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theweasleysredhair · 4 years

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How To Steal A Book (And a Heart) [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 1494

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Fred is annoying the reader in the library; first by stealing her book, then by stealing her heart.

Tags: @dreamer821 @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @wand3ringr0s3 @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @besitos-41 @heart-of-tempered-steel @mytreec | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: this was requested by my girl erica ( @ickle-ronniekins ) - hope you enjoy m’love!! ❤️

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

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“Give it back,” you held your hand out to him, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he stood, smirking down at you.

“I don’t want to,” Fred licked his bottom lip and shot you a cheeky smile, lifting the book up just as you tried to reach up for it. You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “Give it here, Fred.”

He shook his head, leaning against the nearest bookcase and faking a yawn as he kept moving the book out of your reach.

“If I say I love you, would you let me keep it?” He asked with a grin, watching at the way you became flustered, stammering out your response.

“No!”

“Damn it. Worth a try,” he placed the book on his head, trying to get it to balance as you glared up at him, “Please just give me my book back.”

He moved his head, causing the book to fall but he caught it effortlessly and continued to keep it away from you, “I don’t know, I think I’m gonna have to keep a hold of this one.”

“And why is that,” you asked, exasperated and throwing your arms up in the air dramatically to emphasise your words.

“Well, I guess I can’t hide it anymore, but you see... I just- I love books! Especially,” he paused, turning the book the right away up and reading the title, “Advanced Rune Translation - you don’t actually find this interesting, do you?”

You rolled your eyes, though you and he both knew you weren’t actually too mad at him, “As a matter of fact, I do. Just because your only interest is pranking doesn’t mean mine is!”

He scoffed in mock hurt, “‘S not true, love, I have another interest.”

“And what might that be?” You deadpanned, “Annoying people?”

“That’s insulting. But no, my other interest is you, darling,” he grinned, again enjoying the way his words affected you.

“How touching,” you grumbled, running a hand through your hair and pulling your cloak further around yourself.

“I’ll touch you-“

“Fred!”

“What?” He looked at you innocently, though you could see the hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Oh for Godric’s sake,” you sighed, shaking your head at him and deciding to sit back down in the chair at the table, resting your chin on your hands as you pouted at the essay you’d half written, that was sat in front of you.

“You seem stressed, love,” Fred stated, pushing off the bookcase and collapsing into the chair across from you, tucking your Runes textbook under his arm.

“I am stressed, actually,” you said, staring at the essay.

“And why might that be?” He asked, though he knew exactly why, and just wanted to get under your skin.

“Well I’m not sure really,” you said sarcastically, “Possibly because a certain twin is bothering me?”

Fred’s jaw dropped almost comically, “I’ll have a word with George then, don’t you worry, love! Can’t have him bothering you, can I!”

“You infuriate me,” you grumbled.

He smirked cheekily at you, “I hope I do other things to you too, love.”

“Oh yes, plenty of other things,” you watched as his face lit up before dropping as you continued on, “Infuriate, annoy, bother...”

“I can make you bothered in another way if you want,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Fred.”

“What, love?” He asked, putting on his innocent face again and making you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time.

You grit your teeth, choosing to ignore him, and grabbed your quill, angrily finishing the sentence you were previously writing, but not being able to make a new point considering the book you were using for reference had been stolen from you.

“You seem very tense, darling, I can help you out with that if you want. I have some ideas that are very efficient in easing tension,” Fred lifted his legs up onto the table and leant back in his chair, “They involve me, you, preferably a bed - though I’m not picky - and-“

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” you interrupted him quickly, even though you were quite wanting to know what he was going to say if you were honest.

“You get the picture,” he nodded, grinning.

“I do get the picture, thank you very much.”

There was a silence as you tried to remember what was written in the book to start a new point in your essay. Fred watched the way your eyebrows furrowed in thought, the way your soft lips were pursed and he smiled to himself, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth as he revelled in your beauty, his eyes travelling from your soft eyelashes down to the curve of your nose. He really fancied you, more than he’d fancied anyone before.

You frowned as your mind went blank as you tried to think about what to write next, unaware of Fred’s gaze upon you, before you sighed, grabbing your parchment, quill and ink and shoving them into your bag. You pushed your chair out and went to stand up, Fred copying your actions frantically, “Where are you going?”

“Well I can’t do my essay because you have my book, if you’ll recall, so I’m going to the kitchens to get some food instead,” you said to him, pulling your bag onto your shoulder.

He frowned, feeling bad now you couldn’t do your essay because of him teasing you, even though he was well aware you weren’t mad at him at all.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, as he followed you out of the library, “Maybe I’ll even give you your book back if you share a meal with me.”

“Fred Weasley, are you asking me on a date?” You gasped mockingly, turning back to him with wide eyes.

“Well I did ask you to join me in bed, but you weren’t as keen on that idea so I thought I’d dial it back a tad,” he joked.

“Who said I wasn’t keen?” You stepped towards him, making him step back and hit the wall behind him.

You stepped closer, standing just in front of him now, reaching up on your tip toes so your face was in line with his, so close you could feel how his breath hitched, and you felt the hand not holding your book grab your waist as he waited for you to do something - anything.

“I think you’ll find that I’m very keen,” you whispered, leaning closer to him, meaning you could feel his warm breath hitting your lips, as his eyes fluttered closed, him tilting his head towards yours, and you brushing your lips against his ever so softly, making him move instinctively closer to you.

Just as he tried to close that small gap between you to properly kiss you, you pulled away, moving out of his arms and grabbing your book quickly before turning around without a second glance as you made you way down the hallway.

Fred’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped, half scoffing as he pushed himself off the wall and began running after you, “Hey, wait up!”

You slowed your walking, biting your lip as you waited for him to catch up. He span you by your waist round to face him, causing you to drop your book though neither of you seemed to care, your chest pressed flush against his as he playfully scolded you, his eyes flickering from your eyes down to your lips and back up again, “You can’t make a guy think you’re gonna kiss him and then don’t!”

You opened your mouth to respond but instead were met with Fred’s lips pressing against yours, properly this time; a kiss that was needy and desperate but rough at the same time. He pulled you up closer to him, your arms wrapping around his neck and running through his hair as he let out a groan against your lips when he felt you pull at the tufts of hair closer to the back of his neck.

Fred had imagined kissing you before - a lot, in fact - but none of his thoughts lived up to how it actually felt to have your lips against his own, your hands running down his body and for him to have his hands squeezing your hips. He felt lightheaded, wanting to continue on but knowing he would have to pull away for a breather soon. He compromised, pulling away a little to take a breath, but continuing pressing more kisses to your lips, not being able to help himself.

He finally rested his forehead against yours, groaning as you bit your swollen lip and looked up at him with a dazed look in your eye, hair a mess and tie askew. He grinned, licking his own lips as he squeezed your waist, before repeating his words from before,

“If I say I love you, will you let me keep you?”

#fred weasley #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imagines #hp #harry potter #all queue have to do is follow the spiders

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aerialflight · 3 years

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Fic Rec (it's been too long and I read a whole lot of fics)

I've read so many fics these past couple of months and my need to share them to the world has seized me by the throat. Please enjoy and support these fanfic writers! They are the best. XD

[Naruto]

Nine-Tailed Foxes are Dead by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Shikamaru/Naruto

For Konoha, it's been one month since the preliminary Chunin exams. For Naruto, it's been six. And he wasn't in Konoha.

At the end of his ordeal, Naruto walks into the Chunin Exam finals without his left arm.

Shikamaru is very concerned. And, eventually, very precious to Naruto as they work together to solve the mysteries of Konoha and bring kindness to the Shinobi world, one adventure at a time.

(I would die for this fic. I know the summary sounds doom and gloom but IT'S NOT. This fic made me fucking cry, I don't think I've ever read a fic that characterized Naruto so right. He's so full of hope and love and develops into the best version of himself and I'm so HERE FOR IT. And it's not just Naruto, Shikamaru is absolutely amazing here along with Kakashi and surprise surprise Ino, I can't BELIEVE it took me this long to stumble across this fic. Also THE WORLDBUILDING IS TO DIE FOR!!! And the plot! Is! So! Interesting! Just, everything about this fic is just amazing so please PLEASE read this!!!)

The End of the Uchiha by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Naruto/Sasuke

“I promise, little electric spirit of this shrine,” he whispered into the soft dirt and fallen leaves, “I will never gain the eyes. I will never pass them on. And I will make sure the eyes end in my brother, so that they can’t hurt anybody anymore. I will be the last Uchiha, and see to the end of the Copy-Wheel Clan. Then all of the hatred here can stop, and my family can rest peacefully. I promise, little shrine.”

Sasuke is more than his brother thinks he is. He's more than any Uchiha has ever been. He will kill his brother, but it will not be vengeance.

It will be mercy.

(Same author as the one above, they are the gift that keeps on giving. Seriously, HOW did I NEVER FIND THESE FICS before now??? One of life's greatest mysteries. The author's sense of humor is so on point here along with the atmospheric writing that's so vivid in the mind. Their writing style is so recognizable to me now and makes me fall into the world they're creating, it's stunning. Sasuke here makes me want to hug him and the idea of him living like a feral ghibli character has me LIVING. Check the tags of the fic, all of it is true, hand to god. Please give all of the author's fics a shot, it's a rabbit hole I'm thankful I fell into!)

mil fantasmas (gritan en calma) by LegaciesandMemories

Post-Tsukuyomi, something in Uchiha Sasuke's mind shatters. The same night, Yamanaka Ino falls asleep and doesn't wake up for 15 days.

---

In which Ino and Sasuke both wake from the aftermath of the Uchiha Massacre with the ability to see ghosts, and no one is prepared for the fallout.

(This fic has arrested my curiosity and eagerness to know what will happen next. These poor kids need so many hugs and Ino is getting the spotlight she deserves. I am so excited for this fic and what it has in store! Please read! XD)

Lichtenberg Figures by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Name: Kakashi Hatake Rank: Jounin Status: Missing Nin Missing Since: June 15th, 271 AD Note: Flee on Sight . . . Haburashi looked his team in the eyes— three, fresh out of the Academy genin— and resolved to teach them as best as he could. And right now, his lesson was simple: “Stay. Away. From. Kakashi. Hatake.”

(Dimension travel fic with a slice of Kakashi being an absolute troll and dealing with the shitty hand he's been dealt with. Seriously, the man has the worst luck in all of Konoha. Also, the mystery of the other Kakashi's history has me leaning by the edge of my seat, I need to know.)

The Governess by Ysmirel

Ship: Kakashi/OFC

"“What,” he finally asked, “is so funny?”

Ibara bit her lower lip to keep the chuckles in, still smiling and making absolutely no effort to get more space between them, seemingly perfectly at ease within reach of a trained shinobi. Her self-control wasn't all that good, as she ended up snorting and was overcame once again by another fit of laughter. “I just- It's just-” She struggled to speak, trying to catch her breath and wiping away tears of mirth with the hand that wasn't still holding onto his vest. Finally, she looked him in the eye and said, with a smile that was all teeth and without a hint of her previous drunken stupor, “and who's going to believe you?”

As he stood there, stunned by her words and change in demeanor, he realized with dawning horror that she was right."

In which Kakashi finds himself at the other end of the troll shtick, and he doesn't appreciate it all that much.

(It's so hard to find self-insert fics with a fresh concept these days, especially in the naruto fandom. Not that I don't enjoy and devour a lot of self insert fics like it's going out of style, but it's just so nice to find something new and shiny and really damn good. I'm so pumped for this fic and how it's going to develop so please join me in rooting for this fic!)

half a league (until the valley of death) by SpectersShadow117

Kakashi can think of no reason for Sasuke's inexplicable and drastic change in behavior. He doesn't like the desperate, haunted gleam in his student's eyes, and he also doesn't like the nagging feeling that he's missing something very important. Aka: Future Sasuke goes to Past Sasuke and gives him a reality check with Specific Intentions, but as with most Uchiha, his methods leave much to be desired. (Featuring: Childhood trauma FTW, Konoha's shitty care of orphans, and absolutely no one having a fun time.)

(Sasuke wanting to change the future out of complete and utter spite has me LIVING. Sasuke is such a Mess here and the twist on the time travel premise is so good and the kid is so Traumatized and Desperate and Not Having A Good Time. Naruto and Sakura developing as better ninjas and Kakashi trying his best makes me want to scream. Also, how Sasuke thinks about Itachi makes me want to cackle. I am 100% down for this. I am rooting for this kid, go get them! XD)

[Harry Potter]

fruit loops in time (circle around me) by justprompts

Ships: Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius

"This is Crabbe, and Goyle," the blonde boy says, pointing at the two boys next to him. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Ma - "

Ron laughs, and Malfoy immediately bristles.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Malfoy says, angrily. "No need to ask yours - "

"You're honestly so cute," Ron interrupts, yet again, shaking his head. "So tiny. And so angry, all the time. It's adorable."

Alternatively Ron Weasley, Time Traveller Extraordinaire, is stuck in the same seven year Hogwarts Loop, repeating the same thing over and over again. Naturally, he's so done with everything.

(This is the greatest hp fic I've ever read. I LOVE RON WEASLEY and by the time you read this fic SO WILL YOU!! This is the fic I WISH I have the ability to write. I read this entire fic aloud to my brother and we spent literal hours howling and talking about how utterly insane and incredible this fic is, it's amazing. This is hands down my favorite Ron Weasley. You Can Pry This Fic From My Cold Dead Fingers.)

[Boku no Hero Academia]

Kacchan's Cult by Ourliazo

Pro Hero Ground Zero is attacked, originally meant to be de-aged out of existence by a desperate villain but is instead launched into his 14-year-old self.

But Katsuki is a fucking pro so whatever, time to fuck up someone's day. And sure, maybe he's only one man, but that's why he conscripts the entirety of the UA student body into tearing down some criminal empires.

(It's time travel, crack, and Bakugou being his usual explody, competent self. What more in life do you want? Seriously though, please read. I'm obsessed with this fic and having a Good Time!)

Cleaning Crew; Teaching Kids to Value their Safety, for Fun and Profit by Reavv

Takenaka Hideo is a thirty-two year old, in mild desperation for money, who has just been hired as a new janitor for UA's support staff. He has a quirk that lets him find lost objects, a liaison with the police because of it, and desperate desire for competent co-workers.

Oh, and he's already lived a previous life, in a world where quirks and heroes didn't even exist.

Not a big deal, though. It's not like you ever see the janitor playing a big part in action movies. He's here to get paid, and that's it.

On the opposite side of the equation, class 1-A has to wonder at the new UA cryptid that always seems to show up when things are on fire, and who keeps trying to convince them to let the adults handle the fire extinguisher.

(A great deal of fun packed into one fic. That is how I title this fic and nothing will change my mind! Hideo just wants to quietly do his job and not get in the way. I Relate. Please read!)

Poltergeist by WriterGreenReads

Class 1-A is haunted.

Well, not really.

I AM dead, though.

World's friendliest poltergeist, at your service.

(I don't know how I got so sucked into OC fics, but I found some fantastic fics along the way so I have no regrets. The author really tries to push the premise and I just love all the interactions and dynamics that form as the fic gets further in. And the OC character and all the hijinks they get up to cracks me up! At the same time, it's pretty heartwarming and it's practically a friendships galore fic! Definitely recommend it!)

invincible by supercrunch for Engrin

Ship: Bakugou/Midoriya

This is the way the world works: the sun rises in the east. The strong come out on top. Bakugou Katsuki rockets through life like a comet and Midoriya Izuku stumbles after. If he believed in such things Katsuki would say it was written in the stars. That some god of war had looked at him and said this one. That he’d been passed along a line to get his blessings – genius, willpower, fearless ambition – and dropped off on earth.

Then, of course, there is the question of Deku. The spitfire runt. Deku, no matter what the world does to him, never stops hoping.

Until, of course, he eventually does.

(Katsuki broke him. Snapped him in half like a twig and now has to scramble to put Deku back together. “We can do this, Deku," he says slowly. "There are so many mysteries that never got put to bed. Criminals roaming around looking to hurt people and you and me, we can fix that.”

There’s a long pause. The comforter slips a little off Deku’s skinny shoulders and drowns him. “You mean like a team?”

In that split second, Katsuki makes a decision he’s never even considered. He swallows his pride. “Yeah, Deku. We’d be a team.”)

(If there was any other way canon could've gone, this is the story I would've wanted. It's perfect.)

Inadvertent Wilderness Therapy by Cacid

Following an unfortunate encounter with a teleporter on the last day of internships, Bakugou Katsuki and Hakamata Tsunagu spend some quality time in northern Canada.

In no particular order they will: build ugly survival shelters, stalk rabbits, run from polar bears, reflect on the chemical composition of trees, insult each other, and complain about krumholtz.

(THESE TWO. TOGETHER. IN THE WILDERNESS. IN FUCKING CANADA OF ALL PLACES. I still can't believe this fic actually exists and just how INVESTED I became in their relationship. Blue Jeanist instantly became my favorite ranked hero with this fic alone. HIS SENSE OF HUMOR IS TERRIBLE, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH FNIEWOPAF. BAKUGOU DOES TOO. IT'S FUCKING INCREDIBLE. *incoherent screeching into the wild*)

[Stranger Things]

Baci D'aria by RabbitDarling

“Love is worth the sum of itself, and nothing more.” ― Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

Steve learned a lot at his Aunt's side before she passed but his favourite thing she taught him was baci d'aria; special little spells that you created from the heart and put into the food you shared.

In opening his heart and gifts to those around him Steve slowly finds himself a family in a way he never thought he'd get to experience. One by One he collects pre-teens to trail in his wake like ducklings and Steve can't even refute it by the time he realizes what has happened.

(This fic is so soft and Steve is just collecting people and winning them over with his magical food (literally). I am always a sucker for heartwarming, good for the soul fics so if you want to make yourself hungry and feel all warm and gooey inside, read this!)

(Don't Fear) The Reaper by TeaFourTwo

Ship: Steve/Billy

He looks down at the blood on his hands and on the floor and wonders why the memory hasn’t broken yet, why he isn’t back in Starcourt mall with control of his body again, wonders if he's even still alive at all. Is this hell then? Or perhaps purgatory? It certainly isn’t heaven, that’s for sure. None of this makes any sense…but then what's new—nothing in Billy’s life makes sense anymore.

Billy laughs then, loud and long and unhinged. It's the only sound in the whole house, and it bounces off the walls like a fucked up echo, like the world is laughing with him.

“Jesus christ you’re insane…” It’s Max’s voice and it’s shaking. It only makes Billy laugh harder, because Max has it all wrong. Billy isn’t crazy, it’s the rest of the world that’s insane.

Billy dies a hero of sorts. He wakes up back in his bed on Saturday morning, the third of November, 1984...nearly nine months earlier.

(Billy is stuck in a time loop and it's slowly driving him crazy. And the fic shows just how much influence Billy did have in the plot and how doomed the world is without him in it. Great character exploration with Billy's character and all the ways he's so messy and human. Definitely recommend it!)

[Knives Out]

The Road Less Traveled By by UisceOneLove

Ship: Marta/Ransom

If Harlan wants to leave Ransom to be on his own, fine. He'll show him just what Ransom Drysdale is capable of.

or, where Ransom chooses to prove his abilities through means of the non-homicidal variety and finds himself becoming exactly what Harlan was hoping he would.

(I found this fic out of sheer chance and god, Ransom is just, so fascinating to me as a character. Marta of course is the Best here and I will forever stan her. Seriously, this is such a good fic! Please read!)

[Haikyuu!!]

Sky Full of Stars by grilledsquids

The Hinatas are twins. They're practically identical.

But while Shouyou seeks out Karasuno's volleyball team to become the next Little Giant, Natsu is scouted to to play soccer for Shiratorizawa. While Shouyou sets his eyes on playing volleyball at the highest level possible, his sister wonders how much longer she can play soccer... and if it's worth it to keep going.

A Natsu-centric story featuring: Shiratorizawa VBC shenanigans, too many soccer OCs, mild teenage drama, a little bit of plot, and Semi Eita not knowing what a period is.

(It's just!! So cute and wholesome!!! The Shiratorizawa volleyball team is so fleshed out along with the OC characters for the girl's soccer team and I swear, it's been a long while since I've laughed this much at the sheer shenanigans that happen in a fic. It's surprisingly hard to find good gen fics in this fandom so finding this gem made me so happy! If you want a fic that brings a smile to your face, read this!!)

like water by speakingincode

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, and when Tooru looks at him, he can read My best friend’s an idiot off the crease of his eyebrows. “Are you telling me you spent the last three years weirdly obsessed with Kageyama – I still remember the time you made us play him on a dumb whim, you know – and now you’re at his beck and call? Are you okay? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m— I’m not at his beck and call! I said no last week. It’s… It’s like you said. I get bored easily. I saw him at the park a couple weeks after they played Nationals and called him a perfect little tyrant, and he pestered me into spending time with him after,” Tooru says. “I’m not a monster, Iwa-chan. If he wants the company of his cool, handsome ex-upperclassman that badly, who am I to begrudge him?”

Or: Oikawa doesn't know why Kageyama keeps asking to meet him on Saturdays. He also doesn't know why he keeps saying yes.

(The fact this fic is canon-compliant and covers post-canon too makes me want to shout to the heavens. Fucking incredible! One of the best Oikakage fics ever and it's a crime how it's not at the top of the ship tag. Please please read!!)

twist into your shape by kakkoweeb

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

The only thing better than sweets were sweets containing paper that told you whether your future would be good or bad--or in Kageyama and Oikawa's case, paper that somehow caused you to live inside each other's bodies.

(Everyone probably already read this fic but it needs to be said, you need to read this fic. How these two try and manage each other's lives and slowly start to care about one another is so beautiful and sincere and I am ready to wrestle anyone to the floor and comply them into reading this fic. Doesn't matter if you like the ship, you will become a fan if you read it, I promise. Please please read!!)

Take the Long Road Home by pepperfield

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

When Azumane Asahi goes missing before his engagement meeting with Kozume Kenma, what other option is there but for Daichi to impersonate his brother and fake his way through a first date with Asahi's fiance?

Okay, let's be realistic - there were probably at least four other options.

Unfortunately, Tetsurou couldn't come up with any of them either, so now he's here flirting with Kenma's future husband while trying to keep his web of deceit from collapsing.

It's going to be an eventful day.

(I got obsessed with this ship alongside Oikakage and SO WILL YOU. THE POTENTIAL. THE BANTER. THE FACT THEY'RE BOTH DORKS AND THE FIC HAS IDENTITY SHENANIGANS DANCING ALL OVER IT!! I had so much fun reading this and these two are MEANT TO BE FENIWPAF. If you don't see the potential of this ship, you will now.)

a misunderstanding a day keeps the boyfriend away by bartallen for betuls

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

Kuroo doesn’t fall in love hard and fast like many others do – he falls slowly, and very very softly. Most of the times he doesn’t even realise he’s in love with someone until it’s too late.

(Kuroo is the dumbest man alive and I've never related to someone so hard in my life. God help me.)

You like me. by roseknight

Ship: Daishou/Kuroo

Kuroo nearly lived a Daishou-free life, and sometimes he looked back and wondered how much better and how much worse that would've been.

(I didn't even know who Daishou was until I read this fic and now I can't unsee the potential this ship has. I'm a ruined woman and I regret NOTHING.)

Kings of the Road, Kings of the Universe by EzzyDean

Eight magical captains, one bus, an entire summer (and country) waiting for them.

What could possibly go wrong?

(The magic of friendship meets the magic of a summer road trip meets pure magic.)

(CAPTAIN SQUAD IS THE BEST SQUAD SOMEBODY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME SOME CAPTAIN SQUAD FICS I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS SQUAD IT'S A PROBLEM AAAAHHHHHH!)

宿縁 : See You Soon by MissKiraBlue

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

Upon arriving at the train station of death, an impure soul is granted a second chance at life against his will. Reincarnating into the body of Kageyama Tobio, a 15-year-old boy who recently committed suicide. Tobio's soul will depart at death and the soul needs to slip in to replace it. If the soul's reformation succeeds, he’ll reenter the cycle of rebirth and regain the right to be reborn. He will have three months to accomplish this task.

“Even though you had enough of life,” the soul whispered into the void of the room, “you were still afraid to hurt your hands, Tobio.”

Afraid of giving himself a scar, if he survived.

He touched his pulse and grasped life and couldn’t help but pity Kageyama Tobio.

"You wanted to die and now I’m here making you live again," he whispered into the night.

(I'm not even exaggerating when I say out of all the fics in this entire goddamn, too long list, this is the fic I'm anticipating and heart eyeing the most. It's only starting, but I already cried on chapter fucking 2, the power of this fic, holy shit. The author also wrote the hq time loop Every Tomorrows series, which I have an undying love for and am full on praying for the day it updates, so you KNOW this fic will be just as good. (Anybody who hasn't read this series, where the hell have you been?? Read it!!) Just, everything about this fic hurts me and something in my chest just aches when I read this fic. Go into it blind with an open heart and I swear to you, it's going to change your life. I'm already calling it. Seriously though, please please read!)

[Crossover]

Learning to Fly by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, Naruto

The number three hero is a walking (well, flying) contradiction in every sense of the word. This includes his teaching skills. Why had Tokoyami agreed to this internship again? Oh right. He’d thought he was actually going to learn something. …….remind him to never be so optimistic again. . . . OR, Kakashi Hatake is reincarnated as the pro hero, Hawks. Tokoyami Fumikage suffers as a result.

(The reincarnation fic I never thought I needed and it's so good!! I've never really paid attention to Tokoyami and this fic sent me headfirst into loving him. Their dynamic is so interesting and I just love how their relationship develops. Also, Kakashi trolling the poor kid made me cackle, it's great! Definitely recommend it!)

Si Vis Pacem by athenoot

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, John Wick

Everything has a price. That's what John has always known and will forever remember, even in death.

Which is pretty ironic considering his current circumstance.

Instead of a grown, scarred, weary body belonging to a man as cruel and broken as him, he's inhabiting a younger, smaller, unblemished one belonging to a child with strangely colored hair, and is living in what seems to be a superhuman society.

Well. May it never be said that John isn't a strategist. He can live with this. Maybe.

(Somewhere out there in the universe, he's certain he could hear the laughter of his enemies from beyond the grave.)

Or: John Wick is reincarnated as Midoriya Izuku. The world should probably watch its back.

(This should be one of the crackiest fics I've read in a while, but it's taken so seriously and I'm so HERE FOR THIS. John Wick being John Wick in a world of quirks and heroes is the GREATEST, honestly, he's so badass. Bakugou, I feel for you, you must be so fucking confused lol. Bakugou trying his best to be a good friend is one of the best things about this fic. Trust me, this fic will make your day, promise!)

