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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

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I Want To Be A Real Fake

@kaiserkorresponds said: Black and White + "I want to be a real fake" + formal clothing <3

Prompted fic that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I received it! Hope you like it, Kaiser!

Jon would not consider himself fashionable. He has a distinct sense of style, yes, but that style lately has been Tired-Academic-Works-in-a-Cold-Office,-Steals-Sweaters-When-Necessary-core. Not exactly suitable for the business casual dress code The Magnus Institute “requires” (no one seemed to pay attention to the Archive staff’s choices of attire), but certainly not suitable for the small rectangle of cardstock Elias Bouchard hands him, on a quiet spring morning in the Archive.

“What’s…what’s this?” Jon asked, staring at the neat, printed text as if it was Greek. (If it were Greek, at least, he could decipher parts of it. He was an English Lit student, after all, and he had really enjoyed etymology.) The card was a stiff black and white, with the black owl logo, the symbol of the Magnus Institute, printed in the top middle. Glancing down at it, he saw a date, and the words: “black-tie.” Shit.

“My apologies, I forgot how tired your position tends to leave you.” Elias’s voice was prim and polite, but Jon still winced inwardly. “As a head of a department, you are now strongly encouraged to attend the fundraiser I host in April each year. Our donors are fascinated by our departments, and especially the Archives. Gertrude’s disappearance has raised questions as to her successor, and I trust you can assuage the concerns of our donors at your accomplishments in the position.” Jon chose to believe that Elias’s keen eye didn’t sweep the mountains of paperwork that surrounded his desk as he surveyed the small, poorly lit office. “I’m certain you’ll be able to find appropriate attire for the occasion.”

He turned on a heel, halfway to the door before seemingly considering something. “Ah, and Jon, one more thing. Gertrude always requested she bring an assistant. Would you like to do the same? I am happy to accommodate one more for the catering count.”

Jon snapped his mouth shut, utterly dumbfounded by the responsibility just thrust upon him, and nodded mutely, before clearing his throat. “Ah-um, yes, I would appreciate that. Does it matter which one?”

“Someone who can make a pleasant impression, please.” Elias raised an eyebrow, nodded almost imperceptibly, like he had made a decision, and rapped his knuckles on the doorframe on the way out. “I trust your judgement.”

Jon counted to thirty, to be certain Elias wasn’t coming back, and slouched into his office chair, scanning the save-the-date again, without the immense pressure of Elias’s eyes on him.

“The Magnus Institute Fundraiser Gala,” it read below the embossed owl, within a thin black border. “23 April, 7-10 pm. Black tie. Catered.” Jon traced the owl with the pad of his finger, flipping the card over to see, in Elias’s thin cursive: Make a good impression, Jon.

God, this is going to suck.

“Sasha, come on.” Jon wasn’t one to beg, but desperate times and all that. He had cornered her in the breakroom, while Martin was on a research trip and Tim was getting takeaway from the chippie down the street. “It’s only three weeks away, and you’re the one I trust the most. Please.”

“Jon,” Sasha sighed, smoothing her skirt patiently. “I would if I could, I swear to you. But my sister’s wedding has been planned for months, I’ve already requested time off, and I can’t undo all that for a work party.”

“Fundraiser,” Jon corrected instinctively, even as he signed in resignation. “Fine. I just really didn’t want to go alone.”

Sasha scoffed, shaking her head to herself as she opened the fridge and pulled out her bagged lunch. “You have two other assistants you know. What about Tim? Or Martin?”

Jon wrinkled his nose at the thought of bringing nervous, rambling, doe-eyed Martin to the gala. “God no. Martin would be too much; I need someone who can handle themselves and hold a decent conversation. I need someone who can attend a black-tie gala and look more at-home than me.” A withering look from Sasha.

“So why not Tim, then? He can do all those things.”

“Do all what things?” Jon jumped and spun around to see Tim, carrying a grease-spotted bag in one hand and a paper soda cup in the other. He surveyed Tim in a moment: the button-up shirt, red and printed with tiny black balloons, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, dark black hair artfully mussed. High cheekbones dotted with freckles, and what Jon swore could be the faintest bit of eyeliner.

“Tim, would you like to go to a fashionable, catered work party with me?”

“Boss,” Tim lowered himself to a knee and held out his soda solemnly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Tim, that’s backwards. The kneeler isn’t the one who accepts,” Sasha chuckles helpfully.

“You’re just jealous of our love, Sash!”

Good Lord.

Jon was really hoping the food would be good. He was in Tim’s flat, in the toilet, checking himself in the mirror one final time. His hair was carefully braided, courtesy of Tim’s deft hands and coiled into a thick bun at the base of his skull, gold and emerald hairpin snugly in place. His suit was nice: a respectable white shirt, dotted with tiny lime-colored flowers he had to strain his eyes to see, under a dark green suit jacket and matching trousers. The suit itself was cut in a rather androgynous style, pulling tight at Jon’s waist in a way he rather liked, and contrasted beautifully, he thought, with the smooth brown of his skin. He flicked an invisible piece of lint from his thigh and, satisfied, stepped into the hall to tell Tim he was ready to go.

“Tim, I’m all-woah,” the exhale was accidental. Tim’s suit was certainly not subtle. He was wearing a deep blue turtleneck, hair perfectly coiffed. Over the turtleneck, the suit jacket was white, a spray of water-color flowers in all shades of blue and purple shifting with every movement. The navy blue heeled suede boots on his feet accentuated his already-tall frame “Tim, you look good,” Jon breathed.

“Ouch. No need to sound all surprised. I know I clean up well; I dirty pretty damn good too.” Tim chuckled and adjusted his sleeves. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. ‘I don’t want anything too crazy.’”

Jon grinned shyly, rocking on his heels of his own, less intimidating dress shoes. “I like it, I think. It feels nice.” The excitement over how good he felt in the clothes had, all too briefly, suppressed the impending doom he was feeling about the evening’s events. “Are you ready for tonight?” he asked for what must have been the fiftieth time, spinning the solid black ring he wore around his finger.

“Yes, Jon. Talk about the reorganization process as a structural renovation, converting files to audio formatting for future accessibility, don’t talk about artefact storage even a little, don’t get caught up with anyone too pretty, I get it.” His voice was flat, bored by the repetition. “This is going to be fine.”

“What-what if it isn’t, though, Tim? What if they ask about Gertrude or how their money is being used, o-or how the restructuring is going? I can’t bloody well tell them I’m using a tape recorder that’s probably older than I am.”

“Jon,” Tim’s well-manicured hand was on his shoulder, nails the same blue of his turtleneck. “Take a deep breath. For Gertrude: be honest. It was a tragedy, and you hope she’s found, but until then you’re doing your best to act on her wishes as her replacement. And for the rest, be vague. Restructuring is going ‘as well as can be expected’ or ‘is running quite smoothly with the help of your three wonderful assistants.’” He winked. “And tell them you’re using a multimedia system, that’ll confuse those old boomers enough to move topics. And it is technically true. Laptops and a tape recorder are multiple medias. Anything else we can riff, you know? I can talk with the best of them.” He eyed Jon meaningfully. “This will be fine. It’s one night. And we’ll get chips after. Promise.”

Jon nodded and closed his eyes, breathing steadying. He was grateful Tim had been available. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“So, how did you know what black tie meant?” Jon asked, eyeing Tim across the seat of the cab. They’re on their way now and Jon’s hands are steepled tightly, pressing his fingertips against each other until it hurts to do so. “I had to Google it last week when I went shopping, in case we had to wear literal black ties.” He needed to talk about anything, anything but this stupid fundraiser they drove steadily towards.

Tim grew silent for a moment, considering his words. “My brother was an extra in a movie once and started dating a stylist for one of the leads. He fibbed his way into getting us tickets for premieres, so I’ve made my way through a few high-fashion events.” He shrugged, fiddling with a thin silver bracelet along his wrist, were Jon knew the letter D was carved in delicate cursive. “I like it, too, you know? Dressing up for events. It makes me feel debonaire, like a spy.”

Jon shook his head in disagreement. “Makes me feel fake,” he mumbled, eyeing the lorry floor beneath them. “Like everyone knows I don’t belong. I hate having their eyes on me and knowing they’re better than me.”

Tim prodded Jon with his elbow gently, raising his eyebrows in a comforting manner. “That’s it though, isn’t it? We aren’t fake. We worked our way here. Hell, you’re the boss of an entire department, Jon. We’ve gotten to where we are in the Institute because we deserve to be here. And anyways, everyone at that party next week is gonna be fake. They’re pretending to care about our jobs, and we pretend to care about their money, and they pretend they’re even the ones who write the checks and not some snooty financial advisor in Wales.”

Jon shrugged, trying to keep himself from biting back that he wasn’t enough, didn’t earn this spot, that Sasha deserved it more than he did and was doing nothing to prove to Elias he was up to the monumental task of being the Head Archivist. He didn’t, though, and instead took a steadying breath, nodding to Tim’s comforting words.

“And anyways,” Tim continued, shrugging. “Even if we have to be fake for a night, it’ll be fun. We get to be a part of ‘the queen’s high society,’” he added in a high-pitched, overly fake RP accent, eliciting a chuckle from Jon. “And Rosie said the catering Elias orders is divine. Apparently we should keep an eye out for tiny samosas?”

As if on cue, the cab shuddered to a stop. Jon thanked the driver, paid, and followed Tim out.

The Institute looked different under the pretense of wealth and success. It was still the same building of course, but the floor was clear of the rain mats and the smooth marble floor paved the way to the library, the main sitting room of which had been cleared as a rather respectable grand hall to host a party. Tables lined the cordoned off books, hot plates and silver trays steaming slightly. Bottles of wine lined a bar, behind which a vested individual with slicked-back hair was pouring small glasses and taking orders. A quiet orchestra completed the scene, cello and piano in a delicate duet. Before tonight, Jon couldn’t have imagined this many people in the Institute alone, least of all the library. Not that it’s packed. There’s maybe thirty or so well-dressed individuals milling about, the din of conversation white noise in comparison to the floating of the music.

Tim’s hand is on his back, pressing kindly into his spine. Oh yes, he remembers dimly, and nods, allowing Tim to guide him into the library and hand him a glass of wine. They stand out a little, two beacons of color around what is a pretty drab spectrum of black and grey, save for a few spectacular dresses in the crowd. Jon finds he doesn’t mind it, except that it may lead to unwanted conversation. It’s not his looks he fears being judged on, but that he be found wanting when it came to his capabilities. He was always selectively self-conscious like that, some things utterly meaningless, others inexplicably important.

Jon isn’t a huge fan of wine, but he finds himself clinging to the glass as a lifeline as he and Tim meander through the crowds, largely ignored. The music is intoxicatingly simple; he finds himself caught up in the deep reverberations of the cello as they walk, feeling it deep in his chest. There were, in fact, samosas, as well as small cannoli, and he and Tim piled plates as high as they could without garnering stares.

There weren’t many people Jon recognized; he didn’t even see Elias as he scanned the crowd for faces. Wine in one hand, a plate in the other, he thought maybe the night wouldn’t be too bad.

Jon shivered, the sensation of being stared at prickling the back of his neck. He spun around, trying to appear casual, and spotted Elias at last. He was standing with a large man, broad and wearing a deep blue suit, scruffy beard a mix of tawny and white. Elias crooked his finger, smiling primly. As Jon made his way over to the pair-who he could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen previously, he was intercepted by a short bald man in a plum velour suit, leaning heavily on a cane.

“Ah, Archivist,” he smiled warmly, extending a hand to shake before seeing Jon’s hands were full, and nodding his head instead. “Congratulations on your promotion. Elias has told me he expects great things from you.”

Jon smiled politely, glancing over to see Elias and the other man gone again. Regretfully, he turned his attention back to the man. “It’s a shame about Gertrude, yes, but I’m hoping I can do her proud,” he said in a practiced tone. He glanced over his shoulder. Where was Tim? He was just with him.

“Of course, of course. I was hoping I could have a word?”

“W-with me?”

“Yes, you see, I was rather concerned when I heard Gertrude’s position had been left open. When Elias said you yourself where at the junction to take over, I wanted to meet you for myself. I worry about the Archivists in your institute, so many of you do such monumental work for so little recognition. Do you worry your work to be meaningless? Your name insignificant when it is all said and done?”

(It is this conversation he remembers, months later, when he demands to record Prentiss’ attack. He refuses to be another mystery, a name on a placard to be wondered about.)

“I-ah, yes? No?” What was the right answer here? Jon stammered out a half-assed reply about doing his best, midway through when he felt a hand firmly on his shoulder, where his neck and collarbone met. Glancing to his peripheral, he saw a golden ring, an eye, and was frustratingly grateful to hear the cool tones of Elias Bouchard over his shoulder.

“Now Simon,” he said, voice even, “you aren’t trying to scare my dear Archivist, are you?” He gave the shoulder a squeeze but remained put. “Jon, I believe you’ve heard of Simon Fairchild, a significant donor to our establishment.”

Jon nodded wordlessly, not really listening to the two bureaucrats delve off into some topic or other, craning his neck to look for Tim. The music had picked up, he registered dimly, a orchestral melody led by a violin, sharp and whimsical.

“Jon?” Another squeeze to his neck, and Jon tried not to wince. “Wouldn’t you agree,” Elias asked, voice patient at surface level. “That the best way to move forward is to restructure the Archive?”

Jon nodded, trying to recall the answer he had rehearsed. “Yes, ah—my team and I have worked quite hard at recording the statements a-and organizing them in a way that will last long-term.”

“Ah, what a delight,” Simon—Mr. Fairchild—said warmly. Jon was reminded of the voices adults would use when they spoke to him as a child, when his inane facts about space or etymology had moved from endearing to obnoxious.

The conversation lasted for what felt like days, Jon feeling rather like Mr. Fairchild’s cane: a statement piece, contributing nothing to the conversation but unable to find a smooth exit. Leading questions from Elias led to thankfully rehearsed answers before Simon found his own exit and walked away smoothly, eyes wide and taking the room in.

“I-I really should find Tim,” Jon muttered, glancing around the room anxiously.

“Nonsense. He’ll be back,” Elias said, releasing Jon’s shoulder and taking his elbow in turn, “I would like to introduce you to a few dear friends of mine. I believe Tim is keeping one occupied at present.” Jon sighed inwardly (and maybe outwardly as well) and allowed himself to be led around the room. His wine glass was empty, as was his plate and he found it snatched away by a member of catering. He had nothing to cling to, to keep his hands busy, and was struggling not to pull out his delicately-placed hair pin just so he could fiddle with something.

Jon was taken on a tour of old rich people of England. Names flew past him, conversation buzzed around him, and still Jon felt like nothing more than a well-dressed trophy to be ogled at. Did Gertrude do this every year, he wondered dimly. No wonder she disappeared. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, nodding and smiling at the appropriate times, speaking when needed, and feeling the swirl of the orchestra build up in pressure behind his eyes. The music was beautiful but hard to listen to. Something about it was ugly, hiding a dark secret behind the innocent melodies.

Eventually, the evening was so much of a blur that he couldn’t even begin to fathom how much time had passed. It may have been weeks, may have been merely twenty minutes. Jon glanced down for his watch before realizing he had taken it off at Tim’s flat and never strapped it back on. Pity. It only added to the dreamscape reality he seemed to be participating in.

At last, Elias led him towards the large burly man that was suddenly in view (hadn’t he always been? Jon wasn’t quite sure. The wine must have affected him more than he thought with the nerves) and Jon saw Tim, similarly trapped in conversation as he had been. He smiled apologetically as Jon and Elias approached and the larger man smiled warmly at the newcomers.

“Ah, Archivist. I hope you don’t mind I stole your companion away briefly. I was curious about the nitty-gritty of your Archive. Timothy here was very informative.” Tim winced at the use of his full name and a part of Jon smirked, relating to the sentiment of being called Jonathan or worse, John.

“I’m glad he can answer your questions.” Elias spoke before Jon could open his mouth. “I’m quite proud of the Archive staff. Jon chose well and I am sure the four of them are going to do great things together. Jon, you remember the Lukas family?”

