manicured nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight!" Connie growled, head lowering to kiss you. You could still taste yourself on his lips and that only made you clench your spongy walls around his cock. That seemed to please him, because he rocked his hips harder and faster. "You like it?"

"Oh, God, yes!" You gasped, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you clawed his back.

"Fuck, I want you to ride me." He gripped your hips tighter and turned you over. You tried your best to get in the new position without letting his cock slip out of you, and when you finally adjusted yourself, it was a whole new challenge. Gravity pulled you down, and his tip brushed your cervix, your eyes squinting at the slight pain. "If it hurts, stop-"

"No!" You cried out, your hands resting on his chest. You bounced up and down, the uncomfortable feeling slowly replaced with pleasure. Connie's hands traced your thighs as you rode him, another wave of heat flushing through your core. His palm met your cunt, thumb circling over your clit. "I can't c-come again!"

"Yes, you can. And you will cream on my cock."

The disgust words worked like magic and you flexed your thighs, bouncing faster, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back. "You're so beautiful, Y/N."

"Connie, I-" The words stopped in your throat, the pressure too much for you to handle.

"You what?"

"I'm- oh, God!"

"Atta girl!" He praised you when he felt your silken walls relaxing and your thighs quaking. The second orgasm was so intense you let yourself fall over his chest, dizzy and tired. You thought he'd give you a break, but Connie wrapped an arm around your back, holding you in place before giving your oversensitive cunt a few more thrusts. "Now you can return the favour."

You mustered up some strength to get up and kneel in front of the bed, between his legs.

"Please don't come in my mouth." You asked him before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock.

"Gotchaah-" Connie choked on his words when he felt himself in your hot mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes on him. You didn't break eye contact when you pulled away and spat on the tip, hand pumping his cock to smear the spit. "Hot." He mumbled before you went back to sucking. You felt the throbbing, tightening your lips around him and picking up the pace. "Y/N-"

It all happened in a flash — Connie yanked your hair and pulled your head back, thick ropes of milky white cum shooting all over your face and neck.

"Eew!" You scrunched your nose, hand under your chin to stop it from dripping down the floor.

"What do you mean ew? That's, like, a billion kids!"

"Actually, a fertile man produces around-"

"Don't start. Do not." He pressed his index finger over your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You woke up sore, especially between your thighs, but damn, was it worth it. Connie wrapped an arm around your waist, mumbling something about how pretty you are, but you assumed he was still sleeping — or still high. The sun shone through the blinds and you squinted, annoyed by the brightness, and so you turned around, watching the way your crush snored peacefully.

"Cute." You smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead, waking him up. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Connie rubbed his eyes. "Waking up to you is a blessing."

You couldn't hide the tinting of your cheeks and the grin on your lips. "I didn't think you were the romantic type."

"There's lots of things-"

"I don't know about you. But I'd like to know those things. If you let me, of course." You bit your lower lip, eyes filled with hope.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He sat up, his eyes serious.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Okay, so maybe Sasha knew a thing or two when she dared Jean to switch roommates.

You walked into the kitchen after getting ready for the day, with Connie following behind you. Everyone was eating their breakfast, and Jean instantly dashed to you.

"Connie, bro, take me back. Sasha's leaving crumbs all over the bed! I can't sleep like that!"

"I can't, man, I wanna spend the rest of the week with my girlfriend." He sneered and you elbowed him.

"I forgot to mention Jean's overprotecti-"

"Your what? Hands off my sister from another mister, you creep!"

"Creep? You're the one who was sexting someone's sister last night." Sasha chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

"Thanks, Sash." Jean rolled his eyes. "For real, how did this happen?"

"You see, mate, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"Nope. I will not hear this."

#connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x you #aot x y/n #connie springer x you #connie springer x y/n #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #snk x you #snk x y/n #connie x you #connie x y/n

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1234-angelika · 3 years

Text

Dinner Party

an:Hey y'all! So I am almost all caught up on this series. This is the fourth installment of the Happily Ever After series for Hotch. As always, I hope y'all enjoy.

words:1.2k

warnings: mentions of childbirth, death, canon-typical violence, military mentions

summary:"Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles with the cold." -André Maurois

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

You had briefed the case on the plane, on the way to New Jersey. Two boys had been taken and killed and, a third child had gone missing; Kyle Murphy, a seven-year-old boy.

Once the plane landed, one group of you—you, JJ, Aaron and, Spencer—went straight to the precinct to investigate. The other group—Derek, Emily, and David—went to the Murphys' home to further investigate the scene and observe the press conference. The case moved very quickly since we were on a strict timeline. What we didn't see coming was the fact that Kyle's brother was the one who killed him. The case was a rough one, and everyone was feeling it.

The flight home was silent. You and Aaron were sat side by side, David and Derek across from you, Spencer on the couch and, JJ and Emily in the seats across the aisle. You had been reading a book until you were unable to focus any longer. Shifting in your chair, you turned your body to see Aaron better. The two of you chatted amongst yourselves, trying not to draw too much attention—for the sake of keeping the relationship a secret. However, you knew it wouldn't be able to go on as a secret for much longer, given the fact the two of you were surrounded by some of the best profilers. So, together, you decided that you would announce your relationship to the team. Because you were a team member, you were ok with the rest of the team finding out on their own, but Aaron insisted on a formal introduction. He was very persuasive. Together, you decided to make the announcement on Friday over dinner at your place.

Today was the day! Friday came quickly, the nerves of announcing the relationship coming faster as the dinner got closer. The decision to have dinner at your place was significantly influenced by the fact that you had yet to meet Jack in any capacity. You had already filed for a half-day, needing the time for cleaning and cooking, and Aaron pushed the papers through.

You hurriedly walked into the FBI building, trying to arrive to work on time and also to avoid the chilly weather outside. You made it to your office just in time. Setting your stuff down, you immediately started on your paperwork left from the case earlier this week. The morning passed in a blur, and surprisingly, no one had interrupted you. Finally, the alarm you had set on your phone went off, alerting you that you were done at the office for the day. You put your coat on and gathered your belongings before leaving for the day. You went up to Aaron's office to update him and then headed on your way out of the office.

As you walked through the bullpen, you said, "Dinner at my place tonight. At 7, Garcia will send the address. See you later."

You rushed to the grocery store and flew through, getting everything off of your list before heading on your way home. You drove up to the gate, and the guard walked to your window.

"Miss Y/L/N, welcome home." He said with a smile.

"Thanks Norm. I am expecting some guests this evening, if you could please alert me when they arrive."

"Will do Miss." He started on the way to open the gate when you asked, "Are the kids home Norm?"

"Annie is with them, they are with her in the guest house."

You gave him a nod and a smile before driving through the gate and towards the garage. The butler, Oscar, met you in the garage and helped you carry the groceries in.

"How's your day been Miss?"

"Its been okay Oscar. How's your day been?"

"Its been swell Miss."

"I'm glad to hear it," "Are the lounge and dining room prepared for tonight?"

"Yes Miss."

"With the specifications I left?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Thank you Oscar,"

He left the kitchen after you dismissed him, and then you began to prepare dinner. You got to work chopping and peeling and slicing and dicing. After you placed the chicken in the oven, you went upstairs to get ready.

A quick shower later, you were working on your make-up and doing your hair. Simple make-up and sophisticated hair-do were decided on. You slipped into your black dress and black pumps before making your way back downstairs. The time you had left before the team arrived was filled with cooking and adjusting the place settings. Just as you placed the last wine glass onto the table, your phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Miss Y/L/N, your guests have arrived. Please check the camera to confirm before I let them in."

You walked over to the monitor before answering Norm, "It's them. Thank you Norm."

You then hung up and walked out to the foyer to greet your teammates. You opened the door, and Oscar walked out, taking the keys from each of your friends as they walked up the driveway. They all walked inside, and you watched the expressions on their faces change.

Turning to them, you said, "Welcome to my home."

The team was wide-eyed and looking around when David said, "Bella, I always say I have a mansion but your house… it's absolutely massive."

Gesturing, you said, "The house belongs to my parents—"you were interrupted by the kids running up to you. Annie was hurrying behind them, out of breath and panting apologies. You just waved her off, making sure she knew you weren't angry. Your niece hid behind your legs as soon as she looked up and saw Derek. Crouching down, you picked her up, and she immediately hid her face in the crook of your neck.

"Y/N, who are these cuties?" JJ asked while interacting with your nephew.

"These are my sisters kids," you replied, "That's Marko," you said, pointing to the boy JJ was playing with. Then, stepping to the side, you revealed two little girls standing behind you. "This is Abigail and this is Aleksandra." The two offered a shy wave to your teammates.

"And who might this cutie be?" Derek asked, gesturing to the shy girl in your arms.

"This little one is Briana." You answered with a smile.

Slack-jawed Spencer asked, "So what happened? With their parents I mean."

"My sister passed away due to complications during Brianas birth and during her pregnancy, her husband was serving overseas and was KIA."

"Are you their guardian now?"

"No, legally my parents are. At the time, I was living in LA and couldn't get a transfer here, plus with the job they need a stable home. I live here now though, so I can help out."

The conversation kind of lulled, everyone loitering in the foyer. Aaron decided that now was as good a time as any and made the announcement before dinner even started.

"I know everyone here knows each other and you all know Y/N in an official capacity but, tonight was meant to be used as an announcement of our relationship."

"Emily, Rossi, you both owe me 10." Said Derek, with his signature cheeky grin.

"What for?" You asked, already wary of the path you were heading down.

"We were betting on when the two of you would come clean." Answered Garcia with a smile.

And even though you were a part of the team, somehow, it now felt more like you were a part of a family. The dinner was full of laughter, chatter and, embarrassing stories, continuing long into the night.

taglist:@multixfandomwriter @honeyofthegods @myescapefromthislife @sparklykeylime

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #happilyeverafter #hea

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oddsnendsfanfics · 3 years

Text

Sparkle

Genre: Fan Fiction (Sand Castle)

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: It’s so fluffy!

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: thank you @rmtndew for the edit of Sy in glasses :D More Sy and Wispy? Why yes!

Henry Cavill Master List

“Uncle Sy,” Annie giggled at her uncle, as he pulled a face. “Sit still.” Her voice going firmer.

Beside her, Willow had her hand on her hips shaking her head at their uncle. “Uncle Sy, we need you to stay very still.”

“Fine, fine.” He gave in sitting statue straight, still as could be.

“Close your eyes, please.” Annie instructed.

Doing as he was asked, Sy closed his eyes and leaning against the couch to support his back. Cross legged on the floor, a mound of pillows under him, he fought the smirk that kept threatening to creep onto his face. The two little girls painting the floral scented mud, clay, paint? Whatever the cool, thick stuff was onto his face. Around his beard, across his cheeks and forehead. Sy felt the soft brush that Aimee had handed them against his skin.

“You know Sy,” Aimee's voice greeted him, yet his eyes remained closed, “this stuff is actually pretty good. It might even help brighten that complexion of yours. Tired and sunburned was so last year.”

Snorting, Sy shook his head, both nieces scolding him for moving while they tried to apply the mask. Directing him to pucker his lips, Willow stood in front of him, a glob of lip moisturizer on her brush, she slapped it on spreading it thickly against his red chapped lips. The girls were taking good care of their Uncle Sy.

At least they wanted to do it at home this time. Sy was unsure of the product quality, but the service was far better and cheaper than when he'd taken them to an actual spa. Now that had been a sight, the look on the woman's face when the giant, bearded man in boots strode into the salon with the two little girls in tow. Despite the initial shock, Sy had to hand it to them, those ladies were magical.

He'd left feeling like his hands, feet, and face had been kissed by angels and butterflies. Hell, he'd even let Willow and Annie pick out a polish for his toes. Sitting in the chair chatting with the woman painting his toes, while his nieces had watched from their own pedicure chairs, Sy learned that men coming in to dote on their daughters and nieces wasn't really all that uncommon. He, however, was one of the first to ask for Pompeii Purple toes. The shade had really brought out his eyes.

In his sister's living room, Sy chuckled when Willow announced that he absolutely needed to trim that scraggly beard of his. In their life time, neither of his nieces had ever bore witness to their uncle without his beard. He liked it too much to part with it. Besides, the women loved it. Clearing his throat, Sy opened his eyes, a mocking frown on his face.

“Don't you dare touch my beard, understood bub?” He smirked. Willow nodded and Annie, standing just out of sight giggled. “There will be no cutting of my beard, until I say so.”

“Oh come on, Sy.” Aimee teased from the kitchen. “You could use a trim,” she winked at Annie.

“I would prefer to do it myself, thank you sister dearest.” He winked at Willow, a near impossible task with the clay beginning to set on his face.

“What if we just make it pretty?” Annie piped up, shuffling into the room with a hairbrush and bows in her hands. “Can we?”

“Please, Uncle Sy.” Willow pulled out the puppy dog eyes. Bouncing on her tip toes with excitement.

Playfully grumbling, Sy waited a minute or two. Letting the little girls get antsy before agreeing. Under some conditions. Nothing but a comb and some pink sparkly bows went into his beard. If they so much as tugged the wrong way, Sy was combing it himself. His beard was his pride and joy, right after his Wispy. He'd worked hard over the years to grow this bad boy.

“Gently,” He reminded them, lifting his chin for Willow to gingerly take the comb through his thick beard.

Climbing onto the couch behind him, Annie sat with her legs crossed gently rubbing a hair brush through his growing curls. A full out pamper day wasn't entirely bad. Enjoying his “spa treatment”, Sy winced when he heard Aimee giggling like a child on too much sugar. He knew his sister well enough to know that this was not going to be good.

“Aim, what in the hel-ck are you doing?” Sy asked glancing at his sister. Her phone poised as she giggled and shrugged.

“I thought ma might like to see. Maybe fire one off to the boys. You still in touch with the Major? Show him what retirement does for ya?”

“You wouldn't dare,”

“Send one to the Major? No. But I would send it to ma and everyone else we know. Come on Sy, you're adorable. You should let me share this on that mommy blog, it would be a hit.” She laughed. “Former Army Captain attacked by Girl Scouts.”

Sy replied with a grunt. More than one single mother, and a few not so single, on that damn blog Aimee was part of had themselves hot and bothered for the youngest Syverson. Every time Aimee mentioned her brother, at least one woman would ask if he was seeing somebody or how he liked children, who weren't his. Sy liked children fine, but he had no interest in taking on any to parent.

“Leave Uncle Sy alone,” Willow pouted, as she put the last bow into his beard. “Don't be mean, mommy.”

“I wasn't being mean, baby girl. Uncle Sy and I were teasing. Now, why don't you finish up those bows and help him wash his face. You can't leave the mask on too long, remember.”

“Oops,”

“It's okay bub,” Sy pulled away from the hair styling by Annie. “You ladies clean up a bit out here and I will go clean my face off.”

Striding down the hall, Sy could feel the clay on his face hardening and drying. If nothing else his pores would be flawless for a few days. Chuckling as he went, he could hear Annie and Willow in the living room. No doubt discussing their next plan for their uncle's beauty treatment. If he had to, there was a lovely yellow nail polish that he'd been eyeing in the box of tricks. It may not be the right season for yellow, but it would surely make the hair on his big toes really pop.

In the bathroom, he grabbed a wash cloth and turned the taps. Allowing the water to reach a nice, warm temperature he began scrubbing the dried clay away from his face. The bows in his hair and beard were a sight to behold. Admiring the handy work, Sy stood for a few seconds looking at the man in the mirror. The one grizzled, gruff, hard as nails and fearless Captain was reduced to a soft and gentle giant.

He loved spending the time with the kids, allowing them to have their fun, before Uncle Sy packed up and drove back across town. It was no wonder people were forever asking him when he'd have his own. Ah well, it was better this way. Sy enjoyed the company of the kids, but all the time and he would be even more grizzled and cranky than he was when he was stationed over in the desert.

Being home had it's perks, like getting to be with his family whenever he wanted. Having sleepovers with the kids, whenever Willow decided that he was lonely in his house. Or how she was forever trying to set him up with any woman they came across, while he had her out. That one was less and less cute, especially as she had somehow been targeting only married women lately.

The last thing Sy wanted was to get his ass kicked by some woman's husband or wife, for hitting on their wife because some kid said she was pretty. Shaking his head, he finished checking himself in the mirror to make sure he had all of the clay off.

Cleaned up and refreshed Sy joined the girls in the living room.

“Ladies, what's next?”

“Lunch!” “Make up!”

Laughing at their very different ideas, he nodded to Annie. “I agree lunch is the much better idea, make up can be after.”

“But mommy said we could go out for lunch. You can't go out unless you have a proper face on.” Willow pouted. Annie sighed. Her cousin had a point.

“Girls,” Aimee spoke, she was about to do everything in her mom power, to get Sy out of this one. As amused as it would be, seeing her brother go to lunch in a full face of make up.

“No, no she's right.” Sy nodded in agreement. “Aim, why not let Annie do your make up and Wispy can do mine. Then we'll all be ready for lunch, hel-ck, I'll even pay. Treat all of my girls.”

“Yeah!” The cheers went up from the girls.

Aimee, rolling her eyes and making a mental note to kill her brother later on. She would never forgive him, nor forget. Some day, she would get him back. This is when she should suggest wearing their best dresses – Sy included. Instead, she'd pay him back when he least expected. Maybe the next time, she'd insist they go for lunch wearing some over the top princess costumes.

Sy chuckled, what did they have to lose? At 11 years old, Annie was more than capable at putting together some make up. Willow was eccentric with her colour palate, but Sy wasn't worried much about that.

“Mommy, please. Please, we can all do our make up and go for lunch.”

“I hate you,” Aimee whispered passing her laughing brother, sitting down on the floor. “Okay, girls, let's get to it. Then we can make Uncle Sy take us for the best lunch, we've ever had.”

“Drive thru at Burger King isn't that fancy,” laughing, Sy nudged his sister with his elbow.

“Oh, but Sy if we have our best faces on, we need something better than cheap burgers in a bag. I was hoping maybe we could go to Janet's.”

It was Sy's turn to roll his eyes and stifle a groan. Of course Aimee would insist they go inside to eat. Saturday was the busiest day of the week for the small diner. Whatever, Sy was man enough to take it. With more confidence than anyone had ever seen, he would walk into that diner, head high, and his beard bows sparkling. The things he did to keep these children happy.

If it meant buying a hundred ponies, wearing full make up, and walking across a floor of legos – Sy would do it all to see these kids smile.

“I love Janet's!” Willow squealed dancing on her tiptoes, nearly poking her uncle in the eye with the eye shadow brush she was using. The hot pink creme shadow she had chosen for him was really going to pop with his dark beard. “Uncle Sy, please. Please can we go? You said that you would take me there the next time we went for lunch, you said that I could have a big sundae and...”

“Sy?” A sideways glance at her baby brother, Aimee puckered her lips for Annie to apply some lipstick. Offering the kids ice cream as a meal wasn't a crime, but it would explain why they sometimes came home bouncing around like mad hornets in an old coke can.

“Wispy, you're not supposed to tell your ma that I let you at ice cream as a meal.”

“Sorry, but can I?”

“Maybe for dessert, you can Annie can shade a giant sundae.” Aimee reasoned.

“Fine, but the next time we go....” Staring at her uncle, Willow pouted.

“Whatever you want, bubs.” Smirking at his sister, Sy conveniently pointed to the blush in the bag, asking Willow if she thought the orangeish colour would work for him. “Whatever you want.”

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #henry cavill

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ssa-daddyhotchner · 3 years

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The Struggle of Loving You - Chapter 22

Chapter Selection

I stared at the ceiling, I couldn't wrap my head around that I would be graduating in two months. Everything I wanted and tried to be was going to happen. I was going to go to into the academy and train to be apart of the FBI.

The fucking FBI. I had zero clue where I was going but that didn't matter to me. I could always work my way through the ranks. I'm a hard worker and always strive to do better with whatever I'm doing. But I needed to get a jump on things, needing to try an get ahead.

The people there will be doing the same and i don't want to be behind. I took my phone off the bed side table and called Aaron, "Hello."

I smirk to the sound of his voice. "Are you busy right now." I swung my legs off the bed and stood up.

"Not at the moment." I started brushing my teeth. "Okay good, cause you're taking me shooting in an hour."

"O- oh okay.... in a hurry?"

"Not really, well kind of... you can't blame me for wanting to see my boyfriend."

Aaron smiled, "No you're not, do you want me to meet you or am I going to pick you up." I finished my shower and threw on a black tank top with black ripped jeans.

“Which ever you prefer."

“I'll be there in an hour."

We hung up the phone and I put in on the charger. Grabbing my laptop I needed to try and finish some assignments that were due at 5pm. I needed to go through my classes of Psychology and Victimology. Needing to write 3 papers for both classes.

I would've done it the day before but I was busy with my work outs and Chloe had car trouble. The past few days had been hectic, but that's not an excuse. I just made it harder on myself.

I brought the laptop into the kitchen and sitting on the stool. I didn't sit on the couch knowing if I got too comfortable I'd put it off more. While I waited for everything to load and start I got a cup of coffee. At this point coffee ran through my veins which wasn't good at all but I wasn't complaining.

Getting in front of the computer I scrolled down the list. Needed two things done for each class, 2 papers with 3,000 words each. Fuck this, I groan out and loaded up Google Docs. Going to the rubric I looked at the requirements.

The paper needed to be about rape and the other needed to be about social cognation.Turning my phone on airplane mode I took a sip and started typing. While writing I forgot about Aaron picking me up.

After an hour of writing, Aaron was sitting in parking lot calling and texting me. Letting me know he was there, when I didn't answer he walked up the stairs and went to the door.

Hearing the faint knock it broke me out of my concentration. I stood up and stretched over to the door. Aaron was about to knock again but I opened the door. "Did you not hear me calling you."