A Girl's Mind is a Dangerous Place by clenastia

Fandoms: Naruto, Fairy Tail

Natsu wakes up in Sakura's body. It only gets worse from there. Also known as: In Which Natsu has No Idea what to do with Boobs.

(I binged this in two fucking days, I couldn't put it down. This fic reminded me why I liked fairy tail when I was younger and why Natsu is honestly such a great protagonist, god. And the fic does that thing, you know, the Thing where when two worlds collide, the characters struggle to acclimate and adapt to a completely another world with different rules and mindsets against their own. This fic is seriously one of the best when it comes to that aspect, it's incredible. I am going absolutely feral over here for this fic to update, I'm waiting in the wings, ready to pounce like a tiger, all the metaphors man. For the love of god, read this fic.)

Give me a landscape made of obstacles by Melise

Fandoms: Naruto, Natsume's Book of Friends

Kakashi Hatake isn’t who he says he is.

Because the truth is that he’s actually a youkai in disguise, a wolf spirit named Madara who stumbled across the Hatake clan during the Warring States Period. Intrigued by the shinobi he saw, he’d proposed a temporary alliance in which he would offer the clan protection in exchange for their teachings.

Decades later, Madara is surprised to find himself inadvertently summoned to Konoha by the last living member of the Hatake clan. Sakumo Hatake, who is mourning the recent deaths of his wife and stillborn child, doesn’t want to be alone anymore. So with his permission, Madara takes the place of Sakumo’s deceased son in order to watch over the last Hatake.

(Fusion in which the youkai of Natsume’s Book of Friends all exist in the Naruto world. No knowledge of Natsume’s Book of Friends required).

(Before this fic, I only had a very vague idea of what Natsume's Book of Friends was, and honestly, I still don't know much about it. But I didn't really need to know to get into this fic. I love the worldbuilding and the relationships Kakashi forms, both supernatural and mortal. I love how Kakashi's inhumane ways affect others around him, whether to stress them out or become used to the strange. You can go straight into this fic without knowing anything and absolutely still have a fantastic time. I definitely recommend this so please read!)

#Fanfiction #AO3 #Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Naruto #Harry Potter #Boku no Hero Academia #Stranger Things #Knives Out #Haikyuu!!#Crossover #John Wick #Fairy Tail #Natsume's Book of Friends

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twiceasfrustrating · 3 years

Text

Absolutely Nothing

I said I wouldn't post my new fic until after SWBQ is done, but I want to begin posting it before S4 drops. It won't update consistently atm, but it's there... I will only be posting the first two chapters to Tumblr. Everything else is going on AO3 because Tumblr is not longfic friendly.

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Main Character, Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Luke, Solomon, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Original Angel Character(s)

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, War, Trauma, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Canon is like a vampire, it can't enter this house unless I let it, Emotional Baggage, Lies, Manipulation, Ships not intended but I'm not stopping you

Summary: War is not unknown to the three realms, but that does not make them any less a tragedy of strategy. Though relations between the three have never been favorable, they have never truly gone to battle with each other. At least, not until now. The heavens have been planning for a long time and have finally decided to execute their machinations. Now it is time to see how every piece will play out this bloody battle.

A/N: These tags are for the overarching fic, not the first two chapters. Only Lucifer, Simeon, Micheal, and Gabriel show up in the first two chapters.

Chapter 1: I Will Not Go With You

“We’re heading for a war,” Lucifer warned, “and I want you to come with me.”

Simeon solemnly blinked a few times before closing his eyes. The weight of the choices laid before him pricked at the edges of his mind. He’d known this was coming. He’d known for a long time that this question would eventually be asked of him and for just as long he’d known what his answer would be, “I must decline.”

“Why?” Lucifer spat out, “Simeon, you have to know what’s about to happen. If we don’t fight then Lilith-”

“I am not stopping you from this rebellion.” He opened his eyes and looked to the pages stacked neatly in the corner of his desk, carefully flipping through the avalanche of writings he’d collected over the years. Somewhere, buried deep in the pile, he vaguely recalled his moment; where his brother would ask him to do the impossible. He’d hidden it away from prying eyes, afraid that others would find it and interpret it as he had. Though, even if they had read it and understood what the contents were, it was nigh impossible to change the events that were foretold.

He pulled the page from the pile, taking care so the others above it would not collapse onto the delicately inlaid wood of his desk, and perused the contents held within. The paper was so old that it had begun to grow fragile to the touch and discolor at the edges. Simeon desperately wished that time had chosen not to show its touch on this particular relic he would rather have forgotten about. It was frightening how long he’d known about this day and he would rather pretend he was shocked when Lucifer had come to him. Sometimes, having a glimpse into what would eventually be was a cruel reality.

That brother, who would come in need of his fellow, will find no quarter. So shall he return with hands left empty, but convictions emboldened by the forge of his stature. He shall take with him those who share his resolve and lead them to where metal sings and cries. Blood shall be shed but on one side, though the cost of the blood spilled shall

It was an old, short paragraph he wished he could forget. Though he could never truly put it out of his mind, because he knew it was left unfinished and his mind and pen longed to see the end of the story. However, his heart and will would prefer not to know every detail of this particular future. For so long, he’d clung to that final shall and hoped that not knowing the entirety of the story would somehow keep it from unfolding. However, his pen only put the stories to page. He was not responsible for the events that inspired him to write.

“You will have to make do with those who are already on your side. No one else will turn their back on Father for your cause.” It was the only warning he could give. In those words he hid the message that Lucifer should tell no one else. If war was approaching, then it was better he have the element of surprise.

Lucifer could only stare at him in disbelief, “Is that your answer?”

“It always was.” He placed the paper face down atop the pile, “I cannot aid you in this, Lucifer.”

“Then you would fight against me? You would condemn Lilith in the same way as our Father?” His voice shook, the rage building inside of him clearly beginning to boil over even as he tried to contain it.

“I will not betray my family.” Simeon’s face remained unchanged as he pushed his chair away from the desk and rose to his feet. Despite the malicious aura that began to circle around his fellow Seraphim, he approached with an unguarded stance until they were only an arm’s reach away from one another. No matter how upset Lucifer may become, Simeon would not fear him. Though, he did fear *for* him, “You and she are still of my kind and that means I will not meet you on the battlefield.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the declaration. This time, it was his turn to fear for the other, “You can’t stay out of this. You know they won’t allow you.” If he did try to remain on the sidelines, Simeon would still be seen as a traitor. Not in the same vein as him and his siblings, but a traitor nonetheless, “I won’t ask you to fight if you really refuse to lift your blade, but you can’t stay here.”

“As much as you and Lilith are my family, so are Micheal, Raphael, Uriel, and Gabriel. I cannot leave them.”

“Simeon…”

Simeon’s lips pulled back into a smile and he let out the shortest of laughs, “You worry far too much, Lucy. You are aware that I am still a Seraphim, are you not? Even if I do not step onto the battlefield, I do not believe I am in nearly as much danger as you are putting yourself in.” He wanted to reach out and touch his brother one last time as the fear of the unknown overtook him, but he kept his hand within his own space. He did not know what would happen at the end of all of this, but he knew it would not be the same and reaching out to hold onto what they had would only pain them both.

Lucifer looked over the other angel’s shoulder, toward the pile of papers where Simeon had placed one face down. Countless writings that revealed the future to their author and Lucifer did not envy that gift. Others often wished to know what would be, but he had seen far too many times the burden placed on Simeon for having such a skill; the amount of times he had been made to see both grace and tragedy was carved on his face, just behind that smile. That is why, despite knowing that whatever was on that page was related to this very discussion and his ultimate goal, he would not pry. It was not as if knowing the future allowed it to be changed anyway.

“We’ll still be on opposing sides, you know?” No matter how much Simeon proclaimed not to betray his family, that was an unavoidable truth.

He nodded, “I am aware.”

“And you refuse to go against your family?”

This time his confirmation was wordless.

Lucifer took in a deep breath, “Then once the battle begins, I believe we can hardly be considered family anymore.”

Large blue eyes shot up to look at his pale face. It seemed that Lucifer had said something Simeon hadn’t expected, “What?”

“You will not betray your family, but you know they will not allow you to remain neutral in this. As soon as the drums of war beat, it is fine to stop thinking of me as your brother.”

There was a long moment of silence before Simeon could reply, “You cannot ask me that.”

“I am not asking. I am stating a truth,” one that would hopefully allow Simeon a way to follow his morals and gain some leniency if he continued to insist on this path, “I refuse to be your brother from that moment on.”

“Please... you cannot ask that of me.”

“I am not asking anything of you. I am simply stating where we will stand.” And now he needed to leave before the hurt welling in Simeon’s eyes tugged at his heart anymore and shattered his resolve.

He dipped his head in a polite bow, “Thank you for your time, Simeon. I do hope we may speak like this again.” He turned on his heels, refusing to truly look at the other angel again. His only goal was the door, where he opened it wide and stepped through the threshold.

“Lucifer! Wait!”

It took far more will than Lucifer would ever care to admit as he shut the door behind him without saying another word, and even more to walk away.

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

Chapter 2: Traitor

“How long have you known?” Micheal nearly growled as he stared down Simeon where he kneeled. His pale blue eyes ran wild with rage and it was clear he was just barely holding himself together. That was to be expected after everything he had just been through. Lucifer was unapologetically his favorite brother so it was unimaginable the distress he was in right now as he came to terms with having lost a member of his family. They had been like two halves of a whole, and now they were fractured.

“How long have I known what?” Simeon asked, feigning ignorance.

“That Lucifer would lead a rebellion against Father!” Micheal’s voice raised so loud that the room literally shook around him.

“Calm yourself, Micheal,” a melodious voice shushed him and lithe hands rested on his shoulders to hold him steady, “We’ve lost enough of our siblings today. There is no reason to lose yourself and risk losing another.”

“You would call him our brother after that disgraceful scene, Gabriel?” The disgust in his voice was clear and overwhelming, “He knew this would happen and refused to warn us or lift a finger. Everything we lost today is because of him.” Simeon had to know about today. He was blessed with the gift of prophecy and spent his time writing what was to come. If he had simply shared whatever he knew about today, Micheal knows they could have prevented the rebellion. He knows that he could have convinced Lucifer to stay somehow. Instead, he was left to face his own brother on the battlefield. He could still recall the cold eyes Lucifer had looked at him with as if they barely knew one another. That sight would never leave the darkest parts of his mind.

“You are blinded by your pain, Micheal.” She removed her hand from his shoulders and moved to stand over Simeon, “He is clearly as much our brother as ever. If he were against us he would have joined Lucifer, but Father has deemed that he is still worthy of his halo. Is that not enough for you?”

Micheal chuckled darkly before answering, “Uriel nearly lost an arm and he’s one of the lucky ones.” Even with so few numbers on their side, the rebellion had a gifted Dominion that made the most of their small force.

“And everyone harmed will heal, but we gain nothing in dividing ourselves further, and our brother has already been punished for his transgressions.” She took a knee before Simeon, reaching out her hand and running her fingers through his silken hair, “Will you not put our brother’s worries at ease, Simeon?”

Simeon knew the threat in those words. As kind as Gabriel pretended to be, she was someone he feared far more than Micheal. Not because she was stronger, but because she knew exactly how to most hurt those who upset her. As such, he had no interest in declining her wish, even if what she was asking for was for him to show his shame.

He took a deep breath before unfurling his wings behind him. They shimmered golden in the neverending light of the Celestial Realm, a blessing bestowed upon him by their Father that reflected his very essence. Every angel had such a blessing; different colors, shapes, a range of sizes, and lays of their feathers all differed from angel to angel all dependent on their Father’s grace. That included how high in their Father’s favor they were, and it was obvious at a glance just how out of favor Simeon had fallen. His six beautiful wings, the blessing afforded to all Seraphim, had been reduced to a simple two.

Gabriel’s eyes filled with pity for him but Micheal’s face twisted in glee and disdain, “Is that all? You betray us and all Father does is reduce your rank.” The laugh that left his throat was so dry that it sounded like it hurt, “You must really be beloved to get off with such a light sentence.” If it was up to Micheal himself, Simeon would face the same punishment as Lilith.

“Still your anger, Micheal. As you can see, Father has spoken.” She raised to her feet once more, her nails pulling painfully at Simeon’s hair as she stepped away from him, “Simeon is still of our kind and as one of our subordinates it is our duty to shepherd him.”

A wicked smile crossed Micheal’s face as he continued to look down on Simeon and his now unsightly form that marked his betrayal, “You may be correct, Gabriel. It is only right that we guide lost sheep, especially those of our own flock.”

#obey me #Absolutely Nothing #mine #obey me simeon #obey me lucifer #hosted on AO3 #obey me michael #obey me raphael #original character

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animedaddymilkers · 3 years

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Kinkmas 2020: Day 19

Prompt: Praise Kink w/ Itachi

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Established Relationship, Comfort Sex, Praise, Penetrative Sex || Characters: Itachi Uchiha, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

Another rag filled with blood was wiped across your forehead, the sweat dripping down your skin and burning the cuts you had. As the secret compound came into view your footing faltered but you couldn't stop now, you were so close to being home. Or at least, the place you considered home. The front door came not fast enough and you stumbled through, your legs milliseconds away from giving out. At this point, you were only standing and moving out of pure determination and spite. With your presence, a couple of other Akatsuki members appeared to investigate the commotion, Deidara making some smart ass comment about how shitty you looked. Your blurry vision could barely process things, the last thing you remembered was a sea of black enveloping you before unconsciousness came to claim you.

Hours later, you woke with a groan and a hand resting on your shoulder to prevent you from sitting up. Every possible part of your body hurt so you didn't put up a fight, laying back down. You blinked your eyes open, adjusting to the light slowly. As your brain was able to finally process things again you realized it was Itachi who was sitting beside the bed. The sight of him reassured you, sending a sense of ease over you. He smiled softly, thumb gently rubbing over the back of your hand. Without words, he was telling you just how much he adored you, knowing that if he were to talk now it would overwhelm you. A damp cloth was placed on your forehead while Itachi continued to attend to your wounds. Soft music was playing in the background and somewhere in your mind, you recognized it was the traditional music he tended to play when he was stressed. Knowing you caused an already anxious man more turmoil guilted you slightly, but before it could become overwhelming you fell back to sleep.

The next time you woke up, Itachi was still sitting next to you, though he moved to sit next to you on the bed. Compared to earlier, you felt infinitely better, ignoring his silent pleas for you to lay back down. You sat up, testing your limbs and the injuries you sustained. Nothing felt extremely out of the ordinary, just a bit of discomfort really.

"I used a salve. It should help with the pain," his voice broke you out of your concentration, meeting his gaze again.

"Thank you," you answered quietly.

A long pause fell over you two, just comfortable silence as you continued to look at each other. Itachi's eyes practically screamed that he had more to say to you, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead, he leaned forward quickly, gingerly locking lips with you. As his mouth pressed into yours his hands cupped your face, holding you close. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him even closer. The only time you broke the kiss was to breathe before hurriedly going back in.

"You're amazing," the compliment was muttered against your jaw where he was currently kissing, "I heard the details. (Y/N), you excel so far above everyone else. How can you stand to have me in your presence?"

"Itachi…," you breathed out, hands playing with his silk hair, "You're just as amazing as I am, if not more."

He let out a breathy laugh, as if the counter compliment was amusing to him, "No, dearest. You soar higher than anyone else. Don't sell yourself short."

His hand lifted one of yours to his lips and he kissed up your arm before continuing, "I'm glad you've come back to me. I was beginning to worry. Most others would have perished on that mission. But you- you finished it and more."

It was your turn to laugh softly, "Yeah, finished it and came back in tatters more like."

"You sustained grave injuries yet still made it home. Simply another testament to your abilities, love. Now hush, no more negative talk," his hands ghosted across your shoulders, bare from when he bandaged you up earlier.

The dull ache in your body was proof the injuries were bad, considering that even after medical healing you were still mildly in pain. Yet, Itachi was determined to kiss them better, gently caressing each patched up spot and pressing a kiss into it. Thanks to his affections you became more aware of your body, taking note you were only wearing shorts. His hands were all over your body, ghosting over your skin before returning to your face. He played with your hair, simply gazing into your eyes before kissing you again. You pulled him closer, taking his hair out of the usual ponytail it was pulled back in. A curtain of his black locks fell around your face, closing out the rest of the world from you two. His hands wandered to your chest as he continued to kiss you, fingers massaging your breasts and coaxing a moan from you.

"You sound beautiful, beloved. Let me hear you sing."

His soft fingertips tugged on your nipples, playing with them as he kissed you, happily swallowing each of the moans you gave him. Itachi was definitely a foreplay man, but this time his hands moved quicker than normal. Usually, he'd spend an hour just kissing and making out with you. Now, your shorts were already discarded and a hand rubbed softly at your clit. Granted, you were a bit needy yourself, tugging at his long sleeve shirt until he removed it. You ran your hands down his chest, his eyes closing at your touch. When his eyes opened again he took your hands in his as he went to sink down further in between your legs until you stopped him.

"'Tachi… I need you…," your words were breathy and to the point, knowing if he used his mouth your abs would be sorer than they already were from your injuries.

The brief look of disappointment on his face almost made you laugh, he was a giver in every sense of the word and sex was no different, "Anything you want, love. Just say the words and I will give it to you."

He kissed the pulse point on the inside of your wrist and knelt between your spread legs. Paying extra mind to your wounds he hovered over your body, propped up on his elbows as he slowly pushed into you. You sighed in unison, Itachi burying his face into your neck, his thumbs rubbing over your shoulders affectionately. Slowly, his hips pushed in further until he was in all the way, kissing your neck and brushing his fingers along your arms.

"You feel divine, love. So warm and wet for me. You make me lose my mind."

His mumbled words made you moan quietly, rolling your hips up to meet his. A hand gripped your waist as he thrust against you, whispered praises spilled into your ear with each movement. You whined at his words, the compliments only adding to your pleasure. When you could manage to get words out in between pants you made sure to return a compliment, adamant to let him know how good he was making you feel. He leaned his head back, hair falling down his shoulders, looking like a statue above you. Your nails dug into his shoulders and you pleaded for him to move faster. At first, he was hesitant, not wanting to strain your injuries, but after you breathlessly begged again he knew he couldn't refuse you. His hips moved faster, dragging his cock in and out of you. Each time he thrust he changed the angle of his hips until you gasped and dug your nails into his skin again. He grinned slightly, knowing he found your special spot. After that, he kept the angle the same, pounding into you.

"I'm going to make you feel good, darling. As good as you make me feel. Love, you look so heavenly like this…"

The pitch of his voice began to betray him, getting slightly higher as he tried to prolong his climax. Again, he was a giver and adamant about making sure you experienced the ultimate pleasure first. His pace quickened and a finger met your clit again, rubbing it in practiced circles. The only time his mouth stopped giving you breathless praise was when they were softly leaving marks along your skin. You arched your back off the bed, hands wandering his body before settling in his hair. Itachi groaned and his finger on your clit moved faster, noticing how close you were to the edge.

"Cum for me, dearest. Show me you're still alive."

The last comment was little more than a desperate plea and it confirmed suspicions you had earlier. Itachi must have been distraught over your condition when you returned. And rightfully so, having lost nearly everyone important to him, the thought of also losing you weighed on his mind constantly. Yet each time you had a mission you were determined to show him how capable you were, show him how you would always keep your promise to return to him. So, you had no problems with showing him just how alive you were, calling out his name and moaning as you let your orgasm claim you. Your pussy clenched around his still thrusting cock, making the grip on your waist tighten. Nails raking down his back he gasped your name and held you tightly in his arms. His hips kept moving, riding you through your orgasm before he groaned and came inside of you. The feeling was overwhelming and as each of you came down from your highs you held onto each other. Itachi kissed your temple and you barely remember him cleaning you both up as sleep yet again claimed you.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

#naruto #naruto x reader #kinkmas 2020 #itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #itachi x you #reader insert #smut #naruto smut #itachi smut

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

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You Bring Me Home—Chapter Four: You Can Hear it in the Silence

a/n: hello again!! So glad to have you back :) I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. It's been wonderful to read some of your comments and thoughts! I do have to give a special shoutout to @harrysblackcoat and @determined-overthinker for their continued support and feedback, it really means the world to me, so a huge thank you to you both!! I am tremendously grateful for all of you lovely readers and I hope you will enjoy chapter four as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, my inbox is open, so feel free to drop by and chat with me after reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content

Word Count: 6.7k

read parts one, two, and three

“You kissed him?” Maleah gasps over FaceTime, her mouth so wide, Alani fears her jaw will detach from its socket.

She had finally decided to tell her best friend everything, excluding the Rolling Stone details, nearly two days after the last time she had seen Harry. The entire next day had been spent replaying every moment and listening to the recorded interview on her voice notes until the phone battery was completely drained. Alani’s stomach fluttered at the sound of Harry’s voice and it only made her miss him more. The part that she desperately needed her friend’s input on was what had happened immediately before she left.

“No,” Alani clarifies, quickly. “Well, almost. Maybe—I think,”

“I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks,” Maleah starts, brows furrowed as if her brain is malfunctioning. “And you’re already swooping in on my man?”

Alani feels her cheeks warm but she pushes past it and rolls her eyes. “There is no swooping going on,”

“I don’t know. You two were caught in the rain together, sounds like swooping to me,”

“But that’s the thing,” Alani huffs. “I don’t know what it is. And I don’t know if I’m just making a big deal out of nothing,”

Maleah nods understandingly and pushes any jealousy out of her mind, the love for her best friend winning out.

“Well, tell me exactly what happened before the kiss,”

“There was no kiss,” Alani emphasizes, thinking back to the last few minutes spent in Harry’s car.

The sun had already set when the two of them arrived at her house, leaving little light in the already darkly tinted Range Rover. But even in the darkness, Alani could see the intensity in Harry’s eyes. Their bodies had been close enough in the confined space that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, and his vanilla scent enveloped her in an intoxicating haze. For a moment, her eyes had darted to his plush lips and she imagined what it would feel like to close the space between them. She could have sworn that he had done the same, finding his eyes wandering just below the tip of her nose when she looked up. Before anything could happen, however, she found herself reaching for the door handle and stepping into the crisp night sky.

“But did you want him to kiss you?” Maleah questions.

Alani waits a beat, but she doesn’t have to think about the answer. “Yes,”

“Well there you go!” her friend responds enthusiastically. “Problem solved,”

“Problem not solved,” Alani corrects. “What about the fact that he’s, like, famous? I mean what happens when he has to go back to L.A. or London or whatever?”

“Woah, woah, woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,”

Alani anxiously nibbles on the skin of her lower lip, not stopping even when she tastes blood. “But it’s true—”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to think about it right now,” Maleah assures her. “What if you just let things happen and… enjoy it for what it is?”

Alani doesn’t miss the double meaning in the last part. “Mi, you and I both know that I’ve never been one to just enjoy it for what it is,”

“I know this, and I love you,” Maleah starts slowly. “But as your best friend—and I say this with nothing but love—you need to get laid, for real,”

Alani groans, slumping further into her mattress. “But what if that’s all he wants? I just don’t think I’m ready for that,”

“And that’s perfectly fine,” her friend coos. “But from what you’ve told me so far, it doesn’t sound like that’s all he’s after,”

Alani considers this for a moment before Maleah continues.

“Look, let’s start with something simple: do you like him? I mean, do you like spending time with him and just generally being around him?”

“Yes,”

“Then start there,” Maleah suggests. “You can enjoy someone’s company without making it romantic, it’s just friendship. Don’t put pressure on something that you’re not ready for, or something that might not even be there,”

Alani feels a small weight lifted off her shoulders and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, no you’re right I shouldn’t psych myself out over something that didn’t even happen. I mean, for all I know he has a girlfriend,”

She waits a beat before a new concern enters her mind. “Wait, does he have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know,”

“Well even if he does, it doesn’t matter,” Alani reaffirms. “Because we’re just friends,”

“When are you gonna see him again?” her friend asks.

Alani stomach drops. In all her concentration of the past, she hadn’t even considered what will happen when she has to face him again. “I don’t know,”

“Who initiated the last hang out?”

“He did,” Alani admits, thinking back to the hours he had spent reading in the café until her shift was over.

Maleah hums. “Well then it looks like the ball’s in your court,”

Alani is quiet for a moment, which her friend takes as her cue to offer some more reassurance.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more answers for you, Nani, but it’s gonna be okay. Promise, ”

Alani sighs, kneeling to look out the window next to her bed.

“No, Mi, it’s okay. I really appreciate you just being there, it means a lot,”

“Of course, babes. Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

The call ends and Alani continues watching the palm trees sway in the wind. Will do—the very same last words that she had spoken to Harry that night. Her mind wanders back to the moment right before she had opened the door to escape and plays out an alternative scenario. What would have happened if she had leaned just an inch closer?

********

Harry pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb. Will do, he repeats in his mind— two words that he never knew could carry so much weight.

“I said ‘I think Manchester United is shit,’” Nick Grimshaw says loudly, shrugging at Mitch and Jeff Bhasker when his plan doesn’t work. “I dunno, that should’ve gotten him,”

“Oh hey, Alani,” Mitch speaks into his phone loud enough for Harry to hear. This piques the singer’s attention immediately, his heart racing. “Yeah he’s right here,”

“What the fuck?” Harry questions, zeroing in on Mitch.

“Who’s Alani?” Nick teases with eyebrows raised into his hairline.

Harry springs from his seat and corners Mitch, who holds his phone above his head. “Gimme the phone!”

“Hello,” Nick interrupts, watching the struggle continue. “Feeling neglected here, who’s Alani?”

The guitarist ducks and sprints to the opposite wall, Harry chasing close behind. They hop from couch to couch and swerve around fragile equipment while Mitch snickers and guards his phone close. Harry had no idea why Alani was calling and why she hadn’t reached out to him directly, but he’s dying to hear her voice again and is growing increasingly frustrated with his friend’s antics.

“Mitchell, stop fuckin’ around!”

“I’m sorry,” he relents, holding out the phone with an amused laugh. “It wasn’t her, wrong number,”

Harry huffs and returns to his seat disappointedly, a guitar resting in his lap. Nick, who had only been able to drop in for the weekend due to his busy schedule at the BBC, narrows his eyes at both boys before speaking up again.

“Once again, no one has answered my question.”

“She’s just a girl he’s been hanging out with,” Jeff explains nonchalantly. “He wants to have her babies.”

“Don’t,” Harry warns.