Jon nodded, confused for a second before the man in front of him extended his hand. “Peter Lukas, at your service.” The hand was cold, and a feeling of dismay washed over Jon as he shook it. He couldn’t help the feeling that the shake of that hand was a seal of his fate.

The orchestral music had picked up, a swirl of strings and piano, ascending in pitch until it grated at Jon’s ears. No one else seemed to react to it, however, as the manic notes pulling at something inside Jon’s brain, something he couldn’t explain. It was almost like a migraine, but sharper and deep in his spine and in his ears. Elias let go of Jon’s arm at some point during the conversation with Peter Lukas, a discussion about boats, maybe? Travel? This was the conversation Elias was so keen on Jon being a part of?

As Jon felt that grip relax, the glint of the ring on Elias’ finger seeming to wink at him, Jon took a staggered step backwards. “Mr. Lukas, ah-Peter, it’s been a pleasure. Elias, ex-excuse me.”

Jon turned and dashed out of the library, feet carrying him on instinct through the winding halls and down the stairs of the institute, deep into the Archives. He stopped when he felt his feet echo against the cold, solid lino of the archival storage and bent over, hand on the wall, gasping in shallow, rapid bursts. It was too much, it was too much, he thought he could do this but it was too much and he wasn’t enough for them-

“Woah-boss.” Tim was there. When did Tim get here? Was he speaking out loud? Shit. “Jon, yeah-hey, Jon. I’m here. You’re okay. Take some deep breaths, okay? You’re going to black out if you’re not careful.”

Jon felt his suit jacket being shrugged off of him and the newly allowed freedom of his shoulder helped. He took a deep, sputtering breath, the sweet oxygen flooding his system and sharpening his thoughts.

“The-the music and the talking,” he said under his breath, Tim craning to listen without infringing on his personal space. “Too-too much.”

“The music? Jon, hey, hey, just focus on calming down, okay? That was a dick move of Elias to separate us immediately. I was talking to that Lukas guy for way too long. Not even sure what we talked about. I think he’s just one of those guys.” Jon smirked to himself as he focused on the floor beneath his feet, breathing slowly until his heart rate had resumed a normal rhythm.

“Says you,” he mumbled, eyes closing as he pressed his warm cheek to the cold wall.

“You bastard!” Jon felt a light swat on his shoulder. “I listen to people! I have meaningful conversation; just ask Martin and Sasha and Alexa from Library and Calvin from Artefact Storage. I am practically a professional listener.”

Jon smirked, satisfied with his jab and turned around, now pressing his back to the wall. “God, Tim, I do not want to go back in there.” It was hard to admit out loud, even if the evidence was written all over his face.

“Okay. So, we won’t.”

“What?” the answer was so mind-bogglingly simple, Jon reeled.

“We don’t want to be here. We’ve talked, we’ve eaten. Let’s just leave. I can tell Elias I had an emergency and you had to escort me home, like a true gentleman.”

“Lie to Elias? I feel like that cant end well.” The offer was tempting, Jon hadf to admit.

“I mean, Sasha has keys to my flat. I could ask her to start a fire, if you think that’s sufficient?”

Jon barked out a laugh at that. “Ah, no, lets save a fire for something big. Yes. Let’s-let’s go, Tim. And-er, I suppose I should thank you. For coming tonight. I know its not an ideal way to spend an evening.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim did a twirl, Jon’s own jacket slung over his shoulder. “I look hot. You think I’d pass up an opportunity to dress up like this? You’re dreaming.” He smirked and took Jon’s arm, leading him back up the stairwell. It felt different than Elias’s touch. That had been a cold tug, directional and leashed. This felt…snug, more like a link in a chain than anything else. Comforting, reassuring.

(Luckily, they weren’t laughed out of the Nando’s they popped into late at night. Lemon and herb and spices covered their hands, but they were careful to keep their jackets clean. Jon, when looking back on the evening; remembers this moment, talking and laughing and letting the fresh night air was over them. Elias, Lukas, and Fairchild be damned. He’d deal with that tomorrow.)

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #fanfic to a tea #jonathan sims #tim stoker #prompt fic #black-tie #elias bouchard #still a dick #peter lukas #simon fairchild #sasha james #me? write everyone BUT martin>#amazing

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years

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I literally JUST sat down, pt. 5

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Six, Part Seven

AN: The case stalls, but no one’s willing to give up on you just yet. Characters: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

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Saturday morning dawned cold and bright but you hardly felt rested. You’d spent the better part of the night trying to squash your panic, curled up under your duvet with your phone in your hand, convinced that the second you closed your eyes something terrible would happen. The facts of the case bounced around in your mind like wasps, angry and frantic, trying their best to get out, but it was no use. You simply had to accept it, someone you worked with was stalking you. They were stalking you and murdering innocent people in some sick attempt to fulfil the fantasy in their mind, and that put everyone in your life at risk.

You’d realized it the night before and the thought alone made you feel sick. Stalkers were, by nature, unpredictable so there was no way for you to know which of your friends would be a target. The stalker could see any of them as a threat and decide to take matters into his own hands. Your only comfort came in knowing that your parents were on a cruise near New Zealand, and all your friends were safe under Rossi’s roof. For now.

You sighed and forced yourself out of bed, pulling on the most comfortable set of clothing you had and shuffling downstairs. As you made your way into the kitchen you were met by a sea of friendly faces and your spirits lifted slightly.

“Morning, Sunshine,” JJ greeted sympathetically, “we were wondering when you’d be up.”

“What time is it?” You asked, accepting a cup of coffee from her gratefully.

“8:17,” Spencer answered, giving you a small smile.

You smiled back and looked around, doing a mental headcount of all the faces at Rossi’s kitchen island, “Where are Morgan and Prentiss?”

“Morgan went to meet the M.E.,” JJ answered, slinging a protective arm over your shoulder, “and Em-“

“She’s still in her room,” Garcia cut in, pushing a cupcake on a plate towards you, “she’s awake but she won’t come down.”

You frowned and looked at JJ for clarification. JJ sighed and gave you a gentle squeeze.

“She’s-uh-she’s taking this whole thing pretty hard,” she admitted softly, “she doesn’t want to admit it, but you know how she is.”

You nodded, “I’ll talk to her,” you said, pushing yourself away from the kitchen island and pouring a second cup of coffee.

You trudged up the stairs, exhaustion tugging at your eyelids with every step. Emily’s room was next to Morgan’s and, before knocking, you just took a minute to watch. Emily was sitting on her bed with her back towards the door, staring intensely at something in her lap that you couldn’t see and your heart dropped.

———————————

Your stomach hurt from laughing so much as you watched the man Emily had brought over scamper off with his tail between his legs. Some real life FBI agent he’d turned out to be.

“That. Was. Brilliant,” you laughed, jostling her with your shoulder, “you, Emily Prentiss, are brilliant.”

“Why thank you,” she smiled, “god sometimes it’s too easy. It’s just too easy with these guys. What, do they think we’re stupid or something?”

It was girl’s night. The first you’d had in months and, quite frankly, you needed it. Your workload was killing you, and the weight of all the death you saw on the regular was making it difficult to find joy in anything anymore. Which was why you had your girls. Emily had dragged you all out to a local bar and plied you with alcohol until you were laughing and giggling like a bunch of preteens at a sleepover. It was wonderful, and you could feel yourself getting lighter and lighter with each passing minute.

“Almost definitely,” you agreed, taking another deep swig from whatever drink Emily had forced on you.

“Or they at least think we’re stupider than them,” JJ clarified.

Emily made a noise of agreement and rolled her eyes, “Which is why I personally have no interest in dating them.”

“Not that we could even if we wanted to,” Garcia pointed out, “I mean, who has time to date with this job?”

“Not me,” you said, “I haven’t been on an actual date in ages.”

“Well I’m sure we can find someone who’d be willing to take you out, Y/N,” Emily teased with faux innocence, “let’s think, ladies; who do we know who’s smart and funny, with a similar work schedule, who Y/N might be attracted to and who already thinks she’s wonderful?”

“Hmm,” JJ played along, “ooo that’s a tough one.”

��I’m stumped,” Garcia agreed, “oh wait! Here’s a crazy idea, what about Reid?”

JJ and Emily gasped, clutching their chests with looks of surprise so melodramatic that you couldn’t help but laugh, despite your embarrassment.

“Oh my god, Reid!” Emily agreed, “It’s perfect, Penelope Garcia you are a genius.”

“But wait, Y/N swears she’s not into him like that, guys, remember?” JJ joked.

“Ooohhh,” Emily and Garcia chorused.

“Well, I guess it’s hopeless then,” Emily joked, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your cheek, “you’re stuck with me, Y/L/N.”

You smiled and kissed her back, leaving a lipstick smudge on her pale cheek, “Nowhere else I’d rather be, Prentiss. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Garcia clapped her hands together in excitement and pulled out a camera, “Everybody say BAU!”

“BAU!” You all cheered in unison, collapsing into laughter the moment the flash went off.

—————————————

“Hey, you,” you greeted, “you not coming down for breakfast?”

Emily’s head snapped up and you caught a glimpse of the photograph in her hands. It was the one from that girls night, one of the last you’d ever had at the BAU. Not that anyone had known that at the time. You could see the resentment in her eyes, and the pain and you felt a sharp stab of guilt for everything you were putting your friends through.

“Garcia’s bought those cupcakes last night, they’re really tasty.” You continued, stepping hesitantly inside, “I could fetch you one if you’d like.”

“I’m not hungry,” she replied simply, “but I’ll take the coffee if you’re giving.”

You smiled and handed Emily the cup, taking a seat beside her on the bed. For a moment you just sat in silence, drinking your coffee together and thinking, but eventually the silence had to break.

“Em I know you’re mad-“ you started.

“Mad?” She interrupted with an incredulous laugh, “Y/N I’m not mad.”

“Yes. You are,” you insisted, “you have been ever since I came back to the unit. I mean, come on, you made me share a desk with Reid so that your purse had its own spot.”

Emily sighed and stared down into her cup, tapping her manicured nails against the ceramic, “Okay maybe I was a little bit mad,” she agreed, “but can you blame me? You left without saying goodbye!”

“I said goodbye!”

Emily rolled her eyes, “Not properly. You never really explained why. One day everything was fine and the next you’d handed in your resignation. It sucked, and I was mad,” she sighed, shaking her head, “and then I blinked and suddenly it’s a year later.”

“Time flies.” You agreed.

“Yeah! Yeah and a year later you still couldn’t tell me you hadn’t actually resigned?” She probed, “How’s that supposed to make me feel? I’ve been walking around like some sort of idiot thinking that you’re gone for good.”

You nodded and nudged her shoulder with yours, deciding to ignore the ‘gone for good’ comment and focus on everything else, “Well, hey, let’s make a deal. After all this is over, we’ll meet up at your tombstone and you can yell at me all you like for keeping you in the dark, deal?”

Emily snorted and you felt the tension lift, “Okay, point taken.” she chuckled. You hummed your agreement and you lapsed back into comfortable silence before Emily continued, “But hey, the desk thing worked out great. You and Spencer seem to be getting along again.”

You felt yourself flush with embarrassment, giving Emily the ammunition she needed to start teasing you mercilessly. It was nice, and familiar and it made you feel grounded in a way you didn’t realize you were missing before.

“You’re so predictable,” she laughed, “making sad puppy dog eyes at each other from across the room all day.”

You shoved her over, which she responded to with an indignant yelp.

“Yeah well, unfortunately we’ve got more to worry about than my abysmal love life,” you reminded Emily, “so will you please come back downstairs with me?”

You stood and extended your hand, which Emily took with a soft smile, letting you pull her to her feet.

“Okay, agent Y/L/N, but only because I’m hungry and I don’t want JJ to eat my cupcake.”

“Mmhmm,” you agreed sarcastically, threading your fingers together as Emily tucked the well worn photo back into her pants pocket.

She must’ve brought it with her from home, you realized with a start. She’d dragged that photo with her all this time.

It made your heart swell and you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Hey, Prentiss?”

“Yeah, Y/L/N?”

“It’s still you and me, you know? You’re still stuck with me.”

She stopped, a soft smile creeping onto her face as her dark eyes softened. For a moment you just looked at one another, really seeing the person in front of you for the first time in a year. Then she squeezed your hand and you kept moving.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know that, you sap.”

———————————

The rest of the weekend was as close to bliss as Spencer could imagine while working a potentially catastrophic stalker case. He didn’t know what had happened while you were upstairs talking to Emily, it wasn’t his place, but he knew that you looked happy when you came back down. Emily looked happy too and, when she took a seat beside him, she shot him a knowing wink, which made him blush.

After that, the team was back. Morgan had confirmed with the M.E that the newest victim hadn’t been drugged, and he had indeed been tortured before he was killed. He’d also confirmed that the contents of the victim’s stomach was another grizzly message from the killer; tandoori chicken and sparkling wine, the exact meal you always ordered at the little restaurant you went to after a long case. Everyone had gotten eerily quiet when that came out. But you moved on, going through case files and reports together in the hopes of coming across some common name. It was a fairly thankless task. The only plus side was how much time Spencer got to spend with you, reading files, pouring coffee, just talking in the garden during lunch. Spencer was giddy with it, and Emily noticed.

“Real subtle, Lover Boy,” she teased on Sunday night, as Spencer watched you disappear back into the house for a drink.

He flushed and looked away, “What-uh-I don’t know what you mean.”

Emily rolled her eyes but smiled fondly, collapsing into the outdoor couch next to Spencer, “Sure.”

Just then you’d walked back out, and Emily let the matter drop for the time being. By the time Monday morning rolled in, Spencer finally felt like they had a handle on things. The picture was still murky and undefined, but now they could at least grasp its edges and make out its overall shape. The team had a long way to go, but it was something, and they’d managed to get by with less in the past. Coming in separately had been Hotch’s idea. It was likely that the UnSub was watching the team and coming in together would tip him off to the fact that work was being done outside of the office. Secrecy was their biggest weapon right now, Hotch had reminded them, secrecy and surprise. The UnSub couldn’t know what they knew. Not now, not ever. It was essential to the investigation.

Spencer remembered looking over at you when Hotch said that. He remembered the way you’d looked, the nerves and anger bubbling underneath your calm demeanor, and the way that his resolve had hardened.

“So what have we got?” Morgan had asked, “Officially, I mean.”

Hotch pressed his lips together, “White male, late twenties to mid thirties,” he’d explained, “try and float the idea that we’re looking into an ex boyfriend from high school or college. Anything we can do to throw him off.”

Spencer repeated it to himself like a mantra as he walked through the FBI building and stepped onto the elevator, bound for the sixth floor. As more agents piled in, the hairs on the back of Spencer’s neck stood up and his anxiety spiked. Is it you? A voice in his head whispered as he glanced at the dark haired man from Sex Crimes. Or you? He wondered, as a sandy haired agent with a long scar met his eye. Is it any of you? The doors finally opened on his floor and Spencer practically leapt out, forcing himself not to look back and keep his pace as normal as possible as he pushed open the doors to the BAU.

Spencer was the last to arrive, just as planned and, because of that, you’d already taken your space at his desk. The sight of you looking totally at home surrounded by his books and files made Spencer unreasonably happy and his nerves settled. Or at least, they did until he noticed the particularly devilish look in Emily’s eye, and the lack of a second chair at his desk.

“Emily, where’s my chair?” He asked.

She shrugged, “How should I know?”

You looked up at the noise and smiled at Spencer, making his heart leap into his throat.

“Sorry, Spence, there was only one when I arrived. I looked all over the office but the other one seems to have just vanished,” you explained, pushing yourself away from the desk, “you take this one, I’ll stand.”

Spencer sighed, “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N, sit down. I’m fine with standing.”

“No, Spencer. I’m already taking up half your desk space. I’m not stealing your chair as well. Sit down.” You frowned.

“Y/N-“

“Spencer.”

“Or,” Emily interjected, with faux innocence, “you could just share the chair.”

You both froze, staring at Emily like she’d just grown a second head.