I put a hand on my forehead, "Sorry I was doing homework, I turned off my phone."

"That's fine I would've just liked a little notice before worrying myself." He chuckled and took a seat. I sat on his lap and turned the computer to face us. "What are you writing?", he rested his head on my shoulder, putting his arms around my waist.

“Something for psychology... after I turn this in then I move on to Victimology." I had completed the paper for Psyc. After I turned it in I tapped his hand. Standing up and grabbing my keys.

Tugging on his hand, we walked out and I locked the door behind us. Getting into the car Aaron started driving over to the shooting range. His hand rested on my thigh and I put my small hand over his large one.

Giving a small squeeze I glanced over to him. "Have you ever shot a gun?", I thought back to my childhood.

"A few times, with a friend. When my parents let me over there they would take me hunting. Got a few bucks but nothing special. If I remember my friends dad said and I quote I was the best shot he'd seen from someone my age."

“How old were you?"

"Nine, like he said, I was the best." He chuckled and pulled into the raking lot.

"Yeah well let's seen how you are without a hunting rifle." Since I was good with the rifle I didn't think I would have a problem with a handgun or really any gun for that matter. Except shotguns those had too much power for my liking. We walked in and Aaron handled everything with the guy working there.

Heading into the range Aaron handed me the 9mm. Setting it on the gun and the clip on the table in front of me. "Go ahead." He nodded to me, we both put on the headphones before I did anything.

Load the gun I aimed at the target ahead of me. Aaron stood behind me watching my form and how I shot.I held the gun in my right hand and supported with my left hand. "Don't put you're thumb on the trigger if you aren't ready."

"I know", I said quietly and exhaled, pulling the trigger. The recoil hit me, forgetting how much a gun can kick. Pulling back, after the gun settled. I put it down and Aaron came to stand next to me, looking down the range.

Us being the only people in the room he took off his glasses and headphones, "Not bad... try bending your elbow slightly more." I nodded and he put his things back on. Picking it back up and aims down, following his advice and bent my arm more.

Loosening my wrist a bit, I shot again. The recoil was slightly better, it wasn't so forceful. I got into a rhythm and forgot Aaron was standing behind me. Counting my shots, I stopped when the clip emptied. Checking the chamber to making sure it was empty.

Aaron took the gun from my hand and pressed the button next to me. The target came towards us and we looked at where I hit. "You seem to have the hang of it. The way you were holding it made the bullets curve down a bit make sure you're arms aren't too loose."

I turned to face him while he was talking. "Other than that... good job." He loaded another clip and handed it to me, he grinned at me. Leaning forwards I peaked his lips before going to shoot again.

We stayed there for another hour, Aaron was making little changes on my form and giving me some tips. I appreciated his help with everything so far. He couldn't have been more helpful.

Getting into the car he pulled out of the parking lot. "Thank you", he placed his hand on my inner thigh. "You don't have to thank me.... I would've ended up asking anyways. I want you to do great."

Lacing my hand with his I earned my head back. "Do you have Jack tonight." "Hayley took him this morning", he already knew what I was going to ask.

“Your place?", I saw a faint smile and he switched directions, going to his house. When we got there we walked through the front door. He grabbed my hand and guided me towards the shower.

I dropped my things on his bed, "I don't have any clothes." Aaron looked around and walked to his closet. "You can wear me clothes... here."

He handed me one of his older shirts and a pair of sweatpants. "Are you forgetting something?”

He scrunched his eyebrows and went back to his drawer. Grabbing a pair of boxers and tossing them to me. I kissed his cheek and we got into the shower. His hands went my hips and his lips were drawn to my neck.

"What are you doing?", I said smiling. "Nothing", me mumbled into my neck. I let out a soft moan and placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back. "How about... we actually take a shower."

“You're no fun", he said chuckling. "Oh I'm plenty fun." The shower was spent teasing each other and poking fun.

After finishing I changed into Aarons clothes and laid down on my side of the bed. Once Aaron got behind me I curled up to his side like a magnet.

________________

Permanent taglist : @filthyq-tip-blog @errorcosplay67 @aberrant-annie @wanniiieeee @oreogutz

#aaron #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #hotchner #hotch #SSA HOTCHNER #hotch x y/n #aaron hotch x reader #writing #fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfic #Criminal Minds

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ye4gerismarchives · 3 years

Text

the bachelorette chp 4, part 2: visiting bertholdt’s dad

an: so, i did finish this chapter the same night i promised to drop it but my chapters only get engagement at a certain time, so i’m dropping it rn! i don’t have a lot of questions for the boys rn but i’ll work with what i have and what i get from this chapter and will post them during my trip! link at the bottom!

tags: black, fem reader, sickly parent, mentions of d**th (but no one d*es)

tag list: @taybird

You slept over at Connie's house as planned. See, now, Connie's parents are sneaky. They intentionally made their guest room unavailable to you and forced you to sleep with Connie in his old room. Connie was completely respectful around you. He stepped out so that you could take a bath and everything and you did the same for him while he got ready. Once you were both ready, Connie wished you goodnight and turned on his side before snoring away.

The next morning, Connie's mom made you and Connie breakfast as you both got ready. The rest of his family was sleeping in, which made things easier because you know you would be chatting it up with his family.

You were supposed to meet Bertholdt's dad today. He was extremely sick and could pass any moment. You wished he was your first visit but it is what is right? You promised Bertholdt that Connie would drop you off at the hospital.

You thanked Mrs. Springer for the breakfast and asked her to say to the rest of the family for you. Connie dealt with the suitcase and waited patiently in the car. You pulled out your phone and texted Levi, asking him to tell Bertholdt that you were on his way. The older man left you on read. You weren't sure if he knew how to use a phone. Or he could be faking that too to throw you off.

Connie finally got things settled and sat with you in the car. He looks at you before starting the car. "I'll put your things together when I get to the mansion. Try to have fun with Bertholdt and make this visit worth it," Connie advises. "Thank you, Connie, I really appreciate your words."

It took you an hour to get to the hospital. You thanked Connie for dropping you off. On a normal occasion, you'd watch him drive off and continue saying bye but you couldn't waste any time today.

You reached the hospital and had to look for the lobby Bertholdt was probably in. You weren't regularly in hospitals so you were shocked to see how many floors there were for different patients. You only knew of the maternity ward.

You pulled out your phone and looked at your previous messages with Levi to find where you were supposed to go. Once you had it all figured out, you stepped into an elevator and pressed the button that would take you to Bertholdt and his dad.

When you reached the floor and left the elevator, you recognized the back of your "boyfriend's" head. He was sitting down, so you decided you'd surprise him. You crept up behind Bertholdt's seat and slowly wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He tensed up but calmed down once he recognized your hands.

"Hey, troublemaker," you greet. "Hello, y/n," Bertholdt turns his head to look up at you, "How was Connie's family?" Bertholdt could maintain a smile but his eyes didn't look happy. "They were great. Thank you for asking. Bertie...are you alright?"

You felt awful. You felt like you should have sent Bertholdt home so that he wouldn't have to do this. Not only is he probably thinking about being eliminated but he's worried about his dad too. He probably wouldn't perform as well as Connie or Jean. You would also feel like you'd have to pity him and pick him for the final part of the show. Bertholdt seemed like a guy who understands situations and will accept any outcome. Yet, you still worried about the effect of your upcoming choice.

"I'm fine. I've checked us in, so we can go see him now." Bertholdt stands up and brushes his outfit. He's wearing another sweater and dress shirt combo. He offers you his hand and you take it. Bertholdt leads you down the hospital hallway. All the doors are closed to maintain privacy.

Bertholdt gets to his father's door and is hesitant to push the door open. His free hand is wrapped around the handle but he just won't push it open. You let go of the hand he offered you and wrap your hand around his on the handle. He looks up (down???) at you with surprise. You end up helping him push the door open.

The room is dark and all you can see is a frail body laying on a hospital bed. "Pops?" Bertholdt calls out. "Bert," he lets out weakly. Bertholdt takes your hand again and tugs you along to meet his dad. "Pops...I brought my...partner...from that show I'm doing."

Bertholdt's dad cracks a smile. "That girl your sharing with all those guys?" Bertholdt's face reddens. "You're making it sound weird."

"Come closer, missie. Your name is Annie, right?"

(if your name is annie, ignore this next line 💀)

"Oh, no. My name is y/n, sir," you correct him. "Ah. You look even more beautiful in person. I've been trying to watch the show but my vision's been wonky."

"That's ok, sir. It's probably best you don't watch it. It's...chaotic. I don't think you need that in your life right now," you say with a chuckle.

"I might pass before Bertie even gets a chance to propose to you but just know you have my blessing to love, take care of him and keep him in his place. Make sure he doesn't break your heart."

Your eyes water slightly. You didn't even know this man but this was so sad. You didn't want to believe he'd die before eliminations or after that but with his state, it looked like he would.

"Alright..." you managed to get out.

If Bertholdt’s dad were to pass during your engagement or marriage, that would be something you'd have to deal with. You had no idea how Bertholdt would react to the death. You did know that it would probably delay some plans. Bertholdt would try to do things to make you both happy but you would be too worried about getting him help. And if you wanted kids...that would have to wait. Bertholdt probably wouldn't want to raise kids while he's still mourning.

Mr. Hoover begins to cough uncontrollably and Bertholdt pushes you out of the way to press the nurse/doctor button. "Hey, pops, you're gonna get help, ok? Someone's coming to help you," Bertholdt reassures his father.

Based on this interaction, you knew regardless of the situation Bertholdt would protect and care for you, whether it was giving you food after a long day or jumping in front of a bullet for you.

Gosh, you really felt bad for him.

A team of nurses and a doctor rushed in and ushered you both out without allowing either of you to say goodbye. A nurse shut the door once you were both out of the room. Bertholdt stared at the closed door for a moment. You wrapped a hand around his arm and tugged on him. “Let’s go. It’s good that I met him right? Let’s go eat. I’ll get Connie to make something for us!”

apologies if this was sad 😬 looking forward to seeing y’all’s thoughts!

#black!reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot x black! reader #bertholdt x reader #connie spinger x reader

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crossbowking · 4 years

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Look After You

Summary: (Set in the beginning of Alexandria) After a supply run goes wrong, the reader is forced to face one of their greatest fears.

Request: “Hey! Glad you’re back and in the swing of things! Hope everything is well. How about number 15 from the recent drabbles list? Maybe the reader says it to Daryl after a close call where he put himself in danger to save/protect the reader? And maybe it can say “what the hell is wrong with you?” instead cause it sounds more angry or whatever. Idk I just think it would be something cool and I know you can do a great job bringing it to life. That is if no one has requested it yet. Thank you!!” @mikahowl

A/N: REPOST!!! I was a big ol’ dumb ass and accidentally deleted this story. Which means I also deleted all of your lovely comments. Ugh. I’m sad. :(

This oneshot is a bit lengthy, but I actually really love the way it turned out! There are some characters from Alexandria in this story that are actual characters in the show! Let’s see if you recognize any of them!

(Shoutout to @jodiereedus22 for her constant support and letting me run ideas by her! Check out her awesome work!)

Enjoy!

xx crossbowking

Masterlist

Tip Jar

The people of Alexandria were oblivious — ignorant, even — to the reality that loomed just outside their towering walls.

But regardless, when your group had first arrived at the Safe-Zone, each of you had made a promise to try — to try and live the way they did, to try and live as normally as possible, as though the world wasn’t crumbling around you.

Everyone in your group was doing their part, offering what they could to earn their keep, designated a role in the community by the town leader, Deanna. In the beginning, you’d been assigned to assist on supply runs with an established group inside the walls, led by Deanna’s son, Aiden.

But after a run went horribly wrong, everything changed.

Your group was still recovering from the loss of one of your own — Noah. Glenn was taking it especially hard, having witnessed the boy’s gruesome death. But after hearing what had actually happened, your group knew things needed to change — things needed to change and quickly if any of you stood a chance of survival.

After Aiden’s death, the responsibility to lead supply runs fell on you — and training the residents on how to properly scavenge became priority number one.

“Okay, are there any other questions? Anything you didn’t catch or want to hear again?” you announced tentatively, eyeing the lineup in front of you. “Anything at all?”

A group of four stood before you, all residents from Alexandria, all looking increasingly nervous.

“We just want to be thorough,” Tara suddenly spoke from beside you, addressing the group, attempting to ease their worries. “Even the smallest mistake can get someone killed,” she finished, her voice breaking off at the end.

You reached out, giving her hand a soft squeeze — Noah’s death had been hard on all of you.

“Seems like a lot more people have died since your group came around, don’t it?” Barnes suddenly called out. He was one of the residents — late twenties with tousled brown hair and a distrusting look in his eyes.

“Barnes —” another Alexandrian named Annie chastised from beside him. She was one of the more skilled when it came to supply runs, having been part of the initial scavenging group before your people joined Alexandria. She was in her early twenties, brunette with a slight frame but tough as hell.

“It’s okay, Annie,” you quickly interrupted, taking a step forward, locking eyes with Barnes. “What we’re trying to do here is prevent any more death — the only reason your people are still alive is because you’ve been lucky. Most haven’t.”

Tension hung between you before Barnes looked away, muttering something under his breath as he adjusted the rifle in his hands.

“We need to be in and out,” Tara finally continued, pushing past the uncomfortable atmosphere. “Big-box department stores like this don't tend to stay empty for long,” she explained, motioning towards the towering building beside you.

“And it’s pretty likely that most supplies have already been taken. So check in places you might not normally — underneath shelving units, behind registers, back of the house stocking areas,” you listed off the top of your head. “We grab what we can and get the hell out,” you finished with a nod. “Since the store is pretty huge, Tara will take three of you inside first to scope it out — take out any walkers, make sure there are no stragglers. The rest of us will stay outside to keep watch.”

“Well, w-what do we do if we find another survivor?” another one of the residents, Eddie, spoke — he was nineteen, maybe twenty years old, and scared shitless.

You sighed, sharing a look with Tara. “You just — just find one of us, okay? Make sure the person is unarmed, make sure they’re not a threat and —”

“A threat? You’ve gotta be joking,” Eddie protested, looking at the other residents for support. “Look, I shouldn’t be here — I-I just tend to the gardens. I don’t know how to ‘unarm’ someone. I can’t be here —”

“Eddie —”

“No — no, I can’t —”

“Hey man, you need to relax,” the fourth resident, Scott, intervened, placing his hand on the kid’s shoulder. He was in his forties and also experienced with the outside world — just like Annie. The two, along with another resident named Heath, would go on week-long supply runs for the community. He was a beast of a man — tall, broad, and built like a damn wall.

But Eddie quickly shook him off. “I just want to go home. Please, I-I just want to go home. I —”

“The hell’s goin’ on over here?”

The sudden gruff voice was like music to your ears, a wave of relief washing over you as the archer appeared from around the far side of the building, his eyes immediately finding yours. He marched forward, wordlessly eyeing the Alexandrian’s as he passed before halting beside you and Tara, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, shifting your weight slightly. “We’re fine, we’re just — we’re just going over the plan one last time.”

Daryl regarded you carefully, not believing you entirely but also not pushing the topic further. “Perimeter’s clear,” he grunted, swinging his crossbow over his shoulder before turning to face the residents, scowl set firmly in place.

You took a breath. “Alright — Scott, Annie, Eddie — you’ll do the sweep with Tara,” you instructed, motioning the three forward. “And Barnes, since you’re used to guard duty back home and you’ve got the rifle, you’ll be with us,” you finished jerking a finger between you and Daryl.

“Awesome,” Barnes muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he walked away from the lineup and towards your group’s van, the one you’d parked by the building’s front doors.

You felt Daryl stiffen from beside you — apparently, you weren’t the only one who picked up on the attitude.

Scott and Annie shared a ready look, immediately making their way towards the building. Eddie, on the other hand, remained frozen in place, looking incredibly pale all of the sudden.

You sighed. “Eddie —”

But Tara quickly took a step forward, slinging her backpack over her shoulder before glancing at you. “I got it,” she reassured with a wink, moving towards the frightened boy without another word.

Eddie watched her approach, shaking his head slightly in defiance. “I’m sorry, guys, but I-I can’t —”

“Hey, easy,” Tara calmed, stopping in front of the boy. “Listen, kid, I know you’re freaking out. I don’t blame you. But you gotta get your shit together, okay?” she continued, reaching down to grab the empty bag at his feet, forcing it into his grasp. “You can do this — but you have to trust us. We’re in this together, alright?” she encouraged softly before holding her fist out in front of her.

Eddie eyed her nervously before his shoulders sagged, eventually giving in and connecting his fist to hers. He slung the bag over his shoulder, unsheathing his small hunting knife as he hurried to catch up to Scott and Annie.

Tara glanced back at you and Daryl. “Fist bumping — it always gets the job done,” she grinned, waggling her eyebrows as she jogged to meet up with the Alexandrian’s.

You snorted a laugh, shaking your head as you watched the group of four disappear through the front doors of the department store.

“Ya did good,” Daryl suddenly rumbled from beside you.

You sighed, turning to face the archer, giving him a skeptical look. “You think?” you asked softly, hoping you didn’t sound as self-conscious as you felt. “I don’t know — this is more of Glenn’s specialty. He’s better at this kind of thing — he’s also better with people, I might add,” you murmured.

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he watched you, the intensity in his stare catching you off guard. “What’s wrong with ya?”

“What? Nothing,” you shot back defensively, wishing he’d stop looking at you as though he could see through you — past flesh and bone, into the parts of yourself you kept hidden in darkness, away from the world’s wandering eye.

“Bullshit,” he grumbled before you could spew any more lies. But when you opened your mouth to respond, another voice cut through the air.

“So, are we just supposed to stand out here with our dicks out or —” Barnes called snidely, leaning cooly against the van, rifle propped up against his shoulder.

You watched Daryl’s features darken, his head snapping in Barnes’s direction before he suddenly stormed forward. “Ya best watch that fuckin’ mouth a’ yours,” he growled, his threatening tone unwavering as the smirk etched on Barnes’s face dropped.

“Relax, man,” Barnes held his hands up, the sarcasm in his voice obsolete as he quickly straightened. “It was a joke, alright?” he huffed, eyes darting between you and the archer as he took a small step back. “Damn,” he scoffed, almost in disbelief.

But his words only riled Daryl further. You watched his head cock to the side as he jabbed a finger towards Barnes. “Ya —”

Before the archer could take another step, before he could hurl another definitive threat, you grabbed onto his arm. Daryl glanced down at you, the look in his eyes practically lethal, only fading once you shook your head. “Not worth it,” you murmured, just soft enough for him to hear.

Daryl held your gaze a moment longer before he pulled out of your grip. “Asshole,” he spat, his eyes like daggers as he shot Barnes one last hostile look before sliding his crossbow off his shoulder. He muttered another curse under his breath as he moved away, beginning to pace back and forth like a caged animal.

You exhaled heavily, letting him simmer down — you knew Daryl well enough to know when he needed space.

Barnes watched the interaction curiously and you found yourself fighting back the urge to smack the defiant, and slightly cocky, expression from his face.

Tara suddenly appeared at the front doors, stopping you from doing something you’d regret. She motioned Daryl over from where he’d stormed off to. “We’re all clear,” she announced, slightly breathless before she disappeared back inside the store.

You unsheathed the hunting knife strapped around your thigh as Daryl wordlessly stormed past you. Barnes moved forward after him, only stopping when you held out your arm. “What?” he questioned, a confused look flitting across his features.

“Not you,” you shook your head resolutely.

Barnes scoffed. “Are you kidding —”

“It’s not a punishment,” you interrupted, holding your hand out, giving him a pointed look. “I need you out here to keep watch.”

“Why me?” he demanded, clearly offended.

You felt your last bit of patience dissipate. “You know what,” you hissed through clenched teeth. “If you think you’re better suited to lead this run, then by all means —” you took a step back, extending your arm, urging him forward. But when Barnes didn’t move, you dropped your arm. “That’s what I thought,” you muttered, taking a step before pausing, eyeing the rifle in his hand. “And hold your fire — it’s for emergency only, okay? Emergency only. If that thing goes off, it’ll attract every walker within miles. Understood?”

Barnes looked as though he wanted to object, but after a moment, he merely huffed a breath and turned to face the parking lot.

You entered the store without another word.

The first thing you noticed was the smell — like spoiled meat and unwashed gym socks. You thought that after all this time you’d get used to the stench — but still, to this day, it had a funny way of taking you by surprise.

The store had already been ransacked — though you weren’t surprised. You hadn’t expected to find much — big-box department stores were the first to get looted when the world ended. You’d chosen this place as more of a trial run, to help the Alexandrian’s get a feel of how supply runs would work now that your group was in charge.

Your team worked quietly, efficiently, taking the building by storm.

It was easy.

Almost too easy.

You should’ve seen it coming.

Scott and Annie were making their way to the front of the store, empty bags now filled with supplies they’d found on a truck still attached to the loading dock. Tara and Eddie were sifting through an overturned clothing rack, shoveling clothes of all sizes into their backpacks.

And Daryl was standing on the opposite side of the store — looking at you.

You didn't understand why — why his expression twisted into one of panic, why your name fell from his lips in what seemed like slow motion, why the smell of rotting meat was getting stronger and stronger until —

It happened in the blink of an eye.

One moment, you were upright, watching Daryl in the distance as he took off into a dead sprint towards you. And the next, you were facedown on the floor, a heaviness pressing into your back, pushing the air from your lungs. A gnarled hand wound through your hair, the other grabbing onto your shoulder in a vice-like grip, yanking your head backward as a low growl sounded in your ear.

A cry fell from your lips as you twisted, stunned for just a moment before survival instincts kicked in. You braced one arm against the ground, pushing off and propelling yourself onto your side, knocking the walker off your back.