Despite already having his fun, Mitch can’t resist adding on. “It’s none of our business… but I’ve heard a summer wedding is in the works.”

“I’m gonna go drink now,” Harry announces, standing. “And none of you fuckers are invited.”

He wanders down the hallway and into the kitchen, immediately reaching for the tequila. Is it too early for margaritas? he wonders before deciding that he wants a second opinion. No new texts are displayed on his phone screen, much to his disappointment, but he decides to open the messages app anyway. He carefully types in Alani’s name and writes, then re-writes, the text several times before pressing send. As soon as the tag reads “delivered”, his body is filled with apprehension, but there’s no turning back.

Harry: Is 10 a.m. too early for margaritas?

There’s a minute of silence, then two, and Harry turns his phone face down onto the counter to reach for the ingredients. It dings just as he opens the bottle of tequila and he immediately lunges for it.

Alani: Never. Morning margs were invented for a reason.

Relief. He quickly types out a risky response.

Harry: Any chance I can convince you to join me?

He stares at the screen, willing the “delivered” to turn into a “read,” but it doesn’t budge. His lips ghost over the rim of the tequila bottle before he bites the bullet and takes a sip.

Alani: Working :( sorry. Another time maybe.

Defeat. He knows that “another time maybe” is a polite “never.” Another swig of tequila down the hatch.

Harry: Yeah, no worries.

Alani sets her phone down on her nightstand and brings the duvet up to her chin. She hopes with every muscle in her body that Harry doesn’t show up to the restaurant, though if he’s planning on drinking, perhaps she’s safe. Maybe I should do the same. She wonders, thinking about the rosé her mom keeps in the cupboard for special occasions. Surely heartache must be a good enough reason to crack it open. Regardless, Alani doesn’t think she has the stomach to keep it down at the present.

********

Harry pushes the remaining peas around on his plate with the prongs of his fork. His chin rests in the heel of his hand.

“And then I said ‘what’s the difference?’” his manager remarks, sending the rest of the group into a fit of wild laughter.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Mitch comments through a chuckle.

The laughter slowly dies down and their eyes all wander to Harry who hasn’t budged for the past twenty-five minutes. They exchange worried glances, and Jeff begins to wonder if his initial advice for Harry to go out with Alani was a mistake.

“Hey, H,” he begins gently. “You feelin’ alright?”

Harry looks up from his plate and musters his best fake smile. “Yeah, jus’ tired,”

It was partially true; the crew had spent their entire afternoon at Honoli’i Beach practicing their surfing, though it was mostly unsuccessful for Harry—his life seemed to be a series of wipe-outs these days.

“I’m gonna go watch a Rom-Com in my room,” he announces, standing with his plate. “Probably doze off.”

The group exchanges “good nights” before Harry saunters down the hall to his room. Settling into the bed, he flicks through the movie selection and clicks on one that he knows by heart. He contemplates texting Alani again, scrolling through their brief conversation from three days ago. Against his better judgment, he types out another message and presses send.

Harry: Opinion on The Notebook?

He waits, attention briefly occupied by Rachel McAdams until the phone dings.

Alani: A classic, though not as good as Dirty Dancing if I’m being honest.

The corners of his mouth curl and he immediately types out another response.

Harry: You have a problem with The Goss?

Alani snorts, planting her spoon into the pint of strawberry ice cream to reply.

Alani: First, I have many gripes about you referring to Ryan Gosling as “The Goss”. Second, I was actually rooting for Lon Hammond, but maybe that’s just because I’m partial to James Marsden. And third, the scene where Baby and Johnny are dancing alone in his room. That’s all I have to say.

Harry hums, hanging on every word.

Harry: Confession: I’ve never actually seen Dirty Dancing…

Alani: We need to change that immediately.

His heart pounds. So she didn’t plan on ghosting him forever.

Harry: So Lon Hammond, that’s your type?

Alani doesn’t know why she finds it unsettling that Harry steers the conversation away from any possible talk of them hanging out again. She reminds herself that she had been the one to decline his invitation for margaritas and shovels another scoop of ice cream into her mouth.

Alani: Kind, supportive, successful, handsome? Yeah, I’d say so. Not to mention he forgave Allie for cheating.

Harry: But Noah built her a house. Her dream house, I might add.

Alani: I’m not discrediting Noah, I love a grand romantic gesture as much as the next person. Just think Lon deserved better.

Harry grins, entirely ignoring the movie at this point. Grand romantic gestures, he notes, good to know.

Harry: And what about the fact that Noah wrote it all down and reads their literal love story to her every time she forgets?

Alani: Maybe he deserves some rights for that.

Alani taps the spoon against her lower lip and thinks about Cecily’s words. Just let things happen. She desperately wants to, but she doesn’t know how. The thought of getting too close only to let it all slip through her fingers is too overwhelming, so she starts with something simple: do you like spending time with him? Alani doesn’t think she could enjoy anything more. Her mind wanders back to the passenger seat of Harry’s car and the image of his wrist draped over the steering wheel, lower lip captured between his fingers. She had noted this tick early on and found it endlessly endearing. Save for the awkward fifteen minutes of their very first interview, their conversations all seemed to come so easily. Alani enjoys his quick wit and the way he speaks slowly, as if carefully weighing each word. She likes that even though the entire reason for their relationship is for her to learn all that she possibly can about him, he makes an equal effort to get to know her. Alani compares Harry’s sincere reaction to hearing that she was a journalist to David’s snarky remark. Harry had believed in her from the get-go—he had trusted her. He makes her feel seen and known. Isn’t that what it means to be loved? To be known? His words echo in her mind.

Harry: How’s the article going?

Alani’s stomach drops. Fuck. In all her contemplation over the almost kiss, she had forgotten the truth behind her motives. She had lied. Harry had trusted her, and she had lied. Not yet, she thinks, I haven’t lied yet. It would only be a lie if she submits the article to Rolling Stone. Her throat tightens. But I’m so close. She thinks about telling him, but quickly shuts the thought down when she considers that she still doesn’t have enough material and can’t afford to risk it now. This is her chance, there’s no doubt about it. Why else would the universe have planted a world famous rockstar right at her feet just when she had decided to give up for good? Alani had to at least try, she owed it to herself, and she reasons that if Harry really cares about her, he will understand. He would have to.

Alani: It’s going.

Harry: Can I get a sneak peek anytime soon?

Alani: Soon. Good night, Harry.

She sends the last text and sets her phone face down next to her. If she was going to do this, she had to do it right—even if it meant putting some space between the two of them. She owed that much to Harry.

He sinks further into the mattress, not understanding what he had said or done wrong, but he grants Alani her space, anyway.

Harry: Good night Alani.

********

“You’re listening to KWPX The Wave and that was the latest single from Ariana Grande,”

Alani stops fiddling with the radio and sits back with a defeated huff. She had been in a rut with her own music lately and after spending nearly fifteen minutes in her driveway shuffling through songs, she decided to turn on the radio and leave it up to fate.

“Next up is a song from everyone’s favorite ex-boyband: One Direction,”

Goddamnit, Alani groans. She had forgotten what a bitch fate could be.

“Now, I have to say, DeeDee,” the radio DJ starts. “I was personally heartbroken to hear the news, and I know my daughters were too,”

“Oh definitely,” DeeDee replies. “And I can’t help but wonder what this means for all of them. I mean, what do you think they’re up to these days?”

The first DJ gives a snide chuckle before he continues. “Probably doing what every twenty-something year old millionaire does: booze, cruise, and schmooze—the pretty girls, especially,”

Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes at his insinuation. She had begun to resent all of the gossip and speculation surrounding Harry’s whereabouts, especially after learning how much privacy meant to him. Moreover, she hated the twinge of jealousy that coursed through her veins at the thought of him with another girl. Alani supposes that it wasn’t entirely out of the question since they were far from romantically involved. While he had occupied her mind over the past few weeks, she knew that it was highly unlikely that he paid her the same attention. The thought still brings bile to her mouth.

“Well whatever they’re up to, one thing seems to be pretty clear,” DeeDee speaks up again. “All eyes will be on Harry Styles. I mean, he’s really the one to watch in all of this, isn’t he?”

“I think you’re right. I’m curious to see what he’s got in store. Maybe he’ll join Justin Timberlake and Nick Jonas with the ex-boyband buzz cut. But without further ado, here’s Drag Me Down.”

Alani knows that she’ll have to talk to Harry eventually; over the past week and a half, she had dodged every invitation to hang out, left cut and dry responses to all of his texts, and even ducked into the restaurant’s walk-in fridge when he unexpectedly showed up one afternoon. While the temptation to indulge his friendly advances was high, professional boundaries needed to be established. She had already begun working on the article with material from the two previous interviews—and it wasn’t half bad—but there was still so much of the story to fill in. If Alani was going to make it all worthwhile, she had to keep digging and do it fast; she couldn’t afford to let her personal feelings get in the way.

Her car sputters slightly as she heads south on Mamalahoa Highway and the radio fades in and out. Alani checks all of her gauges—she had made sure that the gas tank was full before leaving—and doesn’t see anything unusual. A few miles later, it jerks again before coming to a complete stop.

“Fuck,” she cries, pounding her palms against the steering wheel. “No, no, no, no, no!”

Alani waits a moment before turning the key again, but the engine refuses to start. She whips her phone out of the cupholder and scrolls through her contact list.

Pua—no license.

Maleah—out of town.

Dad—also out of town, catering a wedding in Oahu.

Mom—probably scrubbed in on a major, life-saving surgery.

She continues scrolling until her finger lands on a name that makes her heart race and sink at the same time.

Harry Styles—no.

There’s no way she can justify calling him, not after giving him the cold shoulder all week. If texting back and forth was unprofessional, then asking to be rescued off the side of the road surely crossed several boundaries. Alani scans her surroundings, shielding her eyes from the blinding afternoon sun. There isn’t a car or person in sight for miles—what other choice does she have? With shaking fingers, she dials the number and presses the phone to her ear. Harry answers after the third ring.

“Hello?” he responds loudly over the sound of cymbals crashing and laughter in the background.

“Hi,” Alani greets, raising her voice to be heard. “It’s Alani,”

She hears shuffling on the other end and then Harry’s voice, softer this time.

“Oh hey. How are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

Harry senses that something is off, but he’s glad to hear from Alani, nevertheless. His friends continue their antics in the studio, despite his silent gestures to knock it off, so he heads outside.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine. S’good to hear from you,” he offers shyly.

Alani’s chest tightens.

“Ditto,” she replies. “Hey listen, um, I’m kind of in a bit of trouble I—”

She hesitates. What the hell am I doing?

“I need your help,”

Harry’s heart sinks, immediately filled with worry.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she reassures him. “It’s my car,”

“Where are you?”

“The highway, southbound. Just past exit 243, I think,”

“I’m on my way,”

“Thank you,” Alani offers gently. “Really, thank you.”

A soft smile spreads across Harry’s lips. “Anytime.”

He arrives in a pink Cadillac fifteen minutes later, pulling over behind Alani. She doesn’t recognize the car and her confusion only deepens when a man with short-cropped hair emerges. As he approaches, a wave of recognition and relief washes over her.

“Harry?”

“Hey,” he greets, walking up to the driver’s side. “Need a lift?”

Alani’s mouth hangs open ever so slightly, scanning his new appearance. He looks like a completely different person than the one she remembers, and he has the faintest trace of stubble above his lip and jaw.

“You cut your hair,”

“I did,” he confirms.

“It’s so short,”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course I do,” Alani offers with a light laugh, feeling flustered under his gaze. “I mean it looks great, really suits you. Not that it matters what I think, it’s your hair,”

But it did matter. Everything she did, or didn’t do, said, and didn’t say— it all mattered to him for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. And it mattered more than she would ever know.

“So Stevie quit on you?”

Alani sighs. “I don’t know what’s wrong, honestly. All of the gauges look fine and I filled the tank this morning,”

Harry asks her to pop the hood and makes his way to the front of the Bronco. He looks around, not seeing any smoke or trace of other issues, though his knowledge of cars isn’t as comprehensive as he’d like in this situation.

Alani joins him, doing her own scan over the inside of the hood despite the fact that she has no idea what to look for. Her eyes wander to Harry’s strong hands as they prod the various bells and whistles, and she notices the way his tanned skin glistens under the sun. The cross pendant nestled behind his white t-shirt escapes when he leans over, swinging like a mesmerizing pendulum.

“I called a tow truck,” he says standing with his hands on his hips. “Should be here soon,”

“I’ll pay you back,” Alani offers quickly, her throat dry.

Harry waves her concern away with a hand and places the hood back. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay,”

“I really owe you one,” she says appreciatively.

He leans against the car with his arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Have lunch with me and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal.”

The tow truck arrives ten minutes later and the driver gathers all of Alani’s information, letting her know which mechanic the car will be taken to and when she can pick it up. She sighs watching Stevie pull away down the road and imagines the dent it’ll make in her savings. Harry nudges her gently, motioning for her to get in his car.

“New ride?” she questions, running her fingers over the cotton candy paint.

“It belongs to the owner of the studio,” he explains. “All of the cars do except the Rover, she’s a rental. But Jeff took her out to get us lunch,”

“I’m so sorry for interrupting your plans,” Alani apologizes. And for kind of ghosting you, she thinks.

Harry shakes his head, shifting the gear between them. “Nah, you didn’t interrupt, we were just messing around. But I am curious to know what brought you all the way out here on a Tuesday afternoon. Skipping town?”

Alani giggles at the way he says “Tuesday,” but responds despite the curious look he flashes her. “Day off. I was gonna go to the beach,”

“Bummer,” Harry offers, thanking every deity that he can name. “We could still go,”

“Your friends won’t be mad?”

“They’ll be fine,”

Alani nods, her eyes studying the orange checkers on her trousers.

“What’re you hungry for?” Harry speaks up.

She thinks for a moment and is reminded of her original plans. “I could go for some sushi,”

“Know any good places?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” Alani’s curious gaze falls to the glove box before her, immediately wondering what’s inside. “Do you think the owner will be mad if I open this?”

Harry glances down at what she’s pointing to and shakes his head. “Knock yourself out,”

Alani pulls down the hatch and reaches inside; her fingers make contact with what feels like a pair of glasses. When her hand re-emerges with a pair that are pink and heart-shaped, she smiles.

“They have good taste,” she comments, putting them on.

Harry looks over and flashes a wide grin, the dimple that Alani has become so fond of emerging.

“Look good on you,”

“Try them on,” Alani suggests, handing them over.

He obliges and pushes his own pair up to make room for the other lenses.

“What d’you think?”

“I think you should keep them,” she says. “They suit you.”

And they really do; they compliment his face well and hint to the fun, easygoing parts of his personality that Alani has recently discovered.

She directs him to her favorite sushi spot near Bayfront Park, which is buzzing per usual. After they’ve been seated on the patio outside, Harry tucks the heart-shaped sunglasses into his t-shirt and contemplates addressing the elephant in the room: the ghosting. He doesn’t want to spook her, though, so he decides to pose the question lightly, but Alani speaks before he has the chance.

“So what’s with the haircut?”

Harry blinks, clearing his throat before he responds. “You hate it,”

“No!” She defends. “I like it, really, it looks great,”

“You wouldn’t bring it up if you didn’t absolutely hate it,” he teases in mock offense.

Alani rolls her eyes, a playful smile spreading across her face. “It just seems like a huge step and I’m curious, that’s all,”

He considers this, deciding to stop giving her a hard time, and responds. “Well if you must know, it’s for an audition,”

“For?”

“A movie,”

“A movie?” Alani’s eyes grow wide. “You’re gonna be in a movie?”

“Maybe,” he clarifies. “Dunno yet,”

“Wow,”

Harry leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What have you been up to? Any life changing decisions?”

Alani shrugs. “Same old. Work, my summer class,”

“And how’s your family?” he asks, which catches her off guard.

“Good. My sister’s… a moody teenager. My dad is catering a big wedding in Oahu right now. Mom’s saving lives like the badass woman she is,”

Harry laughs lightly at her comment and Alani tries to store the soundbite in the back of her mind for safe keeping.

“What about yours?” she questions.

“Fine, yeah. Mum’s good, so’s Gemma. Talk to them at least once a week just to check in,”

He pauses to take a sip of his water before continuing. “Ever since I was about...ten, maybe, ‘ve had this feeling like—protect mum at all costs. But she’s strong, has the greatest heart,”

Alani finds it sweet that Harry speaks so highly of Anne. Her own mom had always told her that a lot can be said about the character of a man by the way he treats his mother.

“I’m sure she misses having you around,” Alani comments, thinking of her own close relationship with her mom. “I don’t know if I could let my child leave home as early as you did,”

Harry brushes the tip of his nose with a knuckle and nods. “Was kinda hard at first, but she’s always been really supportive.”

“I bet she’s really proud.”

He offers a shy smile in response, scanning the scenery around them.

“I’m sure your family’s proud of you too.”

Alani and Harry continue their light conversation through the entire meal, sharing stories about their families and childhood. She finds herself wishing that she could have met a teenaged Harry, pre-fame and general world domination. He enjoys her anecdotes, soaking up every detail that he possibly can as if his life depends on it. The two of them go back and forth well after the meal is finished, only pausing when the waitress stops to check on them.

“Maybe we should go,” Alani suggests, checking her phone for the time. “I always hate when customers stay for hours,”

“Just like I did the first time at the café?” he asks, putting his signature on the bill.

Alani feels her cheeks warm and she quickly back pedals. “No! I mean—well, yeah, kinda—”

“And the truth comes out!”

“I was just annoyed because my sister kept bugging me to fill up your water. She was afraid you were gonna, like, get dehydrated and die or something.”

“Tell her I appreciate the concern.”

Alani laughs lightly, feeling a bit of relief when the breeze soothes her burning cheeks. The two of them make their way back into the restaurant and out the main entrance, padding down the boardwalk side by side. Harry never knows what to do with his hands, usually opting to stuff them into his pockets as he hurries down a busy street, but he desperately wishes to occupy them a different way. His pinky involuntarily brushes the back of Alani’s hand, but he pulls away quickly to avoid freaking her out. She wishes he hadn’t.

“What were you gonna do at the beach?” he asks to break the ice.

She thinks for a moment, watching the different couples huddled together on the beach. “Relax, get some air. Do a little reading,”

“What’re you reading?”

“Currently this book about Laurel Canyon in California and some of the musicians who lived there during the 60s. You might like it,”

Harry’s brow raises. “Think so?”

“Yeah, it’s got Joni, Crosby, Stills, and Nash, Mamas and the Papas, all those guys. They talk about their experiences of coming to terms with rapidly growing fame, the reality of the peace and love movement, the collaborative process. Seems like something you might find interesting—relatable, even,”

"I’ll check it out,” Harry promises with a nod.

Alani smiles gently and refocuses her attention on the horizon. “So what were you gonna do today?”

“Not much,” Think about you. “But speaking of books and stuff, I‘ve been meaning to ask. When you become, you know, the next Pulitzer Prize winner, do I get to be your plus one?”

She scoffs, squinting under the bright sun to look up at him. “I don’t know, I have to make it first,”

“And what does ‘making it’ mean to you?” Harry had been trying to re-define success, himself, and was curious to hear Alani’s thoughts on the subject.

She ponders the question for a minute, adjusting the straps of her orange tank-top to occupy her anxious fingers. “Move to New York, work for some big publication, something like that,”

“New York?” he asks, slightly taken aback. “And leave all this behind?”

“I think I’d like the change,” Alani reasons. “I love it here more than anything, but I think I’ve gotta make my own way, my own decisions. My grandma used to say that you ‘gotta swim before you drown because the ocean’s too vast and too interesting to get stuck treading water in the same place,’”

Harry nods, understandingly. “Wise woman,”

“Carolina,” Alani says, using the Spanish pronunciation that sounds like music to Harry’s ears. “That was her name, I was named after her,”

“Middle name?”

“Yeah,” she clarifies. “I’m half Mexican on my mom’s side,”

He hums. “Ever been?”

“To Mexico?” Alani asks, proceeding when he nods. “Yeah. Once when I was like, five, we went to Xcaret for my aunt’s wedding,”

“It’s beautiful there,” Harry notes.

“What’s your favorite place that you’ve been to?” Alani questions, imagining all the stamps that must be in Harry’s passport.

He thinks for a moment, a hum buzzing low in his throat as he sifts through his memory. “Probably Italy,”

“Lucky,” Alani muses, picturing the Gothic cathedrals that she longs to visit.

“You’d like it there.” Harry says, truly believing it. A part of him felt that she belonged in every beautiful place he could think of.

The two of them walk in silence for a few moments, each taking time to scope out the view around them. Alani sees a couple leaned against a staircase railing, looking deep in conversation, though probably not a pleasant one.

“You think they’re breaking up?” Alani asks gently, nodding her head in their direction. “Or just having the talk?”

Harry scans the scenery before his eyes land on the pair that she's referring to. “Ah yes, the talk. Ye olde chat,”

“What do you think you’d be if you weren’t a musician?” She poses suddenly. He laughs to himself at the way Alani jumps from topic to topic and reasons that her mind must always be going a mile a minute.

“A virgin,” Harry jokes, hoping that it’ll land. When she lets out a sudden, bright laugh, he looks over in relief.

“God, you are so…” Alani trails off, shaking her head.

He waits to see if she’ll finish the statement, but he doesn’t think she will. Truthfully, she doesn’t know what to say. The more Alani learns about Harry, the more he seems to surprise her. One minute he can be serious and thoughtful. The next, a ray of sunshine—aloof and carefree. She finds herself anticipating his every move, every word, and loving each minute that he allows her to. It makes her head spin at times, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

They journey down to the shore and discard their shoes in favor of feeling the cool sand beneath their toes. Alani tells Harry about the sea glass collection she had as a child, and he makes a mental note to scan the ground for any pieces she might like. She asks him if the beaches are nice in England, to which he responds a hard “no” compared to the ones in Hawaii or California. A couple of children splash in the shallow water nearby, and Alani doesn’t miss the fond look in Harry’s eye as he watches. Eventually, they wander back up to the main boardwalk when they spot a group of people happily sipping milkshakes. Harry noticed her eyes following them, practically drooling, so he suggested it before she had to.

“Want some?” Alani asks, her mouth full of strawberry.

Harry gladly accepts, taking a sip from the straw that she holds out to him. He hums, letting the taste sit on his tongue before he offers his own cup full of vanilla. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear before leaning over for a taste. The flavor is sweet and comforting to her, despite popular opinion that it’s boring. Alani swipes her tongue across her lower lip and thinks for a moment that this is what his mouth must taste like. She wishes she could verify this thought.

“I’m really glad you got the strawberry,” he notes, stirring his drink with the straw. “I was having a serious crisis over what to get,”

“When in doubt, always go with the pink one,” Alani says, tapping her temple, and suddenly Harry remembers that the contents of her bag were all various shades of bubble gum and dusty rose.

“It’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” he offers, taking another sip of his milkshake.

“Paul Simonon?” she questions with narrowed eyes, instantly recognizing his reference to a quote from The Clash’s bassist.

“Nothing gets past you.”

********

The clouds above start to resemble puffs of cotton candy, signaling that the day will soon draw to a close much to both Harry and Alani’s dismay. They lounge in the pink Cadillac, which is parked in an area that overlooks the entire beach, and take turns picking out the one lie amongst two truths about one another; it was a game that Harry had proposed.

“Is it,” Alani starts, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “The four nipples?”

Harry makes a buzzer sound effect through his own laughter, temple resting against his fist as his arm drapes over the seat.

“Wrong-o, sorry,”

“What?!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “You’re messing with me,”

“Am not,” he defends proudly.

Alani lets out a surprised chuckle, fighting the urge to let her eyes wander below his neck. “I don’t believe you,”

“I’d prove it,” he shrugs. “But then I’d have to flash you,”

“Guess we’ll never know, then,”

Their laughter settles down and the only sound between them is the crashing of waves in the distance. Harry lets his eyes trail down the slope of Alani’s nose to her cupid’s bow—dangerous territory. Little does he know, Alani does the same, noting the fact that his lips are heart-shaped and the perfect shade of strawberry. How sickeningly charming, she thinks. Her eyes lift back to Harry’s and there’s something hidden behind the sea-glass that she can’t quite read. The air becomes charged and the two of them are like magnets, drawn inexplicably towards one another. Alani inches closer, her heart pounding so violently in her chest, she’s afraid that he can hear it. The sound of his own blood rushing in his ears prevents this, however, as he leans in too. The space between them gets smaller, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, when the high pitched ringing of Alani’s phone sends her jolting backward. Harry curses every deity that he can name.

“Hello?” she responds, turning her back to him. She listens for a minute, a soft “mhmm” escaping every few seconds. “Okay, yes, I’ll be there. Thank you,”

Alani dreads having to turn back to Harry and face the consequences of whatever lines were almost crossed. She chooses to simply ignore it all together, as if no time had passed between his shocking personal revelation and the ringing of her phone.

“Stevie’s ready.” she says weakly.

Harry swallows down his frustration and offers a polite smile. “Let’s go get her.”

The mechanic shop is twenty minutes from the beach; Harry and Alani spend the entire ride in silence. Neither of them address the almost kiss despite the fact that it hangs over their heads like a raincloud of uncertain emotion. She occupies her gaze with the scenery whizzing past while he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Alani mourns the fact that their little bubble had been popped so soon, but she figures that it’s for the best. Don’t get attached, she reminds herself. Easier said than done. Harry also wallows in the aftermath of the interruption, wishing he had acted sooner. When they finally arrive at the shop, the mechanic reveals that the cause of her car troubles was a simple dead battery. Harry offers to foot the bill, but Alani refuses, deciding that she shouldn’t accept any more favors from him in order to restore the boundary.

“So I guess this is where we part ways,” Alani says gently, toying with her keys.

Harry scans his brain for something—anything—a single excuse to see her again, and soon. He doesn’t think he can take another week and a half of icy silence and he has a suspicion that she can’t either. After all, she had leaned in, too—hadn’t she?

“There’s this thing,” he blurts out. “A sort of jam sesh at the studio tomorrow night. There’s gonna be booze, otherwise I’d tell you to bring your sister. But I’d love for you to come, and I think it might be good for—the article, or something,”

Alani weighs the pros and cons in her mind, one of which he had already mentioned: a chance to listen to what he’s working on. It seemed professional and innocent enough, not to mention the fact that there’d be other people around to keep them in check. Once she decides it’s safe, she nods.

“Okay, sure,”

“I can pick you up,” Harry offers.

Alani shakes her head gently and offers a shy smile. “No, that's okay. Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there.”