“Come again?” You asked.

“The chair,” she repeated, resting her chin on her hand, “you could just share it. Instead of arguing and wasting valuable time.” She shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “Just a thought.”

If looks could kill, Emily Prentiss would be dead. Spencer was considering pouring a bottle of water over her head when he caught your eye and blushed bright red. He hated how easy it was for you to undo him, how quickly he became completely obvious about his feelings towards you.

“We-we can’t share,” you stuttered.

“Why not?” Emily asked.

“Because!” You protested, “Spence is a germaphobe. He’d be uncomfortable sharing with me.”

“I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable,” he said without thinking, “not with you.”

You paused, surveilling him with a kind of softness in your eye that made his stomach all fluttery and weak. Emily watched the exchange with amusement, but didn’t interrupt, just waiting to see what happened as you and Spencer sized one another up.

“Okay then,” you agreed, “let’s...share. Somehow.”

Spencer fiddled with the strap of his satchel, but breathed an inward sigh of relief as the tension passed. The office chair Emily had left you with was a big one, and Spencer didn’t exactly take up a lot of space, but it was still tight. There was no getting away from casual touches, the pressure of your leg against his, the smell of your perfume clinging to your hair when it brushed by him, the low roll of your voice as you hummed along with the song in your head. Almost all of his senses were suddenly filled with you instead of empty space. The whole thing made his brain short-circuit. Maybe he hadn’t thought this completely through. As you read through a case file, Spencer caught Emily’s eye across the desk and mouthed ‘I hate you’ at her while you weren’t looking.

“You’re welcome,” she mouthed back, shooting him a wink as she turned back to her laptop.

You shifted in your seat, sending another rush of scent through Spencer’s nose.

“Is that-” he started, “are you wearing a different perfume than normal?”

You met his eye, a little confused, but played along, “It’s new, yeah. I bought it just over a week ago but it hasn’t been warm enough to wear it, why?”

“I’ve smelled it somewhere before,” he explained, riffling through the evidence box he kept on his desk until he found the right bag. He was acutely aware of your eyes on him as he sliced through the seal, reached in with a glove between his fingers and pulled out the letter that had been left at your apartment. He inhaled, filling his nose with the familiar scent, and his stomach dropped, “I knew it. Here, smell.”

You followed his lead and Spencer watched your eyes widen with horror when you confirmed his theory, “Oh my god, he scented the paper.”

“With a perfume you hadn’t even worn yet.” he continued.

“Which means he had to have known that I’d bought it, and that I’d intended to start wearing it soon,” you followed, “which means he must have been following me that day.”

“And if he was, there’s a chance one of the stores has him on camera. Do you remember when and where you bought it?”

“I do.”

“Get that information to Garcia, we’ll have to talk to the store owners before they erase the tapes, and then she can track your movements and see if anyone’s a little too close for comfort.” he said.

Your eyes lit up with that intelligent sparkle that Spencer had always loved, the one you got in the moments when a case finally started to seem solvable.

“Spencer Reid, you are the key to everything, aren’t you?” you teased.

He opened his mouth to respond, his cheeks already flushing bright red, when Hotch’s door opened and their team leader stepped out, a stony expression on his face.

“Alright everybody,” Hotch’s voice boomed through the bullpen, “briefing room now please. We’ve got a case.”

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

Taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes, @confused-and-really-hungry, @word-scribbless, @reidloversisforever, @ashookykooky, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @shilohpug, @tangerinenotions95, @petitchatonbleu, @pirateismywayofspeaking, @must-be-a-weasley-92, @whovianayesha, @holding-on-to-my-youth, @quie-pls, @fear-less-write-more, @astraea-writes, @mac99martin, @word-scribbless, @levylovegood, @easygoingtheatre, @purpleraindrops, @eevee0722, @bisexualdisaster106, @sgold, @openheart12, @shilohpug

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biggirllifestyle · 3 years

Text

Ducks in the pond.

Summary: Being friends from the beginning does get its perks, but it's also such a heartbreaking scene when you’re a background character or so you think.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x OFC(Original Female Character)

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: Small cursing, this got away from me so sorry.

A/N: I found my next victim Chris Evan characters, I’ll do better I swear.

Being surrounded by the elite is not something many can say they have experienced especially if it’s something you have been doing since a very young age when you were not even part of that social group. My mother did not come from a wealthy background, she didn’t come to the country with any knowledge of the language and without a penny in her pocket but thanks to a faithful day where she had met Harlan, he had offered a helping hand for my mother and from there on she became his lived in housekeeper.

The first time I ever met Ransom I couldn’t say that I wasn't tempted to punch him in the face, we were children when we met and everything that came out of his mouth was rude and condescending. Ransom was older than I and I knew he was Harlan's favorite and least favorite grandson, he was a rude snotty kid who used to pull on Megs and I’s pigtails every time he could get away with it.

I didn't know when it started but at some point, Ransom began to follow me around never leaving my side, I think it began the day that I finally gave in to my urges and punched his perfectly handsome face. My mom was mortified when she found out what I had done, Ransom's mother Linda was pissed and had demanded her father to fire my mother as a repercussion for what I had done but instead, he laughed and I had to apologize begrudgingly to him and from then on I had my shadow. That was how it was for the next few years, him following me around until we became inseparable, we were still coming from polar opposite sides of the societal spectrum even if he never treated me any differently from his rich friends.

While he was out partying with his private school friends I was working part-time jobs and doing homework to pay off my tuition, Harlan had offered many times to pay off school as a thank you to my mother's service through the years but I never accepted feeling guilt at his kind offer. There were times when my friendship with Ransom was tested as his rich dick persona would come out and he would sometimes disrespect my lack of social standings when he would hang out with his friends, I always hated that side of ransom because I knew that the words that he said were partially true, we were from different backgrounds his way of living was different from mine where I was dressed from thrift stores and low-grade shopping centers he was dressed to Gucci and Balenciaga but that didn’t seem to matter to him.

The only times that any of those comments bothered me was when it came from Ransom's weekly conquest, they were all beautiful women who seemed to have walked out of a photoshoot they were all thin and beautiful women who just oozed money from their pores if they even had pores since all of them seemed to be flawless. I always wondered what it was that I did for Ransom to be so faithful to our friendship never once did I have to compete with others because, in the end, he would always choose me this was also another reason why his conquest didn’t last long since their cruel remarks on my appearance and social standing was an ending point on the relationship, maybe it was the fact that I was always the one who saved him from doing something stupid like getting kicked out of his family or him ending up killing his grandfather.

Things changed when Ransom left for college he had gotten accepted to Princeton and off he went, our communication was limited since he was always so busy with school and me with my part-time jobs. I had forgone going to college to stay close to my mother and in the process, Harlan had offered me a small position in his publishing company which his son Walt was not too happy about. Everything was going well for me. I was living an adequate life. I had finally moved out and gotten my apartment, my work was going great and I had finally made some great friends. Ransom seemed to be doing well as he was passing all of his classes, he even became friends with his dorm mate, which he was forced to have if he wanted Linda and Richard to keep paying his tuition.

Everything was going well for both of us. Our friendship was thriving through the long-distance even if I was hiding a deep dark secret from him, the fact that I have been in love with him for a long time now. This has been a raging issue that I had been hiding for such a long time but I never thought of doing anything about it since most of the time I was fine with being his best friend, I relied this to Claire my friend from work after I hanged up on Ransom on our call of the week.

“That is the saddest and dumbest thing that I have ever heard,” Claire said as she sipped on her wine, “and I am saying this with a lot of love but if you don’t feel like it would work between you two maybe you should try to give yourself a chance with someone else.” I turned back towards her as I took out the popcorn from the microwave, she made a shrugging gesture before turning on the tv.

“I am just saying Eric from accounting seems to be interested in going out with you, and hey I haven’t heard anything shifty about him from anybody else.” She browsed through a few movies before finally choosing one. I sat next to her setting down the bowl of popcorn in front of us as we settled down, “I’m just saying we big girls deserve some love so if that means you having to go on a date with a guy just so you could be able to get over your childhood friend, then so be it.”

I couldn’t help but think over what Claire said and I knew she wasn't wrong but a small part of me still wished that maybe Ransom felt just a little of that love that I felt for him but I knew it was probably a far cry, so I gave Claire a nod agreeing for her to set me up with Eric she squealed before reaching for her phone as she started texting someone after a few moments she put her phone down and mine began to go with off, it was Eric I gave a panicked look to Claire who just shrugged I sighed before answering.

“Hi, Eric how can I help you?” I said acting dumb, Claire swatted at my arm but I hit her back focusing on Eric who seemed to be having a conversation of his own.

“Yeah I heard from someone that you wanted to go out, and well I just wanted to know if the upcoming Friday was good for you I know this great Italian place that just opened up we could go after work if that works for you,” I was about to respond but I felt my phone going off again I pulled it away seeing Ransoms name on the screen, I debated on answering before ignoring it and returning with Eric.

“Friday sounds great”

After hanging up with Eric, Claire and I continued our movie before she had to start heading home as soon as she was gone I began to tidy up, after ignoring Ransom's call I thought about my friendship with a man who looked for the very best for his life. At some point, I had silenced my phone in the chance that if Eric were to send me a text I could just use the excuse of not answering, and that is how I had left it as I went to sleep since tomorrow started our winter break so there was nothing I had to worry about so with that thought I went to bed.

When morning came I finally had the chance to finally take a break and just lay in bed, everything was silent no noise whatsoever just the random drive of cars on the street and that was it after a while I finally got myself ready to get out of bed reaching for my phone I noticed that Ransom had called me nine more times leaving enough text messages that I worried that something might have happened. Dialing his phone as I began to get ready just in the chance if I had to rush out at any moment to meet him after the second ring he finally answered.

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all night do you know how worried I was,” Ransom said as he began to chastise me, I couldn’t believe he was doing this after we had talked before he started calling me liked a maniac I was about to tell him off and let him know that I didn’t think very highly of his little outburst before he stopped, “Now ducky this is what’s going to happen do you hear me your gonna finish getting ready, put your shoes on and come outside so we can go eat some breakfast do you hear me.”

I huffed out at him but did as he said as I finished getting ready, Ransom always did this ordered me around expecting me to follow his every whim without any form of repercussion from my part but I knew I would never really fight Ransom since all in all I was his only true friend. After finishing getting ready I rushed out of my apartment locking behind me before taking the stairs two at a time I soon as I got to the lobby I couldn’t help but take a small breath the small exertion from my actions after composing myself I walked out seeing Ransom's car, I couldn’t help the giddiness that came over me this would be the first time I would be seeing him after his no show for Thanksgiving so I was very excited to see him again as I got closer to his car ready to greet him excitedly I couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t alone.

“Ducky it’s so good to see you I missed your pretty face,” Ransom said as he stepped forward to hug me but a hand stopped him from moving forward as I was left standing awkwardly from where I stepped forward to meet him, his companion stepped forward putting out a slender and manicured hand so I could shake.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Caroline, Ransom's girlfriend, you must be the friend.” The way she said the word friend made me flush entirely it sounded so mocking when it came from her but I ignored it as I gave her a small smile. Ransom was watching our interaction before clapping his hands together, “Right so let's be on our way then.”

He walked over to the driver's side as he got in Caroline opened the passenger door and motioned me to get in first, I couldn’t help but look at her with a questioning look, Ransom seemed to have caught on to what she was trying to do as he motioned towards Caroline, “Caroline maybe you should ride in the back that way I can also have time to catch up with Ducky.”

Caroline huffed and crossed her arms like a child, the words that came out of her mouth made me feel so shameful I wanted the floor to swallow me whole, “I think she can fit in the back if we push the seats all the way forward I mean I wouldn’t mind moving it since I don't take up much space.” Ransom was about to protest against her but I moved forward pushing the seat forward as much as I could so I could squeeze myself through.

“It’s fine don’t worry about it, this might be the only opportunity I might have to feel as if I’m being abducted or something,” I joked as I positioned myself into the tight space of the back, Caroline seemed smug by her win as she got into the passenger seat Ransom turned to look at me as I avoided his gaze as I looked down at my phone he turned back around as he started the car, the drive to the restaurant was quite from Ransom and I’s point Caroline was going off about some friends of her who were currently on a break or something of that sorts.

When we arrived at the dinner I couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm, this was Ransom’s and I’s regular place we used to go to back when we were in high school, I used to work part-time here and sometimes he visited me as I sneaked him fries when I could. Ransom looked back at me with a soft smile I couldn’t help but to return until I heard a scoff Caroline seemed to not like our choice of location and she seemed to want to protest but Ransom ignored it and got out coming to her side as she opened the door for her, that seemed to placate her as she took his hand to get out. I huffed out a little breath as I began the agonizing task of getting out of the car without making too much ruckus where I would be noticed, when I finally got out I noticed that Ransom and Caroline were waiting for me I flushed hard realizing that they saw my struggle but I gave them a small smile before walking in front of them into the dinner.

Louise was at the counter and the moment she saw me she couldn’t help but let out a shout of excitement she called to Adam who was at the grill in the back as they both came forward to greet me, they saw Ransom and the excitement grew they’ve known us for a very long time so of course, they were glad to see him as well. Louise gave us a small shove as we went to our usual seat which was a booth at the back, when I was young I was scared to go anywhere near the booths but the good thing was that the seats here were spacious so there was nothing to worry about, Ransom scooted in but Coraline seemed to hesitate to look disgusted before sitting down at the corner.

“So how’s school? Are you having any problems with your classes, any subject you might be struggling with?” I asked as I moved around the salt and pepper shake, Ransom laughed as he beat an with a tirade of his Lit professor who loved to throw existential questions into the lesson as if that would help them finish their assignments on time, I couldn’t help but laugh at his whining as our server finally came to our table. There seemed to be a small tension coming from Ransom and Caroline but I chose to ignore it as I moved my attention to our server, he seemed to be about our age, and from what I could see he was new since I could sense his small hesitancy as he took our orders, I gave him a small smile as I tried to give him some reassurance of what he was doing.

“Don’t worry about it you’re doing a great job let me tell you when I used to work here back in the day it was hard, to say the least so no pressure and just take it one step at a time,” Tom as his name tag said relaxed as he gave me a cute and flirty smile that made me blush as I sent him a small shy smile as he walked into the kitchen to put our orders in when I turned back to Ransom he seemed to have a frown on his face at our interaction I made a funny face at him as he rolled his eyes before returning to his tirade. Caroline seemed too quiet so I ignored Ransom as I tried to make conversation with her,

“Are you also at Princeton Caroline?” She gave me a look before turning her nose at me.

“Yes I am in school at the moment but it's not like it matters I’m just doing it to pass the time while I inherit the family business,” she said as she moved around the straw in her drink, I gave her a confused look at her words because I couldn’t understand what she meant by “passing the time,” she must have seen my confusion before she gave a huff before continuing, “Daddy is paying for my tuition so I can go but I don't do anything besides hanging out with my friends or taking trips, there’s no point for me to be going to classes if there is no point to it since I’m just going to inherit my family’s estate and wealth.”

I looked at her with a mildly disturbing face at her words, how I wished I had the opportunity she had to go to college but that option was never one to be considered since it was much too expensive to pay off and I didn’t want to accumulate debt when I was trying to help out my mother with her immigration situation so I said nothing, Caroline seemed to have caught on to my reaction because she gave me a scathing look for even looking at her in that way.

Before anything further could be said Ransom butted in to alleviate the tension that had just arisen between Coraline and me, “So Ducky how’s work Uncle Walt said that he was giving you your team to manage Grandad’s new book, how's that going for you?” I gave him a small smile as I began to tell him about the work that we have been doing and how I’ve been getting along well with everyone except an older editor who keeps trying to override my directions every time I make them to the team. Ransom nodded along at that moment Tom came back with our orders setting them up on the table before turning to me with a small smile, “Do you need anything else, anything I could do for you?” I smiled at him as I was about to respond Ransom butted in,

“No, we’re good.” I looked at Ransom with a pissed look at the rude tone he had used on Tom, he didn’t seem to care as he glared him down until he walked away. I was confused by Ransom's attitude I’ve never seen him act this rudely to people without a motive so his change of character made me wonder what was going on with him and if it had to do with the woman who was sitting right across from me poking at her food uninterested to us.