You didn’t waste another moment as you rolled away from the biter and jumped up, frantically searching for the knife you’d dropped, focusing only on the dead staggering to its feet. The walker lunged once more, but this time, you were able to brace your forearm against its chest, keeping its snapping jaws mere inches from your face.

You grunted under the pressure, feeling your arm start to give way, its teeth snapping closer and closer until —

You saw a glint of silver.

You felt cool metal press against the base of your throat.

You recognized the handle of your knife, the one you’d dropped moments ago, wrapped in another’s hand.

You heard the growling before you morph into something different, something hauntingly familiar.

“Mine.”

The low, hushed snarl stunned you into stillness, the sound shooting through you, feeling your blood run cold as you caught a glimpse of what exactly was in front of you.

Another survivor.

“Mine,” the man growled once more, pushing the tip of your knife deeper into your neck, your flesh splitting beneath the blade.

You grimaced, grabbing onto the stranger’s wrist to keep from screaming as your eyes frantically searched his.

He was covered in blood — some streaks fresher than others, spread across the naked parts of his face. His beard was tinged with grayness, curled and matted, hanging just above his chest. His teeth were bared like some sort of beast, crooked and yellow. But his eyes — his eyes you couldn’t seem to pull away from. They were wide and panicked — feral in the most animalistic way. They were distant, detached from any semblance of humanity as he neared closer.

You cringed away from the putrid smell he exuded, your dwindling strength no match for his barbarity.

“Get — out,” he growled between ragged breaths, his other hand tangling throughout your hair. “Mine — mine — home — get — out!“ he rasped, beginning to drag the knife’s edge across your throat.

But just as a cry reached your lips, suddenly, the man was gone.

You fell backward, colliding against the floor as chaos erupted around you.

That’s when you noticed Daryl.

He had the stranger pinned up against the wall, landing blow after blow, his movements fierce, precise, unrelenting. But then you saw something the archer didn’t — the man’s arm, raised high above his head, your knife in his grasp.

“No!” you screamed out, stumbling to your feet as the stranger plunged the knife down.

Except Daryl was quicker. He pushed away from the man at the very last second, just narrowly missing the knife’s blade — but the dodge threw him off balance, allowing the stranger a chance to land a solid left punch right against the archer’s temple, catching him off guard and sending him staggering away.

“Hey!” Tara suddenly appeared, distracting the crazed man, the rest of your group showing up right behind her.

The stranger let out a sort of animalistic shriek as he raised your knife, charging towards them without a second thought.

But before he could get close enough to attack, you heard gunshots.

Bang!

The stranger froze, stunned mid-strike, his body swaying slightly before his legs gave out, folding beneath him. The sudden silence was so deafening, you were sure the sound of your heart pounding was heard by those around you. No one spoke — all eyes trained on the kneeling man, blood beginning to drip from the corners of his mouth.

“Mine,” the stranger gargled between hitched breaths. “Mine — my — home,” he sputtered through the redness, his lips curling into a deranged grin as the light faded from his eyes. His body slumped forward, motionless, three bullet holes now torn through his torso.

As if on cue, everyone turned to look toward where the gunshots came from.

And there stood Barnes, rifle clenched in trembling hands, breathing slightly labored. “I — uh,” he stuttered, breaking the quiet. “I-I figured this — this would be considered an ‘emergency’, right?” he jumbled, any previous trace of humor gone from his tone.

Before you had a chance to speak, you felt a familiar touch — calloused fingers grabbing your chin, turning your face forward.

Your eyes fell on Daryl, now standing before you, his expression furrowed, eyes troubled as he gently tilted your head back. You winced as the slash on your neck stretched, his features growing stormy.

“U-Uh, guys?” Eddie suddenly whispered from behind Tara, breaking the stillness, his features growing increasingly pale. “I’m —”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off as the boy spun around and toppled forward, emptying the contents of his stomach.

You grimaced, squeezing your eyes shut — but then you felt Daryl’s grip move to either of your shoulders.

“Hey, ya alright?” he murmured, voice just soft enough for you to hear it.

Your eyes snapped open, but before you could respond, you noticed something that sent your heart plummeting.

A small gash just above Daryl’s right eyebrow.

It wasn’t a bad injury — not at all. You weren’t even sure if he knew he was bleeding. He’d sustained worse, you knew that. But the fact of the matter was that it could’ve been worse — it almost was worse. And that was because of you. Because he was trying to protect you.

And that was something you refused to be okay with.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you suddenly snapped, unsure where the abrupt fury came from — you hadn’t meant for the words to come out so harsh, but you also couldn’t seem to stop them.

The archer’s hands immediately retracted from your shoulders as he straightened, a look of confusion flitting across his features. “What?” he demanded, clearly taken aback.

“W-What — I mean, why would you —” you fumbled for the right words, feeling the anger in your gut simmering. You knew your feelings were being misdirected — but you couldn’t find it in you to stop. “What the fuck, Daryl?”

Daryl’s expression hardened as he took a step back, his eyes narrowing. “Are ya seriously pissed a’ me right now?”

“I can take care of myself, okay? I don’t need you to protect me!” you fired back, hands clenched into fists at your sides.

“I jus’ saved your damn life, Y/N!”

“Yeah, and you nearly lost yours!”

Your words echoed throughout the store, the silence that followed incredibly vast as you stood toe to toe with the archer, your heaving breaths mirroring his.

It wasn’t until Tara spoke that you remembered you weren’t alone. “Uh, guys, we gotta — we gotta go,” she intervened, appearing between you. “That gunfire’s gonna draw walkers in from all around — we need to get these people home.”

Daryl held your gaze a moment longer before shaking his head, grumbling something you couldn't quite catch as he stormed off. He grabbed his crossbow off the floor, having lost it in the scuffle, before walking out of the store without another word.

“Y/N?” Tara murmured, reaching out to gently squeeze your arm.

“Yeah,” you breathed, exhaling heavily. “Yeah, I’m coming,” you murmured, forcing a small smile onto your face.

Tara nodded, handing you a worn bandana. You pressed the cloth against your bleeding neck, wincing at the contact as Tara turned to address the group. “We gotta move — let’s grab our stuff and get the hell out of here,” she called out, picking up her backpack and herding the Alexandrian’s out of the store.

A traumatized Eddie stumbled after Tara, sparing the unmoving stranger one last look. “This — this place was his home. H-He was just protecting his home,” he whispered sorrowfully before Scott placed a hand on his shoulder and helped guide him the rest of the way out, Annie close behind.

The store was eerily quiet — the only sound being your footsteps as you slowly approached the man. His eyes were open yet vacant, mouth unhinged in what appeared to be a silent scream. You reached down, pulling your knife from his limp grasp before gently pressing the blade into his skull.

You felt for the stranger — he’d simply been a man who lost his mind, desperate to protect what he felt was his. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, a heaviness settling over your chest as you pulled your knife from the back of his head.

You turned to leave, pausing when you noticed Barnes standing by the front door. He watched you approach, expression grim as his eyes bounced between you and the lifeless stranger.

“Hey,” you murmured, nudging him gently, waiting until he looked down at you. “It had to be done.”

Barnes audibly swallowed, nodding slowly as he glanced down at the rifle still shaking in his grasp. “I — I’ve never killed a person before,” he whispered gravely.

“I know,” you sighed, any feelings of frustration you felt about Barnes from earlier dissipating. “I’m sorry you had to be the one to do it.”

Barnes simply nodded once more before you motioned him toward the van, the rest of the group already inside.

Just as Tara predicted, you spotted clusters of walkers beginning to fill into the parking lot as you climbed into the back of the van after Barnes. But by the time the dead neared closer, your group was already peeling out of the parking lot, headed back to Alexandria.

The ride home was silent.

You tried to ignore the nagging in your chest every time you glanced at the back of Daryl’s head. Instead, you focused on the steady throbbing in your neck — that pain seemed to be easier to accept.

When you arrived back at Alexandria, Daryl hopped out of the van before it even fully parked, stalking off towards the house your group shared without another word.

“Want Denise to check that out?” Tara asked, motioning towards your wound, interrupting your inner turmoil.

“Oh, no,” you waved her off. “It’s okay — just a scratch,” you shrugged, walking side by side back to the house. But as you neared closer, the fear of confrontation stopped you short — you couldn’t be around the archer right now.

Tara’s momentum slowed as she glanced between you and the house before taking a step closer. “He’ll come around,” she suddenly murmured, her lips turning up into a soft smile.

You gnawed on your bottom lip for a moment. “I didn’t mean —”

“I know,” she cut you off, taking another small step towards you. “He knows. He just — he was just scared, that’s all.”

You scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes. “Daryl Dixon isn’t scared of anything,” you pointed out, only half joking.

But Tara’s expression didn’t waver, now looking more serious than ever. “He was today,” she remarked quietly before turning around and walking away.

You watched her leave, heading towards the house Daryl had entered moments before. Her words sat heavily on your chest, only furthering the existing guilt you felt. You couldn’t walk into that house — not yet, at least.

Night came quickly.

You’d volunteered yourself for guard duty, welcoming the isolation, desperately needing the distance. It was easy to pretend when you were away from it all — that the day hadn’t panned out as it had, that the world hadn’t completely gone to shit, that you hadn’t almost lost the last good thing in your life.

You welcomed the solace.

When the ladder leading up to the tower suddenly began to creak, you couldn’t help the burst of hope that shot through you. But it was Sasha who appeared, relieving you of your duty, and you immediately felt yourself deflate.

You walked back home with your head hung low. How could you have said those awful things to Daryl? What the hell was wrong with you? He’d saved your life and in return you — you’d hurt him. He didn’t have to say a damn word — you knew your words had stung. And now — now you had to make things right.

The house came into view, one or two lights inside still dimmed — but that wasn’t what caught your attention.

There, sitting on the front porch steps, was Daryl.

Even in the darkness, you noticed the way he stilled when you approached, a lit cigarette dangling between his lips. Your breath caught in your throat as you faltered mid-step, feeling incredibly exposed all of a sudden. “Hi,” you whispered, your voice slightly hoarse.

Daryl acknowledged you with a short nod before taking a long drag, fiddling with the cigarette between his fingertips.

You sighed, slowly making your way towards the porch stairs. “Can I sit?” you asked quietly.

Daryl grunted a response as he exhaled the smoke — you chose to interrupt that as a ‘yes’.

You sat down with a huff on the opposite side of the stairs, resting your back against the railing. The silence between you was overwhelming — and part of you wondered if the archer could hear your pulse racing from where he sat. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, the words tumbling out of you. “I’m — shit, I’m so sorry, Daryl. I didn’t —”

“Ya don’t have ta’ do this,” Daryl interrupted suddenly, inhaling another puff of smoke before flicking the cigarette away. “Ain’t mad at ya or anythin’.”

You pursed your lips, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. “Doesn’t matter — I’m still sorry,” you shrugged, sighing softly.

“I couldn’t do it,” Daryl spoke after a long moment of silence, glancing over at you before turning to stare ahead.

“Couldn’t do what?” you pressed gently, hanging onto every word he said.

Daryl grumbled something to himself, almost like he was second-guessing speaking in the first place. You merely sat, still and quiet, giving him time to sort himself out. “I heard what ya said back there — ya don’t need me —”

“Daryl —”

“I couldn’t do it, alright? I couldn’t jus’ stand there an’ let that asshole do what he was gonna do ta’ ya,” he pushed forward, his words fiercer than before as he faced you. “Now, I heard what ya said — ya don’t need me ta’ protect ya, I know that. But that don’t mean I ain’t gonna do it anyways.”

You couldn’t stop the swell of emotion that rose, forming a clump in the base of your throat. You lowered your eyes, the archer’s intense gaze too much for you at that moment. There were things you wanted to say, feelings you wanted to share, but they all seemed to tangle up inside you. “You could’ve died,” you whispered, those three little words all you could muster. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “God, if anything ever happened to you because of me —”

“Hey,” Daryl hushed you, leaning forward a fraction. “I’m alright.”

You shook your head slowly, giving him a serious look. “It doesn’t matter — you almost died back there for nothing, Daryl.”

The archer regarded you curiously then, an honest look of confusion crossing his features as he watched you. “Wasn’t for nothin’,” he rumbled simply.

You held his gaze a moment longer before slowly scooting forward, closing the short distance between you. Daryl stiffened instantly, practically turning to stone as you slowly reached forward, waiting until he relaxed a little before pushing back the hair from his face, revealing the small cut he’d received earlier.

You gently cupped the side of his face, your thumb grazing just above the wound as your eyes locked with his. “What am I gonna do with you, Daryl Dixon,” you sighed softly, feeling a weight lift off your chest.

Daryl didn’t respond — simply melting into your touch instead.

You lowered your hand, closing the last bit of space between you before resting your head against his shoulder.

After a moment of stillness, you felt the tension within him give way, his cheek finding its way nestled against your hair.

And so you sat, interwoven around one another, guarding the only thing left in a crumbling world that mattered as the cool, calm night lingered on.

A/N: Aww...what’d you guys think? Was the reader justified in her reaction? How did you like that sweet moment in the end?

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hutchhitched · 4 years

Text

So Wrong, So Fast

Written by: @hutchhitched

Prompt 79: Peeta has been planning this marriage proposal for months. It goes horribly wrong. Tell me all about it and what happens next? [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Ratings/Warnings: T

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the fourth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Hope this helps ease your stress during hurricane season, @katnissdoesnotfollowback. This story can be read in the universe of An Everlarking Christmas as a prequel.

____________

“Finn, have you seen my tie?” Peeta Mellark yelled down the hall of their apartment. “I’ve got two minutes before I need to head out.”

“Nope. Haven’t seen it.”

He turned and burst out laughing. His roommate stood in the doorway in ragged sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt. Wrapped around his neck was Peeta’s favorite tie.

“Are you trying to ruin this night for me?”

“I would never do such a thing,” Finnick crowed and loosened the tie. With an exaggerated wink, he tossed it to Peeta and plopped down on the bed. “So, what’s the plan? Wine and dine Everdeen and then bring her back here for a little roll in the hay? Should I change your sheets for you? Make myself scarce?”

“I don’t know how Annie puts up with you,” Peeta muttered and tugged the knot in his tie. It wasn’t quite sitting right, and it was driving him a little nuts. It had taken a lot for Katniss to agree to a formal dinner for their anniversary. She was much more comfortable out of the spotlight or working behind the scenes. Peeta’s insistence that she be showered with affection made her squirm anxiously any time he brought it up, but he’d wanted to do something special to show his girlfriend how much he really loved her, and a fancy dinner date seemed like a tried and true method for demonstrating affection.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Finn. I’ll probably stay at her place tonight. I mean, I am planning to pop the question.”

Finnick yelped and sprang from the bed to engulf his roommate in a bear hug. Lifting Peeta off the floor, he spun them around and finally set Peeta down again when they were both completely dizzy.

“How could you keep this from me?” Finnick barked in a mock offended tone. “You know how much I love romance, and I’m running out of fresh material. What have you got planned? Music? A special menu? The ring in the dessert? No, scratch that. In the champagne? Got her favorite flowers? Rose petals at her place and lit candles? Tell me everything.”

“You’re worse than Delly,” Peeta snorted, referring to his childhood best friend who enjoyed being a woman more than almost any other female. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to jinx it. There’s only so much a guy can handle before he breaks down in a puddle of nervous goo.”

“Can I see the ring?” Finnick asked, still practically vibrating with excitement. “I need ideas for the one I’m gonna buy—because we both know it’s going to be sooner rather than later.”

“You’re a mess. You know that?”

“I am a lovable, sex god who’s given up my reign for the fair Annie Cresta.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot in love who supports you in your inferior attempts to romance women.”

Offended, Peeta glared at his friend. “I am very romantic. Katniss just doesn’t really like it.”

“Oh, really?” Finnick hooted and crossed his arms. “You still haven’t told me what your plan is.”

“You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow because I need to go.” Turning to his friend, Peeta exhaled and held out his arms. “How do I look?”

“You look good, man. You got the ring?”

“Shit! The ring.” He scrambled to his nightstand and opened the top drawer. Rifling through the contents, his fingers settled on a velvet box, and he grabbed it and stuck it in his pocket. “Gotta go. Wish me luck!”

“Good luck!”

Finnick’s well-wishes rang in his ear as he rushed out the door. Jumping into his car, he slammed the door, turned the key in the ignition, and…nothing.

“No, no, no, no, no! Not tonight.”

Turning the key again, Peeta groaned when the battery didn’t turn over and smacked his palms on the steering wheel. Frantic, he leapt from the car and ran into the house.

“Finn! My car won’t start. Can I—?”

“Keys are on the counter. I’ll have Annie pick me up. You’ll need to get gas.”

“Thanks, man!”

He was halfway to his girlfriend’s house when he glanced down and saw the gas gauge was almost on empty. Swearing, he crossed his fingers he could make it to Katniss’ place and then to the restaurant before he had to stop. Irritated that he’d hit almost every red light between his house and hers, he jammed the car into park and rushed to her door.

“You look gorgeous,” he breathed when she opened the door, and he grinned at her shy smile. He leaned forward to kiss her. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her scent and nudged her lips open with his. She tasted amazing, her lips soft and coated with lip gloss. When she moaned into his mouth, he pulled away and took a shuddering breath. “You ready to go?”

She nodded and took his hand. “I’m not used to heels,” she laughed when she wobbled a little against him. “Or dresses. Or makeup. Or not wearing a braid. Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

“Into dinner?” he teased as he helped her into the car and shut the door. He hurried around the car, jumped in, and turned to her. “Sorry. My car wouldn’t start.”

“Into a fancy dinner,” she answered. “What’s wrong with your car?”

He shrugged and grimaced. “Probably a battery. I’ll figure it out tomorrow. How was your day?”

Peeta listened as he drove. He was still jumpy, but having her by his side calmed him a little bit. She wore a slinky peachy, salmon colored dress that dipped low on her chest and hinted at a tiny dip of cleavage. Her gorgeous legs stretched from the hem that rested just above her knees to strappy, gold heels that elongated her legs and made them look twice as long. Her dark hair, which she usually tucked back in a braid, hung loosely in waves around her shoulders and halfway down her back. God, he loved her.

He pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and helped her out of the car and to the door. Still unused to the heels, she leaned against him, and he reached over to kiss her forehead just as they got to the maître d. He gave his name and frowned when the man looked over his reservation list with a bored look.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t seem to see your name.”

“That’s impossible. I made the reservation two weeks ago. Mellark, table for 2. Can you check again, please?”

“Certainly, sir. Let me just check tomorrow, too. Just in case. Sometimes we make mistakes. Ah, yes, here it is. I’m afraid we have you down for tomorrow evening instead.”

“But—”

“Not to worry, sir. I’m sure it was a miscommunication,” the man assured in an infuriatingly disinterested voice, but Peeta flushed with discomfort. He had a niggling feeling that maybe it was his mistake and not the restaurant’s, but he was grateful they seemed willing to accommodate them—even if the guy looked like he’d rather do anything than speak to them. Possibly it would all still work. Perhaps the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach would be soothed by good food and attentive service. Maybe he’d ask the woman of his dreams to marry him and she’d say yes. Otherwise, he might die of humiliation.

“Uh, I—”

Katniss watched with a bemused expression. When Peeta seemed incapable of stringing together more than two words, she suggested calmly, “Perhaps we could wait at the bar while the table’s prepared?”

“Yes, miss. If you’ll just step this way, we’ll serve you there. Might I suggest a red?”

Peeta followed and sagged gratefully onto a stool. The bartender asked for their orders, and Katniss surprised them both when she asked for a gin martini. Taking his cue from her, he ordered a bourbon. The smoky, caramel flavor washed over his tongue and eased his jangling nerves. Grateful for her calm, he entwined his fingers with hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Sorry for the confusion,” he said in a low voice. She took a sip of her drink and looked at him over the rim through her eyelashes. A bead of liquid lingered on her lower lip, and he gave her a soft kiss to lick away the stray drop.

She hummed against his mouth. “I think I can forgive you,” she murmured and kissed him again.

By the time they got their table, his stomach rumbled, and Katniss had the look in her eye she always got indicating she’d crossed into hangry. However, the waitress, a slight young woman named Rue, took care of them graciously and attentively. She suggested flash fried spinach for an appetizer and left them to themselves.

Dinner was spectacular. The food was delicious and they chatted and laughed as they enjoyed each other’s company. Wrapped in each other, they shared bites and tangled their spoons over the last bit of sorbet and ganache. Everything was perfect until the bill came and he reached into his back pocket. Peeta’s face drained of color. Stricken, he looked at Katniss. He couldn’t believe what he’d have to do.

“What’s wrong?”

Devastated, he answered, “I can’t believe I did this.”

“Did what?”

“Katniss, I forgot my wallet.”

“You forgot…”

“Yeah, my wallet,” he repeated, his cheeks flaming with humiliation.

She laughed and leaned across the table to grab his hand. “It’s no big deal. I can get it.”

“That’s not the point, Kat. I asked you to dinner. I made a huge deal of it, and now I can’t even pay. I’m so sorry.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you for this gaffe,” she teased. “I might as well just break up with you right now. I mean, how could I ever trust you again? Be honest, hon. You’re really just looking for a sugar mama, aren’t you?”

He knew she was teasing, knew it meant nothing and was intended to make him feel better, but he was sick to his stomach. After all this time, all the planning he’d put into proposing to the love of his life, and he couldn’t even manage to remember his wallet. If nothing else, it seemed like a terrible omen. How could he handle a marriage if he forgot such basics? He tried to tell himself he’d never done this before, that it was the only time he’d ever been quite so careless, but his insecurities got the better of him.