They exchange good-byes and Alani thanks him for coming to her rescue, to which he offers a modest shrug. Harry speeds down the highway and back to the house, but three words linger in the silence.

I’ll be there.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #solo harry #one direction #harry fic #ybmh #sooo :))) how we feelin now

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moonlit-mizukage · 3 years

Text

Chapter twelve: No it’s perfect

Summary: Y/l/n Y/n, a third year at Sakura High School, is just a girl with a bad attitude towards anyone outside her small circle. When y/n’s younger sister starts first year, she gains a lot of attention. Unfortunately for everyone in school, the Y/l/n household has one rule, No dating till y/n does. Some people become just desperate enough to pay the leader of the “Monsters”, the trouble making group on campus, to date y/n. What will happen when she finds out? (All characters aged up to third year unless otherwise stated)

Tw: The old switcharoo of Tendou and Sugawara but the events around it kind look like a kidnapping, swearing

An: Hey eveyone! I am doing an event if anyone is interested in participating! It can be found here! Today and tomorrow will be a written chapter and I added an image which will make sense when you see it in the story :D

Taglist Open! Please send an ask or DM to be added .

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Saturday Night - The Date: Third person POV

7pm sharp, a silver car pulled up into the driveway of the y/l/n’s home. Sugawara Stepped out of his turned off car and approached the door. He knocked softly as a competition could be heard from the other side.

On the other side y/n had sprung up and rushed to the door. She opened the door.

“Hello Sugawara. I’m y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She pulled him into a quick hug.

“Hello y/n. Just call me Suga. Tsuki has told me a lot about you. Your dress looks lovely.” He said as he pulled back and smiled.

“It’s not too fancy is it? You said dress fancy so I figured this was good enough? I hope.”

“No it’s perfect.”

“Hello,” A voice startled the two from behind. “I’m Mr. Y/l/n. What are you currently doing in school? How are your grades? Are you currently working, if so what do you do?”

“Dad please. He’s a university student.”

“A university student wanting to date a highschool student? Why is that?”

“I just thought she was lovely sir. We have known each other since last year. Also I am in school to become a teacher and my grades are in the top 3 of my class and I currently work part time at a small snack store in a mall.” Sugawara said.

“Hmm,” Mr. Y/l/n raised his hand under his chin as he stroked it. “You know what? I like you. You seem like an appropriate choice for my daughter.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Have her home by 10pm… No actually make it 11pm.”

“Ah thank you sir.” Sugawara said. Just as y/n and Sugawara turned to leave the house, Oikawa knocked on the door.

A similar conversion went down with mr. y/l/n as Oikawa lied about his intentions to him. Mei got a curfew of 9:30pm. Showing Mr. y/l/n had a slight distrust in his true intentions.

Everyone left and got into the designated vehicles as they left.

“I just have to make a quick stop before the date.” Sugawara said as he pulled into a dimly lit park.

“Suga, what kind of person are you meeting at a park at this hour?” Y/n asked with anxiety lacing her words.

“Don’t worry, you are safe.” He stepped out of the car. In less than a minute the door swung open.

“You scared me Sugawara.” Y/n said before she turned around.

“Hey babe.”

“Tendou?? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking you on a date babe. What does it look like?” Before you even noticed the car had moved and Tendou was on the road again.

“Where is Suga? Take me back now! And who the hell meets in a park this late at night!?!?” She began to raise her voice.

“You really think if I showed up at your door your father would have let me take you out?”

“That wasn't my question, you asshole! If you don’t tell me now I’ll call my father!”

“Not the police?” He chuckled looking at her visibly angered face. “Alright alright. Sugawara is fine. He was taken home by Hanamaki. I will make you a deal. If you hate where I take you I will drive you home.”

“Fine. Try anything and I will kick you hard.”

“I know you don’t hate me anymore.”

“And what would make you think that?”

“The fact you started texting me first Y/n.” She looked down and tried to hide her embarrassment.

“Ew.” She said just above a whisper.

“See I know it, plus you obviously have some trust for me or else you wouldn’t have even stayed in the car.”

“Shit.” She just whispered under her voice as she turned towards the window.

He drove for a few more minutes in silence.

“We are here.” He said as he pulled the keys from the engine.

As y/n stepped from the car she realized where they were. “Tendou.. How did you-”

“Well I had Sugawara do some research about you with your mutual friend.”

“Isn’t this a little expensive for a fake date Tendou?”

“Who said I thought it was fake?” She just rolled his eyes at him. He reached for her hand. “Come on Babe. Let’s go.” She grabbed his hand with a slight bit of hesitation.

“I just noticed, but Tendou you are wearing a suit?” He just smirked as the two started to walk through the parking lot and up to the dock. Tendou reached into his wallet and pulled out two tickets. The two got on the Harumiya Cruising restaurant boat. (Image below)

“I can’t believe you paid for us to eat here.” She said again. He just smiled down at her, taking her hand walking into the boat to be seated at a dining table.

A little while later…

The two had finished eating as Tendou stood up. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” He reached his hand out to her as she took it. She followed him through a small hallway.

“Are we about to do something illegal, cause if so I will jump off this boat and swim to shore.” Y/n spoke up with the sassy tone she always used on him.

“No, someone owed me a favor, so I got us a VIP treatment. I reserved a special spot all for us. ” He pulled her behind him as they climbed the stairs. The two were soon on top of the boat's roof. “Here stand in front of me and hold the railing.” She moved to where he asked as he rested his chin on his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. He noticed he shiver as the breeze hit her bare arms. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her arms.

“Thank you Tendou.” Y/n said in a quiet voice.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me for a while. I just wanted this night to be perfect.”

“Talking to you now, it’s hard to believe you are the scariest person in our school that even the teachers fear you.” He let out a small chuckle.

“I only have one soft spot and it’s for you.” He said just above a whisper.

y/n turned to face him as He moved his hands up to the side of her face. They leaned in close as they began to kiss…. Tendou pulled back for air only to see a smile that lit up her entire face.

“Call me Satori.” He said before he leaned down again going for a second kiss…..

The night came to an end quickly as Tendou had to meet Sugawara back and use him as a cover up once again. Sugawara dropped y/n back home at 10:58pm which left a good impression on her father. She opened her door to see Mei spread out on y/n’s bed as she played on her phone.

“Sister.” Y/n said as she placed her bag on her desk.

“How was your date and can you do the same friday night next week?” Mei asked.

“Why?”

“Oikawa and I didn’t get to kiss again.” She whined.

“Ah so you got lucky?”

“Y/N! He’s so hot, how could you not want him?”

“Listen Mei. I think it’s time for a sister to sister talk.”

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lesbianlotties · 3 years

Link

Journeys end in lovers meeting - Sam/Deena - Bly Manor AU

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson, Sarah Fier/Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Christine "Ziggy" Berman/Nick Goode, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Deena Johnson Characters: Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Deena Johnson, Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Simon Kalivoda, Josh Johnson (Fear Street), Constance (Fear Street Part 3: 1666), Christine "Ziggy" Berman, Nick Goode (Fear Street), Alice (Fear Street Part 2: 1978), Sarah Fier (Fear Street), Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Solomon Goode (Fear Street) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, The Haunting of Bly Manor AU, Not Canon Compliant, Haunted Houses, Ghosts, Character Death, Minor Character Death, Canon Lesbian Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Au Pair Sam, Gardener Deena, Housekeeper Kate, Cook Simon, Josh and Constance as troubled kids, Ziggy and Nick in an unhealthy relationship, minor Cindy/Alice, Martin cameos, special appearances of all the Shadyside killers as ghosts, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The Rest Is Confetti Summary: The year is 1994. Samantha Fraser recently moved to Shadyside, and she desperately needs a job that will help her leave her troubled past behind. She starts working as au pair at Shadyside Manor, where she is not the only one tortured by ghosts. Grief, regrets, guilt, innocent victims, and an ancient curse. At the center of all of it... love.

Chapter 4:

Sam really didn’t want to eavesdrop, but it was a hectic day for everyone but here. It was an accident, really. She just wanted a glass of water, but when she heard Deena and Kate arguing in the kitchen, she stopped before reaching the doorway, and couldn’t help but listen.

“Are you seriously not going?” Deena was saying.

“No, Deena,” Kate replied, in a tone that made it obvious it wasn’t the first time she said so. “I’ll only go to a funeral when I’m dead, thank you very much.”

“Maybe I should kill you then,” Deena grumbled. In the hallway, Sam fought back a smile at the grumpiness of the gardener. “He’s your platonic husband and you’re letting him down in the most fucking tragic day of his life, Kate.”

“He understands,” Kate snapped back at her. “Besides, we’ve let each other down before.”

Eavesdropping on teenagers feels even worse. But Sam can’t help herself, again. She just seems to be at the right place at the right time, and nobody hears her coming. She was just looking for Constance and Josh when she found them talking in the classroom in whispers. She worried they might have been planning something unwise, so she listened in for a moment.

“Do you think they can follow us?” Constance asked in a whisper.

“No, I don’t think it works like that,” Josh replied.

The girl hummed thoughtfully and then added, in a considerably more distressed tone, “Do you think they’ll try to stop us?”

“Shh! Constance!” Josh stopped her. “Let’s just… see what happens, okay? We’re in this together, right? All of us.”

Sam considered intervening, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what they were talking about. She could barely keep track of their changing moods or Constance’s name. In the end, she walked away, deciding to keep an eye out and studying them more closely when she had the chance.

Sam had tried her best, but she really had nothing else to do at the moment. It was strange, having a day mostly free from her responsibilities as au pair. Deena would be taking Josh and Constance with her to Simon’s mom’s funeral. A little lost in her thoughts without anything else to do while they all got ready, Sam took a seat near the bottom of the stairs, looking out at the gardens she could see through the open door. It started out as a particularly sunny day, not at all something you’d expect for a funeral.

The au pair was leaning against the railing of the stairs. A little behind her, under the safety and familiarity of the manor’s shadows, Harry Rooker stood perfectly still. His clothes hadn’t changed at all in all the decades he had been wandering those halls, even his bowtie was in still place. The same couldn’t be said about his face though. The passing of the years, one after another, had slowly washed away his features. His eyes were no longer there, his mouth was barely noticeable and his nose wouldn’t likely last long. The burn on the side of his face, which had hurt him so much during the war and cost him so much even after his return, was still there, stubbornly, almost mocking him. As well as his knife, always in his hand, always sharp. Never being useful anymore.

The sound of a heavy pair of boots coming down the stairs, as often, disturbed the peace of the foyer. Sam tried not to look too excited as she turned her head to look at Deena descend the stairs, but when she saw the gardener’s outfit she probably failed to hide her pleased reaction.

“Hi,” Sam gasped a little and stood up, “You look…”

“Like I remembered how to take a shower?” Deena smirked. She reached the bottom of the stairs and showed off her clothes, consisting of all black pants, shirt, and blazer that fit her perfectly, made her look a little too good for a funeral, if Sam had to give her honest opinion.

“Like a waiter,” Sam said, biting her lip to keep that honest opinion from spilling out.

“Hey! Didn’t know that side of you, Sunnyvale. Rude,” Deena replied, smiling the entire time. When her expression softened a little, she asked, “Are you sure you’re okay staying here by yourself?”

“Yes, t’s okay. Besides, Kate’s here too.”

Deena made an unamused sound. “Sometimes it feels like she isn’t,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed quietly. Before the silence could stretch for too long, she spoke up again. “Anyway, I, um, had to… be present in a funeral, not too long ago. It’s… I can’t, again. Not yet.”

As she spoke, Sam couldn’t look Deena in the eyes. Not when the only thing in her mind was Sunnyvale. Peter. Her mother. Peter. Twentyfive entitled children in a classroom. Peter. A heavy engagement ring and suffocating wedding dress. Peter.

But it didn’t start like that. It started with her father getting sick, her mother being cruel enough to divorce him on the spot to save herself from taking care of him, and Sam being already in Sunnyvale, thirty minutes away, when he finally died. It started with her mother wrapping her in her best dress, too old for her already, and dragging her to the neighbors house, because they were rich, and look at that handsome young boy, he already has his eyes on you! They were only eight. But then they were twelve, and Peter got in a fight for her and felt entitled to her attention ever since, and nobody ever told her she didn’t have to give him anything she didn’t want to. So when he demanded it, she gave him a kiss, a second date, the color of her prom dress so he could get a matching tie. She gave and she gave until she didn’t know what else he could take from her, but everyone made her feel like she still owed him. So she gave hiim a second chance when he first hit her, and she gave him her bags when he told her to move in with him, she gave him a third and fourth chance, and she gave him the answer he wanted when he offered her a wedding ring.

“Sam? Are you okay?”

In the blink of an eye, Sam was back in Shadyside Manor, with Deena’s gentle hands on her elbows, anchoring her to reality, and those warm brown eyes worriedly searching her face, not knowing what horrors they could find behind the walls Sam spent a lifetime building.

“Yes,” Sam blurted out. “Yes, I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“Right,” Deena nodded and slowly stepped away from the au pair. “Well, I’m leaving now. Try to come up with something real to tell me when I return, okay?”

Sam suddenly couldn’t come up with any words so she nodded, smiled, and watched holding her breath as Deena walked away from her, not without glancing over her shoulder by the door.

Sam stood awkwardly in the middle of the chapel. She had made it too far to turn around now, but she didn’t dare move closer and interrupt Kate who appeared to be praying. Except, before Sam made up her mind about her next move, Kate spoke up without turning around.

“Are you just going to stand there like a ghost?”

“Sorry,” Sam blushed. “Uh, how did you know I was-”

“I have eyes on the back of my head, darling,” Kate replied with a smile and finally turned around.

“Am I interrupting you?”

“No, it’s okay,” Kate softened. “I’m not a funeral type of person. I deal with loss in my own way.”

“I get it,” Sam nodded. She found the courage to continue walking closer to the other woman.

“If you ask me,” Kate continued, somewhat unprompted, “This is more for our own comfort.” She nodded her head to the side, indicating the five red little candles burning. “You have to be there for people while they’re still alive. Simon gave his entire life for his mother. I’ve been there with him for most of the journey, in ways that I know count so much more than missing out on one tragic goodbye party.”

Again, Sam nodded. She took a seat down on one of the pews close to Kate. She really didn’t want to think about the funerals in her own life. Her mother made sure they arrived late and left early for Sam's father’s funeral. And then a few months ago…

“You two are very close,” she blurted out. It was a statement, a question, and mostly just a way to get Kate to keep talking.

“Best friends since childhood,” Kate said and she wore one of the most genuine smiles Sam had seen on her. “We kissed once, and afterward I punched him in the face. We’ve been inseparable ever since. Which might be the best and worst part about our friendship.”

“What do you mean?”

This time Kate took her time before replying. Her smile was gone.

“Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to leave Shadyside and see the world. But there was nothing that could have convinced Simon to leave his mom. He missed a chance to work at a restaurant in Paris, I missed my chance to see the world, but we have each other. We have each other and ninety-nine percent of the time it feels like the right choice.”

The remaining one percent of the time hung in the air of the chapel so heavily it was almost palpable.

“What about now?” Sam asked, not without a good amount of hesitation.

The meaning of her question was obvious. Simon wasn’t tethered to Shadyside anymore. However, there was no answer from the housekeeper. Kate chuckled sadly, completely dismissing the idea of grabbing a bag of her best clothes and her best friend’s hand and moving away to Paris any day now. Instead, she stood up and threw the little box of matches for Sam to catch.

“What?” Why?” The au pair looked back and forth between the matches and Kate.

“Light a candle,” Kate replied. She noticed the confusion in Sam’s face, but the au pair, unknowingly, carried her heart, broken and hopeful at once, on her sleeve. “Dead people, regrets, protection, good luck,” Kate said while methodically fixing the wrinkles on her red skirt, checking her ponytail, and mindlessly passing her hand over the back of her neck. “Everything counts.”

Sam stayed silent. She watched Kate walk out of the chapel and then she moved toward the candles. She moved almost automatically, lighting up the first match, but then she couldn’t bring herself to actually light the candle. The small flame burned bright for a second, highlighting the sadness in Sam’s blue eyes, but she let it die before reaching for a candle. }

Eventually, Sam decided to light up a new match and light up a single candle at random. Not for dead people, and not for her attempts at forgetting about them, but for the time she had wasted trying to please people that did nothing but hurt her for so long.

On the way out of the chapel, Sam made the mistake of glancing at the windows. Of course he was still there. He would never leave her, would he? She had seen him angry at her more times than she could count, but never like that. That expression of outstanding disgust and fury was forever etched in Sam’s memory of him. He was just a shadow, he was pure darkness in the shape of a man she once knew. But Sam had to look away and walk as fast as she could away from him, fearing that any day now his image would definitely leave the restrained space of reflective surfaces and finally kill her, like she had killed him.

“Dinner… is served!” Simon announced with a flourish.

Simon and Deena dropped several bags on the kitchen table and they chuckled when everyone else eagerly jumped forward to look at the contents spilling on the table.

“There’s nothing like an absurd amount of junk food to fix all your problems,” he smiled proudly at the scene in front of him. All the people closest to him with smiles on their faces, exchanging a warm meal and easy conversation. His smile turned just nostalgic enough, thinking about his mother, the woman who taught him that lesson. She used to fix all problems with food. She had special meals for every sickness, mended broken hearts with each person’s favorite food, and she celebrated every occasion with big feasts. So far, Simon couldn’t say she had ever failed.

Simon, Deena, Kate, Sam, Josh, and Constance, sat down at the table. They got started with their junk food feast. Everything was still hot, smelled amazing, and tasted even better. Behind Simon and the teenagers, stood Ruby Lane. She tilted her head one side and the other, observing the scene in front of her. Her slightly blurred expression showed confusion, then a hint of sadness, and finally settled in something surprisingly close to affection. Eating. Food. Good company. Friends. She distantly could remember the feeling of it all. The details had left her a while ago. But if she focused hard enough on the smiles of these strangers, she almost felt right at home, almost felt like she belonged with them, almost let herself believe that if she wanted to she could reach out, take a seat, enjoy a meal with them… Almost, almost but not quite.

At the table, conversation flowed easily. Everyone was enjoying the food, and the adults all had one or two beers with the meals, perhaps a little more. Despite the emotionally heavy day, the group was in a surprisingly good mood. A consequence of growing up in Shadyside, maybe. They were either the best or the worst at coping with loss. The trick was not knowing how to tell the difference between both extremes.

Sam was a little concerned about the fact that the pair of teenagers looked so refreshed and so much like themselves after attending a funeral. Maybe they just needed the time away from the manor. She just hoped it would last.

While all of them discussed favorite meals and comfort food, Simon finally explained his choice of food for the day. “This is actually from the first place where I worked,” he confessed.

“Really?” Sam asked, leaning forward with a kind smile.

“Yeah. My mom got me the job,” he added. “She was the sweetest woman, but she could be scary as shit if she wanted to. She convinced them to give a part-time job to little old me. I was barely fifteen.”

“Tell her why you got fired,” Kate said, raising a playful eyebrow in his direction.

Simon rolled his eyes and picked up a couple of fries to throw in her direction. “For giving you free food you asshole!”

While all the others laughed, Kate gasped loudly and wore a nearly comically offended expression for a moment. It was her turn to roll her eyes and lean across Deena to look at Sam and explain, “This bitch throwing me food like a toddler? He got fired for being too talented for a food truck, basically.”

“Ah, whatever,” Simon laughed. He ran a hand through his messy blonde hair and pushed through his unexpected shyness to explain. “The food was good, but it was also too slow and expensive. Got me fired but got me noticed.” He stopped then, and tried to make it seem natural and not at all like he was holding back information. Which made Sam think about the missed opportunity across the ocean that Kate had mentioned earlier that day. “But!” Simon went on, with extra cheerfulness on his voice to hide who knows how many things anymore, “now I get to happily cook for all of you, ungrateful little shits that you are.”

“Hey!” Deena protested, stopped a second to swallow her food and continued. “I am grateful. Dude, I love your food. I survived eating this cheap shit almost exclusively for like a decade. I’m in heaven when you cook actual food.”

“Do you just love me for my food?” Simon pouted dramatically.

Sam watched them banter with a smile. Before she could stop herself, she was joining the conversation. “This actually reminds me of my childhood in Shadyside,” she said, holding up a burger in her hand.

“What?” Kate smirked, “You don’t have these bad boys in Sunnyvale?”

Sam laughed along with everyone else, she was starting to feel just the slightest bit tipsy, and this time decided not to mention the fact that Kate hadn’t even taken a bite of her burger yet. However, she hadn’t managed to shake herself from the weird, nostalgic mood that had had a hold of her the entire day. One moment she was there, seated at the kitchen table in Shadyside Manor, and with the blink of an eye, she was back at an expensive Sunnyvale restaurant.

She had been more than a little tipsy back then, she had needed the courage in any way she could find it. During the meal, a hundred different memories of her mother’s cruel comments on her weight and eating habits passed through her mind. She didn’t push them away though, she focused on them, because it hadn’t been just her mother, and she needed to focus on that pain and resentment. Because seated across from her was Peter. Peter, who had joined her mother in criticizing her. Peter, who never once defended her from his own mother. Peter, who had hurt her emotionally and physically more than anybody else.

Peter, who refused to lose an argument, who didn’t know when to let it go, and would never let her go. They didn’t get to the altar, but since their first kiss, he had assumed only death would take her away from him. He didn’t consider he’d go first, he might have even dreamed of a second or third wife, and one or two times he had been close to being responsible for that sudden end. Instead, it was their anniversary, they were both drunk, Sam admitted more than she had meant to, he was yelling at her in the middle of the street, threatening to kill her, taking a step backward when she reached for him, and then there were the truck’s headlights…

“Oh, yeah,” Sam blurted out, and hoped they wouldn’t notice the way her voice was trembling. “But in Sunnyvale, we add a little caviar on top of the burgers.”

Sam was surprised to see everyone laugh at what she had considered a pretty lame joke. It was a beautiful sound. She didn’t think she’d ever been surrounded by the incredible number of five people that genuinely liked her for who she really was. Josh even choked a little on the food he had been chewing, and Simon slapped his back, maybe a little harder than necessary. It made Kate and Constance laugh even harder. Those were things that Sam noticed, but her focus was actually on the woman beside her. Deena had laughed with all of them, of course. But the soft smile she was directing at Sam was something completely different, something she couldn’t even compare to anything else she had ever experienced.

When the conversation hit an inevitable lull, Constance was the first one to notice the way Simon’s mood dimmed, his shoulders slumped and he stopped eating, just fumbling with the papers on the table. There was a lot a person could say to a friend that just lost their mother, then there was what a moody teenager with an exceptionally tragic life could offer.

“My aunt was a shit cook,” Constance blurted out. “These burgers were all she got for me when my parents died. But I couldn’t eat it… I thought I would never eat again, which would be okay because that would kill me and I’d be reunited with…” She shrugged, and everyone else at the table listened to her intently, rendered speechless not just by the unexpected confession, but because of her expression, neutral without being insensitive, sincere without being very emotional. “But then,” Constance continued, adding the smallest smiles here and there. “It was like I could hear my mom yelling at me for not eating. Cindy Berman could be a pain in the ass in case you didn’t know. But that feeling… it was like she was right there with me, beautiful and annoying and never gone entirely.”

For a moment, nobody knew what to say. Simon, although his eyes were glassy, smiled brightly at her. “You do not act as if you’re listening to your mom,” he said.

“Hey! I ignored her when she was alive too, she gets it,” Constance rolled her eyes playfully. “But the point is I know that we have to keep eating, and keep living… for them. Don’t we?”

“Yeah, we do,” Simon agreed.

He took a deep breath to get a hold of his emotions and raised his beer bottle to the center of the table, where Kate, Deena, and Sam joined him in a toast for the living. Constance joined in enthusiastically with a can of soda, but Josh didn’t move a muscle.

“Hey, do we have some more beer?” Josh asked a moment later. “I could really use one.”

“Uh, no. Not at fifteen you can’t,” Deena replied immediately. She tensed on her seat.

The teenage boy rolled his eyes and focused on the au pair across the table from him. “Miss Fraser, do you think I could have a beer?” He asked with a sharp, charming smile that looked just a little off on the edges.

“I… agree with your sister, Josh,” Sam replied carefully. She didn’t want to cross any boundaries, but she was also responsible for the teenagers.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve gone without a real drink?!”

“I remember my first beer,” Kate interrupted him, reminiscing with an easy smile on her face. “It was my first time babysitting Constance, and then Christine thought it would be a good idea to give me a beer.”

“My mom hated beer,” Sam said. “She used to say one sip could mean I’ll end up in hell.” Then she took a hearty sip, thinking of her mother and the thousand suffocating rules she’d pressed upon Sam’s shoulders her entire life.

“Well,” Deena smirked, “You did end up in Shadyside so…”

While most of them laughed, Josh’s face contorted into an expression of deep frustration and rage until he didn’t look like himself anymore. “Why the hell am I being controlled by a bunch of dykes?!” He slammed his hand on the table furiously.

But just as soon as the words left his mouth, Sam and Deena jumped out of their chairs. Deena was his sister, and maybe Sam was just the au pair, but while Deena was so angry that she couldn’t even get any words out, Sam got ahead of her.

“That language, and that attitude, and beyond unacceptable, Josh. You are going to your room right now. No discussion. Did you hear me?” Sam said, her voice firm, unwavering, and her stance perfectly commanding.

All eyes were on her, but she was staring straight at Josh. He didn’t budge, he was stronger than most teenagers Sam had ever worked with, but she was even stronger. She didn’t hesitate at all. She glanced quickly at Constance, and the girl, despite intensely rolling her eyes, stood up and walked toward Josh. She not-so-gently grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the chair. Slowly, and with Josh throwing threatening looks at Sam over his shoulder, they walked out of the kitchen. After excusing herself, Sam followed them. She didn’t look back to see the impressed looks her friends were exchanging, pleasantly surprised by that side of her.

“Hey, Sunnyvale,” Deena said as soon as she caught sight of Sam walking down the stairs of the manor to the foyer where she was waiting for her.

Sam reached the end of the stairs and noticed that Deena was wearing a jacket, and holding Sam’s own jacket in her hands. But when the au pair reached out to grab it, Deena pulled back.

“Ah, ah. Not yet,” Deena said. She was smiling, but there was a hint of worry in her eyes. “You only get warmth in exchange for information.” Her words made the au pair chuckle, and Deena instantly felt herself relax a little. “How did it go with my asshole brother?” She finally asked.