“So you remember Claire?” I asked him as I ignored his previous way of being with our server, Ransom seemed to be focused on his food so he hummed as confirmation, “Well we were talking last night and she set me up with one of our colleagues, and well now I have a date next Friday!” I said excitedly, Ransom began to choke on his food and I panicked as I started pushing his drink closer to him, Caroline had left just a while ago to the restroom and still hadn’t been back, after he had calmed down Ransom looked at me very differently almost as if he was mad at me for what I had said.

“Are you serious do you even know this guy, how could you put yourself in that situation you haven’t dated anyone ever and you think that going out with this guy is your best option,” he stopped himself his hands balled up into a fist on the table, I couldn't help the tears that welled up this was new to me Ransom had never spoken to me like this before never in such a way as if to shame me not when I decided to go to not go to college and not when I told him about my accident from high school.

“Are you that desperate? if you were you could have just told me and I would have shown you a pretty good time.” The shame and mortification that came over me at his words were so great I let a tear slip from my face, Ransom seemed to realize that his words were far too harsh because he reached out to grab my hand I flinched away from him not wanting him to touch me at all, “I want you to take me home, right now Ransom.” He seemed to hesitate before he clenched his jaw before scooting out of the booth he set a few bills on the table and began to walk out I sat there for a few minutes before finally walking after him Louise gave me a wave and I saw Tom give me a smile and a wave until I was out the door.

Ransom was sitting inside the car already waiting for me to go in, I didn’t see Caroline anywhere and I almost went back inside to go get her before Ransom spoke up again, “She already left her friends came and picked her up half an hour ago.” I nodded before getting into the passenger seat, on the drive back to my apartment everything was quiet, only the hum of the car providing sound. After a while we were finally there Ransom parked but didn’t turn off the engine we sat there quietly for a bit before I finally turned to him, “I’ll see you at the Lagoon okay, I think you and I need some time apart to think about what happened,” I paused as I looked away.

“I love you, I’ve always loved you and I want you to give me the chance to grow from those feelings so I feel like this is the best option for me,” I stepped out stopping before looking down at Ransom who was still so stock still, I knew that my words were probably still processing to him but there was no turning back I finally said what I needed to say and I was ready for everything that was coming, “Patito, I need you to understand that no matter what I would choose you over everybody else.” And with that, I shut the door.

My date with Eric had occurred and it was the worst thing I have ever been on, believing that maybe this could be my chance to grow out of my love for Ransom I looked at the bright side but Eric was the worst he was rude and snobby and made comments about my appearance making it seem like I had to give him a thank you for even looking my way and I hated it. Ransom and I hadn’t spoken to each other since the day we went out and I hadn’t been able to think about it, so that night after my date I cried letting out the pent up emotions I had thought about the fact that maybe me falling in love or being loved would be a notion that could never happen.

During my little outburst, I heard my phone going off and without looking I answered it, the other person on the line was quiet before I heard an outburst, “What the hell happen where are you?” I was confused for a second before realizing that it was Ransom on the line, “Did that son of a bitch do something to you tell me where you are before I go kill him.”

I gave a few hiccuped breaths before Ransom calmed down with the softest tone I have ever heard from him, “Look Ducky I just want to make sure if you’re okay? Tell me where you are and I’ll meet you there in a heartbeat.” With that tone I was able to calm myself down as I told him I was at home, he gave a confirmation telling me he would be here soon as he ordered me to drink a glass of water before he hanged up.

Fifteen minutes later and an empty glass I heard knocking at my door when I opened it Ransom dressed in some plain sweats and the sweater I had given him for Christmas last year no matter what he wore he always looked handsome and this time I couldn’t help the tears that dropped. Ransom crowded me as he began to wipe the tears from my face. Here I stood my hair and makeup a mess dressed in the nicest dress that I had as the person I loved wiped my tears off my face.

“Did he do anything to you Ducky? Tell me and I swear that I will find him and kill him with my bare hands if I have to.” I laughed at his words nut I gave him a shake of my head telling him that nothing had happened. Ransom seemed to let out a breath before he moved us to the couch, we sat there in complete silence as Ransom held me close after what seemed like hours even though it was probably minutes I finally calmed down enough that I had stopped crying altogether.

“I called you today because I knew you had your date with that guy, I was mad, at you, at me, at that prick, and at fucking Claire for setting you up,” he took a deep breath before sitting up and pulling me away from him so we could be facing each other, “I thought of your confession and I am sorry for not calling you sooner but there was so much on my mind I have to tell you.”

I looked up at Ransom seeing that he was being completely serious and I couldn’t help the pull in my chest at the way he looked in that moment how much he has grown from when we were young and how much more he could do in the future, “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time now but I haven’t been honest with you at all, I don’t want to be your friend anymore and I haven’t wanted us to be friends since high school after we went to different schools,” I pulled away completely when he said that the tears were coming back and I felt as I couldn't breathe anymore Ransom could probably see my upcoming panic attack, so he did something I never thought would happen. He kissed me.

He kissed me.

That was the only thought that was going through my mind as my brain short-circuited, I stared up at him surprised not believing he did that Ransom stood before he started pacing rubbing at his neck before turning towards me, “This is not how I wanted to do it so I feel like I am already messing up but,” he paused as he took a deep breath before he came before me and kneeled so we were at eye level, “I have been in love with you since we were kids I think from the moment you punched me in the face and Grandad forced us to hang out, but I think the moment I knew was when I saw you at the dinner you were talking to some customers and I remember how you reached towards their little girl as you wiped something off her face and made her laugh.”

He leaned towards me just a little until our faces were just inches apart, his eyes darted down to my lips as I wet them, “I knew that if I could I would do whatever it took to keep you at my side even if that meant us only being friends, but I am done being your friend.” With that, he surged forward kissing me much softer than I thought my lips tingled at the contact after a few seconds he darted his tongue to swipe onto my bottom lip as I parted them for him before he began to kiss me a little bit deeper. When he pulled away I couldn’t help but let out a whine he chuckled at I flushed hotly at his laugh giving him a soft smile,

“Ducky you’d don't know how long I’ve been waiting to do that, I love you so much.”

“I love you too Ransom I always have and no matter how annoying you are with your little designer clothes and your dumb car,” he gave an offended scoff which I giggled at, “but I will always love you no matter what.”

Tags: @rmtndew

#plus size ofc #pluss size #plus size oc #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombrey #original work #knives out

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Note

another raleigh concept but it might be kinda angsty? what if gray and y/n were to get into a fight and y/n leaves. how would raleigh react?

Could you maybe do really throwing a tantrum because yn isn’t here and she wants her and is refusing to come near grayson.

He was dwelling. He hated dwelling, but alas, thats exactly what he was doing, and had been doing for the last three hours since you’d walked out the door for work without a hug or kiss goodbye.

The fight hadn’t been super monumental, but it was far from pleasant. You were already stressed out with work, and even though Grayson got back from his walk a few minutes late, that was a few minutes too late.

“There you are, what the hell Gray?” You threw your hands up in the kitchen, work bag already over your shoulder.

“I... what? What’s wrong?”

“You’re late, that’s what’s wrong! I should have left 5 minutes ago, but I can’t exactly leave a sleeping 4 year old alone in the house now can I?” You huffed, already moving towards the door to get your shoes on.

“Babe I thought your shift didn’t start until 8, you’ve still got plenty of time to get there.” He glanced down at his watch to double check, make sure that he didn’t have it wrong in his head.

“I have a meeting this morning, at 7:45. That I told you about. Multiple times.”

As soon as she said it he remembered her mentioning it the night before - he may or may not have been too distracted by the fact that she was getting in the shower when she said it.

“I’m sor-”

“I don’t have time for this right now, I’ve gotta go I’m already late,” you shook your head, grabbing your keys and heading out the door. You almost slammed it behind you but caught yourself at the last second, closing it gently so you didn’t wake Raleigh up.

It seemed like all the women in his life were mad at him that day.

“No.”

“Ra.”

“No.” She crossed her little arms over her chest - something she’d picked up from her Uncle Ethan - and shook her head.

“Believe it or not, it’s not really optional bub. If you wanna go outside, you have to put shoes on. End of story.” He held up the little nike again, which looked like a doll shoe in his large hand.

“You don’t wear shoeses,” she countered, quirking an eyebrow up. Another Ethan habit. He was gonna have to talk to him about that.

“Remember when you stepped on that bee? And you couldn’t walk for a few days, and daddy had to carry you everywhere? We wear shoes so things like that don’t happen again.” He tried to reason with her, but she wasn’t budging.

Damn if he hadn’t passed on his own stubbornness.

She went to run past him again towards the back door and he caught her on instinct. As soon as he had her torso in his hands he knew what was coming.

A meltdown.

Sure enough, she started screaming at the top of her lungs, tears streaming as he pulled her to his chest, tried to hold her steady, wait for her to cry it out. But she pushed against him, grunting with the force of trying to move him, something she’d never done before.

So startled, he let her go, trying to ignore the tear of his heart when he realized she didn’t want him.

“Ra, baby hey, it’s okay.”

“NO! I want Y/N!” She screamed, running over to the couch and throwing herself face down onto it. Her little body shook with her cries, but he was frozen to his spot on the carpet.

She’d never asked for anyone but him before.

There was a fleeting moment of jealousy, but it was immediately washed over by the concern he felt. No matter how much he said he was going to be the strong parent who stuck to his guns, when she cried like that he’d do anything to pacify her.

And he’d watched the only thing she wanted rush out the door that morning, obviously not very happy with him. He ran his hands through his hair, a bit overwhelmed and exhausted at the prospect of trying to calm Raleigh down.

He took the easy route and pulled up Moana, moving over to the couch to rest his hand on her back, tracing patterns that he knew would calm her down until her tears turned to whimpers and then to deep breaths. She’d cried herself to sleep. He let out a sigh of relief, rubbing a hand over his eyes and laying his head against the couch close to her, hoping she would be a bit calmer with a nap under her belt.

An hour later, she woke up on the wrong side of the couch. Every little thing was a battle, from eating lunch to just sitting in the living room. Nothing was satisfying to her, nothing could soothe her, and all she wanted was you. Everything was just going to hell in a hand basket - he hadn’t remembered a day when things had been this bad since she was teething. It had him on the verge of tears by 6pm, so he did the only thing he knew to do these days.

hey. I know this morning wasn’t great, and I’m really sorry about making you late. It totally slipped my mind, but thats just an excuse. I’m not sure if you were planning on coming back over tonight or going to your place, but Raleigh has been a lowkey holy terror today and she won’t stop asking for you. You don’t have to come obviously, and I hope this doesn’t come off like a guilt trip, I’m just kinda out of options. And of course I’d love to see you, you know that, but it’s up to you. I love you

Little did he know that you were punching in the gate code and coming up the driveway as he typed. You read it with a frown as you parked - the drive to work had been stressful, but you’d made it to the meeting with 1 minute to spare and the rest of the day had actually gone pretty well. Your annoyance had faded throughout the day and all you wanted was to have a nice night in with your boyfriend and Ra. You’d seen Raleigh on a bad day before, but from the sounds of it she was in rare form. So you braced yourself, threw your bag over your shoulder and headed for the door.

Two identical sets of brown eyes turned to see you, both just as surprised to see you in the doorway.

“Y/N!!!!” Raleigh squealed, jumping up off the couch and running towards you. You scooped her up like usual, giving her a squeeze before you leaned back to look at her.

“Can we do nails now?” She asked, eyes bright and excited. You’d told her that if she was good all week that you would have a little homemade manicure night with her, a chance for Grayson to get some work done, though you knew he’d come in and let her paint his nails if she asked.

“Well miss Raleigh, do you remember our deal? What did we have to do to earn nail night?”

Her eyes went wide - she obviously thought you had no idea what had gone down all day.

“Um...”

“I don’t think you were very nice to your daddy today. What do you think?”

She tucked her chin, toying with the fabric of your shirt. “No. I’s not very nice today.”

“Well then, I think we might need to fix that before we have nail night. Here,” you leaned in to her ear so you could whisper. “Why don’t you go say sorry to daddy and then ask if he wants to do nails.”

She nodded quickly, wiggling until you put her down. She beelined for where he was sitting on the carpet, throwing her arms around his neck. He caught her automatically, holding her to him, but his eyes were on you.

“I’s sorry daddy,” she murmured into his neck.

“It’s okay baby. Thank you for saying sorry,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to her temple. You could tell he’d had a long day just from looking at him.

“You wanna do nails wif us?”

“Nails? You wanna do nails? Only if you promise to paint mine, you do them the best,” he smiled, putting on his best show of enthusiasm.

An hour and a half later, he was in bed with 9 lime green fingernails (she’d gotten bored and left his pinky blank), watching you get ready for the night. You moved over to him, climbing in bed next to him. You’d barely settled before he was practically on top of you, head buried in your chest and arms wrapped around you, asking to be held.

You obliged, wrapping him up as best you could, pressing kisses to his hair and running your finger over his bare skin.

“Rough day?”

“Roughest,” he mumbled, kissing your arm when it got close enough to his face. “As usual you saved the day though. I wasn’t sure if you were gonna come back tonight.”

“I haven’t stayed at my place in two weeks Gray,” you mumbled, nuzzling into his hair before he turned to look at you. “Sorry for being snippy this morning, I was just stressed out.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, it was my fault. Thank you for coming over.”

“I couldn’t miss nail night,” you teased, leaning down to kiss his nose. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he looked at you seriously.

“Is that why you came back?”

“No. I’m not mad. Honestly once I made it to my meeting on time I was fine. But if you’re asking if I would have come back for nail night even if you’d royally pissed me off, then yes, I would have.”

He moved then, pushing himself up with an arm.

“Really? Why?”

“Cause Raleigh has nothing to do with what’s going on with us. If I promise that little girl something I’m gonna follow through every time that I possibly can. Gotta show her that I mean what I say, you know?”

It felt like common sense when you said it, but you would never fully be able to understand how much that sentiment meant to Grayson. The fact that he’d found someone who cared so much about his daughter was the only thing he could have ever asked for, and you gave him so much more.

A bit overwhelmed, he couldn’t find the right words. Instead he ducked down to kiss you, lips rough and demanding against yours. It made you laugh a bit as you pulled him down on top of you.

“Oh that’s what does it for you huh? Good to know,” you teased as he moved to kiss your neck.

“Good parenting principles? Fuck yeah it does.”

#c:raleigh #this lil bean I love her sm #this is almost 2k jesus christ haha #g:blurb #blurb #grayson dolan blurb #anon #ask

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londontsukino · 3 years

Text

I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I’m going to start posting the chapters of a Ghost fanfic I’ve been slowly been plugging away at since last May. If I’m lucky, this will give me the kick in the pants to finally finish it. The chapters will be posted when I feel like they’re ready so they might not be in sequential order, and the story will go on A03 once everything is finished.

Synopsis:

In an AU, the story’s narrator, a nameless writer, is sent as a last minute replacement by the magazine she works for to travel with Ghost in order to cover what life on the road is like for a band and its crew. Against her better judgement, she falls in love with Papa Emeritus III, the founder of Ghost, a regular (if somewhat eccentric and charming) guy.

Prologue below the cut.

Prologue

Can You Hear the Rumble

I knocked on my editor’s door, wondering what all the secrecy was about. Her email that morning had left me only confused and normally Gloria’s emails were nothing if not straightforward. Come to my office as soon as you’re in this morning. You’re going to love this new assignment.

“Come in,” she said brightly, motioning me to the chair in front of her desk as I closed her office door. “How are you doing today, dove?” Dove. She called everyone that, from the interns to the magazine’s chief editor. As much as I liked Gloria, I sometimes wondered if she did that because she was terrible at names.

“Good, thanks. A bit confused, though,” I replied as I sat.