He was quiet as Katniss paid the check and they walked to the car. Maybe there was still time to salvage the evening. He had the ring in his pocket. The proposal would make his mistakes all better. He’d planned for weeks. Arranged for every variable. It was going to be perfect. He just had to get them to where they’d first met.

Music played softly as they drove with the windows partially lowered. A gentle breeze whipped through the car, and her hair created a cloud around her face. She sang softly, and his heart clenched at the joy on her face. He always wanted her to sing more, since it brought her such pleasure, but it was highly personal to her. He didn’t get to hear it nearly enough.

They were less than a mile from their destination when the car started to chug, and his stomach dropped. “No, no, no!” he growled. “Please, no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“God, please keep going,” he begged, but Finnick’s car shivered and shook and ground to a halt. If it’d been a person, he would have said it coughed itself to death. “Shit.”

“Peeta?”

“We’re out of gas.” Slamming the palm of his hand against the steering wheel, he released a long groan and thumped his head against the headrest. Grumbling, he closed his eyes and took in a huge gulp of air. “What a fucking night.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s so bad.”

He glanced over at her and gave her a sad smile. “You’re so amazing.”

“I’ve heard that before,” she grinned. “My boyfriend tells me that all the time.”

“Does he?”

“He really does.”

“Lucky bastard.”

“He really is.”

The way the moonlight fell across her face was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to paint her in that moment, so he could freeze time and live in it forever. More than anything, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman.

“How married are you to the idea of those shoes?” he asked suddenly.

“I despise these things, Peeta. You know that.” A smile played across her lips, and he stretched across the seat to kiss her.

“Take them off.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. I have a plan.”

Full of renewed energy, he bounced out of the car and ran around to open her door. Offering her his hand, he pulled her upright and threaded his fingers through hers. Without a word, he kissed her forehead and led her down the street.

“Are we going to the meadow?” she asked as they rounded the corner. “Sweetheart…”

He grinned and guided her to a tree at the edge of the open area before hauling her in for a passionate kiss. She melted against him, and he cradled her to his chest.

“I love you so much, Katniss,” he murmured against her lips. “I can’t remember what my life was like without you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Grinning, he dropped to his knee and looked up at her. Her eyes widened when he sank down, and he reached into his pocket to pull the ring box free.

“Every day since I’ve met you has been better than any best day I had before we met. I don’t want to have another one without you. Katniss Everdeen.” He paused and opened the ring box. Holding it out to her, he asked, “Will you please make me the happiest man in the world and spend the rest of your life with me?”

Katniss nodded vigorously. “Of course, I will, Peeta. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Relief flooded through him. He hadn’t even been aware how nervous he was until she agreed to his proposal, but he suddenly felt like his limbs were limp noodles. He couldn’t comprehend the buzzing in his veins, but he was sure his blood was florescent with endorphins. That wasn’t a thing, but still. Thrilled, he reached into the box to get the ring and—

“You have got to be kidding me!”

The ring box was empty. The ring he’d picked out for her wasn’t there. Instead, the slit where it should have been grinned at him manically, and he wondered briefly who he’d pissed off in a past life to make this night go so spectacularly terrible. After all the planning and soul searching and angst, the perfect proposal had disintegrated into such a total pile of—

“What’s wrong?”

Katniss stood over him, trembling and half-grinning/half-weeping. The longer he remained on his knee, the more concerned she became. He looked down at the empty box that mocked him and huffed in annoyance. He realized as the moisture from the ground soaked into his pants at the knee that he’d grabbed the box he’d kept from a prank gone wrong with Finnick on Valentine’s Day. In his rush, he hadn’t even bothered to make sure he got the one with the ring in it.

“I’m an idiot. That’s what’s wrong,” he groaned.

“Are you— Do you not want to…” she asked in a tortured whisper.

He popped to his feet and wrapped her in his arms. “Oh, no, sweetheart! Of course, I want to marry you. I’m so happy you said yes. I just, uh— I forgot the ring.”

“You forgot the ring?”

Frustrated, he nodded and hung his head. “I really, really did.”

Silence hung for a few seconds, but then he felt panic bubbling inside him until— Laughter poured from him in lusty bursts that shocked him and caused her to chuckle. Before he knew it, he was doubled over, heaving for breath, and laughing so hard, he almost fell over. Katniss joined him after a few seconds, his mirth contagious as he struggled to gain his composure. Soon, they clung to each other as they guffawed, unable to stop.

“Who proposes and forgets the ring?” she howled, her eyes sparking with humor.

“I do!”

“Runs out of gas. Forgets his wallet.”

“Me!”

“Why is this so funny?” she giggled. “Bless your heart. You tried so hard.”

He forced himself to get it together and pulled her close. Brushing her hair back, he tilted his head and kissed her. “I really did.”

She hummed against his mouth and opened it as his tongue swept inside. The kiss grew heated quickly, and he slanted her mouth so he could devour her. When she whimpered, he tangled her hair in one hand and let the other drift lower to cup her hip and then pull her leg up and over his.

“Katniss,” he hissed as she rocked her hips against his.

“How mad do you think Finnick would be if you abandoned his car?”

“Furious. Why?” he asked between heated, open-mouthed caresses.

“I really don’t want to wait for help when we could get a ride to your place.”

“I thought we were staying at yours tonight.”

“We could,” she breathed against his cheek before catching his earlobe in her teeth and biting it gently. “Or we could go to yours, put that ring on my finger, and consummate our engagement.”

He grinned and nuzzled her neck. “That sounds pretty amazing,” he breathed as he nibbled along her jawline.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmmm. Maybe we can salvage this night after all.”

“You mean me agreeing to marry you wasn’t enough for our date to be a good one?” she teased as she pulled away and started walking back to the car. “Shoes. Purse. Would like to take them with me.”

He tugged his phone from his pocket and arranged for a car. Grinning, he called after her, “It all went so wrong, so fast, but I think we’re on our way to making it even more memorable.”

“I love you, Mellark,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“I love you more, Everdeen! Gonna marry the hell out of you.”

She backed away from him, and he followed. The last thing he wanted was to let her slip away from him into the darkness.

#everlarkficexchange #springtime edition 2020 #prompt 79 #everlark #everlark fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #so wrong so fast

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janeofcakes · 3 years

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Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again Chapter 3

Hello, my friends! It’s been a busy weekend and I’m more than a little sunburned (grrrrr), but here it is! The next chapter is ready and waiting for you all. I hope you enjoy it and had a great weekend!

---

The next two Saturdays come and go with Olive and Gracie no closer to getting their fathers to meet. The one following their first would have been perfect, but Sherlock had a case on that did not finish as timely as he had hoped. Mrs. Hudson was out of town with Mrs. Turner, so he called in his own babysitter. She and John had a pleasant enough conversation on the park bench from what little Gracie and Olive overheard. It didn’t really matter that John had been told Sherlock’s name was William because Annie had always called him that anyway. From what Olive understood, it was an attempt to protect both Sherlock and Annie’s privacy. She could reference him as her employer with ease while avoiding the inevitable ‘Yes, Sherlock Holmes. Yes, he does have a child.’ conversation. It was also better that Sherlock not advertise the fact.

Olive and Gracie’s anticipation of the following Saturday grew with John’s answer to the playdate at Olive’s flat question. He had said it would likely be fine, but he needed to meet Olive’s parents first. When Saturday came, John was called away on an emergency and Candace took Gracie to the park AGAIN. After the two girls pouted a bit, they cooked up a scheme wherein Candace gave her impression of Sherlock to John so they could move things along. The girls thought this would suffice, but John still insisted upon meeting ‘Will’ himself. Gracie tried to argue that he trusts Candace and should just go along with it. She had a good, long strop on Sunday when he refused.

Gracie’s class sits together in the smaller of the school’s two gymnasiums when they arrive individually before the day begins. Every class has its place so each can rise and file to its room when the bell rings. Olive and Gracie love beginning the day this way because they have a chance to talk before having to sit quietly for lessons. It makes it much easier to pay attention. This particular Monday morning, however, is not going to plan.

Gracie glances up to the clock on the wall impatiently and begins to worry. Olive is not in the gym yet and it is not like her. Sherlock always has her to school at exactly eight minutes before the bell rings and it is now five minutes to the bell. Gracie lowers her eyes again and bites her lip. She knows her concern is ridiculous at this stage. It’s probably just traffic or something, but her protective side won’t let it drop. Could Olive and her father have gotten caught up in a case somehow? Gracie furrows her brow as she considers what that might mean when a pair of red shoes comes into view. She lets her eyes focus on them a moment before lifting them to see a girl from one of the other grade three classes standing before her nervously.

“Hi, Grace,” she says quietly. Her name is Julia and she usually keeps to herself, but Olive has built up a report with her. She says Julia sees and knows everything and is really nice, just a bit shy. Knowing this, Gracie is surprised she has left her own class group to come over to Gracie’s and talk.

“Hi,” Gracie mutters and then adds, thinking it the most likely reason for Julia’s visit, “Olive isn’t here yet.”

“I know. I just wanted to tell you,” Julia casts a slow side glance to her right and then back to Gracie, whose curious eyes follow the other girl’s. “Jones is planning something for lunch today. I’m not sure what, but she wants to embarrass you. She’s still mad about that punch on your first day.”

“Oh,” Gracie replies, not knowing why she expected anything less. Jones hadn’t said word one to them since that day and Olive kept saying it was only a matter of time. “Thanks. I’ll watch out for that.”

“We all loved it, you know,” Julia carries on swiftly. “Jones has been a pain in everyone’s side forever. She deserved it.”

Julia glances away again and takes a step back. Her brown eyes are intense when she returns them to Gracie’s and she angles her head closer.

“We’re all with you in this,” she almost whispers. “We’ll help anytime you need it.”

“Thanks,” Gracie doesn’t try to stop the small smile on her face. “I’ll remember that.”

Julia nods once and hurries back to her class’s spot. Gracie watches her go, feeling a bit lighter than she did before. She doesn’t know who is encompassed in the word ‘we’ at this moment, but it must be more than just grade three, right?. She had gotten quite a lot of attention from the other kids after the punch. More had greeted her afterwards or thrown a smile her way. Gracie wouldn’t say they all wanted to be friends or anything, just that they knew of her and liked what they knew. Very different from her old school where she was virtually unknown outside of her own grade.

Gracie thinks back on the friends she left behind in Bath and resolves to zoom with them soon. Turning her head to check the clock again, she nearly jumps out of her skin when Olive plops down right in front of her. The brunette is breathless, obviously having walked as fast as possible through the school halls to get here. Gracie cocks a brow and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Where the heck have you been?” she nearly scolds, secretly eyeing her friend for any signs of injury. “The bell’s about to ring.”

“Pfft,” Olive makes a dismissive sound and waves a hand. “We still have two minutes.”

“Well, where were you?” Gracie fidgets, feeling a little exposed, but wanting to say this nonetheless. “I was kind of worried. Like maybe you ended up on a case or something.”

“Oh, no. Dad never takes me on cases,” Olive tells her in a very serious tone. “Well, only once when he absolutely had to and only because he knew there was no danger.”

Gracie releases the lip she’s been chewing on and lets the tension drain from her body. Seeing her friend relax, Olive smiles and lightens her tone.

“Dad did get a call for a case though and Mrs. Hudson had to bring me in. She’s never as fast as dad is,” Olive’s whole face lights up then and she hops up to sit on her knees for a change of subject. Gracie knows what it is too. It’s the reason she has waited for her friend so anxiously. “So did you ask him? What did he say? Whaddid he say?”

“He still needs to meet your dad first,” Gracie sighs with disappointment.

“What?” Olive blurts indignantly. “But he trusts Candace’s judgement.”

“That’s what I said, but he says he still has to meet your parents before I can go to your flat,” Gracie huffs. “It’s like he thinks he can tell they aren’t axe murderers with just one look.”

“You can, you know,” Olive replies suddenly in a calmer voice.

“What?”

“Tell someone isn’t an axe murderer with one look,” Olive sounds very pleased with herself for knowing this bit of information.

“What are you on about?” Gracie shakes her head. “That’s not even important right now.”

“No. You’re right,” Olive concedes. She touched a finger to her lips to think and then groans loudly, her voice dripping with annoyance. “We have to make sure they meet this weekend. I’ll tell Uncle Greg not to even call Dad if I have to.”

“I’ll do what I can too, but there’s no way I can stop another emergency,” Gracie grumbles and wrinkles her nose.

“Any chance of a baby again?” Olive asks, trying to plan for any contingency.

“I don’t think so,” Gracie shrugs. “Dad usually tells me to be ready when it’s something he can anticipate.”

“Hm. Then we’ll just have to hope for a slow weekend,” Olive mumbles, touching a finger to her lips again.

“Right,” Gracie agrees, leaning forward and lowering her voice. “Something interesting happened right before you got here.”

The bell rings and teachers begin to call out instructions as Olive opens her mouth to respond. The two girls rise with their classmates, Gracie shouldering her backpack. Their line starts moving almost right away. Olive puts a hand on Gracie’s shoulder and leans in, the shorter girl turning her head to hear better.

“You can tell me at lunch,” Olives says, “and we can decide what to do on our first playdate.”

Gracie grins and agrees as they walk into the hall to their classroom.

***

“And then I’ll show you our latest experiment,” Olive had started listing the things she and Gracie would do on their first playdate the moment they walked into the lunch room. Olive puts a spoon full of yogurt into her mouth triumphantly.

“What are you working on now?” Gracie asks, snapping off a piece of her carrot and chewing. Her face is bright and open. Thinking about her first time in Olive’s flat is her most fun pastime these days. She has even dreamt about it: what she pictures it to look like and what they will do. It is the most excited she has been about something in a while. She was excited to move to London and start in a new school. Of course she was, but this has none of the uncertainty or anxiety those did. It is all pure anticipation and Olive feels it too, which makes it all the harder to wait until their fathers meet.

“The effects of cola on raw meat,” Olive answers Gracie’s question while dipping her spoon for more yogurt.

“What?” Gracie frowns and cocks a brow. “Why?”

“You don’t want to know,” Olive eyes the mound of yogurt on her spoon. “We’ve also added other stuff, like poisons and things to see if it makes any difference as far as how quickly the meat deteriorates or absorbs the poison. It’s for a homicide case.”

“What’s homicide?” Gracie asks curiously.

“Murder,” Olive whispers and closes her mouth smoothly around the spoon.

“Wow,” Gracie looks at her with wide eyes, carrot still in hand.

“I can’t guarantee we’ll still be doing it by the time we have our playdate though,” Olive tells her almost regretfully, holding the spoon to her lower lip. “There’s no way it could last two weeks. Dad never takes that long to solve a case.”

“That’s okay. It sounds kind of gross anyway,” Gracie pops the carrot into her mouth and grabs another. “What else could we do?”

“I want to show you my room. That’ll be the best part,” Olive declares, shifting from side to side in her seat eagerly. “It’s the upstairs bedroom. The only room upstairs.”

“Oh my god. Your flat has an upstairs?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide. “Ours have always been all on one floor.”

“Sometimes I pretend it’s a castle on top of a huge mountain and I have to climb it to search for prisoners or treasure or villains,” Olive is waving her spoon around now, gesturing enthusiastically.

“That sounds brilliant!” Gracie bubbles. “We could climb it together.”

“And, and!” Olive gasps, grabbing Gracie’s wrist and holding perfectly still. Gracie freezes too, but nearly vibrates with the anticipation of what she will say. “You can bring Pandy and we’ll save her and Wellies.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s perfect!” Gracie shoves a carrot in her mouth. “I can’t wait.”

“We have to get our dads to meet this Saturday,” Olive says emphatically, nearly in a whine as the bell rings. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Around them, Miss Chapel begins rounding everyone up. Olive and Gracie both shove what’s left of their lunches into their bags and hurry to stand.

“Hey, wait. We forgot. What were you going to tell me?” Olive asks, pushing her chair in.

“What?” Gracie replies, not sure what she means.

“From this morning,” Olive answers as Gracie picks up her bag and milk carton. “I got so excited about our playdate, I forgot to ask.”

“Oh, that,” Gracie starts toward the door, but her foot catches on something and she falls flat on the floor. Throwing her arms out to catch herself, she drops her lunch bag and milk carton and then lands right on them. Both smash flat, the half full carton soaking the front of her uniform.

“Gracie, are you okay?” Olive darts around the table to help, but Gracie is already getting to her knees.

“I’m fine,” Gracie mutters, looking down at herself and grumbling. Olive follows Gracie’s legs to find the sources of her fall and her eyes settle on a black size six. She knows who it is without even looking, but raises her angry gaze nonetheless and rests it on the smug face of Samantha Jones.

“Your friend had best watch where she’s going, Holmes,” Jones sneers, her two lackeys grinning behind her. “She could get hurt.”

“You’re a coward, Jones,” Olive scowls. “She faced you straight on and bested you, and now you hide in the corner waiting to catch her off-guard.”

“Olive,” Gracie cautions, standing next to the taller girl now.

“You watch yourself, Holmes,” Jones steps up close and stares Olive down. “Your pet won’t be with you all the time and that’s when I’ll find you.”

“Girls,” Miss Chapel calls sternly from behind Olive and Gracie, “what are you doing? Did you not hear the bell?”

“Just coming, Miss Chapel,” Jones replies pleasantly, side-stepping the two younger girls while staring at them menacingly. “Wouldn’t want to be late to class.”

After the three grade sixers are gone, Olive takes Gracie’s lunch bag and goes to class while Miss Chapel helps Gracie clean up a bit in the loo. She isn’t too worried about missing anything. Olive will fill her in on the lesson later. What Gracie has on her mind now is how to get back at Samantha Jones and really put her in her place so she doesn’t bully anyone in the school again. If anyone can do it, it’s Gracie Watson and Olive Holmes.

***

“Just the two of you against the world then, eh?” John chuckles as he drops Gracie’s soiled uniform into the washer with some other laundry and closes the lid.

“The world of bullies, yeah,” Gracie answers as if there is no way it could be questioned. “You should see her, Dad. She pushes everyone around and steals the good stuff from their lunches as a ‘protection fee’.”

John flips the dial on the machine to start the cycle and turns to his daughter with a both bemused and amused expression. She wears a look of determination that only furthers his pleasure. Gracie looks nothing less than adorable. Her brow is furrowed, her eyes deadly serious and her mouth purse into half its usual size. With a hand on one hip and her other arm wrapped around Pandy, she stands strong with her feet planted on the floor. The smiling panda t-shirt, her favorite one, looks up at him with friendly eyes that contrast with his daughter’s.

“Protection fee?” John laughs because he just can’t help himself at this point. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“That’s what Olive calls it,” she informs him in a tone that is all business. “Jones says she won’t bother them if they give her the treats from their lunches and they do it because they’re scared of her. She’s mean and you say I should stand up against bullies.”

“True, but…” John cuts in, seeing where this is going and not sure it’s the best course of action for Gracie to take.

“You don’t want me to stand back and let her bully little kids,” Gracie continues. “Kids in my class, even the ones who are younger than us. Why shouldn’t I stop her if I can?”

“Gracie…” John begins again, gathering his thoughts quickly.

“I thought you’d get it,” Gracie’s voice is insistent, but has a touch of pleading as well, and even some disappointment. “You fought in a war.”

“This is hardly war, Gracie,” John says a bit more sternly than he meant to . She snaps her mouth shut in a thin frown and the furrow of her brow deepens. She tilts her chin down and looks up at him with frustrated eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and pressing Pandy against her body. John sighs and squats down before her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Gracie, I’m just trying to look out for you,” he tells her in a soft tone of concern. “I love that you want to help the other kids and don’t want to back down from a fight. I couldn’t be more proud.”

Gracie takes a deep breath through her nose, shoulders straightening and her chest puffing out. The corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly.

“You’ve only been at the school for a few weeks,” John carries on carefully. “I don’t want kids that could have been friends to steer clear of you because they think you like trouble, or will get them in trouble.”

“Seriously?” Gracie questions, obviously finding the idea unbelievably stupid. “They seem to like me more because I stood up to Jones in the lunchroom. Like Julia said.”

“Oh, right,” John lifts his chin and raises his eyes briefly as he remembers. “The informant.”

“She knows everything,” Gracie lowers her voice and glances to her left before leaning in conspiratorially. “She lays low and hears all kinds of things. Olive can always go to her if she has questions about stuff that’s going on.”

“Just like Billy,” John mutters to himself with a quiet laugh.

“Who?” Gracie asks, looking a little confused.

“Nothing, sweet pea. Someone from another life,” John deftly pushes away his past. “I’m your dad. It’s my job to help you any way I can to be a good person and get on with other kids, or with schoolwork and whatever, yeah? I’m a lot older and have done a lot of things. It’s called experience.”

“Okay,” Gracie says slowly like she is beginning to see his point. She watches him thoughtfully.

“Sometimes people just think you’ll be the next bully when you stand up to one,” John explains. “You have to be careful kids don’t get the wrong impression and assume they should avoid you too.”

“I don’t think that would happen,” Gracie shakes her head. “Not with Olive on my side and Julia talking to everybody.”

“Well, good,” John straightens his legs to stand. “I’m glad you have such good and supportive friends.”

Gracie follows him as he walks to the kitchen to check the lasagna baking in the oven. It smells delicious and is one of their favorite dinners.

“Did you and your best friend help people?” Gracie asks curiously, lagging behind a little to stay away from the heat of the open oven door.

“Oh, yes,” John replies without even thinking as he lifts the aluminum foil from the casserole pan to look at the bubbling cheese. “Every case we solved helped people and even saved lives. It was an amazing time.”

“You solved cases?” Gracie asks after a brief pause. John’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said and he hurriedly grabs for the oven mitts on the counter.

“Medical cases, sweetie,” John pulls the lasagna from the oven and moves across the counter. “Will you close the door, please?”