“Um, it was fine, I think,” Sam replied. “He… Well, I think he’s embarrassed. He probably regrets it a lot. He’s acting almost as if he doesn’t even remember what he said.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Deena frowned. She felt pretty embarrassed about the entire incident, and she was so not looking forward to having that conversation with Josh, who apparently had turned into some kind of monster in the place of her sweet younger brother. “I’m sorry about it.”

Sam shrugged and attempted a smile. “If it helps, I think he really listened when I explained that we all just want what’s best for him, and having that makes him luckier than most of us.”

The gardener nodded thoughtfully. “I agree with you there,” she said as she held open Sam’s jacket to help her put it on. Deena was careful, and her hands were confident, but at the same time, she barely touched Sam’s body as she helped her. The only thing she couldn’t help herself from doing was standing perhaps a little closer than necessary. Enough to feel her heart skip a beat when Sam’s blonde hair brushed her cheek, and the smell of some sweet-scented shampoo filled her senses. “But also, how depressing is that for us?” Deena said, stepping back from Sam. The au pair laughed and turned around to stare a Deena, who offered her a hand and said, “Come on, let’s go be depressing outside for a change.”

#helloo please support my attempt at sad spooky fic #fear street #sameena #sam x deena #sam fraser #deena johnson #deena x sam #fear street fanfiction #my fic

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kamilah-the-bloodqueen · 3 years

Text

Chapter I: The Detective

Notes: I have decided that I am going to rewrite my Mafia AU with (hopefully) better quality overall (plot, exposition, character development, angst, slowburn, etc). If not for the sake of better quality - then let’s just say it’s for my own entertainment and I’ll select a different name for this AU. I am still working on ‘Remember Me’ and ‘The Cafe’ which are also 2 AUs I have in the works in addition to the dozens of one-shots and fic requests I also am working on - this AU just came to my mind and it’s flowing really well so I’m writing it now. I’ll put the rest of my rambling in the tags.

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy Donovan)

Word Count: 2111 (Aiming for 4000+ words per chapter after this one)

Tags: @samanthadalton @cloud9in @shows-simp-card @alleycat97 @veenast @maskedalienfreak (If you’d like to be added/removed please let me know - also specify if you’d only like to be tagged for this series or all my work etc etc.)

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Language, Graphic Concepts, Death (Please be cautious - the theme is pretty dark and some of these chapters will be graphic so if you feel hesitant at all feel free to skip those chapters - I’ll try to make the story flow even if you do skip them :) )

“Stay with me, don’t leave me please god no please...Ashton...no…” Amy sobbed as she held her dying brother in her arms, his blood spilling onto her white blouse as she held his head close to her heart. She desperately placed a hand over the bullet wound in his chest as tears rolled down her face. Her heart broke with every small gasp that left his paled lips, she cupped his face in an urgent attempt to meet his eyes one last time as she said goodbye to her best friend. “Damn it...you...I love you..I love you okay? I’ve always loved you...god I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry…I...I’m going to avenge you...I swear I will..” She rocked back and forth with his corpse in her arms as the distant sound of police sirens grew nearer and nearer.

“Amy...promise...promise…” Ashton gasped as his body grew colder by the second as blood spurted from his mouth, “promise you’ll live your life for me…” His low voice faded into a whisper and then to silence as police cars pulled up to the heartbreaking scene. Several FBI agents stepped out of their vehicles, most of them moving around the site and keeping their distance from Amy, only one of them stepping towards her as she spoke in a soft whisper.

“I...I promise...Ashton…”

The soft footsteps of the agent stopped behind her as she let out a long shaky breath, her arms gently lowering her brother’s corpse onto the pavement.

“Marco...I...I have to avenge him.” Amy stood with confidence, her sadness replaced by a burning fury that was unparalleled to any anger she had ever felt in her life. Her bloody hands curled into tight fists as she reached for her gun, glocking it and placing it into her messy hidden holster.

“Amy...just...breathe...maybe it’s better for someone else to take this one. We don’t want you to get hurt or to make any rash decisions-” Marco placed his hands in the air as Amy furiously turned to him, her brown eyes burning right through him as she stepped towards him.

“My brother was just killed..no...brutally murdered by the Mafia and you’re telling me I can’t take the case so that I may avenge my brother? You think that I can’t handle this line of work Marco?” Amy’s voice was calm despite her posture, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she let her shoulders relax. “I can assure you, if anyone should take this case, it should be me. I’m young but I’m experienced - I come from a long line of FBI agents and you damn well know I can handle myself in a fight.”

“Well, it’s not my decision to make but I’m sure we can talk to Otto about it. He likes you and he knows you’re effective - I don’t doubt that he’ll let you handle this case...and that’s why I suggested for you not to take it but I suppose you’re also our best agent for the job…” Marco lowered his voice as Amy sighed with a soft chuckle, her soft eyes meeting his before she began walking towards the black jeep.

“Marco, if you thought I was a driven investigator when it’s not personal...you have no idea what I am capable of when it is personal…” Amy popped the jeep door open and started the engine as Marco frowned through the driver’s window. They exchanged a silent nod of agreement as Amy sped off towards their headquarters while Marco turned back to the bloody scene, letting out a soft whisper as he regained his composure.

“...that’s what I’m afraid of Donovan…”

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Amy parked the jeep in her executive parking space with a screech, as her heavy footsteps rang through the empty garage. She sighed to herself as she approached HQ, making sure her gun had its safety on and that she looked somewhat composed despite her blood stained clothes and obviously puffy eyes. She pushed the doors open as everyone turned to her, their faces stricken with shock and fear as she strided towards Otto’s office.

“Otto.” She threw the door open as a sturdy old man looked up from his disorganized desk, his gaze shifting from shock to empathetic as Amy leaned over with both her hands resting on the desk.

“Donovan I know what you’re going to ask and the case is yours.” Otto met her gaze as Amy let out a sigh of relief, letting her shoulders slump as she seated herself across from the man.

“Thank god, I thought I was going to have to threaten you or something. Do you have the files for me?”

“They’ve already been sent to your office, along with proper equipment, your team debriefing, and a generous amount of funding - so you better be the woman for the job.”

“Perfect, you’re always a step ahead of me when it comes to these types of things Otto.”

“That’s the only way we’d survive Amy. Now, onto more important matters, are you alright darlin? That...when Maria heard the gunshots and the screaming...and then the crying...we...we all knew what was happening. If you need a few days, or even a week or longer before you start...just let us know...no need to jump right to it if you need the time to grieve.” Otto leaned back in his leather chair, his hands gently placed over Amy’s as he scrunched his nose in an attempt to shift his glasses up.

“I appreciate it Otto, but if I’m going to be effective, it’s going to be best to start working now while the tracks are fresh. Can I get Mituso to run diagnostics on any fingerprints on that gun? I doubt we need an autopsy but I don’t mind letting Ashton’s body be studied for a few days before the funeral.”

“Alright Donovan, if you say you’re fine then I believe you. Yes I can get Mistuso to run an Autopsy, why don’t you head to your office to clean yourself up and then debrief. If we get any information we’ll email it to you and let you know, meanwhile if you come to any conclusions on your own about the case, well, you know how to handle it.”

“I’ll see myself out then, thank you Otto.”

Amy softly shut his office door before striding to the elevators and hitting the ‘up’ button. A tall man approached her from behind and placed a firm hand on her shoulders as the elevator dinged upon arrival. She slowly stepped through the doors, her hand hitting the button for the eighth floor as she rested her head on the wall. Once the elevator doors opened she made her way towards her private bathroom, allowing herself to undress and change into a similar outfit, except the blouse, pants, shoes and everything else was black. She sized herself up in the mirror, satisfied in her appearance before she made her way towards her office. The doors opened after she scanned her photo ID and tears rolled down her face as she met the eyes of the man slumped at her desk.

“Jackson...I…” Amy hurried to hug him, knowing it was as hard on him as it was on her.

“Ames...did...did he suffer? Tell me he didn’t suffer…” Jackson’s eyes dripped with tears as Amy held him close.

“I...if he did...I...just don’t think about it Jackson…”

“I loved him. We were all like family, I...god Amy I was going to propose to him and now I’ll never get the chance…”

“Jackson...I’m...I...I’m sorry…”

Tears streamed down their faces as they stood there together, the sound of their sniffles and sobs filling the office before they pulled apart.

“Otto doesn’t usually let someone from my department work in cases like this but...he let me petition and I’m in your squad.”

“Jackson...can...okay…”

“I can handle it Amy. If you’re allowed to work on this case...then I think I should be able to work on it too.”

“Fair point. We need to start now though, despite our grief we’re going to get the best leads while it’s fresh. I want these bastards to pay for what they did with blood.” Amy slammed her fist into the table as Jackson slid her a hefty stack of beige files.

“I assume these are the leads we have right now?”

“Yes, although there’s not as many as there appears to be. We know who killed him, and we know who he works for but the issue is...well...I’ll let you have a look for yourself. I’m going to go talk to Otto about upgrading my rifles, I’m going to need more than a sniper rifle for this case.”

“Alright, call me if you need me later Jackson. I’ll be here all night looking over all of this.”

“Yeah. See you Amy.”

“Jackson?”

“Stay safe out there okay? You’re the last person I’ve got now…”

“You too Amy, I’ll rendezvous with you tomorrow.”

The door clicked shut as Amy rested her head in her hands. She winced softly as all of her physical injuries caught up to her, her legs growing sore from all the chasing, her arms sore from the hand to hand combat, the cuts and bruises on her torso and head finally coming to light as she felt a wave of exhaustion overtake her.

“There ain’t no rest for the wicked.” Amy mumbled to herself as she pulled out her coffee maker and brewed herself a generous portion of coffee. As she finished pouring the coffee, she caught sight of the frame resting on her desk - with a photo of her with her family at the beach. She shortly found herself breaking down after, as she held the frame in her chest, her whole body shaking with anger, sadness, fear and shock as she reminisced on when her family wasn’t all dead. “I...how can I do this…? No...I have to do this...or I have to die trying…”

Amy shakily brought herself to her feet, gently placing the photo back onto her desk as she sipped on her coffee and began scanning the files. There was no question about the assailant, or his employer - it was the level of difficulty that was the issue. Killing a lower level hitman in the mafia was no fuss for the FBI - those targets were messy and unimportant to the mafia, so there was no major backfire after those eliminations. Amy opened the four files that laid on her desk, taking in the four faces that rested within each.

Antonio Santiago

Marksman - Hitman (Level 8)

Description: Male; Strong build with broad shoulders; Brown hair - usually shaggy or slicked back; Right handed; Tends to dress in black and white with a leather jacket; Light Brown eyes

Age: 26

Height: 5’11

Warnings: Typically carries two handguns, a concealed knife, peppery spray, taser and has assault rifles hidden within his vehicles

Total Assassinations: 27

Amy picked up his photo, taking in the face of her brother’s murderer - his description was pretty generic but after taking in the photo Amy knew she’d be able to recognize his nose on the spot.

“It’s crooked, oooh when I get my hands on you Antonio - I’m going to punch you in the nose so fucking hard it’ll be straight. I’ll make sure of it.” Amy calmed herself down, knowing she’d lose her leads if she lost control and didn’t plan accordingly. She closed his file and pushed it aside as she reached for the other person file, waiting to read over the two previous incident cases later.

Kamilah Sayeed

Primary Mafia Arms Dealer and Top Assassin

Description: Female; Lean and Muscular build; Medium length brown hair - either in a ponytail or worn down; Brown eyes; Ambidextrous; Tends to dress in a black or maroon suit with heels

Age: 30

Height: 6’0

Warnings: Carries two concealed handguns at all times; Usually accompanied by two or more discrete bodyguards; UNSAFE TO ENGAGE ALONE; Very skilled in hand to hand combat; Seductive and Flirtatious; Ruthless and Merciless

Total Assassinations: 288

Amy gazed at the woman’s image, captivated by the depth of her eyes as she narrowed her sight. The woman was beautiful, but deadly and Amy knew that.

“It’s always the pretty ones that are psycho…” Amy laughed lightly as she folded the file and collapsed into her chair. She closed her eyes and rested her hands on her desk as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

#kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #kamilah the bloodqueen post #okay so heres the thing is that I really wanted to be able to improve this series #and im not writing it because i dont like the original version #i just think seeing the changes i make is cool as well as how i have changed as a writer #plus this fic had my creative juices flowing #and when i write one fic it usually means my other inspo follows behind #because ill get an idea for a chapter that doesnt fit in the current series so i shift to another #and they all kind of feed into each other which is nice #but if this fic flops then I NEVER POSTED IT AND IT NEVER EXISTED #i swear i dont count notes but it can def hurt my confidence #but tbh its also tumblr and i dont care that much #if that makes any sense #but yes reblogs are appreciated and so are likes and comments make my heart happy #like please give me feedback #what did you like #what didnt you like #what do you want to see #what do you want to see less of #what do you think will happen #i love that shit okay so dont ever feel like im not reading them #also i apologize for such a long wait on my series and fics #i like the inspo to come naturally so it flows better #and i feel like those spontaneous fics do better and are written better than the ones i force myself to write #i do plan to finish all of them #anyways i am also sorry for such a long tag #my god i like to talk a lot #im also thinking of rewriting BB smut and fluff scenes #also gonna rewrite FA with my spins and shit if i can

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Buffet Froid

1x10

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, mental health problems

Author’s Note: The art of making it look like i like hannibal when he annoyed the fuck out of me this episode. Also it is so hard to write this cause my HEART i just wanna hug will UGH

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar. Those sentences are not mine.

Official Episode Summary : Two victims' faces are similarly mutilated. For the first time, Will contaminates a crime scene thinking he committed the first murder and an MRI shows he suffers from Advanced Encephalitis.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll

(not my gif)

You sat in the car. You were outside of a crime scene, the house looking ominous as it loomed over what had happened inside. There were so many people outside, taking pictures and talking. Will was inside. You had driven him, per his request. You usually didn’t come to the crime scenes but they had been acting off, like he was almost on autopilot when he asked you to take him. Your fingers drummed on the steering wheel as you stared out, trying to catch glimpses of people you knew.

You saw Bev walk out quickly making her way to the car. You rolled down the window and she shook her head a bit as she walked up.

“You should go talk to Will,” she said.

“What happened?” Bev looked back at the house, at Jack who had just exited the house. You looked at her, the worried look on her face evident.

“He contaminated the crime scene. He’s never done that before,” Beverly said. “His hands were around her throat.”

You were surprised to hear that, rightly so. You unlocked the car and got out, walking across the yard beside Beverly who was quick to give anyone a look that even thought about protesting to your presence. Will had come out when you weren’t looking. He was talking to Jack.

“I got lost in the reconstruction. Just for a second. Just a blink,” Will was saying as you walked up to him. Jack barley took notice of your presence but Will looked at you, surprised to see you there by his eyes. He didn’t protest it though. You knew before he could tell you. He had lost some time.

“I know you don’t like to be a subject of concern, but consider me officially concerned,” Jack said. You scoffed and Jack glanced at you but didn’t show any emotion.

“Officially,” Will said.

“About time,” you muttered.

“Wait in the car,” Jack said to you. You raised your hands in defiance.

“I’m here on a warning from Beverly,” you said, glancing at Will. He shook his head.

“I’ll be there soon,” he muttered. You nodded and he reached out to grab your hand and for a second he held it, quietly, looking confused and worried and scared. Your hand slipped from his and you walked over to the car.

“Thought the reason you have me seeing Dr. Lecter and not an FBI psychiatrist is so my mental well-being stays unofficial,” Will muttered, watching you go.

“Have I broken you?” Jack asked. “Is your girlfriend right this time?”

“Do you have anybody that does this better unbroken then I do broken?” Will asked. “And she’s always right.”

“Fear makes you rude, Will,” Jack said as Will walked to the car. His hands shook. He always seemed to be shaking. He stooped at the drivers window and you looked at him, elbow resting on the open window and your hand propped up by your palm.

“We should go to Hannibal after this,” you muttered.

“Why are you here?” he asked. It wasn’t rude. He was only asking.

“You asked me to drive you.” He nodded, glancing back at the house. “I have to look at the body again.” A beat of silence.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Gutting a fish,” he whispered. You nodded. He had gone fishing yesterday though.

“We’ll go to Hannibal’s together.”

“Sit in,” he whispered, referring to the session.

“I will.” He nodded and walked back to the house. You fought the tears threatening to fall from seeing him in so much confusion.

“I can’t remember seeing her dead body before I saw myself killing her,” Will said. He glanced at you sheepishly. You sat on Hannibal’s desk which was your resident spot when you sat into sessions. You didn’t do it often and you only did it with Will’s request or permission. He wanted a witness today, to whatever it is that Hannibal had prepared for him.

“Those memories sank out of sight, yet you’re aware of their absence,” Hannibal inquired. Will was pacing around the room, his mind on fire.

“They left a slick on the surface of my mind where they’re supposed to be,” he said.

“Where you hope they’re supposed to be, but fear they never were.” Will looked haunted. The false memories made him reel. The dying human under his hands had felt so real.

“There’s a grandiosity in the violence I imagined that feels more real than what I knew is true,” he said.

“What do you know to be true?” Hannibal asked.

“I know I didn’t kill her. Couldn’t have. But I remember cutting into her. I remember watching her die.”

“You must overcome these delusions that are disguising your reality. What savage delusions does this killer have?” Hannibal questioned. He was walking around the room as well, but in smaller spaces.

“It wasn’t savage. It was lonely...desperate...sad,” Will said, his eyes glossed over.

“Are you lonely Will?” Hannibal asked. Will shook his head then paused. Your heart sank and you hung off his answer.

“No. That was the killer,” he said. “But I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked through me, past me. Like I was a stranger,” he whispered.

“What could this be? It has to be something that we can treat,” you said. Will looked at you and nodded.

“It could be a blood clot. Or a tumor. Just an answer is better than anything,” Will said. Hannibal glanced at you and Will as you stared at each other, nodding in agreement. Your emotions hung off Will’s. It didn’t matter if you were an empath or not. You knew Will well enough to know when enough was enough.

“I can recommend a neurologist. But if it isn’t physiological then you have to accept what you’re struggling with is mental illness,” Hannibal said.

“It isn’t,” you whispered.

Hannibal looked only at you as you seemed to bore holes into the ceiling now. You had a dangerous knowledge of Will Graham. Hannibal thought that might be a problem.

You were with Hannibal and Will into the medical office. You held Will’s hand and he held yours like a lifeline. You sat at chairs beside each other that happened to be far enough away where his hand slipped out of yours. He held them now in his lap, fingers fidgeting.

“What did the headaches start? In earnest?” Dr. Sutcliffe asked. Will glanced at you.

“Two to three months ago,” Will said and you nodded in agreement.

“About the time Will went back into the field,” you said.

“When I met him,” Hannibal added.

“The hallucinations?” Sutcliffe asked.

“I don’t know exactly when they started. I just slowly became aware that I might not be dreaming.”

Hannibal walked with Sutcliffe behind a large piece of glass. You stayed with Will for a few minutes, taking his clothes in his hand as he put on the hospital dress. He let out a small sigh as you looked at him.

“What if nothing comes up?” he asked.

“We’ll deal with that when it comes.”

Will looked at you and you looked at him. He was ready to go but he waited. Eyes glancing around your body wildey.

“If nothing comes up than I am, by definition, likely insane,” he told you quietly. “And if-”

“I’m not going to go anywhere,” you said. Will looked broken. He looked tired. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips, kissing the back of it. “I love you.”

His breath seemed to relax. He knew you but he wasn’t sure that when he woke up you would be gone. He might be seriously ill but knowing you were there still made him feel better.

“I love you too.” You kissed him and he kissed you back desperately.

“Go get your brain scanned now. You have lipstick on your lips,” you said as you pulled away. He laughed very subtly adn shrugged, wiping it off with his hand.

“I don’t think it’ll mess up the results.”

“You never know.”

You stood beside Will again before the doctor. He pointed to the brain scan.

“We didn’t find anything abnormal. No vascular malformations, no tumors. No swelling or bleeding. No evidence of stroke. Nothing wrong with you neurologically,” the doctor said. Will’s face was clearly troubled. “Usually when I tell a patient that, they’re happy to hear it.”

“So... what I’m experiencing is psychological?” Will asked.

“Brain scans can’t diagnose a mental disorder. They can only rule out medical illnesses, like a tumor, that can cause similar symptoms.”

“And there’s no chance you’ve mixed up the photos? Or maybe the machine was malfunctioning? I hear that happens,” you said stiffly.

“Y/N,” Will muttered but you shook your head.

“We can do more tests if it’ll make you feel better. Take some blood samples, but I imagine they'll be just as inconclusive.”

For some reason you doubted the truth in that but you didn’t voice it.

You walked into Jack Crawford's office. He took off his glasses and looked up at you, clearly not excited to see you.

“Does Will need something?” Jack asked.

“Stability. A new brain perhaps,” you said. Jack looked you up and down and he knew that you meant business.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice monotone.

“Will’s always been a bit odd. Always. It was what drew me to him in the first place,” you said.

“Listen-”

“Shut up.” He shut up. “When Will went back into the field it was because you wanted him to. Will wants to please people. He wants to save lives. He wants to use his gift for good but for each life he saves a little piece of him is burned and singed. You broke Will Jack Crawford and I won’t let you forget it,” you said evenly, looking down at him.

“Do you have a life outside of Will Graham?”

“I did before you broke him and now I have to advocate where he cannot.”

“We were never going to be friends,” Jack said.

“No, no we weren’t.”

Come midnight when Will hadn’t arrived home you woke up. You were getting a suspicious amount of sleep. You had gone to bed, assuming he would be back soon after you fell asleep. Jack sometimes had him out late hours and he was likely to be back. But when you woke up and he was still gone you started to panic a bit.

You calmed yourself, trying to reason that he was maybe still at work. You called his cell. No answer.

You got up out of bed and put on some clothes. With him sleepwalking, losing time, he could be anywhere. You told yourself to add a tracker to his phone.

You got into the car and drove the streets for a few minutes. He wasn’t there. You then drove to Hannibal’s which was the only other place your mind could come up with. You knocked on the door at about 12:30, shaking from the cold and worry. It took Hannibal a moment to come to the door but he eventually did, wearing his robe and rubbing his eyes.

“I thought you were Will,” he admitted.

“Will hasn’t come home yet. He won’t pick up the phone but I’m guessing he’s not here,” you said, looking past him.

“Have you tried the crime scene?” he questioned. You shook your head but that must be where he was. It had to be.

“No but I’ll go there now. I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Don’t apologize.” He was about to shut the door when you turned around but he stopped. “He’ll be there. I’m sure your expertise in finding strays will help,” Hannibal said simply. You nodded and walked back to the car.

On your way there you got a call from Will.

“Where the f-”

“I just sent you the address. Come quickly.” He hung up and you did as you were told, driving faster to the destination you were already going to. You were there in under ten minutes from where you had been on your drive and you got out, walking quickly up to Will.

“I thought you were dead!” you yelled, throwing your arms around him. He shook his head but let you hold him.

“Not yet,” he muttered. “I called Beverly to help me figure out the crime scene,” he said.

“Then why did you tell me to come?”

“Emotional support.” You nodded and held him tighter.

You woke up with a start. Will was thrashing beside you and you put your arm on his side instinctively. You couldn’t tell what had woken you up. It could be anything. The weather, your dreams but you felt like it was something out. You looked around for any disturbances. The dogs were still sleeping but you got up and looked around, trying to find what had woken you.

You walked through the kitchen and the downstairs but you couldn’t find anything. When you were back in the bedroom Will was awake, standing up.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

“Something woke me up. I was trying to figure out what.” You walked back over to him and back into bed.

“Probably wind,” he muttered. You put your arms around him as he got back in too and he put his head on your chest. You kissed his curls.

“Probably,” you whispered.

Will went in for more tests a few days later. He looked up at you as you stood in the same spots you had, with you holding his clothes as he stripped them.

“Jack talked to me,” he said.

“Proceed with caution,” you whispered and he chuckled.

“He thinks I stayed in the job because of the stability. That Jack created stability for me, a foundation.”

“If he keeps going on like that you’re going to be investigating his murder,” you muttered bitterly. “Would you still date me if I murdered someone?” He shrugged.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. I mean, I’d have to consider it.”

“Wrong answer Graham,” you said laughing lightly. He loved these moments. Moments where it was just laughing, joking.

“I would date you if you killed someone. I mean I might have to turn you in but prison can’t be that hard on a relationship,” he said. You nodded.

“Right back at you bubba,” you whispered.

“I have killed someone.”

“And look at you, still a free man.”

After the tests Will walked around, trying to find you or the doctor or someone. You were waiting for him and you walked up with his clothes in hand.

“Have you seen Sutcliffe?” Will asked. You shook your head.

“Not since earlier,” you admitted. “Let’s go find him.” You held his clothes in hand as you walked through the hospital. You peaked in rooms and eventually found Sutcliffes office. You pushed open the door as it was ajar.

You gasped and Will grabbed you and put himself between you and the body, bleeding from a chunk that had been taken out of his face.

“Don’t look,” he whispered.

“I can,” you muttered. “Call Bev.”

The FBI came soon after. Beverly gave Will a look over, Jack concerned he might have had something to do with the murdedr.

“He was with me until he went in. And I would have seen him leave,” you promised. Bev nodded.

“You’re clean. You couldn’t have done this without getting something on you and there’s nothing on you,” Beverly said.

“I don’t feel clean,” Will whispered.

“Murder weapon has the same diseased or damaged tissue on it that we found at Beth LeBeau’s house,” Jimmy explained aloud.

“What connection does this guy have to the first victim?” Will let out a sigh.

“Just me.”

Will woke up and you were already sitting up. He followed your gaze that was at where one of the dogs growled at something under the bed. He grabbed your hand and shook his head.

‘Stay,’ he whispered. You shook your head vigorously and he nodded, getting off the bed and looking underneath. He slid underneath and you leaned your head over the bed, heart pounding in your ears.

“I see you, Georgia,” Will said under the bed. You couldn't see his face. There was a woman under your bed. “Think of who you are. It’s midnight. You’re in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Your name is Georgia Madchen. You are not alone.”

“Am I alive…?” came a voice, a raspy whisper. Will nodded.

You stood with Will in the hospital room, looking down at the living body of the woman who had slept under your bed. You held Will’s hand as he glanced over her.

“She’ll recover,” Will said.

“Hopefully she’ll stay out of our bed,” you whispered.