She nodded in understanding. “Yes, sorry for the cloak and dagger, but I wanted this to be a surprise. You know how Erik was going to be away for a month on assignment?”

I nodded, although I couldn’t remember exactly what he was going to be covering for the magazine’s Views from the Road series. Something about life on the road with a band, maybe?

“Well, his wife just gave birth early and of course he can’t be away that long with a newborn, so . . .” She trailed off for me to connect the dots.

“What? You want me to take his place?”

She nodded excitedly. “Yes!” Gloria opened a fat manila envelope that had been sitting on the side of her desk. “Here’s your access all areas pass, information on your per diem and—”

“Wait a minute, Gloria,” I cut in and she paused, almost confused as to why I interrupted her. “Exactly who am I supposed to be traveling with?”

“Ghost, of course.”

A blank look was my only response.

Sighing, she turned to her computer and quickly typed something before swinging the monitor towards me. On the screen was a Wikipedia entry. I leaned forward and squinted a little to read the text.

“‘Ghost is a metal band from Sweden, formed and led by Papa Emeritus III, a satanic version of the pope. They won a Grammy for Best Metal Performance for their song Cirice’,” I recited. Pausing, I looked at the photo included in the entry. In it was a shortish man with ink black hair, his face painted like a stylized skull, and flanked by four taller men. Well, I assumed they were men. They each had their face covered by identical silver masks in the shape of a demonic imp, complete with small horns.

“So it’ll be a sausage party. A satanic sausage party at that. Why exactly did you pick me, Gloria? Wouldn’t one of the guys be a better fit? Dave’s always in the office wearing tour shirts for Ozzy Osborne and Led Zeppelin tribute bands.”

She waved away my remark with a manicured hand. “You are the best fit, dove. Your writing has never disappointed me no matter what topic I throw at you.”

I sighed, annoyed with myself. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Besides,” my editor continued as if I hadn’t just agreed, “surrounded by lonely musicians, you might finally get some.”

“Gloria,” I sputtered as I felt my face heat up, “HR would have a field day if they heard you talking like that.”

“You leave tomorrow night,” she said with a grin.

“You’ll be gone for a month?” Jean asked, although I had a hard time hearing her over the staticky cell phone connection.

“Mmhmmm. Would you mind keeping an eye on my place?” I asked my best friend as I began to pick what clothes to take with me. A week’s worth of shirts, underwear, some workout clothes. Stuff that was easy to wash in a hotel sink, nothing too fancy.

“Of course. How exciting, though, getting to travel around with a band. Can I be you when I grow up?”

“Ha! Can I be you? I feel like I’ve failed some part of adulthood; wrong side of thirty, never married and renting an apartment. While you, my friend, have a mortgage, a husband, 2.5 kids, a nice little garden and pets.”

“There are trade offs to everything, you know.”

“I suppose. Still . . . I still can’t believe she said I might ‘finally get some’.”

I could hear Jean unsuccessfully smother a laugh. “You might. How long has it been?”

“Two years,” I muttered, frustrated that I couldn’t bring myself to start an account on a dating app or even seek someone out for a casual fling.

“That’s all? I could have sworn it was five.”

“You can’t see it, but I’m flipping you off, Jean. Ugh. Changing subjects.”

“Yes, changing subjects, which band are you tagging along with?”

“Ghost,” I replied as if that explained everything.

“Haven’t heard of them.”

“Neither have I, but apparently they’ve won a Grammy.”

“Huh.” Jean paused. “Well, promise me you’ll have a good time and bring that dress.”

I frowned as I stared at my closet. “What dress?”

“The dress. You know! The one you bought on a whim and always promise you’ll wear at the next girls’ night out but never do.”

Shoving a couple dozen hangers aside, I found what she was referring to. I took it off the rack and saw that the tags were still on. “Oh. That dress.”

“Yes, that dress. Wear it one night and see what happens. The desperation and underlying horniness wafting off of you is almost overwhelming at times.”

“What?” I screeched, but Jean had already hung up.

Sighing, I looked at the outfit again and tossed it into my suitcase.

#fanfic #fan fic #my writing #the band ghost #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus lll #oc #original characters #alternate universe #hopefully I don’t regret this decision later

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

Coming...Someday I hope o gawd: Aftermath

One more preview! (Though let me know if you enjoyed these.)

As I was completing “What it Means to Be A Demon” I began working on a Noah’s Ark fic, also part of Sawdust of Words. The idea was that it would be shorter than WIMTBAD and have a more even balance of hurt and comfort (as opposed to a massive hurt fest with about the minimal amount of comfort that still made for a satisfying ending).

At current count, it stands around 25k and is a mess. A mess that has defeated multiple beta readers’ ability to try and get it in order. And tbh I haven’t touched it in a while BUT I still intend to finish it one day!

(Seriously, I even foreshadowed some of it in WIMTBAD, because I do plan things. You don’t even want to know what my brain is like.)

I’ve posted about my issues before, but the main ones are:

1. I started trying to do this in media res/jumping between timelines thing that was really cool in my head. It did not work. I now have a bunch of random scenes with no idea how they’re all supposed to hang together.

2. Shockingly, this is angstier than I expected. The angst also went in an unexpected direction. Specifically, ummm...there’s quite a bit that deals with the psychological trauma of isolation. Hoo boy, did I not expect THAT to resonate so strongly when I started in December 2019!

But! I am determined to finish this, not least because it contains a few puzzle pieces to the larger Sawdust of Words story. And also because we all love our Noah’s Ark Angst.

So in the interest of trying to convince myself, I give you the first two scenes! (Maybe. Depends if I do the in media res thing or not.)

And only the first two. We hit the angst fast in this. If I added the third and DIDN’T have the rest of the fic ready to go you would all hate me forever.

Mesopotamian Floodplain, 3004 BC

It was not exactly the joyful reunion Crawley had been anticipating for a thousand years.

“But they’re drowning everyone else?”

Aziraphale nodded, biting his lips, refusing to meet Crawley’s eyes no matter how they bored into him.

Rain clouds gathered from every direction, boiling in the sky above. Thunderheads miles tall, shading from black to grey to white, stretched from horizon to horizon, looming like a nightmare, while blue-white lightning flashed from one to the next.

It had reminded Crawley of the day they met. As he’d approached the crowd, wondering what the excitement was all about, he’d felt the glowing presence of an angel nearby. He’d been delighted to see Aziraphale again, to find out what he’d been up to for the last three hundred sixty-two thousand five hundred thirty-three days.

That hadn’t lasted long.

The demon glanced down again, taking in the line of animals making their way towards an enormous boat, sat incongruously in the middle of the summer-dry desert. Nearby, a group of children chased each other, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.

“Not the kids. You can’t kill kids.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

And that was it. Aziraphale was going to stand there and watch this happen. Without a word.

He shouldn’t be surprised. He shouldn’t be disappointed. After all, Aziraphale was an angel.

That was what angels did.

“What, precisely, do you think you’re going to do?” Aziraphale demanded, chasing after Crawley, hands waving uselessly at the raging demon. Already the wind was setting their robes to flap wildly, twisting Crawley’s long hair this way and that.

“I don’t know but – I’m not going to just stand there like – like an angel.”

For a moment, he thought that would be enough. He walked away, leaving Aziraphale to glare at him in that superior angelic way, effect only slightly ruined by the way his jaw hung open.

But the next moment, there he was again, clutching at his pristine cream robes and half-running to try and get in front of Crawley. “Look, there’s nothing you can do. The rains will start any moment and then –”

“And then everyone drowns. I hope you have a good seat reserved.”

“Actually –”

Crawley spun to pin the angel with his most furious scowl. Aziraphale froze, gulping as if to swallow his own tongue, shrinking back. “I’ll be…I’ve been assigned to stay on the Ark. Watch over Noah’s family.”

“Have you.”

“It’s…it’s a great honor.”

Crawley didn’t even know what to say.

“Well. Congratulations, Angel. Good to see you’ve gone up in the world since we last met.” Aziraphale had the audacity to almost-smile at that, and Crawley felt the bile rising in his throat. “So. You’re going to be safe and dry inside that Ark, while all these people die? You’re going to sit there with your head tucked under your wings and pretend it’s not happening?”

“No. I’ll…” Aziraphale was staring at his own clasped hands, as if trying to memorize the way the carefully manicured fingers twisted. “I was…I plan to…to watch.”

“Watch? Watch?” Crawley spun away. “You disgust me, Aziraphale.”

This time the angel made no effort to follow him. But Crawley didn’t get far. Just ahead, he saw a young woman leading a child by the hand, returning to the mudbrick houses in the distance. He spun, pointing at them. “Are you going to tell me these people – this whole village – is so wicked, the Almighty has no choice but to kill them all?”

Aziraphale bit his lips, twisting his head as if trying to find some direction to look. He certainly wasn’t looking where Crawley pointed, or towards the village, or the Ark…

“What? Not just the town?” He could see the angel flinch. “How far?”

“Gabriel…” Aziraphale cleared his throat, re-clasping his hands behind his back. “Gabriel implied…The whole river valley, I should think. All the way back to the mountains.”

“But that’s…that’s thousands of people!”

“Yes, Crawley,” he snapped, finally bringing his cold blue eyes up to meet the demon’s glare. “Thousands of people who are many days’ travel away but it’s…it’s part of the Plan. There’s a Reason for this and there’s…there’s nothing you can do.”

The first drops of rain fell, steaming hot on his shoulders, to be drunk greedily by the parched ground.

“Jusst watch me.”

----

So uhhhhh yup. Thoughts?

#good omens prime #good omens fanfiction #noah's ark #aziraphale and crowley #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #emotional hurt/comfort #angst #this is a sad one #good omens #my writing #my wip #calling out myself #get on this girl

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bottleofspilledink · 4 years

Text

God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter XII

Eve arrived at school at exactly seven in the morning, a whole hour before class was supposed to start. She had gotten there in record time too, legs sore with how eager she was to leave the house.

You see, Eve had miscalculated her father’s arrival.

Severely.

Rather than arriving as she had slept, he walked through the door just in time for breakfast. Shirt crumpled, hair ruffled, a sated look in his brown eyes. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. They were too tired for that. Yes, long gone was the happy couple trying to make it all work. In their place, the shell of who they once were, wilting husks with only overwhelming sadness and a want for temporary pleasure filling it.

Breakfast was somehow worse than dinner. Far from suffocating, she felt as if she were choking despite how well she chewed her serving of eggs. The dining room, already nowhere near welcoming before, seemed to taint everything in it, the sour mood permeating it seeping into her orange juice, making it taste as if it had gone bad weeks ago. (It hadn’t, though. She even helped her mother load groceries into the refrigerator. The juice had been there for no more than two days.)

Eve sat on that on a wooden courtyard bench, the very same one she sat on just eleven days ago, legs sore from how fast she pedaled, aching almost as much as she ached to get out of that horrid hou-

“Shut up.” Her mind echoed. It was painful, how hard she hard to try to stop herself from saying things she shouldn’t, from doing things she shouldn’t. “You should be grateful you even have a family. You know how people here feel about broken homes and single moms…”

“Eve!” Elizabeth came up from behind her, slender arms wrapping around her in a hug. She was in a good mood, giggling behind her manicured hands, cheeks tinted the signature pink of love – or simply infatuation. It was hard to tell, really, if your friend truly loved a man when you yourself were incapable of such things, try as she might, no matter how hard she forced herself to.

Nothing came of it. Nothing would ever come of it.

“So, I’m assuming you had a fun night?”

Just because Eve didn’t understand what was so thrilling about kissing boys and all that came after it, didn’t mean she wouldn’t listen to Elizabeth’s excited ramblings of it. She knew what was expected of her. One day, hopefully not one day soon, she would find a boy she could tolerate, a decent one she would at least come to love as a friend; she would marry him and lie with him, as a good wife does and bear his children.

And she would tolerate it.

Just because she was like Lilith, didn’t mean she had to act like her, didn’t mean she had to act on what she felt for her.

“Not just a night!” Elizabeth’s dark eyes twinkled, gesturing wildly and almost obscenely with her hands. “I was with him every night during the weekend and Monday night. I got Mary to vouch for me so we could go out.”

“Out?”

The brunette nodded, clearly deliberate in stating that they went out in order to say: “He just got his driver’s license so we went out on his motorcycle to celebrate!”

“Motorcycle?” Eve perked up, pleasantly surprised her friend wasn’t here to brag about her sex life and the fact that Zachariah could drive. (Really, the last thing she needed was a detailed description of a blowjob, especially considering that her breakfast wasn’t sitting right with her, though that may just be her lingering dread speaking.)

“Yup! Since he’ll be on a scholarship for college next year, he convinced his parents to let him use the money they set aside for it to buy a bike.”

She went on about the boy and the places he’d taken her, a genuine joy in her every motion, in her every word, excitement clear to all who would lay eyes on her.

Oh, Eve could feel her happiness, potent, so close yet completely unattainable to the likes of her. That wasn’t a new realization, not by any means, no, but God, it was different this time; a bitter bile rising in her, leaving the taste of acid and envy and a sorrow not unlike that of resignment, of loss.

But between Elizabeth’s giggles and how nice the boy seemed to be, the taste would soon fade into a sweet sugar cookie sort of fondness.

Only a hint of that resignment remained, a tangy, rotten after taste.

...

Unlike the first day of their newly implemented schedule, today was not so tense.

Rather, the two girls sat next to each other, not even a ruler’s length apart, not tense but tenuous both of them lost in a labyrinth of thoughts and drowning in a sea of emotions either too scary to name or too muddled to be sure of, everything mixing and melding and melting like a soup with a certain ingredient you couldn’t quite place.

The memory of yesterday was burned into their minds, playing again and again on an endless loop for reasons they dare not say, the same words spoken and heard from slightly different perspectives with slightly different thoughts accompanying it.

For Lilith, yesterday was a sign of hope for Eve. She was willing to disobey, allowing herself the occasional indulgence with a bit of coaxing. All Eve needed was a nudge, a gentle push in the right direction. The redhead could imagine it quite vividly, the girl standing before her mother, letting lies slip from her lips, pretending to have been forced into a place of opposition she so evidently wanted to be in. Eve hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that her mother was the only thing keeping her from the club, either too tired to make up an excuse or just feeling comfortable enough to open up about it to her.

For Eve, yesterday was the end of playing dumb, the end of turning a blind eye to her own desires and the undeniable humanity of people… like Lilith. She could hardly believe all that had happened despite it being so clear in her head. Between what see had seen in the locker room and what had happened over lunch and the things she’d willingly done during club time… it was all too much.

Yesterday was the end of life as she knew it. Or rather, it was the beginning of the end.

After all, progress took time and it was by no means linear. Especially not during matters of this nature.

“So what did your mom say?” Lilith said. She was trying to separate what she felt for that woman from her voice, and she was doing well, disdain for her considered. Really, fussing over every little detail of her daughter was one thing but the fact that the concern she displayed was not for said daughter but for her future husband was something she couldn’t forgive. Still, she kept her language plain and her tone neutral. Most people didn’t take kindly to other’s insulting their mothers.

“Oh, I haven’t told her.” The way Eve’s voice trembled when she said that “oh” sent arrows through her heart, the dread palpable and utterly unnerving. “She hasn’t asked yet and I didn’t have a good time to bring it up so I’ll just wait for her to say something. Maybe she’s assuming I joined the book club again?”

A lie by omission was better than an outright one but it was a lie nonetheless and the guilt of it didn’t do much to ease the girl’s tension, though the fact that she would be able to avoid that conversation for a while longer did.

“Speaking of books,” Lilith coughed, deciding to change the topic before Eve withdrew into her mind “what did you guys do in that club? Just read all day and discuss books? Is there even anything good in that library?”

“Well, most of it is theology and reference books, yeah, but those can be good! There are a few volumes of Sherlock Holmes near the history section! It’s not a complete collection at all but definitely better than nothing.”

She could already feel the dopey grin making it’s way onto her face. In the short amount of time they’ve known each other, Lilith would be hard pressed to find a time Eve had been this happy about anything. Unbridled joy was a good look on everyone. The gleam in their eyes that only came from a genuine liking for something, the way they’d gesticulate, unable to contain all their passion.