Gracie pushes the oven door shut and steps to the counter next to John. She picks up the first plate and hands it to him when he turns to retrieve it.

“Thank you,” he says warmly, taking it and dishing up the lasagna, some vegetables he had kept warm and a bit of salad. He tries not to look at Gracie for too long as he hands her the plate and she passes him an empty one. After all these years it is still too easy to read his expressions and he knows his daughter will know immediately that he’s hoping his lame explanation will suffice. John does, however, have to get it together before he sits down to eat with Gracie or he will spend the rest of the night telling her how the beloved characters in her bedtime stories are real and one of them is her own father. Will she feel betrayed? Like he has kept a huge part of himself from her? Do eight year olds even understand that concept? Gracie is fairly mature and advanced in her thinking, but enough to feel wronged or just to think her dad has this cool, secret past?

Finished filling his own plate, John schools his features as he turns to the table to see Gracie watching him expectantly. She has not only gotten the glass of milk he poured for her from the fridge, but his ice water as well. As he moves to sit opposite her, John wonders just how long it took him to dish up his own food. Gracie doesn’t look the least bit suspicious though, which is definitely a good sign. John really doesn’t want to spend the night dwelling on his former best friend. He has patently tried not to do just that since the day he agreed to take over the practice.

“Daddy?” Gracie’s voice interrupts his thoughts. John looks across the table to see her staring at him with a very deliberate expression as she chews. “You have to come to the park this Saturday and meet Olive’s dad. We’ve already planned what we’re going to do on our first playdate and it’s going to be amazing.”

“I’m sure you have,” John almost sighs in relief, picking up his glass for a drink. “You both love your master plans.”

“I’m not kidding, Dad,” Gracie says plainly. “This is very important.”

“Well, I don’t anticipate any emergencies, so it should be fine,” John answers. He replaces his water glass and scoops some lasagna onto his fork. “You’ll get to have a playdate soon enough.”

***

After dinner and the washing up, John and Gracie play a few card games until bedtime. Gracie beats him twice at Old Maid and once at Go-Fish, but John wins both games of Gin. John picks up and puts away the last deck of cards while Gracie brushes her teeth. He makes himself a cup of tea while she runs to her room to change into pajamas.

When John appears in her doorway, cup in hand, Gracie is lying down with the covers pulled up to her shoulders. He walks in, sets the tea on the bedside table and grabs the chair from her desk. Pulling it up to her bed, he sits and grabs his mug again.

“So,” John sips the tea, “what would you like tonight? Another chapter of the old Nancy Drew you and Olive are reading?”

“Actually…” Gracie’s tone is slightly higher than usual. A clear indication that she is going to ask for something she thinks he will say no to. “I was hoping for a Sam and Dean story. One you haven’t told me before.”

“Just how many of those stories do you think there are?” John asks good-naturedly after a quick bark of laughter.

“Hundreds!” Gracie answers with a sparkle in her eyes that John can never resist. He looks down at her with a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t say that,” John tells her, “but I do still have some you don’t know.”

One leaps to mind. Why, John doesn’t know, but it is suddenly the only one he can think of. It isn’t a pleasant memory, but is certainly a case that pulled him and Sherlock closer together.

“I was going to save this one for when you’re older,” John pauses to wet his lips as Gracie’s eyes go wide.

“Please, Daddy, please,” she throws the covers off her arms, sits up and grabs the arm that doesn’t have a mug of tea at the end. “I’m old enough, please.”

John studies her for a moment and then sets down his tea.

“All right, all right,” he puts his hands on her shoulders, “but lie down. This is bedtime after all.”

“Yes!” Gracie declares in triumph and lays back quickly. John pulls the covers up to her chin and begins to tell her the story about pips, hostages, explosions and Moriarty, who he calls Chuck instead. Gracie listens with rapt attention, only really getting nervous when they were staring at that damn painting and the voice on the phone was a child. John has not told anyone, or even thought of this case, for over ten years and a feeling like exhaustion settles over him as he reaches the pool.

“The door opened and Dean walked in wearing a thick parka,” John says as Gracie gasps in horror. Her eyes are wide with shock, her mouth drops open.

“Oh my god, it was Dean?” she whispers, scarcely able to say the words. John’s heart sinks when she makes the same assumption Sherlock did, but rebounds when she quickly takes it back. “No. No, it can’t be Dean. He would never do that.”

“Right you are,” John commends her. “Dean pulled open the coat to reveal a waistcoat of explosives.”

Gracie lets out a huge gasp, her hands shooting from under the covers and over her mouth.

“No! What did he do? How did Sam save him?” Gracie demands in a hushed voice, unwilling to take her eyes off John for even a moment.

“Dean couldn’t say or do anything but what Chuck told him and Sam… He didn’t know what to do,” John shakes his head, remembering Sherlock’s face. He had been so frightened and vulnerable for that split-second before he schooled his expression, but John had seen it all. Unfortunately, so had Moriarty. John flinches as the words echo through his mind for the first time in years.

I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you.

I have been reliably informed I don’t have one.

We both know that’s not quite true.

“All of a sudden, Chuck appeared and started telling Sam how he needed to give up, let him carry on with his plans,” John continues, trying not to see Sherlock’s face and hear the words again.

Gracie’s eyes are glued to John as he tells her how he had grabbed Moriarty and told Sherlock to go, but that he wouldn’t leave. John had known there was no way out when he saw those damn red dots on Sherlock’s forehead and throat. He had released Moriarty and swallowed hard in resignation, but then the little devil had left. Gracie breathes a sigh of relief when the semtex came off and then screeches quietly, full of fear again when Moriarty returned.

“Sam looked Dean in the eye and it was all Dean needed to know what he was thinking.” John’s voice is hushed, the only sound in the room. “He was going to shoot the bomb and cause an explosion.”

“Oh my god, no!” Gracie mutters, one hand over her mouth and the other clutching Pandy to her chest tightly. “He can’t.”

“It would’ve killed the two of them, but would also put an end to Chuck’s plans,” John says, trying to keep his tone even as the past floods back to him. It wouldn’t have stopped Moriarty. If they had survived somehow, he still would have ruined Sherlock’s reputation, threatened the three people most important to him and forced him to jump. You owe me a fall. Moriarty would have gone to any lengths to see that happen and must have had the pieces in place even then. God, how that man had fucked up their lives.

“What happened?” Gracie’s voice, thick with anticipation and dread, breaks John free from his thoughts. His gaze comes into focus again and he looks at his daughter for a moment before finding his voice.

“His phone rang,” he says simply.

“What?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide, her whole face rife with disbelief. John allows himself a small smile.

“Someone gave him another way to end the detective and make him useful in the process,” John says grimly. “So he just left. So did his henchmen, but Sam and Dean knew he would be back.”

“Wow,” Gracie breathes in utter amazement. “What an ending. I can’t believe he got away. Did he come after Sam and Dean again?”

“Unfortunately,” John gives her a shallow nod, knowing he cannot tell her that story anytime soon. Maybe never.

“Oh my gosh,” Gracie mutters. “When? How? Did they get away? Do they beat him?”

“Oh, no,” John shakes his head. “You get one story and that one was much longer than it should have been.”

“What? Dad!” Gracie cries, disappointment coloring her face and tone.

“You know the rules, Gracie,” John tells her firmly. “It’s late enough already. You need to sleep.”

“Fine,” Gracie grumbles after studying him long enough to see there is no hope of John changing his mind. She snuggles Pandy close to her cheek as John bends down to kiss her head.

“Good night, sweet pea,” John says into her hair and then sits up again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gracie replies, already looking sleepy. John stands and replaces the chair by the desk. He turns off the lamp on the bedside table as he picks up his mug, leaving only the dim night light to illuminate the room.

“Good night,” John whispers. Gracie’s eyes are closed and she does not open them. John slips from the room and heads for the kitchen. It’s still fairly early, but John will only think of Sherlock if he stays awake. Even crap telly or a book will not distract him at this point.

John sighs and sets the mug in the sink. He goes to his bedroom and into the ensuite, cleans his teeth and readies for bed. Once his pajamas are on and he is staring at the ceiling in the dark, John allows his mind to unveil that portrait of Sherlock he keeps so tightly covered and looks at it for a long time. Being in London again and not even that far from Baker Street, John has resolutely kept the man from his thoughts and will not entertain the idea of going anywhere near his former flat, even just to see if Sherlock is still there. When John left with Mary, there were too many things left unsaid. It is too late to say them now.

John turns on his side with a sad sigh, closes his eyes and pulls the curtain over Sherlock’s ever-changing eyes once again.

---

There you are! Complete with a vision of creepy Moriarty and the pool. Incidentally, I have a great idea for a one shot involving the pool and what follows that strays wildly from canon (infamous eyebrow waggle). Hopefully I can start on it soon. In the meantime, feel free to let me know what you think about chapter 3 or teasers or any ideas that might be running through your heads. Have a great week, my friends, and thank you so much for your support and love. Makes my heart glow. Jane

@johnlock-rocks

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock loves john #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #sherlock fanfic #John loves Sherlock

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janeyseymour · 3 years

Text

Anne Boleyn: Captain of the Chaos Squad- pt11

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt 5. pt 6. pt 7. pt 8. pt 9. pt 10.

Title: Out of the Kitchen

Anne Boleyn was never one to step into the kitchen- Jane Seymour had made that very clear after the first debacle that took place within their house.

What began as a nice day between the third queen from the second would turn out to be an escapade neither of the women were planning on dealing with that day.

“Janey, do you want to make cookies for me?” Anne slid onto the couch next to the blonde who was watching television in peace.

“Make them for you?” The silver queen’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t think so lovey.”

“W-Why not?”

“I’ll make them with you, not for you. And I do expect that the others and I will be able to enjoy some of the sweets as well?” she proposed.

The woman with space buns grinned at this. “That sounds like a good idea! What all do we need to bake cookies then?”

“You don’t know?” Jane couldn’t imagine not knowing how to bake. It came as a second nature to her. With a shake of the head from her predecessor, she began to list out the ingredients. “Flour, suga-”

“I’ll stop you right there,” the shorter woman interrupted. “We’re out of flour.”

“That’s impossible I bought some the other day for Catherine and Anna to make-”

“Do you remember when you were complaining the other day that there was just “so much dust” in the kitchen?” A smirk appeared on the green woman’s face. “When Anna brought it back to our apartment, she dropped it trying to put it in the cabinet for you.”

“You’re kidding,” Jane’s face morphed from shock to disappointment.

“‘Fraid not ol’ Janey. So, should we go to the store and get some?” Anne stood and offered a hand to her friend.

“Well, I suppose that’s just what we’ll have to do, now isn’t it?” She grabbed the hand being offered and allowed herself to be pulled off the couch.

The two found themselves at the grocery store with a basket full of flour among other baking needs. All was going well until Anne Boleyn decided to attempt to sneak other sweets into the basket without Jane noticing. And it was working. She had hidden a bag of gummy bears, a coca cola, a few packs of gum, some chocolate, and a pack of starbursts by the time they made their way up the register.

Jane was loading the groceries onto the conveyor belt when she eyed the woman accompanying her trying to grab her hidden gems and place them closer to the cashier to scan first.

“Anne Boleyn,” Jane’s voice was eerily low, low enough so that only Anne could hear her. “What have you done?”

The look Seymour was giving her alone was enough to make her tremble slightly, but along with the tone she was using? Well, the second queen knew she had made a mistake.

“Well, uh,” she scratched the back of her head as she thought of what to say. “You see, I think a little kid thought that our basket was hers and put her goodies into ours?”

“Hm,” Jane hummed. “So I suppose that this small child has all the same favorite sweets as you?” Anne nodded. “And I suppose that if I put it back, this small child wouldn’t know the difference, right?”

“Well, I mean... we don’t have to do that. We would have to get out of line and put it all back, so it’s really not worth the hassle,” the second monarch laughed nervously.

“Well, I can just tell the cashier I don’t wish to buy these add-ons. You know that dear.” The blonde’s voice was sickeningly sweet, but Anne knew the fire that was growing in her.

“Yeah, but I know you always feel bad doing that because then the workers have to put it back for you.”

“Well, you’re right I suppose. Just don’t pull any more shenanigans like this again. Understood?” Once again, her voice was dripping with honey, but it was not to be taken lightly, and the green queen knew that. With a quick nod, Jane continued to put the groceries on the conveyor belt.

The two had returned home and were getting ready to begin their adventure in baking.

“So, what’s the first step?” Anne looked at the woman in front of her curiously.

The third queen smiled softly. It was always nice to spend time with Anne. “Well love, the first step is to put on an apron. Lord knows you’re going to need it. And then I’m going to need you to wash your hands while I set everything out that we need.” And so, the two began their baking extravaganza.

“You have to level out the dry ingredients hun. If you don’t level it off, the cookies won’t bake properly.”

“Who says?”

“Me,” the woman in grey laughed while showing Boleyn how to even out the dry ingredients.

“Well,” Cathy smiled as she made her way to the coffee pot. “It’s actually a science. Chemistry.”

“That’s a better answer than yours, Janey,” Anne laughed. “So, now what?”

“Dump it into the bowl. Just make sure to do it gently because if you don’t, it’ll-” she was interrupted with a face full of flour and a nervous smile from her predecessor. “-go everywhere.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.”

“It’s alright love.”

“So now that we’ve mixed the dry and wet ingredients separately, we have to mix them. Only do a little bit at a time though. Lord knows we don’t need more flour flying around the kitchen,” Jane instructed. “Think you can handle it while I clean up a bit?”

“You got it boss.” Anne mock-saluted her successor before turning to the ingredients.

“Annie, how have you only done like a quarter of the mixing?” Jane was shocked. It had taken her ten minutes to clean the various measuring spoons they had used before she had been dragged away for another ten minutes to help Katherine braid her hair.

“You told me small amounts!”

“How much have you been putting in at a time?”

“Like three of these?” the second queen held up a teaspoon. “I just didn’t want to make another mess.”

“Oh love,” Jane sighed goodheartedly. Her sweet friend was really trying. “You can do a bit more than that. Here, let me show you.” The blonde took the bowl of dry ingredients and dumped a good amount into the mixer before turning it on.

“Alright. I got it from here.”

“So now, you take a tablespoon and get some dough on it. Roll it into a ball like this, and then plop it down on the baking tray,” Jane explained as she demonstrated the first one. Anne followed her lead, and soon enough the two had a few baking trays full of cookie dough balls ready to be baked.

“You preheated the oven like I asked, right?” At the question, the green queen nodded. Surely she couldn’t have messed something as simple as pressing a few buttons up. Oh how wrong she had been.

“Wonderful love. Grab a tray and then we just have to pop these into the oven.” The third monarch picked up two trays and carried them across the kitchen. Opening the door to the oven, she was shocked to see all of their pots and pans still sitting on the racks. “Oh dear.”

“‘Oh dear’ what?” Anne glanced around the blonde. “Oh dear.”

“That’s quite alright love,” Jane assured her. “It’s an honest mistake. I’ve done it before. We’ve just got to get these out before popping the cookies in.”

A few minutes and curses later, the pots and pans had been taken out of the oven and replaced with the cookie trays.

“We have to set the timer for about eleven minutes. If they’re not done by then, we leave them for another two minutes.”

“Sounds good. Thank you for baking with me, you ol’ mom,” Anne joked as she gently pushed her friend.

“Of course sweetheart. It’s always nice to share my passions with you queens.” Jane pulled the green queen into a tight hug before pressing a kiss to her temple. “Thank you for asking me to bake with you.”

“Well, we both know if I tried to do that myself, we wouldn’t end up with cookies,” the second monarch laughed.

“I don’t doubt that what you’ve said is true,” Jane agreed in a silly manner before turning serious. “Now, while they’re in there baking, we might as well begin to clean up the mixer and bowls.”

In the middle of tidying up around the kitchen, Jane’s phone rang.

“This is Jane!” She answered the phone as happily as always.

“Seymour, it’s Cleves. My car broke down,” a rather panicked Anna of Cleves’ voice could be heard through the speaker.

“Where are you?”

“By Bryant Park. I’ve already had it towed and all that, but I don't know how I’m going to get back to my place.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen. It’s too cold to stand and wait for me, so go into the Whole Foods across the street and wait there.”

“Roger that. Thanks Seymour. You’re a lifesaver.”

“You goin’ to pick up Cleves?” Anne already knew the answer, but it didn’t hurt to confirm.

“I am. I trust you to not burn down the apartment in the thirty minutes I’m gone. When the timer goes off, check the cookies. If they’re golden brown, they’re done. Turn off the oven and let the cookies cool. I’ll be back soon.” The blonde pulled on her coat and made her way to the car to rescue the fourth queen.

Jane knew leaving the second queen home alone with an oven full of cookies that were bound to finish baking any minute was a risk, but she wasn’t about to let her successor freeze on her trek back to her apartment.

“Rounding the corner now,” Jane had been on the phone with the red queen. “Get ready to get in, I’m at a stoplight.”

“I see you. Unlock the door Seymour.” The blonde unlocked the car door and was hit with the bitter cold that was swirling around outside. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Not a problem Cleves,” Jane looked at the woman sympathetically. “Gosh, you must be frozen. How about you come back to my place and warm up a bit before we head back out into the cold to get you home?”

“If you and Bo are doing something though, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“It’s really not a problem. She’ll understand. And, if Annie didn’t mess it up, we should have cookies to offer you.”

“Bo baked?” the fourth monarch raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I helped direct her. She did a pretty good job. Let’s just hope she can follow through with the last bit.”

The instant the third and fourth queens entered Jane’s apartment complex, a smell of something burning hit them.

“I swear to-” Jane cut herself off. “If that’s coming from my apartment...” The two sped up their walking.

“What the hell?” The blonde threw open her door, her fears of the burning coming from her apartment being confirmed.

“I don’t know what happened!” Anne yelled frantically, the smoke from the oven still heavily present within the room. “The cookies were goo one second, so I left them in for five more minutes like you said to and-”

“Two minutes Anne! Two! On what planet do “five” and “two” sound identical?” Jane retorted as she hurried to the window and flung it open.

“Jane! It’s cold out!” the second queen protested, instantly wrapping her arms around herself.

“And our apartment is filled with smoke! It needs to be let out!”

“If you two need to be alone, I can call Cath-” Anna began.

“No!” The two women who lived in the apartment all but shouted at her, making the red queen throw her hands up in surrender.

“Okay! I’m sorry!” Cleves defended herself before making her way over to the oven and helping guide the smoke out the window.

Anne kept her eyes trained on the ground once the room was cleared, as she was determined not to let the blonde see the tears threatening to spill out, but her voice could be heard clearly saying guiltily, “I’m really sorry Janey. I didn’t mean-”

“It was a mistake Annie; it’s alright. I know you didn’t mean to almost set our apartment on fire,” she joked lightheartedly. “We just know not to do that again, yes?” With a nod from her counterpart, Jane continued. “Why don’t I whip us up some hot chocolate to warm us up? Yeah?”

“Let me,” the fourth queen offered. “It’s the least I can do for interrupting your baking together.”

“That’s very kind of you Cleves. Thank you.” Jane seemed satisfied to not have to be in the kitchen any longer. “Annie and I were just going to spend the day watching television and enjoying the warmth of our apartment if you’d like to join us before heading back home.”

“Bet,” the red monarch smirked before turning to make her infamous hot chocolate.

As the three settled on the couch, Anna of Cleves pulled a box out of her backpack.

“I assumed something like this would happen. Here’s some replacement cookies.” She opened the box and placed it on the coffee table in front of them.

“You little-” Anne howled with laughter, failing to pretend to be offended. The three plowed through the box in no time.

From then on, Anne Boleyn rarely made appearances to cook or bake in the kitchen. Sure, she ended up in that room in the apartment often to “annoy” her roommate (who would tell her it wasn’t annoying- it was nice having company while she cooked), but she would never be allowed to use any appliance other than the microwave again.

“What’s for dinner?” the green queen would ask almost every night. “Do you need any help? Can I put anything in the oven for you?” she would ask in a joking fashion.

“Darling, I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen,” the blonde would reply without even looking up from whatever she was preparing for supper that day.

It was probably better that way.

#anne boleyn six #six fanfic #six musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #fanfic #six jane seymour #jane seymour six #six muslcal

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amelialincoln · 3 years

Text

I’m Okay Now

“Sorry, I’m here,” Amelia huffed, sliding into the booth beside Meredith and spilling the contents of her bag over the table. “Shit.” Mer laughed as she took in Amelia’s catastrophic entrance which was nothing out of the ordinary. Maggie took in the exasperated neurosurgeon’s appearance, frowning slightly.

“Amelia you’re--”

“Spilling out of my shirt?” She finished for her sister. “Yeah, I’m aware.” She grabbed the medical booklet that had flown out of her bag and held it up for them both to see. “I stopped taking the pill cause I’m looking at IUD options and my hormones are fluctuating like crazy.” She tucked her sore chest back into her bra that had become two sizes too small. “Did you guys order?” Maggie and Meredith shared a look that Amelia couldn’t recognize.

“We just got a bunch of things for the table,” Mer explained. “Maggie’s been waiting for you to tell us.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Amelia’s breathing was still heavy, as if she’d run all the way from the hospital. “But I am intrigued, it’s not often that the three of us go out for breakfast to reveal some big news--”

“Winston wants me to move,” Maggie blurted out, tired of Amelia’s rambling. “He’s already arranged a position for me at his hospital. He wants me to leave Grey Sloan.” Amelia choked on her glass of water.

“What?” She exclaimed.

“Is that what you want?” Meredith asked at the same time.

“I mean, I don’t know…” Maggie sighed. “He never really took into consideration the idea of moving here. I mean I’m probably more highly regarded at Grey Sloan than he is at his hospital.”