1x11

#will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal imagines #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter

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winchesterandpie · 4 years

Text

Just as Brave (Diego Hargreeves x reader)

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x reader

Word Count: 1433

Warnings: some angst, some insecurity, mostly hurt/comfort fluff

A/N: Y’all expressed some interest in me writing this, which is good because literally I have been vibrating with the energy of my obsession with 1 (one) precious stabby boi aka Diego Hargreeves since I binged the series. It took me one day to get through season 1, and I was hooked from the start. So it’s safe to say that this was inevitable. There’s probably gonna be another one soon, lol.

But anyways, here’s just some fluff for him. Reader has a nightmare, which triggers some underlying insecurities, and who’s there to fix it but Diego! Yay! As usual, I try my best to keep the reader gender neutral, please let me know if I slipped up anywhere! Gif is not mine! Hope you enjoy!

It was late when Diego stumbled through the door, one hand clutching his side. The noise of the door startled you awake, your grogginess vanishing as you saw how much blood he was losing. You leapt up and hurried to help him to the bathroom, tugging his arm over your shoulders to keep him upright.

“Diego, what the hell happened out there?”

“I’m alright.” He could barely get the words out, which didn’t assure you.

Still, you ignored the growing pit of dread in your stomach to help him sit on the edge of the bathtub. Your hands shook as you pulled the first aid kit from under the sink, though you tried to keep them steady. A thud sounded behind you, and you whirled around to find Diego collapsed into the tub.

“Diego? Diego, sweetheart, you’ve gotta hang on.” As carefully as you could, you lifted him to a sitting position to pull up his sweater so you could find the source of the blood. It was a nasty-looking gash, worse than you had seen on him in all the late nights of his patrolling. The blood was still coming too quickly, and you knew you would have to stitch the cut to have any chance at saving him. But the needle wouldn’t thread.

Your eyes were blurring as you tried again, but you just couldn’t seem to get the thread to cooperate, eventually abandoning it to check for a pulse, only to find it weak and fading quickly. Even if you could manage to stitch him up, he needed much more than you could do for him here more quickly than you could get it for him.

“Diego? Diego! No, no, no, no, no, no, please no!”

“Hey.”

“Diego!” you spoke urgently, desperately, no longer able to keep your tears from falling.

“Hey!”

You woke with a start, finding the very same dark-haired man leaning over you with concern in his eyes. He had clearly just gotten home and hadn’t even taken off his harness full of knives. You breathed out his name in relief and suddenly his arms were around you, pulling you to sit in his lap.

“Hey, you’re alright now. It’s ok, I’ve got you.” He mumbled quiet reassurances into your hair. You trembled in his careful grip, the memory of your nightmare still too vivid to stop crying into his chest. Diego held you for a long time as you calmed down slowly. “What happened, baby?”

“I… you… you were…” You took a breath to steady yourself, closing your eyes until you felt his hand on your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his soft gaze. “You came home and you were hurt. It was… It was really bad, Diego. I couldn’t even thread the damn needle and you--” You couldn’t finish the sentence, shaking your head as you ducked down to hide in his chest again. You had always had trouble stitching him up, barely able to stand the little noises of pain he made, though he tried to suppress them.

“It was just a nightmare, ok? I’m alright. I’m ri-- I’m right here.” His hand splayed across your back, pressing into you as though trying to provide additional reassurance.

“But what if you weren’t? What if you got hurt and I couldn’t do what you needed? Couldn’t be who you needed?”

He said your name softly, but you could hear the confusion in his voice. “What do you mean?”

“You’re so brave and brilliant and sweet and funny, and I…” The rest of your words fell from your lips so softly you weren’t even sure he could hear them, especially since they were muffled by his sweater. “I’m just me. Sweetheart, you do so much for everyone else, you deserve someone who could at least patch you up without panicking.”

“Woah, hey, look at me.” His hands slid up to your shoulders to hold you where he could look you in the eye, then came up to cradle your cheeks. “I’ve been doing this stuff all my life--I don’t even notice a lot of it anymore. You’re afraid of hurting me more, afraid you’ll get it wrong, but you push past that every time. Baby, you’re just as brave as I am... probably more. ” His forehead rested against yours as calloused thumbs gently brushed away your tears as you let your eyes drift shut.

“But what if you get hurt and I don’t know what to do?”

“That’s not gonna happen--I know what I’m doing.” He nudged your nose lightly, grinning cheekily when he got a watery chuckle from you. “I wouldn’t do that to you, ok?”

You hummed an agreement, nodding slightly against him.

“And you’re not just anything, alright? You’ve seen all of me and you haven’t run away.” You opened your eyes, intending to protest, but he continued before you could open your mouth. “You are so incredible, and I should tell you that more often. You know I’m not good with words, but there’s no one I trust more than you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”

His dark eyes held your gaze, and you couldn’t see anything but softness and care in their depths. You would have been happy to get lost in them, but then you remembered that he’d been out patrolling before you woke.

“Wait, Diego, you just got back. Are you hurt?” you asked, pulling back so you could scan his form. He watched you for a minute as you ran your hands up his arms and down his sides with your brow furrowed, but then he stopped you, carefully grasping your elbows to make sure you were listening.

“Just a few bruises. I promise I’m ok.” He relented enough to let you help him take off his knives. When you went to pull up his sweater to make sure he wasn’t more seriously injured, he stopped you, mumbling your name before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Let me help. Please?” You reached out toward him, waiting for Diego to let you treat him.

“You just had a nightmare, let me take care of you.”

“This’ll help me. Promise. I just wanna be sure you’re alright.”

The dark-haired vigilante yielded then, allowing you to tug the turtleneck up and over his head. He was right--only a few bruises blossomed darkly on his skin, most of which were scattered on his arms. You did what you usually did for his bruises, pressing a feather-light kiss to each of them. There wasn’t much else you could do. When you were finished, you let him pull you back into his lap, the new position allowing you to kiss along his jaw, across his cheeks, on the tip of his nose, taking your time as you traced his features with your lips. He reciprocated easily, his lips falling wherever they could reach as you moved unhurriedly. One of your hands slid into his soft hair, threading through the short strands.

“Are you ever… gonna… kiss me… properly?” he asked between slow presses of his lips.

“Mmmmm, you’d like that, huh?” You pulled back a bit, nudging against his nose.

His grin turned soft as his palm came to rest on the side of your neck, his thumb stroking along your jaw. Lazily, Diego leaned toward you, pressing his lips against your own. The kiss was slow and sweet, both of you relaxing into each other. The last of your doubts and worries slipped away, reassured by his gentle embrace, by the soft side he saved only for you. Your hands found their way to his cheeks, holding him there as you tried to offer him the same affection he offered you.

You parted too soon for your taste, though neither of you went far, still breathing the same air. If you were honest with yourself, you were starting to fall back asleep in his arms, finally at ease. He rubbed his thumb across your jaw a final time before moving his hand to squeeze one of yours briefly. Tiredly, he flopped back on the bed, tugging you down to lay on his chest.

“Sleep now, I’ve got you.”

“I love you.” You turned your head more into him so you could press a kiss to his chest, though the need for sleep was quickly catching up to you.

“Love you too.” The words were mumbled into your hair, followed by a kiss, and they were the last thing you heard as you drifted off.

Thanks for reading!!

Permanent Tag List:

@riddikulus-obsessions @javapeach @mercedesbarnes @addictionmarvel @peppermint--teas @legolaslovely

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist (I’m also willing to do character/fandom-specific tags!)

#Diego x reader #Diego Hargreeves x reader #diego x you #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves #the umbrella academy #tua #reader insert #hurt/comfort #literally I am obsessed with diego #it's a problem #i definitely have a type

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starsinmylatte · 3 years

Text

A Song Among the Stars Ch 3

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature/Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings/tags:

Slow Burn

Slow Romance

Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (never by Thrawn)

Sexual Tension

Mix of Legends and Canon

Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo is protective of his muse

Ballroom Dancing

Imperial Officers (Star Wars)

Angst and Romance

Canon-Typical Violence

Masquerade

Imperial style

Phantom of the Opera AU if you squint

Thrawn finds his muse

Summary: Lyra's life was turned upside down the day the Empire took her. Once a renowned singer and performer on the Outer Rim, she is now little more than a songbird trapped in a gilded cage. Forced to perform and used as Imperial propaganda for years, she grew to despise her life until one fateful night and a chance encounter with a certain Grand Admiral.

Author's note: Hi everyone! Please let me know if you enjoy chapter 3 of A Song Among the Stars. I'll have a masterlist soon with all of the chapter links, but here's the link for the first 2 chapters on Tumblr and AO3 here. Tumblr likes to hide my writing, so please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it!

A big thank you to @pala-din-djarin for formatting advice!! 💙💙

AO3 link here for chapter 3 if you'd prefer!

Song Suggestions At the beginning: Thrawn - AtinPiano The dance: Masquerade Ballet Suite: 1. Waltz - Aram Khachaturian

“I am Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Seventh Fleet. I trust you will have no further issues with me asking you to leave.”

The edge in the Grand Admiral’s voice glittered with dark promise, and a tense silence fell. Even in my current state, I could tell that he was definitely not asking; his statement was little more than a scarcely veiled command. Bost stood incredibly still as the oppressive atmosphere continued. I could tell he was carefully considering his options, but there couldn’t have been many, as Thrawn’s commanding body language clearly showed he had no intention of backing down.

Suddenly, the sound of frantic footsteps broke the silence. All my muscles involuntarily tensed as my instincts screamed danger. Three more shadowy figures came running around the corner of the maze behind Bost. Fearing the absolute worst, I physically and mentally prepared to defend myself again. I dropped my weight evenly between my legs and shifted into what I assumed was a passable fighting stance. Apparently, the change in my posture did not escape my new friend even though I was still completely behind him.

“There will be no need for that,” Thrawn’s voice had returned to its original soft, dulcet tone, “excellent timing, Commander Vanto.”

How did he recognize him? It’s kriffing pitch-black out here!

I quickly decided it was a question for another time and relaxed ever-so-slightly as Thrawn acknowledged the newcomers. If he knew them, considering the present situation, it was currently good enough for me. Thrawn gestured back towards me and spoke again in an infuriatingly calm tone for the situation, “Please escort her back towards the ballroom. I will join you momentarily; the Commodore and I have something to discuss.”

I had no idea what Thrawn needed to discuss with Bost, but anything was better than me being chased down.

The three shadowy figures stepped into a patch of starlight. Any relief I felt earlier was amplified tenfold because Dreycolt and Arkmad were instantly recognizable. They stood slightly behind the third man, who I assumed was Vanto. All three of them looked ready for a fight, and their facial expressions flickered between worry and relief. Vanto gave Thrawn a curt nod before pushing past Bost and offering me his hand.

I don’t know him, but I don’t have much of a choice here, and there’s not really any time to think…. I have to trust my instincts.

Tentatively, I reached out and placed my hand in his; he gave it a reassuring squeeze. Vanto’s hands were noticeably calloused, which gave me another sensation to focus on. However, even with those feelings grounding me to reality, my frazzled emotions swooped in like carrion birds as the adrenaline started to wear off. Intrusive thoughts started to slip through every mental wall I had in place as he led me away from the maze and back through the garden.

Stars, what do they even think about this situation… How is this going to be handled? Is the Empire going to somehow blame me for causing a scene? Am I going to be the one punished??

Before I realized it, we had walked about half of the way back to the ballroom. Vanto led me to a nearby bench; I gratefully sat down and stared back in the direction of the ballroom. The flickering lights, laughter, and faint music indicated that the party was still in full swing and would be for some time. There was zero chance of me leaving early because the second part of my job tonight hadn’t even started.

Vanto took a seat on the bench directly across from mine, and I didn’t even have time to open my mouth before words came tumbling out of his, “Are you alright?”

I immediately recognized the accent, and it momentarily drew me out of my melancholy state. “Commander Vanto, you’re from the Outer Rim too,” I noted with as much of a smile as I could manage.

He returned the smile, but his deep brown eyes and creased eyebrows still showed unease, “Yes, I’m from Lysatra, but please call me Eli.”

It was obvious that Eli wanted to discuss the incident, but it was so very rare to meet another person from a world near mine on Coruscant that I actually felt slightly relieved. It was like having a small piece of home nearby.

Another pleasant change was that the starlight shone bright enough for me to fully see in this area of the garden. Eli’s tanned face seemed kind, even though half of it was hidden by a black mask, and his dark hair and eyes were a welcome contrast to Bost’s icy complexion. Maybe it’s a sign that everything will be ok.

I could tell that Eli was trying to find the right words to continue, but he only managed to gesture around like he was trying to pull them out of the air. That alone told me all I needed to know; he had a rather good idea of what Bost tried to do.

Deep breaths, I reminded myself as I nodded with all of the confidence I could muster. You must be strong. “It’s happened before. I didn’t have anyone to rescue me, but I survived then, and I will survive now.” I was reminding myself just as much as I was informing Eli.

His face paled. “This isn’t the first time?” He trailed off before nervously running his fingers through his dark hair. I heard him muttering something under his breath that sounded like a long string of swearing in another language.

Any chance of further conversation was stopped by the sound of footsteps and the arrival of Dreycolt. He was out of breath from running through the garden, but he still managed to get the words out, “I cannot apologize enough for what happened. We tried to get help, but….”

The apology is nice but pointless.

I raised a hand to cut him off. “I’m assuming you don’t know Bost like I do. That conniving bastard would have found a way to dispose of you both so he could get me alone. However, you getting help likely saved me; the Grand Admiral arrived at a very timely moment.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but a pointed look from Eli cut him off. I raised an eyebrow at the two men.

Eli rushed to speak first. “I was the contact if there was trouble, but we weren’t expecting anything like this.

Something doesn’t quite add up here…..

At that point, I noticed both Dreycolt and Eli had the same insignia on the shoulder of their uniform: an extremely stylized black tribal design with three heads. It was emblazoned on a grey circle, and the whole thing was ringed in red. They had to be from the same fleet, and if Thrawn knew them immediately….

Suddenly, everything clicked into place as I locked eyes with Eli. “You’re all from the Seventh Fleet, and Grand Admiral Thrawn is your commanding officer.”

“Quite perceptive.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden reappearance of Thrawn’s smooth voice behind me. Unlike with Dreycolt, there had been no footsteps or any other warning of his arrival.

Kriffing hell, why is this man so silent? He may have helped me, but that doesn’t give him the right to scare me out of my mind a few minutes later.

Concern flashed across Eli’s face as he wordlessly reached out to make sure I wasn’t too rattled by the shock. I took a deep breath and nodded slightly in reassurance. My thoughts raced through my previous mantras. You are fine. You are safe now. Eli shot an annoyed look at the man behind me as I composed myself and turned to face Thrawn so I could properly thank him.

It was still dark but I immediately realized that he was tall. Very tall. Even though I was looking up, my small stature combined with my seated position meant my gaze fell on his broad shoulders. I instantly noticed the crisp, white hue of his close-fitting dress uniform and the shining rank bar he wore confirmed his earlier claim. He was absolutely a Grand Admiral.

He smoothly stepped backward and acknowledged me, “My apologies, it was not my intent to frighten you.”

Any words coming out of my mouth died at the tip of my tongue as I finally saw Grand Admiral Thrawn fully illuminated in a patch of shifting starlight. All thoughts of this rank or thanking him abruptly left my mind as one thing became abundantly clear: he was not human.

Where the neck of his pristine uniform ended, his skin was blue. Not merely tinted with blue, but it was truly the beautiful color of a deep pool of water that had frosted over in winter. My gaze continued its path upwards and traveled to his face, which was partially obscured by an ornate mask resting atop high, regal cheekbones and an aquiline nose. From beneath the mask, his ruby eyes seemed to burn into mine like red-hot coals.

Trying desperately not to make a fool out of myself, I did my best to snap out of the shock. Grand Admiral Thrawn was the only non-human Imperial of any significant rank I had ever met, and I severely doubted any others existed. Every Imperial gathering I attended before this one had been filled with countless human guests, but I had only ever seen non-humans used as servers or entertainers. Talle, Kaia, and Ahni had never served a non-human Imperial, but almost all of the other handmaidens were non-humans taken from their worlds.

Why is he working for the Empire in this high of a position?

I fervently hoped the dim lighting hid any sign of my surprise. After all, no matter the reason why, this man was still a Grand Admiral. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t request some kind of a favor in return for saving me earlier. I knew enough legends about the types of favors high-ranking Imperials often pulled or traded, and I was already way more indebted to Thrawn than I was comfortable with. His appearance may have surprised me, but I refused to let my lack of knowledge show. I fully realized that lack of knowledge was a weapon the Empire had firmly pressed against my throat, and it was marking me as prey like blood in the water.

I took a deep breath, straightened my posture, and mentally berated myself. This was all my fault. I had gotten too complacent and comfortable with the Imperials. I had no idea Bost was even here, but I let down my guard and accidentally gave him an opportunity. Dreycolt, Arkmad, Eli, and now Thrawn…… There was absolutely no guarantee that I could trust any of them.

Think, Ly, you have to think. These people prey on the weak, so you have to seem strong, at least for now. At the very least, use caution. Just get through this night.

It was like flipping a switch mentally; all of my walls flew back up, and my emotions dulled until everything was just numb. The sparkling, faultless personality I used in Imperial society clicked back into place. I inclined my head respectfully and addressed Thrawn, “Grand Admiral, I cannot thank you enough for your help tonight; your quick response to the situation likely saved me.”

“There is no need,” his voice was still impossibly soft as he regarded me. I lifted my head and met his eyes for the second time; the heat of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. “From the state of his hand, I would say you were defending yourself admirably.”

My face flushed, “Still, I do not know what would have come of the encounter. If it came to a case of my word versus his, especially since I injured an Imperial officer, I doubt anyone would take my side.”

As a “guest” of the Empire, I had everything to lose based on my reputation. If I angered the wrong person or fell from social favor, I would no longer be useful as propaganda……. The weight behind my previous words went unspoken but was understood by all.

An indecipherable expression crossed Thrawn’s face. Krayt spit, he’s hard to read. Most people had tells that let me read their expressions like an open book, but the Grand Admiral seemed to be very different.

“However, I do have one question. What happened to Commodore Bost?” I couldn’t help the tiny falter in my voice when saying his name, but it was small enough to be excusable.

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed and seemed to burn brighter, “I sent him to be treated for his injury. However, I made it perfectly clear that you were a guest and asset of the Empire, so his behavior towards you would not be tolerated.”

I mentally scoffed. So that’s what upset him. Not the injustice committed against me, but the mistreatment of Imperial property. I wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the protection he had provided, but my blood absolutely boiled at his words. However, I gritted my teeth and smiled at him, “Again, I do not know how I could possibly ever thank you enough for this.”

I wasn’t worried about the medics treating Bost; they knew enough about Imperial society to keep their mouths shut on what and who they treated. Most likely, they assumed he was one of the many starting an after-party early. The rumors of the extreme tastes of some officers and politicians often spread like wildfire among the servants and handmaidens. Talle had been unofficially requested at an after-party once before, and she told me stories that made my stomach turn.

Thrawn inclined his head towards me in acknowledgment of my thanks, and I continued speaking, “However, I do need to return to the ballroom. The orchestra will be the main entertainment for the rest of the night, but I was requested to be available as an escort. I’m sure my dance card is already quite full, and I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

After all, what good is propaganda if it isn’t thoroughly used, I thought dryly. It honestly did not matter to me if I kept anyone waiting; in my opinion, they could wait for all eternity. Unfortunately, it would matter a lot to my handler if they complained.

“Don’t worry, Captain Dreycolt and Lieutenant Arkmad will still be accompanying you. Both of them are already on your card,” Eli reassured me as I turned around to face him again. “I also took the liberty of placing myself on your card so that I will be close by too.” He pulled out a small datapad and continued, “We are all spaced evenly throughout the remaining time so that you will have someone checking on you often.”

Now that was reassuring. As much as I wanted to be wary of Eli, he seemed to be very kind and it was making it hard to keep my guard fully up.

I thanked him with another smile and reached up to check my hair. Thankfully, all of Kaia’s hard work seemed to have paid off. Not a single pin or gem felt out of place, and I chalked it up to a minor miracle. After a brief inspection, my dress was still pristine, and my shoes were fine too.

I stood up from the bench and turned to address Thrawn once more, but he had stepped off to the side and seemed to be in deep conversation with one of the medics. His current expression was much easier to infer because the poor medic looked terrified. I quickly decided that I didn’t want to know, and it was better that I didn’t ask.

When I glanced back towards the ballroom, Eli offered me his arm, and I accepted the gesture. He signaled to Dreycolt, and the three of us began the short walk back through the garden. Thankfully, it was uninterrupted and uneventful.

Arkmad was waiting for us at the same side door he and Dreycolt had helped me exit from earlier. He was fixated on the small datapad he was holding and muttering under his breath. The datapad looked very similar to Eli’s, but this one was exceedingly familiar.

I peered down at the list displayed on it, “So, who’s on the card tonight?”

“Oh, just the usual mix of the usual senators and high officers. You actually seem to be in higher demand tonight; the performance earlier must have really impressed some important people,” he responded with a sympathetic look. “It looks like your card is completely full for every dance tonight.”

Oh, joy. Sometimes I was lucky enough to escape the last few dances, but, of course, tonight couldn’t be that convenient. I sighed inaudibly and shifted my feet. At least these shoes are comfortable.

Arkmad tapped me lightly on the shoulder and gestured to the far side of the ballroom, “Your first partner will be waiting for you near that column. The next song is about to begin, so I suggest you get started.”

The first thing I did when I stepped inside was signal the nearest server. I took a glass of sparkling wine, quickly glanced around to make sure nobody was staring at me and downed it. I felt the effects of the strong alcohol almost immediately; one glass was nowhere enough to make me drunk, but I hoped it would further dull any remaining nerves. I returned the glass to the tray and ventured off in search of my partner.

The first few songs passed by quickly. The slight buzz from the alcohol lightened my mood and made it easier to tune out any faults of my partners. Some were heavy-handed with flattery or praise, intent on trying to steal me away for the night. Others had already indulged in too much alcohol to the point where their breath smelled of the wine and their steps faltered. At least they all seemed to be decent dancers, and I was skilled enough in social etiquette to politely refuse or divert the conversation.

I truly had no problems dancing; most of the time I rather enjoyed it. My education at the conservatory had included many lessons on the classical styles and different regional dances in addition to my more intensive singing lessons. We were all supposed to be well-rounded performers, so the education contained much more than just singing, even though it was my main focus. When I was taken to Coruscant, it was vaguely easy to learn any dances I didn’t already know. Most of my partners here were higher class, so they had some kind of dance instruction at least once; they weren’t always graceful, but almost all of them were bearable partners that only sometimes stepped on my feet.

As the orchestra played on, the long list on my dance card grew shorter. Some faces were new, but many were the same senators and officers that often requested me. Before I knew it, I had danced with both Arkmad and Dreycolt, and less than half of my list remained.

I told both men the same thing when they checked on me: the rest of the night was going well. They each seemed satisfied with that answer and moved to the balcony overlooking the dance floor. As Eli’s lively dance was finishing, he pushed his stray hair back into place with a gloved hand, “Miss Lyra, it was a pleasure.” He gave me a small bow as an excuse to lean in close and whisper, “Are you doing alright?”

I responded with a curtsy and an almost imperceptible nod. “The pleasure was all mine, Commander.”

He seemed satisfied with my answer as he walked off to join the other men on the balcony. I had turned to grab another glass of wine before my next partner found me when an all-too-familiar voice turned my blood to ice.

“I do believe that I have the pleasure of claiming the next dance. It seems the man on your card….. won’t be able to make it.”

I whipped my head around and stared directly into the cold, glacial eyes of Commodore Bost. Somewhat vindictively, I noted that his injured hand was bandaged and slung across his chest. He had also donned a plain, white half-mask that covered the scarred side of his face since our last encounter.

My heart raced in my chest; I scanned the upper balcony for Eli, but he was nowhere to be seen. I caught Dreycolt’s eye and he raced off with a panicked expression at the sight of Bost standing in front of me. Even though my heart was racing and panic rose in my throat, I knew that as long as I stood inside the ballroom he couldn’t harm me; even Imperials dew the line somewhere.

Bost reached out to seize my hand and I snatched it away from his grasp. “I refuse to dance with you. You aren’t the name on my card and I have no reason to accept your request.”

He clicked his tongue at me mockingly, “So defiant…” He leaned in to whisper in my ear, “However, I am a very patient man. I can be here all night if that’s what it takes.”

Another shiver ran through me at Bost’s chilling words. I closed my eyes and winced at the foul feeling of his breath on my neck. Suddenly, a looming presence appeared behind me and Bost quickly stepped backward. Assuming Eli came to my rescue, I turned around and gave a low curtsy in greeting, but I instantly realized my assumption was profoundly incorrect; the figure standing in front of me was dressed in white.

Still in my low curtsy, I raised my head and stared directly into the smoldering gaze of Grand Admiral Thrawn. His red eyes remained fixed on mine as he bowed and offered me his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Thrawn’s request rang in my ears. Did he actually want to dance with me, or was he just guarding an Imperial asset? Either way, I was incredibly grateful for his second timely arrival of the night. There was no other choice for me but to take his hand.

Before I could, Bost made a small noise of protest behind me. Thrawn rose from his bow and silenced him with a single look. The Grand Admiral’s voice had the same dark, commanding edge as it had in the garden, “Commodore Bost, your presence here is not required. I will be claiming the rest of Miss Lyra’s dance card tonight.”

My thoughts raced again at his statement. Sometimes a particularly wealthy or powerful person would request multiple dances a night, but someone claiming the rest of my dance card was absolutely unheard of. However, I highly doubted anyone would be willing to argue about it with Grand Admiral Thrawn if he was serious.

Bost must have realized the futility of his position; he glowered at me, turned away with a flourish, and exited the ballroom. I sighed audibly, “Thank you for stepping in again. However, I don’t wish to be a burden on you for the rest of the night.”

The corner of Thrawn’s mouth twitched into a smile, “Not at all. I believe it will provide an enlightening distraction.” He offered me his hand again, “May I?”

Kriffing hell, he was serious then. I gently placed my right hand in his left, and he wrapped his long, elegant fingers around mine. The orchestra played the beginning notes of the next song, a waltz, and he seemed to recognize the dance immediately. Thrawn murmured appreciatively, “ah, an excellent choice,” as he pulled me in until our chests were almost touching.

My cheeks colored slightly and I prayed he couldn’t tell. The familiarity with which he moved me was almost seductive when combined with his velvety soft voice and the lingering effects of the wine.

The dance began and we glided across the ballroom floor to the music. This was one of the more difficult dances of the night, so many stepped off to the side and watched the braver couples attempt it. I knew it by heart, but Thrawn led us with an intensity that told me he did too.