Granted, Eve didn’t gesture so much as flap her hands about, but while joy looked good on everyone, it also looked different in everyone and Lilith found this eccentricity of hers adorable to no small degree.

“They have Phantom of the Opera tucked away somewhere near this compilation of Edgar Allan Poe I’ve been able to read a few times. A bit macabre but still good! Oh, you know they have books on gardening, too! I can show you next time we go and you can check out one or two if you want! The ones on herbs was fun but I think you’ll find the one on flower language an interesting read. It’s not exactly about gardening, but still. Did you know that the way you tied a bouquet could completely change the meaning of all the flowers you were trying to send?”

She spoke in a mix of short, rapid-fire sentences and long-winded rants, switching with no real pattern, rambling and occasionally straying to go on a tangent about a specific book or mention something about gardening, none of which Lilith understood, being unable to name any flowers by appearance other than rose, daisy, and sunflower, though she listened eagerly nonetheless.

“But back to books! Near the back, just by the cookbook – oh, and um, don’t tell anyone but –” Eve scooted her wooden chair across the wooden floor, mindlessly brushing Lilith’s hair back, placing her lip just two centimeters scant of her ear. “There are books hidden there, by older girls, I think. Ones that graduated a really long time ago.”

Eve’s ivory-like hands cupped the small space around Lilith’s ear, shielding their words from any listening ears, anything that happened behind her hands hidden from prying eyes. In the midst of her whispering, she realized she could kiss Lilith; a gentle peck on the shell of her ear. No one needed to know. Just a quick press of the lips, it wouldn’t take longer than a second… or two.

And though she ignored the impulse, the thought lingered.

“Love poems and romance novels. I’m pretty sure they wrote it all themselves. Two of them are just a bunch of papers with holes punched in the side tied together by string, no cover. Technically more manuscript than book but you know what I mean. The others are leather bound journals, hand-written.”

“No kidding?” The other asked, hushed, nothing anyone further than Eve would catch. She didn’t dare say it louder, both unwilling to let anyone eavesdrop on them and scared that the excessive movement of her jaw would lead Eve farther from her.

“Nope, they’re there.” She pulled away from the girl’s ear but didn’t bother to move her seat back to where it was, their legs pressed together beneath the table they shared. “I haven’t been able to read much of any of them cause I’m scared I’ll get too absorbed to notice anyone walking past but their poems are really good! I can show you sometime, along with the gardening books.”

“We can go there later, during lunch. I’ll keep watch for while you read.”

The offer turned the girl’s waning grin into a megawatt smile, dimpled and rosy cheeked, she looked like a Raphaelite painting, a masterpiece.

“Really?”

“Sure! I’m always up for a bit of casual disobedience.” She replied with a wink and a deep chuckle, using amusement as a cover for endearment.

“Holy cow, thank you so much! But I’m pretty sure we’re not actually breaking any rules, I–”

Smack!

“Everyone bring out your composition notebook! We’re going to use the rest of homeroom to learn how to read sheet music before proceeding to the music room so if you want to fool around on the piano you’d best master this quickly.”

With that, Eve jerked away from Lilith, bringing her chair along with her and causing a loud, grating noise to make it’s way through the now silent room, every head whipping around to face them, the eyes now bearing into them, mostly shocked, some irritated, with one judgmental look from the front, from Sister Bernadette.

“No movement of chairs unless otherwise stated!”

“But-”

“Put the seat back where it was immediately or get detention!”

Lilith then pulled the girl down into her seat, cutting off another protest and brought the seat back to where it was before the nun entered, effectively ridding all the space between them.

Only when the woman turned to face the blackboard did she whisper to Eve: “Don’t argue, even if they’re wrong. They’ll just call it disrespectful and send you to the principal’s.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, I’m just not used to getting yelled at here so I wasn’t sure about– I didn’t know what to do. Sorry, again…”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” She gave the blonde a teasing jab along with a soft smile, looking at the girl only from the corner of her sky blue eye so as not to invoke the further ire of the clearly on-edge teacher. “’Sides, the jokes on them. They’re still wrong and we get to stay like this. That’s a win-win if I’ve ever seen one, yeah?”

Eve huffed, a small laugh, in part a sort of thanks for the given consolation, in part a sort of reassurance to the other that she’d be okay, that she’d bounce back.

“Yeah.”

In the end, they weren’t able to go to the music room.

...

The hours passed, only a few words passing between the girls every so often, most of it questions related to the work they were assigned. They were careful, Eve unwilling to anger any other authority figures, Lilith trying to fly under the radar, admittedly rather afraid of being called into Mother Cecilia’s office over even trivial matters, knowing it would lead to yet another interrogation regarding the fire.

But finally, the lunch bell rang, granting them freedom and the ability to be enthusiastic without repercussion. (As long as they weren’t too noisy, of course.) All the anticipation and excitement led to Eve shooting out of her chair and practically sprinting to the library, books shoved haphazardly into her book bag as Lilith followed not too far behind her, pleasantly surprised at her actions, though with more emphasis on the pleasant and not so much on the surprised.

“It’s right this way,” The blonde said, not bothering to drop her bag down in her usual seat as they ventured deeper into the library.

Eventually, they reached the deepest, mustiest park of the library, all the shelves covered in a thin sheen of dust save for a single row level with their knees. The sun streaming in from the arching windows only served to accentuate how unkempt the place was, illuminating the dust particles that flew into the air when Eve took to her knees to retrieve the books she spoke so eagerly about.

“The last time I’ve been able to peek at them was a few weeks before summer, so sorry for the dust. You’re not asthmatic, right?” She pulled out a few of the recipe books, setting them aside before reaching in deeper to grab a stack of papers, bound with string, it’s outer most page containing nothing more than a title and a name. Sticking her arm in a bit more, she pulled out two leather journals, putting them down atop the manuscript before taking a few more cookbooks from the shelf and grabbing the last journal along with manuscript type book.

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

Lilith crouched down next to her, looking at the stack Eve made. The paper ones were practically identical save for a difference in thickness while the leather-bound books varied in colour, one the usual coffee brown, the other a matte black, and the last one a fine, wine-red.

“So, how’d you find all this anyway?” The redhead asked, taking the brown book from the stack, flicking through a random page and instantly regretting it as a cloud of dust came from it, resulting in a rather violent coughing fit, Eve rushing to her and patting her back as her lungs tried to expel themselves through her mouth.

“Are you sure you’re not asthmatic?”

“Eve, I’m not sure how to break it to you, but anyone that gets hit with a face-full of dust is gonna cough a bit. I’ll live.”

“Good point.” She reached over to her bag and took a tumbler from it. “Water?”

Lilith’s fingers brushed against Eve’s as the dark green bottle switched hands, reminiscent of the brief touch they shared the first time they met, on that fateful, windy day in the courtyard.

“Thanks.”

There were a handful of things she expected to happen today, things she prepared an appropriate response for. Watching Lilith gulp down water like a dying man, seeing her throat work with every sip, eyes following the stray drops that rolled down her chin and her neck, making it’s way to the opening of her shirt before finally stopping, absorbed by the fabric that now clung to parts of her chest, was evidently not one of those things.

“T-thanks to you, too… Lilith.”

The girl in question merely raised an eyebrow and snorted.

“If you wanted to start with this book, you could’ve just said so.”

Lilith passed the book she was holding to her, instead grabbing the red one and holding it out an arm’s length away and flapping it about, effectively getting most of the dust out.

They settled into a comfortable silence after that, content to exist in the same space, unburdened by the unspoken as they read. Sock-clad legs parallel to each other, pressed flush against the flesh, they looked so similar to how they did yesterday, this morning.

Lighter, though. Somehow.

Perhaps it was the lack of looming dread, the weight of anxiety gone from Eve’s mind, for now at least. Perhaps it was the lack of fear, Lilith’s worry for Eve gone, again, if only for now.

...

As Eve went on, she became enamored by the prose, the delicate descriptions crafted from simple every day life and feelings, invested by the admittedly somewhat familiar protagonist, Nina, and her best friend, Rosalie, or as Nina would so fondly call her, Rosie.

Bit by bit, though, things were changing between them. Or maybe they haven’t changed at all and she was just blind to it. Either way though, things became different, odd, queer.

“I carded my hands through her soft, black hair just like I had so many times before. “Will you braid it for me?” She asked, lifting her head from off my lap, resting on her elbows. Not quite lying down, not quite sitting up.”

She couldn’t help but think that the first sentence implied something.

“Rosalie would get her blazer dirty, stomach pressed into the grass as she traced patterns on my lap, the fabric of my skirt shifting, spiraling. “Of course,” I couldn’t say no if I wanted to, but why would I even consider refusing her?”

The way Nina spoke about Rosalie, the way Rosalie spoke to her in turn, the affection they showed to each other, the way she would describe Rosalie in text was akin to that of love… romantic love.

Eve brushed the thoughts aside though, knowing she was probably just projecting her own perversions on the perfectly normal, heterosexual girls.

“We sat there and spoke of the future, a house deep in the woods, an aged, fat cat. Preferably a tabby. I plucked flowers, giving them a new home with her as I wove it into the braid. Call me sacrilegious but she looked like a God, of-the-earth, of me. She was my God. I’d get in trouble if I ever said that out loud. But then again, I’d get in trouble for practically everything I did with Rosie”

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just Eve.

“After finishing the braid, I took a compact mirror from my pocket. “What do you think?” She giggled, deep, brown eyes looking around at the empty field before shimmying over to me, laying a gentle kiss on my cheek. “It’s lovely. You’re lovely.” She moved once more, settling on my lap, lips trailing across my forehead, my eye, my nose, my cheek. Tease. At long last, though, her lips met mine, pressing against me with a soft passion-”

She dropped the book, hands by her head as a sort of surrender to whatever god may be watching her, judging her, face flushed, chest heaving.

Lilith looked up from her book. “You okay?”

She read that. She enjoyed that.

That knowledge was the straw that broke the camel’s still recovering back.

The guilt from yesterday and everyday before that built up in her lungs, drowning her, hastening her hellish damnation. Her thoughts were consumed by apologies and prayers and pleas for a mercy she wasn’t deserving of.

Tears fell from her face like angels from the sky, a testament to her sins, her guilt.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Suffocating, stifling, sinful guilt.

Crashing down on her as if she was being smitten, painful and shameful and rightful guilt.

She sobbed and shook, hands over her mouth to stop herself from wailing her anguish, her agony, her guilt.

But a pair hands weren’t enough to contain everything in her and all that spilled out. Nothing was.

Whimpers escaped through the gaps of her fingers, Lilith forgetting her shock and rushing over to comfort her.

It only made her cry harder. Lilith’s touch burned.

Eve clung to her though, rising to her knees, hands clutching at Lilith’s shirt.

It was yesterday all over again.

It was worse.

She couldn’t deny what she was anymore. Every passing second made it harder to craft lies and alibis and that would be a sin too and she’d go to hell regardless.

Burying her face in the crook of Lilith’s neck in a futile attempt to silence herself, Eve could smell the sweet, apple cinnamon perfume the girl had sprayed on earlier.

The way the scent made her face flush, even with everything going on and everything she was feeling was sick.

It twisted her stomach.

She felt disgusting, sinful, wrong, guilty.

But as she sobbed and shuddered and breathed the scent in…

It twisted her stomach.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

...

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, Eve.” She whispered, soft, the words meant for one person and one person only.

Lilith wasn’t a naturally soothing person. Never in her life did she have to console someone in such a way, her friends all preferring to be distracted from their sorrows by quips and jokes. This was different, though. Eve was different.

Eve made her soft and kind to a degree she could hardly fathom. Gone was her icy exterior and harsh features, traded in for a comforting smile and gentle hands.

The girl sobbed and prayed into her shoulder, unable to hear her over muttered prayers and the sound of her own heartbeat, a frantic thump in her heaving chest.

From an outsider’s point of view, it would look like Eve was the one doing the comforting, seeming to pray over Lilith in a manner akin to that to someone being exorcised, a two-person prayer circle.

“Eve,” She whispered, gently trying to pry the girl away from her so she could talk, immediately stopping when the blonde only cried harder at the gesture. “I’m gonna need you to take deep breaths, Eve. Can you do that for me, please?”

The girl hiccupped, body wracked by sobs though clearly trying to follow.

“That’s right, just like that.”

Lilith’s spindly hands made her way up and down Eve’s back in tranquil motions.

“Wanna tell me what’s making you cry? I won’t tell anyone not even Paula and Joan.”

Eve shook her head, not even lifting her head from the crook of Lilith’s neck, her tip of her nose drawing a line from where her neck sloped down to her shoulders.

“Are you sure?”

“Yea-ah…”

Breathing still ragged, eyes still red-rimmed, cheeks still tear-stained, she pulled away from Lilith, sniveling.

“I’m s-sorry, I don’t know why I’m even crying-”

She cut the blonde off, though. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. But please don’t lie to me. You know why you’re crying. I’m not gonna make you talk about it, but you know.”

“Okay.” Eve whispered, a sort of willing surrender.

It was evident to Lilith that she wanted to talk. Shame held her back, unfortunate and burdensome. She didn’t speak, instead picking up the book from where it fell, opening to the page she had last read, finger tapping the paragraph before sliding the book across the small gap between them.

She skimmed over the paragraph and a few thereafter, finding nothing of note until she finally saw what Eve meant.

“This is what you were crying over?”

All she got in response was a nod, the girl looking to be on the brink of tears again.

“Why?”

Eve shook her head again. Her lip trembled, jutting out like a child trying their best not to cry.

“If I guess right will you tell me?”

Nothing.

“Want me to stop?”

Again, there was no reply.

“Can you tell me what you want me to do?”

A shrug of the shoulders. Nothing else.

“Do you know what you want me to do?”

She shook her head no, a few tears going with it. The only thing that left her mouth was a shaky sigh as she carded her hands through her hair. Tired. Eve looked tired. She was all that and more.

Lilith looked away from her, the pity she felt too much. There was nothing she could do. If only for a moment, she felt the degree of helplessness Eve felt, knowing she couldn’t help. It wasn’t foreign to her, helplessness. It was like seeing an old friend.

She could never bring herself to be angry or even annoyed at what was happening to Eve. Not when it’s happened to her, to Paula, to Joan, to Julia, to Colette.

Lost in thought, she was snapped back to reality as Eve dragged her closer, making her face away as the girl hugged her from behind.

Eve cried into her. It wasn’t the way she cried mere minutes ago, however. It was calmer, no hiccups or shaking. Only tears streaming down the girl’s face and soaking into Lilith’s shirt with a sniffle every once and a while.

Time passed and Lilith grew bolder, hand wandering to where Eve’s were wrapped around her stomach. Her touch was tentative, Eve’s hand treated like a fine porcelain piece.

“Is this okay?”

“No.” She said.

But she didn’t push Lilith’s away, instead opting to hold it, their fingers weaving together, slotting together as if their very flesh and bone were sculpted to be together, to intertwine, to love.

How cruel of God to craft two people for each other the turn to create a world were they were not to be.

“None of this is okay.”

______________________

Taglist: @anomiewrites @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @phillyinthebathroom @gaypeaches @extrabitterbrain @pirateofblood @i-wanna-be-a-rock

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the-scooby-gang · 4 years

Text

Us... But not quite

Part 2

Summary: After falling through a portal while they were being chased by their most horrifying monster yet, The Scooby Gang finds themselves in a place they have never been before. A place called Crystal Cove.

As Shaggy’s nose predicted, there was a restaurant waiting for them some 2,5 miles north.

What the nose hadn’t predicted was the vampire theming that permeated the whole place. Fred thought that either the restaurant was some passion project of a gothic owner or the town had some vampiric and/or supernatural connection and the restaurant was reflecting that. Shaggy hoped for the first. Their luck said it was probably the latter.

They were by the roadside, a good half a mile away from the vampire-themed place. Tired after an hour of walking, combined with the exhaustion of being chased by Lovecraft’s weirdest wet dream finally setting in, they decide to just lie on some rocks and take a well-deserved nap.