“Yeah you are. Girl power,” Amelia whooped, receiving a small smile from Maggie.

“I’ve just built a life here. I’m not sure I want to start over.”

“That’s your right,” Meredith added as their food arrived at the table. Amelia wrinkled her nose at the sight of bacon and pushed that specific plate away.

“You love bacon and eggs,” Mer narrowed her eyes at Amelia’s disgust.

“Uh yeah, not feeling it right now though. Trade plates with me, Maggie? I’ll take the fruit.” Maggie raised her eyebrows but passed her the plate all the same. “So are you gonna do it?”

Maggie sighed, “I mean I love Winston.” She spoke the words as if she were testing them out loud. “And that’s not something I say lightly.”

“We’d miss you,” Amelia interrupts with a mouthful full of fruit and receives a look of disapproval from Meredith.

“Well exactly.” Maggie smooths her braids. “I don’t think I could leave you guys behind.”

“Then you shouldn’t have to.” Meredith shakes her head.

“But then we’re stuck,” Maggie’s tone is exasperated, she’d run every possibility over in her head. “There’s no way to advance or grow in our relationship. Long distance is fine if it's temporary but what’s the point of all this if we don’t see an end goal together.”

“Where do you see you both ending up,” Amelia asks. “In your perfect world.”

“Well he’d be here,” Maggie spoons yogurt into her mouth. “In my perfect world we’d be in Seattle.”

“Then you need to tell him that.” Amelia sets her fork down and is surprised to find Meredith nodding in agreement. “Fuck, I don’t feel good,” she muttered under breath as she steadied herself by pressing a her fingertips on the side of the table.

“For god sakes, Amelia, it’s because you're pregnant,” Meredith rolled her eyes. “For a doctor you could not be more oblivious.” Amelia’s eyes flew open in shock.

“It’s not...I’m not.” The tone in her voice was wavering. Maggie couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

“Don’t sound so unaware,” Meredith teased, “I could name off five symptoms since you got here.” She expected the neurosurgeon to come back with a classic Amelia style response but instead she was lost in thought.

“Amelia,” Maggie’s voice was so quiet it was barely heard. “Is Link--”

“He’s away,” Amelia swallowed, hard, “in LA. Some pro athlete called him in cause he wanted the best. We haven’t talked about kids.”

“Well we can try and act as your big calm mountain until he gets back,” Maggie offered.

“Can we just get back to your thing right now?” Amelia pleaded, she avoided her sister’s looks of concern as she took a swig of her water and tried to ignore the fact that she wished it was the mimosa that Meredith was sipping on. Meredith’s phone buzzed on the table and the general surgeon glanced down before shoving the phone in her purse and gathering her wallet.

“That’s the hospital.” She looked at Maggie sympathetically. “We can finish this conversation tonight? Will breakfast on me make up for this?”

“Mer it’s fine,” Maggie assured her.

“Wouldn’t complain though,” Amelia mumbled, receiving a glare from Maggie. Meredith set her card on the table and scooted past Amelia before heading hurriedly out of the restaurant.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Maggie asked immediately after her departure, watching Amelia swirl her spoon around in her coffee. She’d already had three cups today and doubted the amount of caffeine was good for the situation she might’ve gotten herself in. “Cause I know you and Mer’s relationship is...complicated and if you didn’t want to talk about it with her I’m here.”

“I haven’t taken a test, Maggie,” Amelia snapped, her tone harsher than she’d intended. Maggie sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Sorry, I’m just overwhelmed. I wish Link were here.”

“I know how that feels,” Maggie shrugged, handing Mer’s credit card to the waiter as she came to their table.

“That was insensitive of me--” Amelia began as Maggie held up her hand to quiet her.

“Let’s just get out of here.”

Meredith’s emergency surgery ended up being a twelve hour one. Amelia pulled off Ellis’ snow boots and smiled as the little girl ran off into the living room to play with her siblings.

“Hey Elle belle,” she whispered and motioned for the child to come back. “Since your teacher said you did such a great job on your math homework, you can pick what’s for dinner.” Ellis’ eyes lit up and she shrieked with excitement. Amelia winced as she felt her head begin to pound.

“Mac n cheese?” She asked.

“Sure, baby.” Amelia was relieved that she’d picked something so simple. Ellie wrapped her arms around Amelia’s legs in response, whispering that Amelia was her favourite aunt and to not tell aunt Maggie. To which Amelia rolled her eyes. “Nice try, you told her that she was your favourite aunt yesterday.” Ellis pressed a finger to her lips as if Maggie wasn’t at work and was listening in the other room.

“You’re my favourite aunt today,” she promised before running off once again. Amelia’s phone buzzed and Link’s face illuminated the screen.

“Hey,” she mumbled softly, “you just get off the plane?”

“Yep!” She winced at Link’s loud and cheery voice, wondering how he could always be so full of energy. “I was thinking of picking up some food on the way home. Do you have any requests?”

“Oh.” She realized she’d completely forgotten to update him on the last minute change of plans. “I’m not at the apartment. Meredith got pulled into a surgery and Maggie’s working the night shift so I’m watching the kids.”

“Okay, no worries.” He quieted down to match her tone. “Do you want me to pick up something and bring it there? We can put the kids down early and watch a movie.”

Amelia’s stomach turned at the idea of food. “I’m not really hungry but I’m up for a movie.”

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, not remembering a time where Amelia hadn’t been ‘up for food’. “I could pick up soup or something?” Amelia ran a nervous hand through her hair.

“Yeah, actually I need you to go to the store.”

“Okay, just send me a list, you know I’m no good at grocery shopping.” She could hear Link asking for a cab.

“No, Link, I need a--” she turned to see Bailey hovering over Ellis’ head with a pair of scissors. “Bailey! Don’t you dare cut your sister’s hair!” Bailey’s eyes widened, dropping the scissors guiltily. “I need a pregnancy test,” she practically yelled into the phone. Zola glanced up in confusion as her siblings carried on playing, completely unfazed. The other end of the phone was silent almost long enough for Amelia to check if they’d lost connection.

“Pregnancy test?” Link confirmed.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he swallowed. “See you soon.” He hung up quickly. Amelia tossed her phone away in annoyance and angrily filled a pot with water setting it on the stove. She didn’t know she’d begun to cry until hot tears were clouding her vision.

“Auntie Amelia?” Zola’s voice rang out beside her and Amelia jumped. “Are you okay?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Amelia forced a smile, rubbing her eyes with her shirt sleeve. “Yeah, I’m all good.” Zola didn’t seem to take that as an answer, crossing her arms in front of her and staring up at her aunt patiently. Amelia sighed, pouring the box of Annie’s into the boiling water.

“Are you having a baby?”

“I don’t know,” she responded truthfully. “I’m not sure if your uncle and I are ready for that.” Despite her and Link not being married the kids referred to him as uncle so much that the title had stuck.

“Whenever Uncle Link braids Ellis’ hair he always says it’s because he’s practicing for when you and him have a kid,” Zola says this simply, as if it’s common knowledge. Amelia almost drops the plastic bowls she’d been retrieving from the cupboard.

“He said that?”

“Like every time.” Zola rolls her eyes. “Are you making Annie’s?”

“Yes,” Amelia sighed, not wanting to hear any complaints from her niece.

“Good,” she wrinkled her nose. “Bailey likes Kraft Dinner but Annie’s is way better.”

“I hear nothing but facts.” Link’s voice surprises them. Amelia turns to meet his gaze. “Hey.” He holds a plastic bag in one hand and a duffle bag in the other.

“Uncle Link!” Zola runs to hug him, her squeal alerting the other two from their game in the living room. Bailey is throwing a bouncy ball at Link seconds later and Ellis follows him giggling. Link bent down to greet the three of them, allowing Ellis to wrap her pudgy fingers around his neck and kiss his cheek affectionately. Once he’s greeted each one separately, he moves to wrap his arms around his girlfriend, staring over her shoulder as she stirs the pasta slowly.

“You okay?” He pressed some tentative kisses on her neck as she relaxed into his embrace.

“All good,” she moved to strain the noodles before stirring in the rest of the ingredients and spooning the pasta into bowls. “Want some?”

“I ended up picking up pizza,” he answered guiltily. “It was across from the CVS.” She ignored his attempt to bring up the test, instead calling out for the kids and handing each of them a bowl.

“You’re not hungry?”

“Nauseous.” She bit her lip worriedly, not wanting to meet his eyes. “If I eat I’ll throw up. Learned that this morning.” She glanced at the table instead. “Bailey, if I see you throw food at Ellis one more time I’m going to have a chat with your mother!”

“Annie’s mac and cheese sucks!” Bailey shot back with defiance.

“Well that’s unfortunate for you because tonight it’s your dinner.” Amelia shrugged.

“Irritable much?” Link had meant it as a joke but as he said it out loud he immediately regretted it. Amelia didn’t even look at him, no energy for a witty response. Instead she turned to the sink and started on the dishes. “I can do the dishes,” he offered.

“Can you just put them to bed?” She asked without glancing up from the soapy water. “I could use a minute alone.”

She finished the dishes as Link dragged the squealing group of children up the stairs, knowing immediately by the ruckus that they’d convinced him to build a fort and he wouldn’t be down for a while. She finally brought herself to peek into the plastic bag Link had brought home. As promised, there were two pregnancy tests inside along with her favourite chocolate bar and ginger tea. She suddenly felt the urge to take it but the feeling quickly passed and she was left terrified. Instead she turned the test over in her hands, reading the instructions over and over in an attempt to distract herself.

“I read that ginger tea is supposed to help with nausea.” Link’s voice brought her back to reality and she looked to find him leaning on the doorway. “Meredith told me that you were feeling sick at breakfast.” Amelia raised her eyebrows. “I called her while I was at the drugstore. I didn’t know which test to buy,” he confessed. “I felt like she would know.” Amelia nodded, staring at the test in her hands. With the both of them being doctors she’d never felt more clueless.

“I didn’t get morning sickness last time.” Link raised an eyebrow, allowing her the space to elaborate but she didn't. They’d talked about Christopher once before but he’d still been left with questions.

“Do you even want kids?” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. “Do you want kids with me?”

“Yes,” she felt herself say immediately. They stared at each other for a while before she continued. “I was thinking more like adoption but here we are.” Tears burned at her eyes and Link closed the space between them immediately, wrapping his arms around her trembling body. They stood like that for a while until Amelia had straightened up and wiped her tears away, numbly making it towards the bathroom. Both tests confirmed their suspicion. To her surprise Link burst into happy tears, confessing how much he’d wanted this but had never wanted to push her and before she knew it they were both laughing and crying in each other's arms.

“Are we having a baby?” Meredith set her keys on the table as she pulled off her coat. Amelia was fast asleep on Link’s chest, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of a day.

“We’re having a baby.” Link’s beaming grin was illuminated by the tv and Meredith shook her head in amusement at the excitement he showed despite it being long past midnight.

sorry all I write is amelink pregnancy fics cause it makes me happy lol

#amelink #amelia shepherd #amelink fanfiction #amelinkfanfic #amelink fanfic #Atticus Lincoln #atticus link #atticuslincoln #greysanatomy #Meredith Grey #maggie pierce

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aperrywilliams · 4 years

Text

I don’t know you anymore/Part II (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

———————

Summary: Reader has to do something before her relationship with Spencer get worse. Spencer has to rebuild his life without her. Could he do that?

Word Count: 3026.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences. Angst.

Warnings: References to sex, murders, dead bodies, angry

A/N: This is Part II of “I don’t know you anymore” I published some days ago. I want to thank to the people who read this and who left comments and thoughts about it. Special mention to @dreatine @andiebeaword @aberrant-annie and @hollandinq

——————–

Because I don't know you anymore I don't recognize this place The picture frames have changed And so has your name We don't talk much anymore We keep running from the pain But what I wouldn't give to see your face again

I could not say exactly which was the reason I was more confused, if because (Y/N) was indeed gone or the explanations I didn’t expect to hear from her. Deep down inside of me I knew sooner or later this could happen, although there is always a secret hope it won’t. Now I had to place one more check on my list of "failures". It was fair? In this case I didn’t know. Was there some reason in (Y/N)'s words? Yes. At least in some of them.

Our estrangement began a few months before the departure of (Y/N). Not even with my genius skills could I tell exactly when it all started to fall apart. I guess at a point where my indifference, unintended by the way, and her patience reached a limit no one thought it could. Why did we let this gone so far? I don’t know. And it wasn’t always so. One of the things we both agreed when we started our relationship was we shouldn't shut things up, that we had to talk about our problems, we had to tell the other how we felt. And it had worked. We trusted each other. We talked all the time and about everything, even if I had to be away for work. We managed to call each other, send us messages. We never went to sleep without saying good night. Obviously it was better if we were in each other's arms, but it was never a problem if for some reason it wasn't possible.

But there was a point where we stopped talking. For tiredness sometimes, I guess. Because was easier to give a kiss, to say "I love you" and continue the routine. I don't know at what point "I love you" stopped meaning what it powerfully meant at first. It’s amazing how words wear out as much as people. I'm sure she felt that. And it hurts, because I still love her. The question is whether it’s true you can to love someone so much that you're willing to let her go for same reason. That power I didn’t think was possible. Maybe until now. And in that (Y/N) was right: this mutual pain was not fair to any of us. Something had to be done about it.

Just I can't understand why she thinks she wasn't enough for me. Did I really make her feel that? Did I make her feel like she was a worthless person to me?. That hurts me deeply, because I really don’t think in that way quite the opposite, it’s me who don’t deserve her. I don't deserve her love, her patience, her understanding. (Y/N) was at my side in one of the most difficult moments of my life: my stay in prison. She was the only one who never had any doubts about me. The one moved heaven and earth to help me, to be with me. And she was who received the worst pay from me. I hurt her and I’ll never forgive myself for that.

I wanted to repair the damage, only when I realized what I had done, it was too late. It took me one week and 8 hours to decide to go after her and to try to explain things and tell her she shouldn’t have doubts about my feelings for her. I wanted to tell her. I called her, I went to her sister's house, I went to her work. But (Y/N) had disappeared from earth. Without leaving any trace. She didn’t want to be found, at the least for me. So I had to swallow my own words and assume I had lost my chance, that I would have to put my life back together without her. Sometimes I was tempted to use my resources - Garcia - to be able to reach her, but I regretted of doing that thinking I’d be transgressing her own desires of distance herself from me. At least I thought I owed her that: if she didn't want me around, I would have to respect her wish.

It has been hard to restore my life after all. Especially knowing I could have avoided this. That I had the signs and I preferred to ignore them systematically.

Only after the third week of her departure I returned to work. Curiously, she had to leave for me to take a time off, so I could focus on me. That time could perfectly have been for both of us. Ironies of life and my sentimental incompetence. I sought advice in this regard, knowing my inner genius was not going to help me in this. J.J. was the first to know what had happened.

"Spence, are you sure a good conversation would be insufficient to try to fix things?"

"Only if I could get to her. And even if I could, I don't think she wants to hear me. I lost my opportunity J.J., I lost her”. I said with broken voice.

"But do you love her?... Have you ever wondered if you're really in love with her, enough to let her go?”. That was a valid question. I wasn't sure myself about that.

"I want her to be happy. And with me she was no longer happy. I don't deserve to keep her just because I don't feel like I can let her go”

"She told you the same thing, didn't she?" she answered back. Yes, she was right, (Y/N) surely thought the same.

"Yes, she did... she told me she did not feel capable of deserving me. What did I do to make her think that?”. Those words still echoed in my head.

“You left her out of your life, Spence. That was what she felt. And do you know why you did it?”. J.J. asked me, not in a reproachful tone, but really trying to understand if I was clear about what had really happened.

"I don't know... I... I just wanted to leave her out of this torment. You know being in jail brought out the worst in me. I didn't want her to see that... I wanted to take her away from all that...". That was what my head gave me in response. The most rational thing and what made the most sense to me was I had pushed her away trying to "protect" her from my new demons, doing the exact opposite of what we had originally agreed.

"Are you sure there isn't something else she could have been misinterpreted? Did you both ever talk about where you wanted to take your relationship?". That question left me wondering for a moment. Had we discussed it? Only thing I remembered was when I was released from prison I promised her I would make up for all the time we parted and continue our life together. I did it?. Wow, now I'm wondering and I don't know what to answer. I suppose not. I failed miserably at my own promises. And I was just realizing it.

After two months without (Y/N) there was not much more I could do, so I continued with my life in the way I was leading it to that minute. I immersed myself in work, even more than I already was. My efforts went out of their way to be the most helpful resident genius for the team. And if that meant traveling more than necessary, I was willing. What I least wanted was to be in my place, because being there alone, seeing my bed empty and living room in silence still produced me pain. Months passed and that pain was silently easing. Was I ready to go on? Maybe I should try.

One day arriving at the BAU, I met Luke in the elevator. Just as it was about to close the door, I saw a woman come running and I stopped the door so she could enter. She thanked me and saw Luke, who apparently did know her.

"Luke, how are you? I hadn't realized you were in the elevator" said the woman, interspersing looks between him and me.

"Hey, I'm good. How is Domestic Terrorism going?” he asked.

"Well, you know... there are weeks and weeks" she replied laughing. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" she said turning her gaze back to me. I got a little uncomfortable, but she didn't seem like an intimidating woman despite her obvious outgoing personality.

"Yeah, of course. Leanne, he is Dr. Spencer Reid, he works with me at BAU. Spencer, she is Leanne, we know each other from when I started working for the FBI, she is currently in…”

"Domestic Terrorism ..." I interrupted. I smiled at her in greeting. She smiled back.

Leanne is a nice woman. We started dating few weeks after the elevator incident. Luke was happy to have acted as an intermediary and always encouraged me to ask her out, that it would good to me, that she was a good woman, and very sexy too. That is true. That woman could make you gasp when she got too close to you. I also noticed something I found interesting: she had a job very similar to mine. She traveled as much as I did, so our schedules were very changeable and none of us cared about it. Thus began our relationship. And since there was no time to lose, since anyone could die the next day - in her own words - we skipped coffee and lunch dates, ending up in bed having sex as if the world was going to end. I'm not going to say I questioned myself a lot about it. It didn't seem like a bad deal to me.

Curiously, we always ended up in her apartment and not in mine. The times she asked me about it - not many - I couldn't give her a complete answer. But I knew it. My apartment was still my grief space. At least, where I could collect my thoughts alone without being disturbed. I was not ready to open that space to anyone else.

One afternoon during a break in work, I was making myself a coffee in the kitchen and Prentiss approached to the place with the same purpose. As I poured coffee into my mug, Emily started talking to me.

"Everything okay with Leanne?". Prentiss asked me.

"Yeah. We're fine, I guess”. I replied without giving much detail about our relationship. Relationship that after a while could not say if it was something so accurate to say about I have with Leanne.

"She seems an intelligent woman. She is also very pretty and it is clear she is on the same page as you…” Prentiss said as also now poured coffee into her mug. I froze when I heard Emily’s words.

"What did you say?... Sorry, I got distracted...". I said back trying to hide my stun.

"No, nothing... I just said that Leanne is an intelligent, beautiful woman and knows perfectly well what it’s to work in the FBI. Just that". Prentiss looked at me with concern and as if she were stepping on eggshells with her words. "Spencer, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?". I couldn't help it, I felt the (Y/N) words in my head over and over again. A little over a year had passed and it seemed as if I had heard them yesterday.

"No, nothing wrong. It's just that…”. I didn't manage to elaborate my answer before Garcia quickly approached us.

"Boss, I think we have an urgent case". She said to Emily, prompting both Prentiss and I to leave our conversation. We all lead our feet to the conference room. Prentiss after reviewing some files with Penelope, sat down at the table with us. Garcia began to speak.

“Francesca Garrett, 32 years old. Originally from New York . She was found dead in her Philadelphia apartment two days ago. Four hours ago today, Christine Adler, 34 years old, of Richmond, was also found dead at her home in Philadelphia. As you will see, multiple injuries and a sick cruelty…”. Garcia said without wanting to look at the photographs on the screen.

“I could say there is something clear about victimology, but we need more information about Christine. Garcia will collect data while we travel to Philadelphia. We’ll leave in 20 minutes". With that last words Emily ended the meeting and we went to collect our belongings for the trip.

The trip to Philadelphia was short, but enough for me to return to Emily's words again. Sure, it took to the genius Spencer Reid a year to figure out what his ex-girlfriend meant when she left. Well, what did that leave me with?. I don't know, I didn’t feel better after the realization.

Once installed at the Hawthorne Police Station we began to review victimology again. With the information Garcia provided, we could able to know some things connected the victims: women in their early 30’s, of average height, same color hair, same color eyes. Geographically originating from cities surrounding Philadelphia. Of diverse professions. What we couldn't find was the point where the two women connected: they didn't seem to know each other or crossed at any time in their lives. Until something appeared. Apparently all these women contacted a man to “run” from the cities where they previously lived and move to Philadelphia without raising any suspicions and without being linked to any illegal issue. It’s as if naturally the course of their lives had brought them to that place. Now we just had to find who wanted to harm these women we assumed should be on a list.

"I have the contact and I have his list!" Garcia said after a day and a half digging and lifting all the stones we could.

“Okay, Tara, Luke and Matt will contact the women on the list for questioning. J.J. and Spencer will continue to search the records of Christine and Francesca... ". Prentiss was interrupted by the local officer.

"We have another body... Coline Thompson" said the police officer.

“Damn it... Ok. Thanks officer. J.J. and Spencer you are going to the crime scene. With Dave we’ll see the new Coline data and if she is on the list” said Prentiss as we leave with J.J. to the new crime scene.