Some of my previous partners could dance very well, but none moved with the same warrior’s grace that he exemplified in every step. The feeling of his broad chest against mine and his strong arms firmly around me made my mind spin. He was so unlike anyone I’d ever danced with; he seemed to move with the same strength and confidence with which he commanded.

No, no, no... you are not doing this. It’s just the wine and your overcharged emotions running all over.

I distracted myself from the dance and his burning touch by studying the intricate pattern on his mask. It was white, but under each eye a thin strip of red in a slightly darker shade outlined the openings and made his gaze even more intimidating. An intricate pattern of entwining, golden snakes bearing their fangs delicately wove their way around the mask’s rim.

In the back of my mind, I came to a sudden realization: Thrawn was testing me. As the song progressed, he began using more and more complex movements. It was as if he was trying to see if I could keep up with his brutal pace.

Kriffing blue bastard. I’m not some little thing for you to toy with.

Well, two could play that game. I locked eyes with Thrawn, gave him the most stubborn look I thought I could get away with, and switched my step pattern up. If his gaze was smoldering before, now it was blazing. He flashed me a grin that was absolutely feral and twirled me out on his arm. As he brought me back in, he pressed me against his chest and dipped me low. He murmured in my ear and his breath smelled faintly of the sweet wine, “Very enlightening, thank you.”

The rest of the night passed in a similar fashion. Thrawn led and I matched his pace step for step, challenging him the entire time. By the time the final note on the last song rang out, we were both breathing noticeably harder. A single strand of his neat, dark hair had fallen into his face and I knew some pins had fallen out of mine. This was the first time a dance partner had made me break a sweat since I was at the conservatory.

He released me from his arms, and the loss of contact was more disappointing than I cared to admit. The Grand Admiral bowed one last time as Eli, Dreycolt, and Arkmad appeared behind him. His voice seemed to have the slight accent from the garden as he addressed me, “You dance quite artistically; thank you for indulging me.”

Thrawn turned away and shared a quick word with Eli, who had an expression of shock on his face. Their conversation lasted for a few minutes before he addressed me again. However, this time his accent was gone. “I’m afraid I must take my leave now, but Commander Vanto will see you safely home.” He reached up to push the stray lock of hair back into place and walked off the dance floor and out of the building. Dreycolt and Arkmad shared a look before following closely behind him.

Eli still seemed to be in a state of surprise. He shook his head like he was clearing out his confusion and offered me his arm, “Miss, if you’re ready, we can head outside. I have a speeder waiting for us.” I smiled at him as we walked out of the ballroom and into the crisp Coruscanti night.

Tags: @mittheresabosen @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @handbaskethell

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x oc #thrawn fanfic #thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #star wars rebels fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #please tumblr stop hiding my work #original character #original female character #my oc character #thrawn fanfiction

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infernalrevenge · 3 years

Text

I’ll Cover You, My Love

Fandom: Choices - Foreign Affairs

Pairing: Ayna Seth x M!MC (Magnus Quezon)

Rating: T (for some self-deprecating stuff)

Summary: Ayna feels guilty about Magnus taking the brunt of the scandal, but he is having none of her negative talk.

Notes: Ayna betrayal plotline? Who's that? Never heard of her. That never happened. I don't know what you're talking about. Anyway, here's a comfort fic for my favorite TA, because I will not take any Ayna slander, not even from Ayna herself. I would just like to say that before I locked in my scandal partner, I had such a hard time picking between Ayna and Blaine, but I went with the latter for maximum drama. Doesn’t mean I still can’t ship my current MC with Ayna though, because I can do what I want. I hope y’all enjoy!

Also hi, I know you asked to be tagged in this :P @robintora

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Ayna leaned against her hand propped up on her desk, the words on the paper she was reading starting to blur as she tried her best to stay awake. Ever since she saw the front page cover of the stupid tabloid and Magnus had been the talk of the proverbial town, she hadn’t been able to get a good night's rest as she was wracked with anger and guilt.

Anger at the people who have passed judgement on him so quickly, who decided they knew exactly what kind of person he was based on one stupid picture and the speculations not just on the company he kept, but also on his character...

...and guilt for not being there to take the fall with him. A part of her kept wondering what might have happened if she didn’t get the chance to cover her face the way she did that night. Another part wondered what would have happened if she had just come forward earlier, but Magnus quickly shot the idea down. He explained to her that it was for the best, that he wanted to protect her from the scrutiny.

"You don't have an entire PR team that can spin the story around or make sure it gets buried. This won't just ruin your image -- if you lose your job because of this, it could ruin your life. Please don't say anything to anyone. Let me do this for you, I can handle it," he told her the last time they talked in person. She knew he was just trying to reassure her, but even she can see through the sadness and stress in his eyes, despite the smile he gave then.

At the moment, she simply was not in the best state of mind, and adding to the pile the other things she had going on in her life... she was damn near close to bursting. She was just about to take another sip of coffee, desperate to stay awake, when she heard a knock on her office door. "Come in."

In popped up a familiar head of fiery red hair, his eyes seeming to dart around cautiously before realizing she was alone. A bright smile shone on his face as he came in, waving off to someone from behind the door.

"Magnus, what are you doing here?" Ayna yelped in surprise, standing up.

"I came to see you," he said like it was the most obvious thing, slowly closing the door behind him to make minimal sound.

"What, w-what if someone saw you? Someone might've tailed you o-or people might get suspicious--"

"Hey, don't worry," Magnus stepped toward her, laying his hand on top of hers. "If anyone saw me, they might just think I needed to talk to you about something -- you're also my academic advisor, after all. Plus, Tatum checked and not many other people are out there. I told him to take a short walk so people won't suspect that I’m here for too long."

"Yeah, but we need to be more careful still, I don't want you to--"

"Ayna, I promise I've got it covered, okay?" He squeezed her hand in his, and laid the other one on top. "Just trust me."

She looked up at him, sighing wearily as she let her shoulders relax and sat back down. The young man offered a smile of reassurance, taking a seat from across her desk and carrying it over to the other side to sit next to her. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Honestly? Not great,” she replied, leaning back as she glanced at her laptop screen, multiple windows and tabs opened. “This manuscript isn’t exactly easy to write,” she added with a chuckle. Working on it had been her way of distracting herself from other problems recently, but it wasn’t entirely successful. Her mind had still been brewing with “what-ifs” -- it was much easier to be told not to worry than to actually do it. But she didn’t want to dwell on herself for too long.

“What about you, though? I know the last few weeks have been...” she trailed off, looking down as she was unsure.

“It hasn’t been all bad. I did get Joaquin, after all.” Ah yes, that lynx he got at the pet store during that live interview. Ayna had tuned into it then, and she remembered her fists clenching when the host brought up the scandal unprompted. She almost wished she could have told off that nosy woman to keep out of his personal life, but the way he was able to take back control of it was quite an admirable sight.

“You wanna see pictures?” He excitedly brought out his phone, leaning closer to show her the whole album he had dedicated to the small feline.

“You’ve had him for all of two weeks and you’ve already taken, what, a hundred pictures?” She couldn’t help the amused laugh that escaped her, listening to him coo at nearly every photo he swept through -- some of Joaquin jumping around, some playing with toys, and even some with Dionne in the frame. She had to admit, the combination of the adorable pictures and the equally adorable sight of him describing each one did help lift her spirits a little.

“I can’t help being a proud papa now,” he said, stopping on the picture of the one he took of Joaquin’s first day in the suite. “He’s been helpful in... distracting me, I guess. He somehow just knows what I’m feeling, coming in to comfort me at the right time. The break from reality is always welcome.”

Magnus looked at the woman, noting how her eyebrows furrowed and the frown she wore as he talked about his experience. “Sounds like you might need a break too.”

“This dissertation isn’t gonna finish itself.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, Ayna.”

Guess he managed to learn a thing or two from the lynx then.

“I know you said not to worry about it, that you’d handle it, but...” she sighed, shrinking into herself as she avoided his gaze. “I can’t help it when it’s about you. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, having thousands of eyes watching you, like they’re waiting for you to slip up.”

The Rutherlandian reached around and wrapped an arm on her shoulders, pulling her closer. “It’s not really anything I haven’t dealt with before. In a way, I’ve kinda gotten used to it.”

“But a scandal of this proportion? That... that has to be different,” she replied, trying to allow herself to lean into him, but not feeling like she deserved his comfort. “It’s not just people waiting for you to mess up now, because they already think you have and they want to watch the whole downward spiral.”

Magnus knew she had been feeling guilty over not getting to step forward and take part of the “blame” (if one could even call it that), but he had no idea how much this was eating at her.

“I can’t help but feel awful that you’ve become the target of such harassment. It wasn’t even your fault! And your mother shouldn’t blame you for everything either, you’re just living your life!”

“Ayna--”

“And here I am. I’m not the one being swarmed by paparazzi and having personal details of my life picked at, but I’m the one who’s stressed and anxious about it. God, how fucking selfish is it of me, feeling sorry for myself when you’re the one dealing with it all. It’s stupid of me to just--”

Ayna felt her face turned up, a gentle yet firm hand cupping her cheek as she met another pair of brown eyes. Anything else she might have wanted to say died off as they looked at each other, but she felt grounded by the way his thumb caressed her cheek.

“You don’t have to feel bad for worrying about me. I love that you care,” he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips. “But it’s not your fault either. What happened already happened, we can’t change that.”

I still wish I could.

The teacher’s assistant let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch as she brought her hand up to cover his. “I... don’t deserve you, Magnus.”

“No, no, don’t say that. You are kind and beautiful, and you just have-- you have such pure intentions. I know you want to weather the storm with me on this, but I’m doing this for both our sakes. I want you to come out of this safe. Even if they did somehow know it was you, I’d still be keeping you out of it. You shouldn’t have to go through what I do.”

She shook her head, her eyes starting to look glassy as she took in his words. She wanted to believe what he was saying about her, but it was so hard. She didn’t know how he could see those things in her, especially now, vulnerable as she was. She could feel her throat start to choke up, but she spoke anyway. “I wish you didn’t have to... go through it alone. This... this isn’t worth it.” I’m not worth it.

“It is worth it, because you are absolutely worth going through this for.” He started to brush away the tears that rolled down her cheek, before digging into his pockets to find a handkerchief.

“And I’m not going through this alone. I still have you here with me,” he patted her face dry gently, wanting to let her absorb the meaning of his words. He wanted her to know that he meant every word -- that he was sincere in his feelings for her. “Even if you’re not out there with me, knowing that you have my back helps give me the strength to get through another day.”

His patient reassurance lightened the burden inside, if only a little. He knew it wouldn’t be so easy to get her to believe it all, but he would make her see it someday, no matter how long it took.

“I care about you so much, Ayna. You mean more to me than you know.”

Even though it didn’t fully relieve her of the heaviness, those words struck her in a way that helped pull her out of her head. For the first time since the day started, she smiled. A genuine, loving smile through her tears, from knowing that the person she adored so deeply felt the same way about her. If earlier her heart ached with sadness and guilt, now it ached with affection and love for him.

“I care about you too, Magnus,” she said with a sniffle, clearing her throat as it came out rather soft and high-pitched. “I care about you so, so much. I just kinda wish... I could, like, smack away every paparazzo trying to get near you right now.”

Magnus laughed at her exclamation. Sure, he expected that kind of outburst from his friend Blaine, but from Ayna? It was both amusing and endearing.

“Well when we become public, maybe you could. Tatum might even help you with that,” he replied, giving her the handkerchief.

A simple word gave her pause, making her look up at him again, a hopeful glint in her eyes. “When?”

“Well yeah. I... I really like you, Ayna. And I’m not just saying that, I really do. I was kinda hoping that, one day, when things are more, uh, quiet, we could actually be... you know, like, together together.” If his arm wasn’t around her then, he would have been wringing his hands together out of nerves. Was it too soon to bring up that kind of talk? Too soon for them? What if he just jumped into this? He hadn’t even considered if she wanted a relationship yet. Wait wait, he should backtrack--

Ayna pushed forward to kiss him, hands cupping his face as she kept him close. It didn’t take long for Magnus to fall into it, returning it just as eagerly. He could practically feel her smiling against him, a light and fluttering sensation filling his stomach. After a few moments in bliss, they slowly pulled apart, a wide smile on both their faces.

“I would love to be together together with you,” she teased, earning an exasperated sigh from the First Son.

“I get the feeling you’re not gonna let me live that down, huh?”

She only laughed in response, pecking him quickly on the lips again. “Thank you for everything so far, Magnus. I hope I didn’t seem ungrateful for your protection.”

“Not at all, don’t give me that talk.” He rested his forehead onto hers, his gaze turning soft. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

Her thumb gently caressed his cheek, smiling fondly at him. “Would you... let me meet Joaquin some time?”

Needless to say, he said yes.

(The next time Magnus visited her, he came in with an odd lump tucked in the front of his hoodie.

“You know, when I asked to meet Joaquin, I didn’t mean you had to sneak him into my office.”

“...do you want me to go then?”

“No, show me the kitten.”)

#choices foreign affairs #choices fa #ayna seth #ayna x mc #ayna seth x mc #male!mc #playchoices

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

Text

Of All the Places

Chapter 5

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: The arrival of someone from your life before Loki knew you throws his head into a tailspin. He finally has to come face to face with his emotions. Chapter Warnings: a lot of sarcasm, tiny bit of angst, and fluff A/N: Thanks to everyone who’s been reading and/or chatting to me. I love hearing your thoughts on this, and I hope you enjoy the latest installment :) Updates every Friday.

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The sun beat down on Loki as he handed the carefully packaged eggs to the customer he was helping. It was the first time since his arrival on the farm that you were participating in a local farmer’s market, and he was doing his best to assist despite his less than ideal people skills.

“Have a nice day,” you called after the man as he walked away. “I’ll tell you one thing about your life, Loki. There is absolutely no way you worked in customer service.”

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed with a chuckle.

“Speaking of, you haven’t remembered anything else, have you?”

“I have not, but if I do, I promise you will be the first to know.”

“Mama’s not entirely wrong about the missing person ad,” Ana chimed in, taking the jam jar Matt had just picked up out of his hands. “It couldn’t hurt. Though I can think of a few reasons why you might not want to do it.”

Loki looked away as his cheeks flushed. He was thankful you were already with another customer by the time Ana made a little heart in the air around your heads. It seemed that she had gotten the same crazy idea that John had that he had fallen for you. If only they knew he was a god, then certainly they wouldn’t have reached such an outlandish conclusion. At least, he supposed, they did not know the true reason he wanted to avoid putting his picture out there, for if they did, he was sure they’d never look at him the same way again. Why that should even matter to him was one question he had yet to answer.

“Well, perhaps when Papa finds that camera,” Loki lied.

“Mhm. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Are you leaving?” Matt asked, tugging on Loki’s pants. “I don’t want you to.”

“I know, small one. Do not worry, I am staying put for now,” Loki said as he bent down to the boy’s height.

“Yay! More play time!”

“Indeed,” Loki laughed.

In the past few days, Papa had declared him an official farmhand and offered him a salary for his help. The trickster god declined at first, insisting that the lodgings and hospitality he’d been given were far more than enough. But, in the battle of the wills, Papa came out victorious, and Loki accepted a modest salary. His position, however, was little more than a glorified babysitter, not that he particularly minded. Everyone still seemed too nervous he was going to fall over and die at any given minute to assign him many real tasks. He still collected the eggs daily, and was being taught to milk the cows, along with a few other simple tasks. In addition, he was taking some cooking lessons with Papa. His attempt at pancakes did not go too well, but you reassured him it was a great first try, something that made him beam with pride.

One thing he wasn’t particularly fond of, however, was getting up so early. Though you’d all told him it was fine if he wanted to sleep in while he was still recovering, he felt bad to take you up on the offer. He was, after all, fully healed whether you knew it or not. And if he was accepting pay, he should have to be up as early as anyone else. Still, a part of him longed for his beauty sleep.

“Well, fancy running into you here,” a deep, unfamiliar voice said.

“Denzel?” you asked in a mix of shock and surprise. “Is that you?”

“Sure is, darlin’. Long time no see.”

“Uh, yeah. When did you get back?”

“Just last night. I was hoping to see you here. And it seems I’ve forgotten my manners. Who’s this?” he asked, nodding his head at the God of Mischief.

“Loki,” he replied, reluctantly extending his hand for a shake. “Charmed, I am sure.”

“Yeah, right. Nice to meet you, too. I’m Denzel. You new around here?” he questioned, sizing up Loki.

The raven haired god wasn’t exactly sure what it was about this man, but he rubbed him the wrong way. There was nothing particularly malicious about him, but the look in his eye sparked something in Loki’s chest. In a sudden panicked thought, he wondered if this Denzel person had recognized him. If so, he’d have to make a quick getaway, teleportation the only option. He wondered for a split second if he could grab your hand and take you with him, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair to you. Then again, nothing about this particularly was.

“Yes. You see, I have tragically lost my memory, but I was lucky enough to be taken in by this kind family,” Loki said.

“Interesting. But you remember your name?”

“Oh yes, I remember simple, everyday things, such as my name or, say, how to use a seatbelt. Something so simple surely would stay in everyone’s mind,” he joked, shooting a look at you as a huge smile made its way onto your face. You hid your laugh at the inside joke behind a hand. “Very odd how that works, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Like I said, interesting. Anyway,” he changed the subject, turning to you, “I was hoping to talk. Do you think we could maybe take a quick walk?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Can you guys hold the fort down?”

“Of course, honey,” Ana said, giving your arm a quick squeeze. “Take your time.”

You were off before Loki had any time to protest, but he kept up a cool facade as the next customer walked up to the booth. Once he finished, he put his elbow on the table and, slumping down in defeat, rested his head in his hand.

“Who was that Denzel character, anyway?” he asked your sister as his nose involuntarily wrinkled in distaste.

“Listen, don’t tell them I told you this, but he’s their ex.”

“Well, what happened? Did he hurt them?” he further inquired, perking up at the new information.

“Distance, I guess. He was a great guy, really, but it just didn’t work out. He just finished studying to be a doctor, actually. So he might be back in town for good. But,” she added, noticing the disappointment etched onto Loki’s features, “that doesn’t mean they’re getting back together or anything. It’s been a while. I really do think they moved on.”

“Do you not have that saying here, though? Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or something else equally ridiculous as that.”

“Well, yes, that is a saying. But not from here, as in Oklahoma here. It’s kinda well known.”

“I am aware. I just meant... Oh never mind!” he quit in exasperation, a mood Ana chalked up to Denzel’s sudden arrival.

Loki tried to use his height to his advantage and spot you in the crowd, but no such luck. You were too far gone, away with Denzel, your ex. Someone who, Loki had to admit, was very pretty and smart and charming. But certainly he—Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief and Lies, rightful heir to not one, but two thrones—was prettier than this mere mortal. And smarter than this insipid fool. And far more charming than this bumbling oaf. Right? Or was he truly just the cold, chaotic, horrific, monstrous villain so many thought he was? Though, really, why should any of it matter to him?

In that moment, the answer finally hit him. He could never acknowledge it, though. It would only lead to pain and heartache for all involved. Not to mention terrible danger for you. But, if he were to allow himself just one peaceful second of bliss, he could imagine he was not a god, not a fugitive, but just a simple man. Just someone who could be able to love you and provide for you without any complications from his past misdeeds. If he could allow that, then he would admit he had feelings for you. But he can’t so he won’t. He’d let his inner demons have their way and only ever admire you from afar, accepting your friendship for what it was and nothing more. Though, if you were to make the first move, then perhaps things would be different. That, however, was an entirely unlikely course of events.

“Loki? Are you oki doki?” Matt asked, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Maybe you need a cookie.”

“I am fine, little one,” he said, laughing despite himself. “Thank you very much for asking.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a cookie?”

“Well, I suppose it could not hurt. What do you say? Would you like one?”

“Yes, please!”

You and Denzel reappeared just then, and Loki was suddenly very desperate to escape. He took Matt’s hand in his and informed Ana where he was off to with the child. She gave Loki a grateful smile for indulging her son and sent them on their way with a few dollars to purchase the sweets.

On the way to the booth with the most heavenly smell, Loki’s thoughts overtook him once again. He recalled his plan from when he’d first arrived; lie low and heal and then be off to Asgard. Off to claim the throne which technically should have been his. Really, it was not entirely his fault that his brother had been banished when the king fell into Odinsleep. And it wasn’t like he caused that either. No, his “father” confessed he’d been lying to him to all his life and then left him to deal with it by himself. And he was next in line for the throne at the time, but apparently he shouldn’t have taken it. Obviously, it was all perfect logic from the brain of Odin once again. And, yes, he would admit he made some mistakes. That was the sign of a true leader. But he was doing the best he could with the hand he’d been dealt. And perhaps the most frustrating part was he was starting to realize he liked this simple town better than any of that. That he didn’t actually want to leave, after all.

One short wait in line later, Loki pulled himself from the dangerous rabbit hole that was his mind. He ordered two cookies, pumpkin chocolate chip for Matt and a butter pecan one for himself. Then, on a whim, he also ordered a cup of hot apple cider for both you and Ana. Nothing for Denzel, though. If the Norns were smiling on him today, that man would already be gone by the time he got back. Gone as in away from the stand or out of the state didn’t really matter to Loki. Either worked for him.

“Surprise,” he whispered in your ear after sneaking up behind you. “Hot apple cider, on me.”

You graciously took the cup and passed one to Ana, too. Loki also offered you a piece of his cookie, which you gladly accepted. The brush of your fingers as he gave it to you had him shyly looking away. Ana took Matt off to the bathroom once he was done eating, leaving Loki alone with you for the first time that day.

“So, Denzel,” he nonchalantly started after you finished a transaction. “He seemed... Nice.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. He is.” You picked at a loose thread on your jacket as you figured out what else to say about him. “Ana told me that she let you know our history. He said he’s back now and strongly hinted at us getting back together, but I don’t know.”

“I see. Well, from what I hear, he’s an amazing guy, so you should go for it,” Loki dejectedly said, though he truly did want you to be happy. “If that is what you want, of course.”

“It’s not, though. At least, I don’t think it is. Don’t get me wrong, he is really great. But the spark’s just gone for me, you know?”

“I understand completely,” Loki replied, hope creeping into his heart. Even if you were not yet smitten with him, at least you were not still pining for your ex. “You are certainly under no obligation to be with him again.”

“Yeah, I know. I just feel bad.”

“Darling, look at me,” he said, taking your hand. “You should never feel bad about what, or rather who, you want or do not want. It is entirely up to you, no matter what anyone else says.”

The irony was not lost on Loki that he should be saying those words. Though, he had found it was a common theme among Midgardians to be good at giving advice but never apply it to yourself. So, if anything, he was just doing an impeccable job of blending in.

“Thanks, Loki. I needed that. Anyway, on a much lighter note, Matt really seems to love you. You’re great with kids.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

He felt his cheeks go scarlet again, entirely too happy that you thought he was good with kids. For a brief moment, the idea of raising a child with you popped into his mind, but he shut it down before he tortured himself too much with something that could never be.

“Well, I thank you for the compliment, but if you do not mind, I need some fresh air for a second. Or space, I suppose,” he corrected, considering you were outside. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Ok. Talk to me if something’s bothering you?”

“Of course.”

He knew that was a lie, and he was sure that deep down you did, too. It was, in the grand scheme of things, a little white lie. It’s just that it felt like so much more than that. In some ways, he supposed it was.

As he walked out to the edge of the market, he thought he heard some thunder ominously booming in the distance. Or maybe that was just his imagination.

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cinebration · 4 years

Text

Cordial (Napoleon Solo x Reader) [Part 17]

The meeting.

Tagged: @ly--canthrope, @maan24, @eefjedegraaf, @omgkatinka, @tiffanypooh, @ramenyul, @crispysublimecupcake, @cavillhavoc, @martinafigoli, @illbegoinhome

Warnings: none

Gif Source: cinemagal

The taxi pulled up in front of a modest home on the outskirts of the city. Solo stared at it for a long moment before letting his gaze sweep around the perimeter. The next house was a good distance away, lights burning in some of the upper windows.

Straightening his tie, Solo strode along the cobblestone drive up to the front door and rapped twice against it.

It opened a few moments later. Beyond it stood a middle-aged man wearing a soft, brown sweater and black slacks. A twinkle gleamed in his small, blue eyes, an amiable smile stretching across his creased features. Thinning hair swept back from his forehead, curling at the ends.

“Ah, Mr. Solo,” he declared in a vague accent Solo couldn’t identify. “You’ve finally arrived. Please, come in. Wipe your feet on the mat, please.”

Eyebrows arching, Solo stepped into the foyer and wiped his feet primly on the mat just inside the doorway, taking his time to quickly intake his surroundings.

Warm lighting lit the interior of the house—the ground floor, at least. A staircase left of the entryway rose to the second floor. A carpet runner ran directly down the length of the foyer into what Solo guessed would be a dining room and, further on, a kitchen.

“The others are in the dining room,” the man said, shutting the door quietly as Solo stepped into the foyer proper. He strode past Solo, waving for him to follow.

Solo eyed the photographs lining the wallpapered walls. As he passed each on, he felt a growing sense of unease slither within him until he realized the photos seemed staged, generic. The same could be said of the house’s decor and color scheme, as though it were a showpiece for a realtor rather than an actual lived-in abode.

The man turned left through an open doorway. Solo stepped through.

Seated at the modestly sized table, you, Kuryakin, and Gaby glanced at him, affecting the requisite attitudes of their characters. Gaby arched her eyebrows in surprise, while Kuryakin frowned, slipping into a glower, and you feigned wariness.

Solo took the seat beside you and smiled thinly at everyone.

The table, he noted, was bare, not even graced with a runner or centerpiece. No smells wafted from the nearby kitchen.

“I didn’t expect to meet in a house,” he said. “We were also meeting tomorrow.”

The man seated himself at the head of the table, the faint smile on his face seeming to say, “Typical American: Always to the point.” Beside his right hand, he set a box the same size and shape as a cigar box.

“I’d also like to know your name,” Solo added.

“You can call me Venditor,” the man replied. “For all intents and purposes, that is all I am to you.”

Solo glanced aside at you. Your lips twitched as you stared at the man. The reaction sent more unease crawling down Solo’s spine. Something was off, and he couldn’t decide what.

“I apologize for the last-minute alteration in plans,” the man continued, “but it was necessary, as I need to move this product sooner than expected.”

“Why?” Gaby asked.

“I do not like to keep my hands dirty for too long. It attracts the authorities, the smell. Suffice it to say that I needed to move the process along.”

“Then begin,” Kuryakin ordered.