When they woke again, the sun had fully risen. After drinking from a water bottle that Shaggy had stored… somewhere, they started to think about what their next step was going to be.

The restaurant was just outside the town-that-should-not-be, neon lights glowing red against the sunlight, already packed with early costumers sucking the coffee maker dry as if their lives depended on it.

“It must be Monday,” said Velma, standing by Fred’s rock. Removing the binoculars that Shaggy had produced from… somewhere from her eyes, she put herself in tip-toes, aligning them with Fred’s blue gaze “Look on how they slouch. They are clearly forcing themselves aware through coffee and spite.”

Fred took the binoculars from her hand. Standing up from his place on the rock his other hand made its way across her back and in a swift move, he lifted her off the ground, and together they shared the watch.

“Yeah, normally by Tuesday your body returns to automatic pilot and you look less like a zombie” Daphne shrugged, casting a smile in their direction. She was sitting in the grass over a picnic blanket that Shaggy brought from… somewhere. Her back was against a smaller rock with Scooby by her side, lounging on the morning sun.

“But still moving by spite” Fred completed, remembering the college allnighters he powered through for weeks on end.

Shaggy, who was sited on the rock Daphne was lining on, got to his feet and approached them. Putting his chin on Fred’s unoccupied shoulder, he asked to have a look. Fred handed the binocular to him.

“Look at them! Like, they look like they are one step away from sucker-punching each other, man.” there was a detached fascination on his voice, but also familiarity “Remember that week before the last year finals? Like, I thought that I was going to be stabbed in the cafeteria when I went to get some coffee.”

“That’s what anxiety and stress do to you” Daphne decided to stand too. She was lining against Shaggy’s arm, her head on his shoulder, his hand on hers. She asked with her remaining hand for the binocular.

She was fascinated with the gothic decor. All the coffin-shaped chairs, tables, and booths bathed in the red ambient light. She thought that it was a delightful macabre aesthetic.

Shaggy thought that it was creepy and unsettling.

“Man, let’s just hope that we didn’t end up in a bizarre vampire dimension of some sort.” Shaggy shivered in discomfort, hugging Fred from behind, snuggling his head further on his boyfriend’s neck. “The last time I thought that I had been bitten by a vampire I had a whole identity crisis over it.”

Putting Velma back on her feet, Fred laid one of his hands over Shaggy’s long fingers while the other ran calmly through the shaggy sandy hair.

“Don’t worry, Shag. We’ll be here for you, vampires or not.” Fred kissed his temple.

“Would you? I would be putting you guys in danger, man” None of them liked how small Shaggy’s voice was becoming “If that happens I should lea…”

The end of the sentences was cut short by Daphne’s well-manicured fingers. She was really close to his face, nose to nose. Which made Shaggy make a double-take since Daphne was, at least, one head shorter than him so how…

That’s when he noticed she had instructed Velma to lift her up. What a way to prevent any future neck pains he thought.

“Ah, ah, ah, we are NOT finishing that thought, mister!” she wiggled her finger on his face, giving him her best impression of a scolding girlfriend. “The day we abandon you for something as minor as vampirism is the day I go right back to that swamp to find the real old fart that must be the vampire king and marry his wrinkly ass!”

“I second that!” came Fred’s voice from his right, giving him an Eskimo kiss “We’ll even donate some blood to you. As a treat.” He gave shaggy one of his goofy smiles that only got bigger when his boyfriend snorted.

“Rod rammed, Rreddie” Scooby pinched the bridge of his nose as shaggy snort dissolved in small giggles. He had got up from his half nap on the sun when his ears picked Shaggy’s sad tones and were now sited by their side. Shaking his head, Scooby now focused on his best friend. “I’m not reaving you for nothing.” He put himself in his hind legs, licking Shaggy’s face of all sadness that he could find. The lanky man was giggling, now with his hair stinking all over the place.

“That’s right, Mister Rogers. You are stuck with us.” Velma with Daphne still on her arms lifted both Fred, Shaggy, and Scooby from the ground like they weighed nothing and twirled around like the most excited ballerina. “FOREVER.”

They laughed without a worry in the world. Carefully, Velma returned everyone to the ground. They remained hugged to each other for a little longer. They haven’t realized how much they needed it.

“Ok, gang. What’s the plan? We can’t just stay here and live among the rocks waiting for a new portal to appear” Velma was looking at them expectantly.

“Velma is right. Our best course of action right now is getting information. Where we are, how we got here, and how we are going to get back.” Fred said, counting on his fingers to each question.

Daphne took hold of his wrist and delicately added another finger to the counting before commenting “Let’s add find a place to stay while we are at it between steps two and three, shall we?”

A muffled sound interrupted Fred’s response. He, Velma, and Daphne turned towards Shaggy and Scooby when the sound made itself know again.

They knew that sound way to well.

Scooby approached Fred. Taking his hand on his paw he added another finger “Rinding rome rood”

“I second that” chuckled Shaggy.

“Ok then. Gang, it seems we are going down the Bloody Steak for some clues with french fries on the side.”

“Sounds good to me, Freddie” Daphne was already collecting their things and giving them to Shaggy that was putting them away… somewhere.

After years of knowing a person, you stop questioning in which plane of existence the keep their things, you know? You accept it and move on. Daphne was even thinking that maybe they had to add to the to-do list go to the market because clearly whatever pocket dimension Shaggy keep his things was out of supplies if he hadn’t made himself a sandwich in all the time they were sited there on those rocks.

While Daphne discussed this future storage replenishment with Shaggy and Scooby, Velma was quiet, looking uncertain in the restaurant’s direction.

“I don’t know guys… What if it’s dangerous? This could be a completely different place from what we are used to” she hugged herself while her shoulders were rigid and her back was straight as a rod “I just… I just don’t like going in blind in a situation, you know.”

“Oh dear, we know how that is,” said Daphne giving Velma a sideways hug “But if we want to get to the bottom of it we must go there”

Fred and Shaggy walked slowly towards the girls. Scooby flowed them quietly. Each one of them took one of Velmas hands between their own.

“Daphne is right, Velm,” Fred said, a determined look on his eyes. A plan was being made “Come on Little Sun, think about it. We can stay here creeping in the bushes forever trying to solve this puzzle from the distance or we can go inside and get first-hand information! You know better them me how much small-town people love to gossip” he held Velma’s hand more firmly guiving her his best puppy’s eyes.

Daphne quickly caught on what he was doing. She jumped right into it.

“Yeah Honey Bee,” she said “The best way to truly learn about people is by listening to them! And if they prove to be actual bloodsuckers we do as we always do”

“Rick rheir rasses?” questioned Scooby

“That’s right Scoob. We’ll kick their asses!” Daphne patted his head.

“What do you say, Sweet Pie?” said Shaggy, also jumping on the plan “We will just be a group of twenty-somethings tourists and their dog going into the town. And if anything does go to hell in silver platter we just jump into your strong arms to safety” he finished with a flourish.

Fred and Daphne were smiling while Shaggy had one of his arms around her shoulders, his head now propped over hers. Velma was as red as her skirts. She agreed.

Cheering, the gang made their way towards the restaurant while Velma was whispering under her breath something that sounded like the manipulative use of pet names should be illegal. Scooby chuckled and softly bumped his head on her, licking her fingers. She patted him, a smile back on her lips.

#Scooby Gang #scooby doo #Shaggy Rogers #daphne blake #Velma Dinkley #Fred Jones #Gih Writes #Scooby doo crossovers #us... but not quite

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soriseerakyra · 4 years

Text

Nice To Meet You -19-

Hello every one, sorry it’s been so long. There is a post on my page if you want to find out what's happening. If not, please enjoy.

TW: Violence, bad language, death

This was different. Or maybe it was normal, Bruce couldn’t tell. He knew he attracted attention, that he was a status boost to any party, but this felt wrong. From the moment he stepped past the makeshift foyer, he’d felt eyes on him, watching his every move. He tossed his famous, charming smile to everyone he passed, but instead of getting the swooning effect that he was so used to causing, he was treated to strange polite smiles. As if he was intruding.

“Bruce Wayne?” The questioning voice sent a chill down Bruce’s spine.

He turned to look at the voice who called him and found a smiling blond man.

“Michael Carlisle,” The man says, extending a large hand to shake. Bruce accepts the hand and firmly shakes it. At the interaction, the crowd that had been not-so-secretly eyeing the interaction of the CEO’s had all returned to their conversations. The allure of seeing the cities’ most famous billionaire, apparently not worth more than a sideways glance.

“A pleasure,” Bruce says, responding with a smile. “It’s a shame that we haven’t met before tonight.”

“It truly is, which is why what I’m going to say next may appear a little rude, but what are you doing here? I didn’t think a party like mine would even be on your radar,” The man asks with childishly wide excited eyes.

“Nothing rude about that,” Bruce says, returning his hand to his sides. “Believe me, I’ve gotten much worse when I’ve shown up unannounced.”

The man lets a smile quirk at the end of his lips as he waits for Bruce to answer the other part of his question. His blue eyes watch Bruce with fascination. Flicking from the top of Bruce’s hair and down to his shoes. Why is Carlisle sizing him up?

“To be honest,” Bruce says, lowering his voice to make the conversation more intimate. He leans his body toward the boyish man and brings up a practiced hand to hide his mouth. “I’m doing a bit of shopping.”

“Shopping?” The younger man questions with furrowed, manicured brows. “OH! Do you need an accounting firm?!”

Bruce straightens his back a little, almost startled by his lack of discretion.

“I’m surprised Wayne enterprises doesn’t have its own firm in-house.”

“We do,” Bruce says with a shrug of his shoulders. “But I’m always looking for new talent, especially when one of my own is retiring.”

The lie rolls off of his tongue smoothly, and judging by the blond man’s nod of assent, it was enough to ward off some suspicion.

“So, you’re here to steal some of my up-and-coming talent, huh?” Carlisle asks ribbing the older man in the ribs.

Bruce flinches away slightly, not expecting to be touched so informally.

The blond man must have caught the hint of his displeasure that rang across his face for a split-second because a frown pulled at his lips.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable Bruce, I’m just glad I didn’t hug you like I wanted to when I first saw you. I’m a big hugger.”

If Bruce wasn’t as practiced at maintaining his cover as he was, he would have scrunched up his face in confusion at the man. This was who she had worked for? Had believed in enough to move across the country for? He seemed more than overbearing, and as skittish as she was it was impossible to see her getting past an interview with this man, let alone going to work every single day for him.

“If that turned you off, though, I’m afraid that you might not find anyone here who you’d want to work with you. We're all family here, lots of huggers.”

The man lets out a laugh and some nearby party goers that were supposedly “giving them their space” chuckled.

“I know I don’t look it, but I can get touchy-feely when need be.”

The man’s blue eyes narrow and Bruce can feel a shift in atmosphere as the man’s once jovial face becomes stony.

“We don’t call it being touchy-feely Mr. Wayne,” Carlisle says stoically. “We- I have made it a point to build a family here. A company based on empathy. This isn’t 'touchy-feely’ foolishness. This is the future. How we build a company that lasts. But I suppose someone like you who’s never had to work for anything would know about that would you?”

The party is once again silent and all eyes are on the pair of men, although not in a way that Bruce is used to. He hadn’t expected that man to be so volatile; it was only a harmless comment, no malice behind it.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Bruce apologizes quietly, “It wasn’t intentional.”

Carlisle’s nostrils flare in anger, his throat turns red, and a vein pulses lightly at his temple.

‘A severe overreaction,’ Bruce notes.

A clicking of heels pierces the silence, as Bruce notices a rather tall red head approaching the pair. A striking pair of blue eyes assess Bruce sternly, a frown pulling at her red lips as she apparently found the man lacking.

Bruce watches as a slender hand grip Carlisle's shoulder tightly, the pressure being applied only noticeable because of the wrinkling of fabric.

“There's been a call for you Mr. Carlisle,” the woman says with a pleasant tone.

“A call?” The man asks, blond brows furrowing in confusion. The woman tightens her grip on his shoulder, and he seems to relent. “Ah, yes, of course.”

“I’m afraid that we must continue this conversation later, Mr. Wayne,” Carlisle says, swallowing his anger and trying to force the same pleasant smile on his face. “Enjoy the party.”

His eyes flicker around to the other party goers and with a nod of his head he hurries away. Bruce quickly loses sight of the man as he heads further into the venue, mobbed by a sea of people willing to help aid in his escape.

Bruce bites the inside of his cheek in irritation. This had not gone the way he intended. He wasn’t used to losing at the charm offensive.

He cuts his eye back to the tall woman who stood there with a rather pleased smirk on her face, arms crossed in a rather unimpressed fashion. As the chatter, light music, and dancing resumed, Bruce moved closer to the woman.

“Sorry to have interrupted your conversation Mr. Wayne, but I’m sure you know that running a company can be a twenty-four-hour job,” She states smoothly, her thick red mane tumbling to the side as she lightly cocks her head.

“It’s not a problem. And as hectic as business can be, I’m sure dealing with an annoying party guest, is much tougher.”

The woman lets out a low chuckle, “Believe me, you aren’t the worst we’ve had to deal with.”

“Is that right? Tell me more, miss?”

“Trainer, Kristen Trainer,” She says, extending her black tipped fingers to shake his hand.

“Let me guess, you’re the brains behind the operation,” He says a smile easily finding its way on his face.

“More like the conductor. Without me none of this,” she makes a circling motion with her finger, “happens.”

“Ah, I get it. The boss’ boss.”

“What can I say, being the executive assistant is glamorous.”

They share a chuckle and then a silence falls over the pair.

Trainer breaks it first, a coyness flitting over her blue eyes, “So when are you going to ask me to dance?”

“Oh, I’d never assume you’d want to dance with me, I practically ran your boss away.”

“Like I said,” She nearly glides as she walks toward him and takes his hand, leading them both toward the dance floor. “You aren’t the worst we've had.”

Bruce lets a smirk cross his face. Perhaps he wasn’t as off of his game as he thought he was.

***

Jason was more than sure that Bruce always stuck him with the shit jobs. If he was only a few years younger, he would have been proud to take them. He would have thought Bruce trusted him with the more troublesome parts of the jobs, that he was preparing him to be his true successor. Being older, wiser, and having endured more than his fair share torture proved to him it was probably the exact opposite.

Even now, it always felt like Bruce was testing him, waiting for him to go rogue, do something that broke the rules. He knew that the older man was always waiting for him to slip up, coiled to attack anytime he did something less polite than a beating a thug senseless.

The thoughts cause Jason's shoulders to tense in irritation, but he can’t let his annoyance distract him from the mission. At the moment, he found himself on the top floor of the once vacant wharf building. If one were to enter from this floor, you wouldn’t assume that a high-class shindig was going on downstairs. Comparatively, it wasn’t the worst place that he’d ever been in; there was a distinct lack of rats he was more than grateful for. The bare walls and exposed beams were a little strange though. According to intel, provided by the Brownie Woman, not only had this not been the first party held in this place, they also owned the building. Who quits renovating when the project is only halfway done?

‘Someone who’s more worried about appearances than substance,’ He thinks to himself with slightly pursed lips.

He rolls his shoulders as he prepares himself to explore the building. He wouldn’t be able to do it for long. Since the assholes hadn’t finished the place, there wasn’t a steady supply of air flowing through the place. Having already climbed up into the building after gently detonating a small explosive on one of the back walls, he didn’t want to risk alerting anyone just to accommodate his breathing.

With a sigh, he approached one of the newer-looking walls. It looked thin, like it was only a standing piece of paper, and mostly, he had been right. With a slight wind up, his fist had easily found its way through the wall, white particles crumbling around his hand as the sheet rock easily gave way. The wall continues to splinter as he works his hands through it, and soon enough he has a hole big enough for him to slide through.