I have seen many crime scenes in the years I have been working with the FBI and many of them horrendous. This didn’t seem so much of that, but when I saw the girl’s dead body on the floor something triggered in me and I felt an uncontrollable urge to puke.

"Spence, are you okay?..." J.J. asked me.

"Yes. I don't know why this body produced me this reaction...”. She looked at me and looked at the body again.

"You haven’t felt well since we left the BAU...". She pointed out. Although I would have liked to tell J.J. about what was going through my head, it was not the time. We had work to do.

"I don’t know, just look at this poor women. Maybe they were running away for to have a better life and end like this. It's not fair". Seeing that body didn't stop me from thinking about (Y/N) and not just because I thought she would be having a better life now without me, but also because of the obvious physical similarities I could see with the victims. That made me feel more nauseous. I had to control myself again.

We concluded it was the same unsub: the same MO, the same way to dispose of the bodies. Coline was also on the infamous list as Prentiss later said. It was obvious.

Tara, Matt and Luke arrived the next day with almost all the women on the list interviewed. Some could not be contacted so an order to come to the police station for a debriefing was left for them. We were still investigating possible suspects who would connect with the case. We had doubts about a women trafficking cartel interested in the list, but it made no sense they would kill women they was seeking for other purposes. It was necessary to continue investigating.

During that afternoon, several of the women on the list the team was unable to interview at home arrived at the police station. The room we were in had the blinds open, so you could see the station entrance.

It was around 5:00 p.m. When one of them entered and approached to the main desk to ask a question to the officer on the reception. Feeling her voice I couldn't help but look at the main desk.

"Hi, my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I'm here to talk to Detective Gibson..." she said.

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped feet to the ground. J.J. was in the room with Tara and Luke and seeing my reaction and hearing the same thing as me, she took the list from the desk. I was getting up from my chair to go out and go to the main desk when J.J. takes my arm to stop me.

"Spencer, don’t. Don’t go there. (Y/N) is on the list. You can't talk to her yet, until we question her…” said J.J. trying to pause me.

"What? J.J. you can’t… if she is in the list I have to do something...” I said trying to release her grip. Tara didn’t know what was happening but she suspected it was serious, she got up and she closed the office door, lowering the blind that gave view to the main desk of the station. I didn't know what was most distressing at the moment, seeing (Y/N) again or knowing she was on a list of potential victims of murder. Exhaustion, fatigue from not having lunch, and nausea returned to me, causing me to collapse on the floor. I just black out.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #spencer reid angst

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yodawgiherd · 3 years

Text

Crystal Rose

>>>Read on AO3<<<

The gang celebrates Mikasa's birthday.

What woke Eren up wasn’t any light or bad dreams, it wasn’t any alarm. It was the emptiness of the large bed, the lack of her body against his. Sitting up, he stared at the empty half, wondering what happened. Maybe Mikasa never existed in the first place, his brain reasoned. It would make sense too, as the person he dreamed up was way too perfect to be real, she had to be a figment of his imagination, the way he portrayed the ideal woman. Or maybe she was an angel, as he thought before, and her holy mission called her elsewhere.

Hmm.

Deep in thought, as one can be right after waking up, he ran his hand over the bedding. Warmth, it was warm, indicating that someone slept there after all. Confused now, because the made-up Mikasa theory was so fitting, Eren brought the cover up to press it against his nose. Yep, that was her scent, the one he could never truly identify yet it filled him with thoughts of home and happiness. Finally fully awake, Eren ran a hand through his hair, checking the bedtime clock. It was a bit after 3 AM, so Mikasa not being here meant only one thing. She had another nightmare.

Eren told her to wake him up when that happened, and she did so in the past, so her straight up disappearing was a bit worrying. Fully intent on finding his love and comforting her in those trying times, Eren rolled from the bed and left the bedroom. His search wasn’t very difficult. Mikasa was in the living room, sitting at a window seat and staring into the darkness outside. It didn’t look good, she was curled into a small ball, arms hugging her knees, making herself as tiny as she could. She heard him when Eren got closer, the huntress that she was, turning to face her fiancé. And what he saw immediately made his night miserable. Mikasa’s eyes were puffy and red with tears in them, her face was wet and streaked with her crying. She was sad, and it broke Eren’s heart into thousand pieces, reached so deep down and affected him on some primal level no other event could.

“You are dead.”, she told him in a grave voice, “It’s all over.”

It was obvious that Mikasa was talking about her dreams, as Eren didn’t feel like dying in reality. Coming to sit next to her, he gave her some distance, knowing that Mikasa was vulnerable right now and not sure if she wanted to be touched.

“What happened?”, he asked.

“We were all there, Me, Armin, Jean, Levi, even Annie and Reiner.”

“The big guy?”

She nodded, a few of the tears sliding down over her pale skin and down to the chin.

“Jean hit you first, weakened you somehow, then Reiner kept you from getting back up, but it was Armin who finished you off.”

Teaming up like that, Eren couldn’t help but wonder what he did to force his friends into this. In no way he could see Armin ever wanting to kill him, such a gentle soul as his friend did not like violence.

“I watched it all, from somewhere up high, I watched them do it, and I didn’t do anything to stop them.”, Mikasa continued, voice straining with pain, “And while it was terrible somehow I knew that it was necessary, that it was the only way. I felt peace because we saved the world by killing you.”

She put a hand over her heart, fingers clawing at the fabric frantically as she choked the words out. agony in every single syllable.

“I-I sa-said Goodbye E-Eren, and I… and you… yo-you were gone and…”

Mikasa broke, hiding her face as she sobbed openly.

“It’s…. It’s so cold…”, she pushed out in between the tremors that shook her body.

Gently, Eren reached outwards and touched her back, an offering of his body should she want it. She did, collapsing onto his chest and letting him wrap her in a hug while she cried her eyes out. Mikasa looked so small when she curled into him, so weak, it rubbed Eren the wrong way. He wanted to protect her so much, wanted to help her against these nightmares, but he was feeling useless. He held her tight, warmed her with his body heat, mind racing and trying to figure what he could say to make her feel better.

“I’m so sorry.”, he whispered, not even sure what he was apologizing for but it didn’t matter. It must have been his fault, if all his friends worked together to stop him, he must have done something terrible. Worst of all, he hurt Mikasa, and that was an unforgivable crime. All he wanted was to protect her, her safety and happiness was his highest priority. Yet his other self kept doing this shit, making her cry and he hated that Eren dude with passion. How dare he.

“Why am I and Levi the only one with those dreams?”, she cried, “Everyone I know is in them but no one remembers anything, just me and my brother.”

Levi’s nightmares were not nearly as vivid as Mikasa’s, much more muted and easier to ignore. But the fact that the sibling shared similar dreams was a strange one, Eren had to agree.

“You Ackermans are special, no other way to put it. You and Levi, I’ve never met anyone like you and I don’t think that I ever will.”

“But I don’t want to be special, I don’t want these things, nightmares and random headaches, I don’t…”, more tears spilled from her eyes, drenching Eren’s chest, “Why do they have to be sad? Why do you have to die or be in danger all the time? Why do we have to fight?”

Stroking her hair, he wasn’t sure what to say. Dreams are dreams, hard to influence and understand.

“I don’t know, but look at it this way.”, Eren pulled back, meeting her disturbed eyes, “If Armin, the smartest guy I know, killed me, then there was no other way.”

Her lips trembled again, letting him know that those words were not what Mikasa was looking for. Fuck. She folded into his arms, sobbing, and Eren felt like an asshole. Good going, Yeager. It was such a contrast, seeing her weak but knowing how strong she was. Physically he could feel it, holding her in his arms. The perfectly shaped biceps and firm shoulders, now shaking with her sobs, the weight against him reminding Eren of all the lean muscles her body possessed. She was so incredibly well-built, a warrior, a statue of ancient Greeks shaped into perfection. All for nothing, all useless now, Mikasa couldn’t fight away her fears, and losing her fiancé was very high on the worst nightmare list. She felt incredibly fragile as if she would shatter with the wrong touch, and that was something Eren feared from the bottom of his heart. Mikasa was helpless, paralyzed with sheer terror, and Eren hated seeing her like this, he wanted the strongest person he knew, both physically and mentally, back.

“I know that this sounds stupid, but it’s only dreams Miki.”, he tried a different approach, “You will always wake up from these, and I’ll be right there next to you, ready to hold you and chase those nightmares away. I’ll never leave because I love you more and more every damn day.”

She sniffed against his neck.

“Y-You promise?”

“I swear on my life. Dying would mean not spending more time with you, so I don’t plan on doing it anytime soon.”

Mikasa hiccupped and pushed away from his chest, eyes once again search his face. With the warmest smile Eren could muster, he wiped the tears away from her eyes as gently as he could.

“The way you say it, I am the villain in your dreams no? If all of you banded together to stop me, it must have been an epic adventure. Of course that Armin is the hero of the story, and you could never be on the evil side.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugged.

“You’re too pure, I’m the one corrupting you.”, moving closer, Eren whispered right in her ear, “I’m the bad guy.”

Finishing his sentence with a low growl, Eren could hear her giggle, and it instantly warmed him up. Anything to make her smile, he would go to any length to make her happy again. He kissed her cheek, then the side of her neck before pulling back up, checking if Mikasa is feeling better. She wasn’t crying anymore, and her eyes lost the terrible sadness in them. It was still there, muted, but it didn’t surprise him, Eren couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if he had a dream about Mikasa dying. Just thinking about it made his heart hurt, because how does one cope with losing your other half?

“You want me to cook you something?”, he suggested, knowing that his chocolate chip pancakes could usually cure Mikasa’s sadness.

But she was way too comfy here, sprawled on top of Eren and holding him close, so Mikasa shook her head.

“Let’s stay here for a while.”

“Okay.”

Bowing her head, Mikasa tucked herself into him, even pulling her legs up to get the most of her body touching his. A small part of Eren’s mind did wake, to tease him with the horny because he was still a man and Mikasa was everything one could wish for. Improper now, considering the nightmare and the situation they found themselves in, so Eren held himself back and stroked her back and exposed legs gently, feeling the muscles shift beneath the porcelain. Together, they stared into the darkness outside, not saying a word and simply being there together. Some time later, when she wasn’t falling asleep, Eren asked something that was on the back of his mind.

“Miki? Do you think that your dreams are going to stop now?”

“Why?”

“Well, since you guys killed me, didn’t you defeat the final boss?”

She sighed, shifting on top of him to be more comfortable.

“I feel like there’s still a little bit of the story to tell, but it is very close to being done.”

Bending, Eren kissed her hair.

“Let me know how it ends, I’m on the edge of my seat here.”

She giggled again, heavenly sound of bells.

“Will do, bad guy.”

“For you Miki, I’ll be the villain any day of the week.”

When Mikasa fell under again, she wasn’t bothered by any more dreams, welcomed by the darkness of restful sleep. Her awakening was also much nicer, she didn’t wake with a beating heart and sweaty palms, she slipped out of her sleep roused by an array of delicious scents.

After opening her eyes, it took Mikasa a moment to realize where she was because this was not their bed for sure. When the memories of her night conversation with Eren came back, it was clear that they fell asleep here at the window seat, cuddled together. As her fiancé was gone, her brain quickly connected the scents and his absence to come up with an ingenious statement. Eren was cooking.

Sitting up, Mikasa stretched, feeling the faint pull in her muscles caused by sleeping all curled. But craning her neck to get the kinks out, it did nothing to prevent her from smiling. They fell asleep wrapped in each other on a window seat, like a pair of lovesick teenagers. There is a certain charm to that.

Her hair a complete mess, eyes still with sleep in them, Mikasa padded over to the kitchen, curious to see what Eren was creating. He looked, hearing her enter, his smirk widening when he could feast his eyes on her body clad only in the shirt she stole from him, eyes inappropriately lingering on the way her nipples poked through the fabric. To stop his mind from going south first thing in the morning, Eren lowered his gaze, but that only made it worse since now he was staring at her legs instead. So pretty, so long, so toned, widening into those incredible thighs and the ass that he wanted to bite into. But eating ass for breakfast is not exactly nutritious, and Eren pushed these thoughts back. It was hard, wrestling his primal side into silence, but he did so, moving his gaze back towards the kitchen. He was doing something before Mikasa walked in and began distracting him by existing.

Luckily, she didn’t notice the hungry stare he threw her way, too busy exploring the various food he made. There were eggs, there was bacon, there were pancakes. Eren was cooking everything she liked, moving around in the kitchen smoothly, completely in his element.

“Is someone coming over?”, she asked, making him look up again.

“Nope.”

“Then why are you doing so much?”

“Well, you know why.”

She stared at him. He stared at her.

“Miki? You don’t know?”

It wasn’t their anniversary, that was for sure. It wasn’t the anniversary of the first time they “consummated” their relationship, a strange tradition that Eren kept bringing up, probably to make her flustered. What was she missing?

“Uhm…. Is it important?”

“Depends who you ask I guess, but it’s one of the most important days in the whole year for me.”, walking over, Eren dumped a chocolate chip pancake on the pile before spilling the secret, “It’s your birthday.”

“Oh?”, Mikasa’s eyes widened, “Oh!”

Grinning, Eren walked over to her and bent down, pressing a sweet kiss to her surprised mouth.

“Happy birthday babe, I love you.”, reaching to his back pocket, Eren brought out a small box, handing it over.

Mikasa took it with curious fingers, opening the gift and hoping that it wasn’t another bike. Several times in the past, Eren gave her a bike for her birthday, when a new model came out that was even more modern and faster than the one Mikasa had. Yet she adored the one she had right now and didn’t want to change. Her worry was unnecessary.

It wasn’t bike keys Eren gave her, it was a small collection of various pins and rings that Mikasa quickly identified as piercings. She could put those into her ears, decorating the pierced cartilage in various places. With this, she had a variety to choose from, because Eren picked several pairs for her, from skulls and crosses to straight industrials, complimenting her preferred style of clothing. It was a nice gift, and she thanked with a deep kiss that Eren appreciated.

With the ceremony of gifts concluded, Eren challenged Mikasa to some Tekken bouts, a decision he came to regret when she kept beating him over and over. He did sneak some wins in, but in the grand scheme of things, he was still the loser party. Must have been the long shifts at the hospital, he reasoned with himself, he had next to no time to play lately. Not that Mikasa was slacking, far from it, but she did find some time to train, because she pulled moves that Eren never saw before.

“We going again?”, she asked, all casual, sprawled on the couch in her victorious smugness.

“You’re on, Ackerman.”, he growled, hitting the rematch button.

Maybe it was the distraction of her presence, the way she tucked her legs beneath herself when she sat up. Maybe it was the way she bit her bottom lip when concentrating, or when she pushed the hair out of her face, trying her hardest to make it stay behind her ears. Excuses, Eren knew, but he ignored the voice of reason in his head. After having his ass kicked for about an hour, Eren’s pride couldn’t take it anymore and he dropped the controller to tackle her, tumbling together on the couch.

“Tired of losing?”, she asked, peering down at him while Eren buried his face in her chest.

“Yes.”

“But..”, she reached down, intertwining her fingers with his long hair, “Whatever else will we do?”

Abandoning his nice resting place, Eren pulled himself up to face her, noticing the slight blush rising to her cheeks.

“I have a few ideas.”

And he kissed her, swallowing that surprised gasp from Mikasa’s lips that turned into a giggle instead. She tasted amazing, like joy itself, and Eren took full advantage of being allowed to kiss the angel that she was. Her mouth moved with his, opening with a gentle moan when his tongue probed for access and then it was messy and breathtaking. She needed air, but Eren was relentless, descending to nip at her neck instead. His hands were busy too, one gently massaging her breast through the fabric while the other descended, grabbing a handful of that gorgeous ass of hers. Having such a perfect butt should be a federal crime, because it completely clouded Eren’s senses with desire, his fingers digging into that sinful temptation.

It reminded him of the incident that happened about a week ago when he came back from a long shift at the hospital at about four in the morning. Exhausted, he took a shower before joining Mikasa, who was already fast asleep in the bedroom. He collapsed, not even bothering to check where and rested his head on the first thing that was somewhat soft, his brain reasoning that it’s probably her chest. In the morning, Eren was mightily surprised when he discovered that he spent the night resting his head on Mikasa’s ass because she treacherously decided to sleep on her stomach. To punish her for the deception, he did the first thing that came to his mind, and that in retrospective was both stupid and unreasonable. He sank his teeth into the impromptu pillow, waking her up. He thought that it was going to be sensual, get her into the mood maybe, but he was dead wrong. Understandably, Mikasa didn’t like being awoken by having her butt bitten, and she complained, her “What the fuck, Eren?” echoing through the bedroom.

They made up after, and Eren apologized by giving her lazy morning cunnilingus which she took full advantage of, holding him down with her legs until she was completely satisfied. Then she got up, headed for the bathroom and went on with her day, leaving him with nothing but a raging hard-on. It was a fair punishment, and for once he didn’t complain.

Eren was torn back into reality by a harsh bite Mikasa planted on his neck, obviously noticing his memory trip. Reminded that here and now was way more important, he licked the pout away from her lips before claiming them in another bruising kiss. They didn’t even end up doing anything explicit, only a lot of kissing, some groping, and cuddling on the couch, enjoying each other’s presence. When Mikasa had her fill of new love bites, she decided to get a bit of a workout and turned on the music before walking over to the dance pole. Eren watched her for a time, mesmerized as always, because she once again completely defied the laws of gravity. Holding on the pole with her hands alone, she air walked up until she was upside down, anchoring herself with her legs instead. After that, her hands let go and Mikasa pulled herself up with nothing but her abdominals until she could grab the metal, her head back above her legs. Incredible. But in the end, seeing her being productive made Eren get off the couch as well.

With nothing better to do, he decided to bake a cake for the birthday girl. A small one, the main thing was already ordered and would arrive at the party, but Eren wanted to do it anyway. He was very good with cooking, but not so much with baking, and practice makes perfect. One day, he would manage to create such perfect cookies as his mother can do, present Mikasa with a plate and watch her eyes light up when she takes a bite. One day. So, he baked, Mikasa danced slash worked out at the pole, everything covered by the tune of rhythmic music she put on.

A lot of chocolate, that was important, because Mikasa liked it. Some strawberries too, and Eren was getting lost in the baking, his mind focusing on the task at hand. It wasn’t until she took a break and came close, sweat on her face, that he looked up from his work.

“What are you doing?”

Eren looked over the mess in the kitchen with a smirk.

“Baking.”

“I noticed, but why?”

It was kinda cute how obvious Mikasa could be sometimes, but Eren couldn’t tease her about it. He was the same, maybe even worse.

“Well you see,”, Eren turned back towards his work, heating the chocolate, “Certain someone has a birthday today, so I thought that I might bake her a cake.”

“….Huh.”

“Don’t worry, if you won’t like it I’m sure that Sasha will, she can relieve you of the burden at the party.”

“What party? Wait, there’s a party?”

“Yes ma’am. As it would seem, you have plenty of friends who would like to celebrate your birthday.”

Once the cake was in the fridge to cool down and Mikasa was done with her workout, Eren realized that he’s quite hungry. Not feeling like cooking right after working on the chocolate monstrosity, he decided to abuse the takeout system and order delivery. To get a second opinion on his choice of food, he turned to Mikasa who was scrolling through her phone.

“I could go for some sushi right now, you in?”

Her lips curled, but before Mikasa could say her usual quip, Eren took the wind right out of her sails.

“Yes, I’m suggesting it only because you are part Japanese and I am a huge racist. I’m also only dating you as a joke, because how could I ever love a half-breed. There, did I miss anything?”

Mikasa pouted, all her jokes dismantled before she could say them.

“No…”

“Good.”, he leaned over, pecking her on the lips, ”Now with that out of the way, Sushi?”

“Yes…”

The sushi was good, very good even, as the restaurant Eren chose was rather expensive. When they finished eating, Eren pulled out the cake, watching with bated breath as Mikasa took the first bite.

“So?” he asked, unsure if he didn’t fuck something up.

She chewed, slowly, taking her time. Damn woman, he was on the brink here.

“Its….”, her face lit up a huge grin appearing, “Amazing!”

Leaning over the table, she gave Eren a very proper “Thank you” kiss, so proper that he could taste the chocolate on her lips as well. When she sat down again, digging into the cake, Eren couldn’t help but smile himself. Seeing her happy made him so…. happy.

“I’ll have to bring some to mom then, she likes to make fun of my baking.”

“Carla doesn’t know what a talented son she has.”, Mikasa assured him, taking another bite.

“You are the only one who truly appreciates me, babe.”

She giggled at that, leaning over the table again.

“You want another taste of the cake?”

“I’ll never say no to that.”

He understood the offer, meeting her halfway. Eren wasn’t sure what of the taste was the cake and what Mikasa herself, but her lips were that tad bit sweeter with chocolate in the mix. When she had her fill, it was almost time to get ready for the party, and that threw her into an unsure mood. Even with all the experience she gained at the modeling agency, Mikasa had trouble picking out clothes to wear. She had so many! And it was mostly Eren’s fault, because he often gave her something out of nowhere, saying that this will look great on her. Usually, he was correct, but now Mikasa was left with a pile of clothes to sort through, ruffling her hair in frustration.

“What should I wear? Should I dress up?”

“It’s gonna be people you know, wear what you want.”

“But Eren, I want us to fit! What are you going to have?”

“Uhm… Jeans and T-shirt I guess.”

Mikasa scoffed at his uncreativeness, her eyes rowing through the dresser. She was feeling goth tonight, in part because she knew that it will make Kiyomi roll her eyes and complain about that style, but mostly because it was something she wore often and was very comfortable in. But it was hard to fit with Eren in those clothes since he was

so uninspired when it came to style. Mikasa didn’t think about it that often, but now after spending so much time in the model agency, she knew enough to try and make them match.