The man laughed. “You and Mr. Solo’s countries may be at war, Mr. Turgenev, but you both are more similar than you believe. Direct and to the point.”

“I do not like having my time wasted,” Kuryakin snapped.

“I concur with the commie.” Solo shifted in his seat to address the man. “I’ve come with the largest bid, so you might end the meeting now and let the rest be disappointed.”

Solo felt your hand wrap around his lower thigh and squeeze. Surprised, he leaned back in his seat, the unease warring with the tingles shooting up into his pelvis. Your hand retreated.

“I hope,” you said, your voice heavy with a Cuban accent, “you won’t take Mr. Solo’s offer. He will only sell it at a higher price to one of us.”

“Yes,” Gaby said, picking up the lead. “You’ll be missing out on all that money.”

Kuryakin snorted. “I have the higher bid, I guarantee it.”

The man’s eyes slid to something at the far corner of the room: a grandfather clock. “Yes, well, I suppose we should begin.”

Centering the cigar box before him, Venditor opened the lid and pulled out four blank cards. He dealt them around the table, followed by four fountain pens.

He gestured at the cards. “Your bids.”

Solo scribbled down the number he had memorized from his file. Flipping the card facedown, he slid it back over to the man. You and the others did the same.

The man flipped them over in his hands, read the numbers, and pursued his lips. Discarding two, he glanced at you and Gaby. “Ladies, I’m afraid you’re nowhere close. If you would please return to the foyer…”

Alarm coursed through Solo as you rose from the table and followed Gaby out through the door.

“Gentlemen, both your bids are competing. If you’ll return tomorrow morning with your final bids, we can settle the matter.” The man smiled warmly. “You may leave now.”

He stayed seated at the table. Solo walked slowly around him and through the doorway, shooting Kuryakin a frown. The Russian matched it with one of his own.

Solo found you and Gaby standing close together near the front door. As soon as he approached, you whispered, “That man isn’t planning on selling to us. He’s got someone else in mind.”

“Are you sure?” Gaby asked.

“Yes. He was just stringing us along.”

“Why would he do this?” Kuryakin asked.

You and Solo spoke at the same time. “To get us all in the same room.”

A pop and hissing sound echoed behind Solo. Spinning sharply, he saw a small canister on the floor spewing a noxious white cloud into the air. A second canister bounced down the stairs.

“Don’t breathe it,” Solo cried. Clapping a hand over his mouth and nose, he made for the door.

The handle didn’t turn.

Solo turned on his heel to see Kuryakin swaying on his feet, having been closest to the first canister. Solo’s eyes stung as the gas reached him, his vision wavering. You staggered against him, reaching out desperately. He tried to hold you up.

You slumped at his feet. He followed you down.

The world tipped into darkness.

#Napoleon Solo x Reader #Napoleon Solo #Napoleon Solo imagine #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill imagine #The Man from UNCLE #The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

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scarlettwitcher · 4 years

Text

The Funny Thing About Life

Summary: Dean struggles with the aftermath of a difficult event in his life involving reader. (It’s super vague I know, but if I literally explain anything, it’s all spoilers. I swear it’s good)

Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam, Cas, OC!Leu, mentions of Ellen and Jo

Word Count: 5,300

Warnings: Angst up the wazoo, mild description of wounds, also some of the warnings are spoilers so I’m putting them in the tags lol

Author’s Note: Here’s this fic that I wrote a few weeks ago. I haven’t had a chance to post it till now. I was inspired after watching a youtuber play a game based on this concept. If anyone’s curious about the theme I was going for, let me know. I’m very glad to explain. I hope you guys like it, I haven’t written Dean in years lol. I apologize in advance if it’s bad, I’m not good at angst.

Death was inevitable. Dean knew that, Sam knew that, even Cas knew that but given the type of life they lived, they didn’t know when it was going to be permanent or if it was just a never ending cycle of lost heartbeats and gasps for air. Sometimes death was permanent and there was nothing they could do about it, watching countless friends and family pass away right under their noses. Sam and Dean somehow always found a way to cheat death though. Come back and walk the earth as if they hadn’t just been lifeless moments ago. Deal after deal after deal trying to protect each other from what was the inevitable end for the brothers. It wasn’t until you had just danced your way into their lives that they started to value life for what it was without trying to die. You traveled with the brothers for years, keeping them company in the back of the impala, cracking horrible joke after joke, offering your candy to a grumpy dean, or just sleeping the previous hunt away. To the outside world, it probably would’ve been weird just how comfortable the three of you became in a short amount of time but you just understood each other. The brothers had already lived a long and hard life before you came into the picture. They took their necessary precautions when it came to you but in a few short months, you had become one of their own.

Living a life with the Winchesters was tough and sometimes downright impossible but you proved loyal to them every moment you could, sticking by through their hardest moments. Dean became attached not only to your beautiful face and appealing form but to your kind soul, your caring nature, your inability to give up. If he was to be completely honest, he fell in love with you the moment he first met you but he’d never admit it. He’ll never admit how much your smile can brighten his days instantly, how your laugh is his favorite song over Zeppelin and Jovi, how every moment with you is his favorite. He always had it bad for you since the moment you joined his misshapen crew. Dean could never understand how lucky he got that you even glanced in his direction, let alone fall in love with him too. He was terrified at first. He knew he had destructive habits, moments of lost clarity where he wasn’t himself truly. Having traveled with Dean for years before finding the bunker, you understood this, understood him. You were patient, loving, and Dean would never say it, but in a way you were his salvation. You showed him how to love himself first and how to better improve for himself and not only did he grow and achieve that, he learned how to truly love you.

“Dean. Dean? Hey!” Dean snapped out of his thoughts of you to look up at Sam as he waved his hands in front of Dean trying to get his attention. Dean looked at Sam emotionless as Sam sighed, flipping his computer around to show Dean some camera footage. “There was a sighting of a man and a woman in New Mexico and caught police attention. Here they are passing through a gas station.” Dean clenched his jaw as he watched the tape play, the man they had been tracking for weeks walking across the aisle, motioning towards the girl to grab food for herself. The girl looked timid, almost broken as she grabbed a few bags of snacks, and water. Even though the tape was grainy and just a bit laggy, he could see the shake in her hands, the tremble in her body, the way her eyes looked everywhere in desperation almost as if she was waiting for someone to save her. The girl looked up at the camera, her eyes wide and teary, one eye clearly bruised up, cheek swollen, lips parted from what only looked like constant abuse. Dean felt the anger boiling inside of him as he pushed the laptop back at Sam, a bit more forcefully than he meant. Sam only let out a quiet click of his tongue as he took his laptop back, scrolling through a few more camera feeds.

“When?”

“Two weeks ago.” Dean grabbed the whiskey bottle as he filled his cup back up, throwing the glass back, the amber liquid burning his throat. Dean let out a quiet hiss before moving to refill his glass once more.

“Dean, how much have you drank?”

“Does it matter?”

“You know she wouldn-”

“Dammit Sammy, she’s not here is she?! She’s not here to tell me I shouldn’t.” Dean growled out loudly as he stood, chest puffed out as his breathing became more ragged and hard with every breath he took. Sam said nothing as he stared his brother down, trying to get his thoughts together. Dean was tense and if Sam pushed him, he’d probably break and take it out on him and that last thing they needed was to waste time they could be using to find you.

“We’ll get her back, Dean. I know it’s only a matter of time but she’ll be home soon.” Dean only shook his head as he grabbed the whiskey bottle, leaving his cup on the table as he made his way towards his room which really was his and yours. Dean walked in, looking around, almost as if he was searching for you from instinct, searching for any movement, smell, any indication that you were in the room, hiding from him like you always did. He clenched his jaw, knowing you weren’t there and he felt the tension building in his bones again at the reality of the situation as he took a large sip from the bottle, trying to drown everything with the golden liquid. He wanted to drown his memories of you, thoughts of you, the smell of you, and forget. Forget you’re gone, out of his reach, forget that he didn’t protect you like he promised and had failed you.

A month had passed since you disappeared. Dean couldn’t find you and after a week of no contact, he grew increasingly worried. It wasn’t like you to leave without a notice, without a call, or a note, or even a text. Saying that Dean was losing his mind was the understatement of the year. No one had heard from you and not even Cas could tune into your location. Dean denied it. He denied any idea that you had abandoned him, that you were fed up with your life with the Winchesters. He denied the thought that you didn’t love him anymore. Sam reassured him constantly that there was no way you had left him, that you were just as love sick as Dean.

Another week passed and nothing. That was until Sam found something, or in this case, he was sent something. A video. Dean threw up after the first few minutes of watching the video and he couldn’t stomach watching the rest, leaving Sam to have to watch it, searching for any clues that could aid the brothers. The video was of you, bound and bloody, screaming into a mouth gag as the hooded man carved into your skin, making you sing songs that Dean would gladly never, ever listen to again. You looked like you had gone through hell and back. The man laughed in the video as he finally showed his face. “Hello Deaaanie! You’re probably wondering who I am. You can call me Leu.” The man chuckled as he moved closer to your exhausted form, wincing as he grabbed your chin hard, making you face the camera. “Say hello to your dear husband sweetie.”

Your tired eyes fluttered for a few seconds before focusing on the camera. Your lips parted slightly as you took a deep breath. Your throat was sore, like you had swallowed knives from all the screaming. “Dean, baby, don’t.” That’s all that you managed to say before the man slapped you hard, knowing the few specs of oxygen out of your lungs, leaving you almost breathless as you tried to breathe.

“Well that was lame, I was expecting something more heartfelt. Oh well. Come and find me Dean.” The video went dark after that, Dean’s solemn and terrified face staring back at him. He grimaced and looked away, feeling the shame building inside of him more and more as the seconds passed by. He should’ve protected you better, should’ve been a better partner to you. Your blunt statement started ringing in his ears as he remembered what you said. Don’t. He knew exactly what you were talking about but he couldn’t bring himself to listen to you. How could you tell him not to when he had to and would. Sam had begun to do everything he could, tracing the video, searching for the mystery man in all of the databases, and unfortunately, re-watching the video for anything he missed, anything that could tip him off about your location.

Dean laid on his bed as he stared at the bottle of whiskey, his anger boiling inside of him, his inability of being able to find you, adding gasoline to the fire burning inside of him. Sam had found a lead though and it seemed promising. He was about to take another sip but the loud call of his name had him running down the bunker, towards the main room where Sam was typing away furiously into his computer. “Dean, look at this.” Sam was about to show him another video feed before the video was interrupted, the skype window filling the whole screen, someone trying to call them. The name showed ‘Unknown Caller’. Sam sighed as he pointed towards the screen. “This is the third time this person calls.”

Dean grunted and clicked on the answer button ready to tell whoever was on the other end to go screw themselves but before the video loaded, there was a soft moan from a woman, one in pain, one Dean recognized all too well. The video loaded in and Dean was face to face with your broken body and the so-called Leu beside you. He had a large grin as he moved closer to the camera. “Finally! I really thought you were ignoring me for a second. Wouldn’t want to make our dear Y/n worry.”

“Son of a bitch! I’ll kill you!” Dean roared out, almost tempted to punch the computer screen but Sam was very ready to contain his brother.

“Now now Deano, don’t be so rude. We have a guest.” Leu walked closer to you, poking you with the knife in his hand. You stirred slowly, groaning as he touched another wound on your skin. You looked thinner, you clearly lost a lot of weight and that really worried Dean. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

“A little late for that remark. I really think I’ve created a masterpiece. So many different hues of blue and purple but my favorite is red.” Leu began to drag his hand across your arm, pulling grunts of pain from you before chuckling quietly as he walked back towards the camera.

“What do you want?” Sam chimed up when he realized all of Dean’s focus was on you, watching as you struggled to breathe and move. Your bones ached with every movement and there was a point where you just stopped moving, the uncomfortable position better than the burning of your skin.

“I want you to suffer.” Leu smiled wide as he turned and motioned to you. “It’s pretty easy really. The cycle of life, if you’d like to give it an official name. ”

‘You will pay for this. You will suffer as much as she has and worse.”

Leu let out a full belly laugh as he looked at the camera, wiping away fake tears. “Oh wow I’m definitely trembling in fear.” Both the brothers stared at Leu. If looks could kill, Leu would’ve been assassinated gruesomely. “ You can’t hurt me but I can hurt you. Enjoy this moment because after this, you will never see her again.” Just before the camera cut out, Leu blinked his eyes portraying the black eyes that constantly mocked the brother their whole lives. Demon.

Dean felt his jaw clench and as he opened his mouth to speak, say anything, the call ended. The screen was blank and that was the last time he ever saw you just as Leu promised and that drove Dean just a bit closer to insanity. Dean didn’t waste a single second before moving back to his room and hastily packing his bag, shaving any clothes he could get his hands on in it. He grabbed his weapons and anything else he needed before moving back towards the main room where a confused Sam sat, typing away at his computer. He looked up as Dean dropped his bag on the floor, moving towards the bookshelf looking for something he also needed.

“Dean, don’t.”

“You can’t stop me Sammy.”

“She wouldn’t want this, you know that.”

“I’m leaving.” Finding what he needed, Dean grabbed his duffle bag from the floor before he hastily made his way to the garage. Sam knew better than to try to even reason with Dean. When it came to you, he would move heaven and hell a million times over to get to you. As Dean entered the garage, he threw his bag in the back of the impala, before slipping into the driver’s side, speeding out of the Bunker, a man on a mission. He knew the way to the crossroads like the back of his hand. He had done this countless times, he knew the drills. Crowley was no longer an option and he had to resort to old ways. Pulling up to the location, he moved on autopilot. He opened the trunk and pulled out a tin can, already prepared. Dean double checked it before making his way towards the middle. He set the trap in place before he dug the hole, burying the box.

“You know, we had a bet going to see how long I’d take for you to appear here.” Dean turned to face the Demon. Dean’s expression never faltered, if anything it became more menacing. The demon smirked as it watched Dean, walking around in the circle as she sighed, clearly already bored.

“Then you know why I’m here.”

“Yes… I do.” The demon moved closer to Dean, almost taunting him as her eyes flashed black. She chuckled quietly before clicking her tongue. “Unfortunately for you Winchester, I can’t make the deal.”

“Then get me someone who can.”

“That’s the thing pretty boy, we can’t.” Dean felt his lip curl in anger as he tried to stay composed but it was getting harder with every second that passed that he wasn’t getting what he needed.

“I don’t want time, trade me for her.”

“I’m sorry Dean but no can do.” The demon was clearly amused and not an ounce of sympathy was in her actions. Dean licked his lips as he nodded his understanding. He rubbed his chin with his thumb before quickly turning and stabbing the demon straight in the gut. The demon flashed as it died on Dean’s blade but Dean showed no emotion. It didn’t matter how long it took, he would find someone who could give exactly what he wanted and what he wanted was you, safe at home.

Demon kill after demon kill, Dean was relentless. Weeks and weeks of capturing and torturing any demon he could get his hands on. Then, they stopped appearing completely. The demons stopped appearing and Dean was losing his mind. He never had felt so out of loss of control as he did in that moment. He was sitting in his motel, staring at a photo he had of you and him. You were sitting at the bar table with Dean at your left side and Sam on your other. You all had chosen to stop at Ellen's for the night. Sam had gotten up to go to the restroom and left you and Dean at the bar. Dean thought it would be smart to say something funny and you were laughing hard as Dean watched you with a huge smile himself. Jo was working the bar and thought it was a cute sight and snapped a quick photo with her phone. Looking at the photo now, Dean realized this was when he really started falling in love with you. It was super obvious in the way he was smiling in the photo, watching you as you laughed your worries away. Dean ran his fingers across the creases the photo had from the wear and tear of being in his wallet. That moment felt like it was a lifetime ago when it really only was a few years old.

Dean took a deep breath as he gingerly put the photo back into his wallet before tossing it on his bed. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey he had bought earlier, popping the lid, and taking a big swig of it. The amber liquid burned his throat but he didn't care. He welcomed the pain. He welcomed any distraction from his reality. Dean was no stranger to depression and feelings of inadequacy but this was a whole new level of low. Everything he promised he would and wouldn't do, he had done and that wasn't his biggest failure. His biggest failure was keeping you to himself when he knew you were worth more than someone like him and here you were, paying the consequences for his inability to admit that to himself. Dean felt the anger slowly dissipating, being replaced with the sorrow your absence created. He never wanted to know what life was like without you and now he did. He hated it.

Dean never stopped looking for you. The days passed and he kept looking, pouring himself into his work, but each day, it was harder and harder for him. He'd drink his pain away, resort to the devil's liquid to get through his days. He became an empty shell of himself. Sam stopped calling after a few months of Dean ignoring his calls. Dean knew his brother deserved better too. It wasn't just losing you that affected him, it was losing his best friend, his hunting partner, his wife. Till death do you part. The few days he was conscious, those words rang through his head. Were you even alive? Had you escaped and just not come back? Was your body at the bottom of a lake? In a ditch? He didn't know and that's what sent him down his dark path.

After a year passed, his depression got worse but he knew he had to return home. He wasn't Dean anymore and he didn't think he would be again. He felt numb at best. Walking back into the bunker by himself, was a new slap to his face. This was it. He had to accept that you were gone and you weren't coming back. Sam heard the door and made his way to the stairs, staring at what was left of Dean. Dean was thinner, he had new scars, he looked like he hadn't slept in months, and his eyes were just different. "Hey Sammy."

Dean would like to say it happened quick, that he was okay within a year, but that would be a lie. It took him years before he could even say your name again. Sam had finished making dinner and they sat in the library in comfortable silence as they ate before Dean pulled out his wallet, pulling out the photo of the two of you, dropping it between the two on the table. Sam looked at the photo with furrowed brows before looking up at Dean silently asking about it. Dean cleared his throat as he tried to organize his thoughts but in reality, he didn't want to. He was tired. He just wanted to talk.

"Remember when we stopped at Ellen's? Y/n was just whining and whining about how much she missed her and Jo? She drove us crazy that whole drive?" Dean chuckled quietly as Sam nodded.

"She said she wouldn't be your friend anymore if we didn't stop there."

"I couldn't believe she had even said that. Thought I was having a nightmare."

"I mean, we both know she was just fibbing. Had she pushed just a bit more, you would've caved anyways."

"Yeah, she did have me wrapped around her finger, didn't she?"

Sam scoffed and smiled as he stared at the photo. "Since the first day we met her." Sam felt his smile falter a bit as he nodded towards the photo, his eyes flicking up to watch Dean, being careful with how he approached his next question. "Do you miss her?"

Dean felt his eyes water. He wasn't one to cry but when it came to you, the tears always flowed freely. "Always. Every day. I don't think I ever stop missing her."

"You haven't said her name since the day you came back."

"I know. I think I'm ready."

"To talk about her?"

"To let her go." Sam didn't need to ask what Dean meant. He knew exactly what it meant. Sam nodded his understanding before motioning for Dean to finish eating.

By the end of the day, both boys had organized everything they needed, standing in front of the Hunter's funeral they had created. They didn't have a body to burn but had replaced it with all of your favorite things, everything that made you you. There was a plate with your favorite food, your favorite shirt, and little things you loved to collect. Dean stared at it all. This was it. Sam waited for Dean to ask him to stop. When the minutes passed and he said nothing, he threw the lighter onto the wood, watching as it all engulfed in flames. Dean accepted your death and hoped that you were in heaven, enjoying yourself. You deserved it.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Wake up." Dean furrowed his brows as he looked over at Sam.

"What?"

"Dean, wake up!"

Dean jolted awake, pulling the gun out from under his pillow, aiming it at Sam's head as Sam jumped back with his hands in the air. "Woah woah!"

Dean groaned out as he put the gun down, sighing as he rubbed at his eyes. "What's going on Sam?"

Sam sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck, hating what he had to do. "Dean, come on. It's today." Dean felt the blood run cold inside of him as he looked up at Sam, feeling the anger raise in his blood.

"Is Y/n ready?" Sam swallowed thickly before nodding his head. He felt his throat closing up before clearing it.

"Yeah." Sam didn't want to talk more as he made his way out of Dean's room. Dean let his head fall back into his pillow as he stared at the ceiling. What a fucking nightmare he just had. He looked over at the picture frame he had on the small bedside table. He picked it up and stared at the photo before taking a deep breath.

"When I come back, I'll tell you all about the nightmare I had. You won't believe it. It felt so real." Dean kissed the frame softly before putting it back on the table. He got up and made his way to the closet, pulling out his fed suit. He remembered clearly that you had asked him to wear his best suit, he had to dress up fancy. You wouldn't accept anything less. He chuckled as he could hear your words echoing in his head. "You better look good Winchester or else you'll feel my wrath. I won't even make you pie for a whole month."

This feeling in Dean's chest was heavy, it felt like he had swallowed bricks and they were sitting in his lungs, ready to suffocate him. He grabbed a red tie you had bought him just for this. You had to match, you told him when you gave it to him. He stood in front of the mirror, going through the motions he knew all too well. Once he was done, he walked over to his dresser, slipping on his wedding band, smiling at the relief the known weight brought to him. Once he was ready he made his way outside where Sam, Cas, and you were waiting for him. He felt the breath in his lungs be knocked out of him as his eyes fell on you. You were wearing a beautiful red dress, your favorite dress. Your hair was curled and you weren't wearing any makeup, your natural beauty shining through. Dean swallowed thickly as he kept his eyes on you, committing the memory to sight.

Sam nodded his head to Dean before looking over at you, feeling the swell of emotions bursting in his chest. The weight of the lighter heavy in his palm. He took a deep breath and threw it, watching as you burst into flames from the moment it made contact with your skin. The three boys stood watch as you slowly burned away, moving on to heaven where you wouldn't suffer anymore. "Goodbye baby." Dean murmured as he watched the flames slowly die out. The sky trembled and within minutes, the rain poured onto the men but they didn't care.

"I'm sorry Dean."

"It's not your fault Cas."

"I should've done better.”

"It's what she wanted Cas." Cas took a deep breath before turning back to the burned embers of where you used to be, of what's left of you.

"She deserved better than this."

"That's the funny thing about life isn't it?"

. . . . . . .

"What's your name Sweetheart?"

You chuckled as you pulled your knife out of the monster you had just killed. "Wouldn't you like to know sweet cheeks?" Dean chuckled as he licked his lips. Sam joined the both of you as you all made sure there were no more threats. "But if you really long for this information, I'll indulge you. It's Y/n."

. . . . . . .

"Dean?"

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"This isn't a one time thing right?" Dean frowned as he looked down at you as you laid on his bare chest. The fact that you even had to ask him hurt his heart. He knew in that moment he wanted nothing more than for you to wake up everyday in his arms.

"Of course not. It never was." Dean kissed your head gently and you hummed your appreciation, slowly succumbing to sleep in his hold.

. . . . . . .

"Dean we need to talk."

"You can't break up with me. We're already married." You let out a choked laugh as you tried to think of the best way to tell him.

"I need you to be serious with me for a second." Dean felt cold. Whenever you said something like this to him, it was never good news. He didn't say anything and you took a deep breath, unknowingly speaking what would be your demise. "The doctor called me today."

"And?"

"I tested positive."

. . . . . . .

"So when do you start losing your hair?" You chuckled quietly as Cas grabbed your hair, looking at it like it would attack him.

"When I start treatment. Doc said it would be aggressive." Dean sighed as he held your hand and you looked at him with a soft smile.

"There's still time."

"No Dean besides, I'm okay with it. I'm not scared to die."

"But I'm scared to lose you."

"I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere." As much as Dean would've loved to push you, he knew he needed to support any decision you made. He owed you that much as much as he hated it.

. . . . . . .

"We should name it."

"Name what?"

"My sickness duh." Dean looked at you like you grew a second head and you laughed. "Don't look at me like that?"

"Why do you want to name it?" Sam was also looking at you the way Dean was and you rolled your eyes, poking at your food with your fork. As the time passed, it was getting harder and harder for you to eat but Dean pushed you, trying to get you to eat anything.

"To make it normal. For me."

Dean took a deep breath as he watched you poke your food before licking his lips. "Alright, I'll bite. What do you want to name it?"

"Well I don't want to name it something outrageous. I was thinking about Leu. "

"Leu?"

"Short for Leukemia. I thought it was clever."

Dean smiled slightly as he nodded. "Very clever."

. . . . . . .

"Dean?"

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"Promise me that if you see a girl in a bar and she's hot you'll go for it."

"Now's not the time for jokes." You coughed quietly as you tried your best to scowl at him.

"I'm not joking. I'm serious. I want you to have a life after me, after all of this."

"There's nothing after you."

"Don't be such a romantic and promise me you'll live your life when I'm gone."

Dean sighed and remembered his promise to support what you wanted. "I'll try."

"Good. You need some friends." Dean laughed as he moved to get comfortable. Sitting next to the bed where you lay, surrounded by tubes and wires wasn't the best place for comfort but he didn't care. Before he could respond, your nurse came in to check on you for the night.

. . . . . . .

The day you passed away, Dean was in shock, numb to the world. He never thought it would happen. A whirlwind of doctors running into the room, pushing him out so they could try to revive you, except they couldn't. You signed a DNR. Dean was left with himself, having to watch as you took your last breath. The loud dinging of your heart monitor making him feel like he'd lost his hearing, forever cursed to hear that sound. He didn't sleep that night. He couldn't. Returning to an empty bed, a bed you belonged in, was the icing on top of the shit cake he was handed. He broke a lot of furniture that night.

. . . . . . .

"Yeah, I guess it is." Dean felt his lungs cut off his air as flashes of memories of you played throughout his head. Sam patted Dean on his shoulder, relaying his silent support. Dean nodded towards him in thanks. The sound of Sam's boots crunching in the dirt sounded behind Dean as Cas moved to stand next to Dean.

"Did you dress her?"

"Sam couldn't and asked me to. She picked a nice wig. It’s really close to her natural hair."

"Thanks Cas, really."

Cas stayed quiet as he looked at the burnt spot on the floor. He didn't want to leave his friend alone, not during his weakest moments. He knew Sam left because he didn't want to cry with Dean around, it wasn't about him, it was about Dean. Cas smiled slightly as he thought of you. "You can go inside Cas."

Cas nodded as he pat Dean in the back. "I'll be inside."

Dean stared at the floor, the rain completely drenching him. His hair was matted to his head and a slight breeze made his teeth chatter but he couldn't move. He had to stay around just a bit more. His eyes were glued to the ash on the floor. He took a deep breath as his fingers fumbled with his wedding band, trying to figure out what to say. “I know I said I’d tell you about my nightmare later but I think now is a good time. You’ll probably laugh but it started with me and Sammy..”

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