Fingers tracing one of the black shirts, she pulled it out, realizing that it was way too big. Eren’s then, one she stole and put into her own dresser for nights when he was working and she was feeling alone. He never did mind that, loving the way his shirts covered her curves and ended in that perfect spot located at halfway of Mikasa’ butt. Watching it, a new idea popped into her mind, one that he was not going to like. At all.

Obvious of his impending fate, Eren staring into his phone, sitting on the bed and not doing the logical thing. Like trying to escape. He ignored Mikasa when she walked to the bathroom to gather her supplies, he ignored her even when she sat down on the mattress next to him. Only once she cleared her throat, he put the device down.

“What’s up?”

“Babe, I have my first birthday wish.”

That was fast.

“Sure,”, he said, “What is it?”

With a sly grin, Mikasa held up the lipstick she brought in the small pile of make-up.

“I want to dress YOU up.”

“The what now?”

“You! I want to pick your clothes and do your make up for the party, so we fit together.”

Eren’s eyes slid over to the lipstick, then to the eyeliner on the bed, and then to Mikasa’s excited face.

“No.”

“But…”

“No, I’m gonna look like a clown.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“Are you saying that I look like a clown?”

“Tsk, of course not, you pull it off flawlessly. But there are certain differences between us two.”

“Such as?”

“Well,”, he reached over to touch her cheek, “Your skin is really pale, so it creates a nice contrast to the black makeup. And your hair is midnight too, making it fit together. I’m tanned and brown-haired, there is no way I can look as good as you do.”

But Mikasa wanted to do this, she really did, so it was time to start playing dirty. In one fell swoop, she was in Eren’s lap, anchoring herself with hands that wrapped around her victim’s neck. He was caught - both physically, because if Mikasa wanted to she could probably keep him in place with her thighs alone considering how strong her legs were, both also mentally, because when you have Mikasa Ackerman in your lap you don’t move and you don’t breathe. The moment is too magical to be true.

“Please Eren,”, she pouted, deploying all of the weapons in her arsenal, “It’s my birthday….”

In a last-ditch effort, Eren opened his mouth to say no to her, only to find himself attacked by her lips. And as Mikasa aggressively kissed him, the “No” inverted into “Yes”, and she had won. So Eren suffered through the eyeliner, he suffered through the lipstick, he suffered through the nail polish. After that, she picked some black shirt and pants for him, completing the image that she often wore. Done with him for now, Mikasa told him to wait so she can get herself ready, giving Eren the time to look in the mirror. Yup, he was right in his assumption, he was looking like a clown. Ymir, Jean and Onya are all going to have so much fun once they see him.

Yet when he saw Mikasa, saw her smile and heard her giggle, when she looked at him with the crinkle in her eye, Eren couldn’t care less. She was happy, she was having fun, and that was the most important thing. After all, it was her birthday.

Maybe to reward him for going along with her plan, Mikasa dressed in a way that made him truly appreciate the beauty that she was. Nothing overly complicated, black top and skirt, and fishnet stockings over her usual combo of thigh highs and combat boots. Maybe to tease him, her outfit had some leather belts here and there, snaking around her body, reminding him of the bondage harness she sometimes wore during their playtimes. Mikasa must have reached deep into her pile, because she even had a netted top on, over the shirt, a thing Eren hasn’t seen on her for some time now. It complimented her usual choker and all the necklaces, as she wanted to evoke her style as much as she could because Kiyomi is probably going to lose her mind over it. The top and skirt left a strip of skin uncovered in the middle, bringing a pair of her toned abs into view, a sight Eren simply loved. Okay, he looked like a clown, that was given, but Mikasa was pulling it off flawlessly as always and she was the main event of the evening. It was her birthday, after all. He can survive the humiliation. Hopefully.

And then they finally made it to the Third Wheel for Mikasa’s birthday party. Everyone was already present, making their arrival fashionably late.

“Do you see what I see?”, Jean gasped, eyes wide.

“I can’t believe it.”, Ymir admitted.

“Somebody pinch me.”, Onya said, “I’m dreaming.”

Ymir did so, pinching him with much more strength than required.

“Ow!”, he complained, rubbing his cheek

Ymir shrugged, giving him a nondescript look.

“What?”

“Shut up, both of you.”, that was Connie speaking, appearing from somewhere inside the bar, “And soak it in.”

And they all did. Because seeing Eren, the arrogant Eren, the always smug Eren, with black eyeshadow and nail polish, dragged behind Mikasa who was having the time of her life, that was an event they were sure to remember.

Kiyomi was the first one that the pair met, once again accompanied by Yelena, her faithful shadow.

“I didn’t know that you will make it!”, Mikasa chirped, holding onto Eren’s arm and more or less forcing him into the spotlight next to her, “But I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Yes, I couldn’t miss it.”, Kiyomi’s eyes roved all over the pair, her mouth forming that thin line that appeared whenever there was something she disliked, “But did you have to do this to me?”

“Oh, but I often dress like this, and so does my boyfriend we love this style,”, Mikasa squeezed Eren’s arm, “Isn’t that right baby?”

He was already feeling the stares on him, on his nails, knowing that all of his friends were having a blast. Probably taking pics too, judging from the commotion. It is Mikasa’s birthday, he reminded himself, this was her wish. She. Is. Happy.

“Yes, totally.”, he lied, putting on an awkward smile for the old lady, “We love dark colors, sadness and all that jazz.”

The disappointed frown didn’t disappear, but the old woman didn’t grill him any further. Kiyomi and Mikasa got into a conversation about topics Eren had no idea about and Dot Pixis also appeared, joining the pair. With his other half currently engaged, Eren’s eyes, hidden in those dark shadows Mikasa painted on them, turned towards the other people present at the birthday party.

Eren silently dreaded this moment, when he will walk up to his friends and try to look cool and unbothered while wearing that makeup. It was going to happen, sooner or later, so gathering his courage, he did just that, approaching the group that noticed him almost immediately. Even his mother was there, chatting with the group, and very badly hiding the laughs that his appearance forced out of her. Sure mom, laugh at your only child. Do it.

Taking a deep breath, Eren spoke up.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?”

And the dam broke.

“Eren, who died?”

“Did they cast you in The Crow remake?”

“Are you cosplaying a failure in life?”

“Evanescence needs a new singer?”

Overwhelmed, he held up his hands to stop them.

“I get it okay? I look like a clown.”

“I don’t think you do.”, Jean said, snapping another picture, “Clowns are funny, but this… We are never letting you forget this.”

“Fine, I don’t care. Mikasa wanted it, and I’m not going to say no when it’s her birthday.”

“Mikasa wanted it?”, Onya wondered, “Why?”

“Kiyomi despises the style, and Mikasa likes poking fun at her. That’s about it.”

“A prank then.”, Connie nodded, exchanging a look with Sasha, “We can respect that.”

“It’s not really a prank,”, Jean said, “It’s more of a way to get under Kiyomi’s skin.”

“Still, it’s cute that Eren is so willing to make a fool of himself only because Mikasa told him to.”, Carla pointed out, “A nice birthday gift.”

“Thanks, mom.”, Eren deadpanned, “I appreciate it.”

She patted him on the cheek.

“Anything for you, sweetie.”

His ghastly appearance somewhat explained, the group’s focus shifted towards other serious topics. The jokes didn’t stop, but now that he was not the main attraction, Eren could finally relax and engage in the conversation. Which, somehow, took a strange turn as Mikasa rejoined them, pressing a quick peck to Eren’s cheek.

“We should establish like an underground fight ring, right here in the pub.”, Sasha was beaming with energy, “And then have people bet on the fights! Imagine how cool that would be.”

“How would that be fair,”, Jean pointed out, “Mikasa would steamroll everyone.”

There was silence after that nobody spoke into, the eyes of everyone slowly but surely turning towards Levi.

“What do you want me to say?”, he asked, noticing the attention out of nowhere, “I’m old, not delusional, I’d lose to her nine times out of ten if we were both serious.”

There was a collective sigh and a victorious smirk from the birthday girl herself.

“Well, there goes the only one who had a chance.”, Connie said.

“Maybe Mikasa should be disqualified.”, Jean offered, not giving up yet, “Since she’s a pro and all that.”

“That’s not very nice.”, Armin interjected in her defense.

Still, Jean’s comment made her frown.

“Scared, Kirstein?”

“Hell yeah I am, I’ve seen what you did to those guys during preliminaries.”

Mikasa mumbled something, leaning on Eren’s shoulder for mental support against such an accusation while Jean retreated to a safe distance behind Hitch. He still remembered the Thunder Spear. The conversation flowed after and while the idea of a fight ring was exciting, everyone agreed to that, the idea was put on ice for now.

The party continued with the guests once again breaking into smaller groups. Eren got stuck in a conversation with Armin and Hitch, who was trying to unravel the psychological reason for his makeup. Mikasa let him out to dry for once, heading to the bar to get a refill on her drink. Halfway there, she was tackled by a small cannonball, who she only identified because of the blonde hair. Krista was buzzed for sure, her cheeks were ruddy and the eyes that dug into Mikasa were all excited over nothing.

“M-Mikasa! Kasa! Listen.”

“What’s up?”

“I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“We want to do the… the thing with Ymir.”

“What thing?”

“You know the… the….”, Krista’s flushed cheeks were turning even redder now as she struggled for words, “playtime?”

“Huh..”

Detective Ackerman was on the case. Krista was blushing, she didn’t want to talk about it much yet brought it up. It must be connected to the time when Eren came over and … Oh!

“I get it.”, she said, making Krista beam up now that she won't have to spell it out.

“But what do you want from me? It’s going to be about you and Ymir.”

“Yea but, how do you do it. Do you like point at your feet and say: Kneel, slave! and Eren obeys?”

“Not always, it's much more about the moment. Don’t stress it that much, I’m sure you two can pull it out.”

“Ymir can, but I want to be the one on the top.”

“Oh,” Mikasa blinked a few times, “You?”

“Yes, is that strange?”, Krista looked away, biting her bottom lip, “Maybe I should give that up and let her..”

“No,”, Mikasa interjected, “don’t do that, don’t put yourself into a position you don’t like. “

She took a gentle hold of Krista’s chin, turning her to look back into her eyes.

“There is nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with you wanting to try something new. You being comfortable is the most important thing. Whatever you want to try, go for it, because even if you fail it will be you and Ymir who knows about it. You’ll laugh and move on, there is literally nothing to lose.”

Krista’s face lit up as Mikasa spoke, and then she was on her, hugging her. She staggered, taken aback by the sudden affection. Even after letting go, Krista still clutched to her arm, smiling up at her.

“You’re like… the coolest person I know.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Maybe, but it's still the truth. We watched your fights, and while Ymir was staring at your ass, not that I blame her, I watched you move and you’re so amazing!”

“Uhm…”, Mikasa wasn’t sure what to do, “Thanks?”

Krista was in on it, her face beaming when she continued.

“You go like boom, kick and pow, punch and…” she imitated the moves, kicking the air, “another, and another and…”

On her third punch, Krista ran out of luck and Levi happened to be passing by - he got hit right in the face. The seasoned veteran that he was, Levi didn’t even flinch, looking over to the pair with a raised eyebrow. Calmly, he asked.

“What. The. Fu…”, Hange told him not to swear so much, “-Hell?”

“Oh my god.”, Krista covered her mouth, eyes widening in alarm, “I’m so sorry!”

Levi exchanged a look with Mikasa, who was barely keeping the laughter in, some of it still simpering through her dark lips. It felt strange, getting punched by Krista, as if it happened already, somewhere in the past.

“Did you ever hit me before?”

“What? No! Of course not, I’d never.”

“Hmm…”

Krista was saved from further questioning by Eren, who picked exactly that moment to bring the cake out. Everyone gathered around while he lit the candles, taking a step back to let the birthday girl take her rightful place.

“You have to wish for something!”, Armin reminded her.

But she had everything. Her friends all around, her fiancé at her side, everyone she cared about was happy and safe and most importantly alive. At that moment, Mikasa felt a surge of happiness alongside a tinge of sadness. Whoever the Mikasa in her dream was, she never got to experience this, and she felt sorry for the poor thing. She had everything, while the other girl had nothing, only because she was born into such an unfair and cruel world.

“I hope that you will find happiness at the end.”, she whispered under her breath, “I wish for that.”

Puckering her lips, Mikasa blew the candles, acing it on her first try.

“Never have I ever… had sex in a public place.”

“What, you didn’t?”

“Some of us have decency, Ymir.”

The freckled girl groaned, downing the shot before nudging Krista. The blonde was blushing like crazy, but followed her girlfriend’s lead, surprising exactly no one. Who else could Ymir be indecent with? Carla passed, but Sasha drank, leaving Mikasa as the only one to react. What a stupid game.

She didn’t even know how she ended up here, sitting at the table with the other girls, while Eren was having some sort of deep discussion with wasted Jean and Onya. The party had already progressed past the healthy hours, meaning that most of the other guests already left. Even Armin called it quits, citing that he had an important call with a publisher tomorrow. It was just them now, playing a drinking game, and Eren with the boys, arguing over something stupid.

“What’s the holdup?”, Ymir barged into her thoughts, “Can’t remember?”

Oh, she could remember, very vividly too. The restaurant bathroom, the public park, the beautiful view where Eren had her spread over the hood of the car…. She drank, making Carla blink a few times as she looked at her, then to her son, then back at Mikasa. Blushing, she refused to meet the older woman’s gaze.

“Okay,”, Ymir saved her, “You’re next Carla.”

Her eyes, so similar to Eren’s, narrowed, as she drilled them into Mikasa.

“Never have I ever,”, she said, “had a piercing.”

The jab so obviously aimed at her made the raven scowl, but she drank. Luckily not alone, as Ymir also took a swig, much to Sasha’s surprise.

“Where?”, she asked, making the tall girl mumble something and look away.

It was Krista who answered the question, tapping the center of her breast and giving Sasha a wink. That was a surprise to Mikasa too.

“You turn Krista.”, Hitch noted.

“Never have I ever… had a tattoo!”

This time, Mikasa also had to drink, much to Carla’s satisfaction. Sasha did too, earning a raised eyebrow from Hitch.

“I have a butterfly on my ankle.”, she explained before turning to Mikasa, “Miks, you’re up!”

Maybe Mikasa could get back to Carla’s good graces if she implied something nice about her son, instead of the fact that he was a bit of a sexual deviant. Not that Carla knew even a fraction of the things he and Mikasa did together. But slightly drunk Ackerman wasn’t the best thinker, so she blurted out the first thing that came through her mind.

“Never have I ever faked an orgasm.”

A wave of groans ran through the seated players. With a sigh, Sasha was the first one to drink, followed by Hitch. Seeing them cave in, Carla also took a sip. That was supposed to be it, but then Krista, totally red in the face at this point, also drank, making Ymir’s eyes widen.

“Babe! What the hell?!”

“I’m sorry, it was only one time!”, the short girl pleaded, fingers grasping on her girlfriend’s shirt, “I was so tired and out of it, but you were trying so hard!”

“A small white lie can be good for your partner's sexuality.”, Hitch chimed in, “If it helps the other party feel better it has a positive effect on their overall psychic state and the level of comfort around you.”

Ymir frowned at her over Krista’s blonde head.

“That’s why you did it?”

Hitch shrugged, having her reasons.

“Male ego is fragile.”

They all drank to that.

A few meters away, the guy group was trying to show the perils of his new gig to Eren, who was playing the perfect boyfriend, irritating Jean to no end.

“It might get hard, all this faithful shit you keep pulling.”, he was saying, making Eren tilt his head in question.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,”, Onya explained, ”since you are going to be a model and all, you are going to have some girls going after you.”

“So?”

“You know….”

“I know what?”

“Side chicks? Fun on the side? Flings? I mean…”

Onya looked to Jean for help, and luckily the taller guy stepped in.

“He’s talking about other women that will probably want to have sex with you. There, you understand that?”

Eren’s eyes lit up.

“Oooh, you mean cheating! Nah man, I’m good.”

“You are saying that now, but you don’t know what kind of hotties you will attract.”, Onya continued, now that Eren finally understood his angle, “Never say never.”

“Yea,”, Jean followed that up, “What if you get bored of her?”

“Bored of Mikasa? How?”

“What if you guys have a big fight?”, Onya continued.

“Then we will talk it out.”

“What if you wake up one day and realize that you don’t love her anymore.”

Eren actually laughed at the absurdity of the question, shaking his head.

“Not happening.”

“Look, she’s hot, we get it, but there is always a possibility.”

“Nope.”

“So what, are you going to sit here and claim that Mikasa is perfect?”

“I don’t know about that, she has plenty of faults. But she is perfect for me, my ideal angel.”

“You’re hopeless.”, Onya surrendered, “I give up.”

Yet Eren was still not done in his rant.

“To be honest, I don’t get cheating in general.”

“Dude,”, Jean groaned, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

But Eren pressed on.

“I mean, you have someone that loves you, and you risk it all for a way to get off? Can’t you rub one out and call it day?”

Jean exchanged a helpless look with Onya, who shrugged. Seeing no support there, he looked back at Eren, who was casually sipping his drink.

“I wondered if Mikasa had you neutered, but this confirms it. You can’t say shit like that and want me to believe that you have any balls left.”

“Are you that interested in my balls?”, Eren’s eyes narrowed, “Maybe you want to take a look down there?”

“Somewhat eager to shove your crotch to my face. See, it’s strange that you were never bothered by how strong Mikasa is, by all the muscles, the short hair too. But I think that I cracked the code.”, Jean pointed at Eren, smirking, “Look at you, with the eye shadows and nail polish. You’re fucking gay in denial, bro.”

Onya snickered, Eren snorted and almost stood up before a familiar hand with black nails appeared, snaking around his waist in a very possessive hold.

“You boys having fun?”, Mikasa asked, her voice in that icy tone that made everyone present shiver.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Great party.”

“Happy birthday. Again.”

Onya and Jean spoke over one another, nervous smiles all around while Eren sat back down, wondering what they were so afraid of. Sure, Mikasa could freeze people with her glares, but they were still acting a bit over the top. What he didn’t know was that Jean told Onya all about the Thunderspear, so now he was nervously checking Mikasa’s legs, all the way from her powerful thighs down to the blackness of her combat boots. Look, it wasn’t that Onya was scared of Mikasa, but hearing that she can kick hard enough to make a man feel like half of his body was blown off, is a cause for concern for anyone valuing their wellbeing. It made even Onya, with his dark skin, look pale in the face.

With nothing else to say and not feeling like repeating the gay joke now that Mikasa was here, Jean and he took their exit, leaving the pair alone. Now with no one to bother them, Eren was free to wrap his hands around Mikasa’s hips and pull her down to his lap, an offering which she took ignoring the empty chairs left behind by his friends.

“So, are you having fun?”, she purred, playing with the ends of his hair.

“Considering that on your last birthday party I was in a chastity cage, I take this as an improvement.”

She sighed at the memory.

“Damn, that was great, especially what followed.”

“I agree, you let yourself go wild back then. And god, it was amazing.”, he squeezed her sides lightly, “You are an amazing dominatrix when you feel like it.”

A tiny smile curled her black lips up.

“Thanks, you are not half bad yourself.”

“I’ll treasure that compliment, mistress Ackerman.

“As you should, master Yeager.”

Both giggling at the completely unnecessary formalities, they kissed, ignoring the party completely in favor of getting lost in each other’s lips. It was a great birthday, but the biggest gift was this. Being here with all her friends, with her fiancé, all of them safe and happy. It warmed her to no end, making her so overjoyed that she didn’t mind when Eren’s hands discreetly descended to her ass in a public place like this. To top it off, Mikasa didn’t even know that Eren had one more surprise up his sleeve.

It didn’t happen until much later, when they left the Third Wheel and took a cab that, Mikasa assumed, was supposed to get them home. She spent most of the ride with her head on Eren’s shoulder, eyes closed. When they got out, she was surprised to realize that this was not their house. Instead, they were standing in front of another establishment, a club if she was to guess.

“Another club? I don’t think I want to drink anymore babe.”

Mikasa didn’t like getting hammered, and she was already tipsy. But Eren was quick to diffuse her worries.

“No, this is not that kind of club. This is… Eh…”

It looked unassuming, just a door with a bouncer in front, the same as any other place in the city. But for some reason, Eren was scratching the back of his neck in an obviously nervous gesture.

“This is a performance club, sort of.”

“Like a theatre?”

“Well..”, he barked out a nervous laugh, “not really.”

She poked him in the shoulder.

“Tell me.”

He took a deep breath, looking her straight in the eye.

“It’s a BDSM club, and there is a performance tonight, so I booked us a booth.”

“You mean like…. Like….”

“Yeah.”

Seeing the pink that dusted her cheeks and the unsure look in Mikasa’s eyes, Eren continued.

“Listen, we don’t have to go if we don’t want to, I just thought that it might be interesting to see a pro at work. I know the guy who’s going to perform tonight.”

“You do?”, now that was something Mikasa didn’t expect, “How?”

“It’s the guy from the store, Darius Zackly, you know him too. When I talked to him a while back he gave me some great tips about rope bondage, helped me figure out a few things. He’s partly the reason why I am so good with it now.”

Mikasa could agree with the good part, Eren always delivered an incredible experience. She looked at the club, then back at Eren’s face, then back at the club. What was there to lose? It’s not like she and Eren were some vanilla couple that would get scared from what they would see in there. And it could be fun seeing other people engage in similar fun that they had.

“All right, let’s go.”, she decided, grabbing Eren’s hand and pulling him, “I don’t mind getting wild on my birthday.”

The bouncer let them in with no big fuzz, and Mikasa pulled Eren through the door and into the strange yet exciting place.

#eremika #fanfic #snk #fluff

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