When he gets to the other side, he's not totally surprised to see a mostly dilapidated area. Cobwebs, fallen pieces of plywood, and exposed pipes let him know that he's in a part of the building that has barely had any traffic. What has him slightly surprised though, were the construction lamps littering the floor. As the holes in the floor allow him to see both above and below him; the glow from the lamps on the other floors hit his eyes like fireflies. Despite only having worked to make some of this place look nice, there was activity going on throughout the whole wharf. It was strange really, buying out multiple buildings on the wrong side of Gotham just throw parties? The only way he wouldn't have found the situation not strange is if Bruce had been the one buying up the land. At least that way he'd at least have a guess what the man would be doing. And it was especially strange for an accounting firm to buy property that had nothing to do with campus expansion.

'Unless they're washing money for the mob.'

The thought hits Jason, and he can't help the smirk that crosses his face.

“Hey dipshit,” he says connecting his ear piece. “Are there any familiar faces in the crowd?”

He gets irritated slightly when he doesn't get a response right away. The old man wasn't going to ice him out because he called him a few names, was he? How professional.

“I don't seem to know many people here.” Is the response that comes back over the earpiece and Jason's haunches relax a little. He wasn't being ignored, Bruce was in the middle of a conversation.

Jason doesn't hear the response from the person who Bruce was talking with, but he gives about fifteen seconds pause, a chance for Bruce to listen to the other person, before he responds.

“You sure?" Jason questions skeptically, as he maneuvers farther into the building, careful to avoid loose or weak floor boards. "This place looks like a perfect place to wash some dirty cash."

"I really thought I knew everyone there is to know in this town," Bruce responds with a bit of a chuckle.

Not a familiar face in sight? That was putting a damper on the idea that these people had some kind of mob ties. When it came to mobsters Bruce had a practically photographic memory of their faces. For him not to recognize anyone meant that either there was a new organization or there was no mob there at all.

"I'll keep looking," he responds slightly irritated. He doesn't get a response, and he doesn't need one.

It's not long before he comes up to the next connecting wall. Pressing his hand up against the wall, he finds that it's almost as thin as the other one he'd come through. With another well-placed fist, he easily forces his way through the wall once again. As he pulls out the rubble, sensors in his mask begin to go off. He pauses in his excavation for a moment, silencing his one movement. It's quiet for a moment but then there is a rhythmic thumping streaming into his right ear, then the sounds stop. There is the creaking of wood and then the thumping resumes and fades out. The thought comes to his mind before the computer in his mask flashes the analysis on the screen.

Footsteps.

A patrol route.

Now that he had found what he was looking for, he'd have to be more careful. The general rule was if he could hear them, they could hear him. And although most people didn't have access to the tech he did, he was sure that the rule had saved his ass multiple times.

Carefully this time, he pulls himself through a smaller hole, he wouldn't make more noise than was necessary. Almost immediately he could see the shadows of movement dancing against the yellow lights of the construction lamp. The presence of these shadows made his heart jump slightly; if he was asked about it later he wouldn't say he was afraid, just a little freaked out. His sensors had only picked up the thudding of one person, he was sure of that. But right in front of his eyes, and how the shadows played with each other, he could tell that they're at least six people in his immediate vicinity. He had been lucky that no one had been just on the other side of the wall when he had ripped through.

'No footsteps?' He questions internally with a slightly panicked voice that he would yell about to himself later.

He crouches down, his knees bending easily to accommodate the familiar position and his weight as he moves forward with as gentle a step that he can muster. Some might be surprised by how stealthy the young man could be, especially wearing the heavy combat boots he loved so much. But Jason practiced that much harder to mask his sound, he'd keep his aesthetic and be the deadliest thing you'd never hear coming.

He makes his way to a worn wooden wall, marked with holes about the width of a small child's fist, perfect for getting an eye on a target, so he could know what he was dealing with. As he presses himself against the wall, the dancing of the shadows gives way, and he's clear about how many people that he would deal with on this floor.

He'd only been one off, seven instead of six. But the thought of being mostly right didn't give him any sense of victory. His stomach twisted into knots as two of the figures moved past each other. He wasn't crazy, he damn sure knew that, but he was sure as hell that his eyes were playing tricks on him, because he was seeing double. Two carbon copies of the same person walking past each other with small barely visible flashlights cradled in identical vine like fingers. The words thin and tall didn't seem to do justice to the visage of men he sees before him, but those are the only words that come to mind. That and their faces are obscured with long black hair that is so thick, he isn't even sure there is a face underneath. They're filthy, he can tell that even if the nature of their outfits is muddled by the dimness of the surrounding lights. Their pale skin has brown almost black splotches of dirt or soil that almost seem pressed into their skin. The skin itself is so pale and sickly that it is almost a green color; he gags slightly about how awful they must smell.

Finally, he looks down, and he hopes to see what is blocking out the sound of their footsteps from coming through on his sensors. He's surprised to find disproportionately enormous feet. Grimy as the rest of their bodies, he can tell that the men are extremely flat-footed. The way their feet meet the sections of floor that they walk on causes their toes to widen, spreading out what little weight they had evenly throughout their step. Coupled with the fact that they moved rather slowly, taking only the most deliberate of steps, the two beings in front of him were virtually silent. The only sound that seemed to give way to any hint of their presence was the air that seemed to be forcing its way out of their chest. Like the wheeze of an asthmatic, the beings swayed slightly whenever they had to breathe. Luckily for Jason, the minute difference in their breathing was enough for the computer to pick up on, and a visualized patrol route formed right before his eyes.

Time seems to slow as he watches the forms move back and forth. It's not a large beat, about the visible width of the building; but even though the route is small, the guys were slow. Would he be able to pounce on one without alerting the other? Or would that be too much of a risk to take? While he had keyed into their breathing, he hadn't been able to locate any more guards. He probably wouldn't know they were there until he was right on top of them.

Jason decides that it would be best to avoid them. He doesn't know their strength and the amount of noise that he could generate isn't worth the hell that it could bring down upon him.

He watches them for a moment longer, there is a moment in their path where they stop and stare at each other, as if they are sharing information about what they'd seen on their walk around. That's when he'd make his move.

It doesn't take long until they meet at the center of the room, standing in front of one of the construction lamps. They meet each other, staring into the dark void where their eyes should be. He breathes in deeply, his muscles tighten as he focuses. With a push he's off.

Quickly, he's around the walls and trying to push himself to the next darkened area that he can find. There he could make his next move and try to get his bearings about where he needs to go. His first push is quiet, and he's able to launch himself forward with no issues. His practiced eyes immediately start scouting out where he should aim for. He should have planned for his destination before taking off, but he had always been an impulsive boy and that probably wouldn't change regardless of how many years of experience he got underneath his belt.

His eyes immediately go to the far wall on the other side of the floor, it’s where the other drywall had been, and he figured that it was likely the only way to get away from the danger of the unknown. He's slightly surprised however to see a change in floor planning. Instead of the crumbly wall that he had been punching through repeatedly he saw brick, but not just that, a door.

'Into the lion's den,' he thinks aiming his body in that direction.

His foot hits the floorboard in a soft practiced motion but a loud squeak still scratches out of the piece of wood underneath him. The wheezes of the guards that are playing in his ear stop mid breath, and he can almost feel them scanning for him. But he's quick. As soon as his other foot comes down, he's launched himself into the shadows of a jagged wall. He pauses for a moment. One of the dim flashlights glides over his general vicinity. When the light passes over the end of the floor, it lingers on the door surrounded by brick. After several seconds, a low grunt sounds in his ear. The computer in his helmet shows that the route of the guards has changed. They are headed over to the wooden wall where he was previously hidden.

He doesn't hesitate, and he's off again, this time his approach is silent, and he reaches the door with no issue. A curious part of him wants to turn around and get a glimpse of those "guards" but he thinks better off it. He opens the door quickly and quietly, and he pushes through to the other.

Unsurprisingly, much like the rest of the building, the room he's in now is almost pitch black. The only things lighting up the place are yellow industrial lights nestled into a brick wall. However, unlike the rest of the building, he finds himself at the top of a black metal staircase that seems to spiral down, seemingly endless in the thick blackness. He’d be an idiot to continue with no back-up. To top it all off, the sensors in his ears have rung again. Not with the wheezing breaths of the first guards he encountered, but with the thumping footsteps that had seemed so distant when he first started. He wasn't keen on finding out what was causing them. Did he think he could kick whoever or whatever it was ass? Of course. But fighting in a place like this admittedly left him at a disadvantage, wasn’t a good idea. That and he didn’t want to make good on Bruce's premonition that he would have to be bailed out at the end of the night.

With an irritated roll of his shoulders he starts down the stairs, but not before he turns on a tracker. If shit did hit the fan, he didn't want to be stuck underground for the rest of his life.

The swirl of the downward spiraling stairs seems to go on forever and based on how long it took him to reach the bottom, Jason is sure that he's underwater at that point. The pounding of footsteps in his ear irritates him, but he doesn't turn it off because they begin to get louder. Aside from that, the sensitive pieces of tech have picked up chatter. At least he thinks it's talking. He can't really be sure, the sound is staticky and descending further below doesn't seem to help. Either he's picked up on some shitty talk radio show or there is something partially dampening the signal.

It doesn't take too much more time before he reaches the bottom of the stairs. It's so dark that he wouldn't be able to see the toe of his boot if he didn't have the helmet on, though he might have been grateful for the lack of sight when a gigantic rat ran over his boots.

The stairs let out into a dank wet hallway. There is enough water on the ground that it covers his ankles. Clearly, no one had given a shit about drowning when they were "renovating" this part of the building.

At the end of the hall there is a single hanging lamp, casting a dreary white light on the familiar red brick. And there is also another door. He splashes his way through the water to reach the end of the hall, and he is almost there before something causes him to stop. The thumping of footsteps had stopped. Instinctually, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his skin prickled. He was unprotected, he realized, exposed. It really hadn't been a good idea to charge down into this hallway without making a plan. He could go back, get his bearings and then try again.

The thumping resumes, but only for a moment. Whatever was making those footsteps, he realized was listening. Likely, it had heard him coming down the stairs and sloshing through the water. And it's listening to him now, waiting for him to make another move and confirm its suspicion.

He steps back, moving his leg as gingerly as possible, barely stirring the water. It doesn't seem to arouse in any further action, and he makes to move his other leg in much the same way. His breathing seems loud in his own ears, why was he so afraid? He'd gotten the shit kicked out of him before, been on the brink of death. Perhaps it's just his lizard brain just acting up on him. His breathing is getting heavier still, so loud in his ear, almost like... was he wheezing?

The thought and Jason's reflexes happen at the same time. He's tucked and rolling forward just as his thin arm comes arcing through the air. One of the thin men, or maybe another that had been lurking about, stands just out of the light of the hallway and the blow that was meant for Jason sends red dust into the hair as a spidery arm pierced the brick.

'Could've been my head' he thinks quickly as he is standing up again.

But he's not on his feet for long. He almost doesn't hear the loud sloshing of water, and he tries to roll forward again when he does, but it's too late. Enormous arms wrapped around his midriff holding him tight against a large protruding belly.

"Looky looky, little lamb came to see me again."

He doesn't have to turn around to see the voice of the creature that has him hostage. It was the butcher, the one that he had saved Bruce's Brownie Woman from. He didn't understand how, though. Although he hadn't sent the gargantuan man to the grave himself, both he and Dick had confirmed that he had driven that beat up old van into the water. There was no way he would have gotten out in time to survive the depths of the bay.

The Butcher squeezes and shakes Jason from side to side, like he was trying to pop his head off. Not only did he have to contend with that, the wheezing thin man was beginning to slowly make his way down the hallway, his fingers arched ready to aim and fire and stick Jason like a pig.

While his arms are bound to his sides, he has enough reach and wriggle room to reach into his pockets. Once he grips onto what he's searching for, he locks his visor on the thin man in front of him analyzing his form and making him a target. It took longer than he would have liked, but the constant shaking of the madman who had him hostage wasn't exactly the most conducive thing for focusing. He waits until the man shakes him back toward the middle and then with a swift flick of his wrist a compact ball flies out toward the thin man. Just before it hits the water, it lets out a pop and a hiss as gas smoke fills up the room.

The butcher doesn't stop his shaking, unfazed and singularly focused on the task at hand. The Thin Man, however, lets out an annoyed screech. Jason can see the form of the man through his visor and just as he hoped, the Thin Man brings his arm back getting ready to attack. Jason slides down as much as he can and then tucks his head into his chest, guarding himself. He hears the fingers cut through the air, and before he knows it the shaking stops. A groan is leeched forth from the man holding him and his arms fall slack just as Jason is freed, he feels a thick liquid fall on his back. Looking up, he sees trails of viscous black blood flow from the neck of the Butcher.

As Jason had hopped the Thin Man and pierced right through the Butcher killing him almost instantly. The large heavy frame fell backward, landing with a splash into the water filling the hallway.

'One down, one to go.'

He turns his attention back to the slow-moving creature that was coming up behind him, its claws having finally retracted into the shape of a hand again. A gasping growl comes forth from the creature, as it takes a step back.

"Don't like working alone, I take it," Jason voices smugly.

The creature doesn't respond, but it's fine with Jason. He charges the Thin Man placing a few well-placed punches and kicks before the creature finds itself on the ground. However, as he stomps the creature, he realizes it's just absorbing his blows and not even trying to fight back. If he could see its eyes, perhaps he would get at least an inkling about what it was thinking, but in the water its mess of thick black hair seems to obscure its face even more.

He pulls back and stands over the creature for a moment. A bullet to the head would cause too much noise, and there's no guarantee that it would work anyway. He watches with a frown as the Thin Man twitches in the water and pulls himself away. Jason lands a heavy boot on its chest holding it in place. It writhes and wiggles pathetically underneath him. Unable to put distance between the two of them to launch his attack, the Thin Man was helpless.

Finally, it stops wiggling. Its arms fall to the sides and it lays there listlessly as if it has given up.

Jason doesn't remove his boot at first, but the surrounding water turns a cream color and bubbles. He jumps away from the man, and he watches in slight horror and amazement, as the Thin Man disintegrates, well most of him. By the time the bubbling is over and the cream seems to have disappeared, all that's left is the thick mass of hair and presumably the head of the creature.

"What the fuck?" Jason whispers to himself.

He uses his helmet to take a picture of the scene, but he doesn't understand exactly what he’s witnessed. Instead of dwelling on it, he moves on; pass the dead Butcher, who had started to bubble, and through the door at the end of the hallway.

***

The door leads to another dark hallway, one that seems to be suspiciously empty and long. He imagines, however, that whoever was in charge of those goons wasn't expecting anyone to make it past them. He doubted that they even thought anyone was on to them.

As he goes deeper down the hallway, he realizes the ground underneath his feet is changing. No more soppy wood or concrete. It is a see through steel grate that he was walking on; a catwalk. He stops mid step and bends down to see if there is anything under the grate worth checking out. It's pitch black, but his helmet quickly clears up the image, and he can see individuals milling around in the dark. They don't seem scared and their body language suggests that they are simply conversing with each other.

'Talking in the dark? Some party.' He thinks to himself. He tries his earpiece again, he's sure that the voices he heard earlier are coming from these people, but their voices are still being distorted.

Before he can even think about how to clear up the signal a light comes on, a spotlight to be precise. It illuminates a woman who is standing on a stage, and from what he can tell, she definitely looks like she should be at the party. She's a tall redhead, in a fancy dress, and even from this distance he can tell she's a commanding presence.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," she starts, and at the sound Jason almost thinks his ear piece is back working, but it's just the sound echoing through the walls. "I'd like to welcome you to the party."

At the word party, a curtain lifts from behind her, revealing several large television screens, all showing different angles of the ballroom and the party goers. But that was the tamest part.

Behind the woman and below the screens sat a group of five individuals; Bound, gagged, bleeding and mostly naked. Jason felt his stomach churn at the possibilities of what these people were about to endure.

"By the end of the night the five highest investors will get to have their way with one of our special guests," the woman lets out a chuckle at the word. "In any fashion you choose. There is no limit."

There is a pause of the small crowd followed by a polite applause.

“For example,” she says with a smile as she gestures with a hand to the side of the stage.

Someone pushes a bound man out on the stage. Unlike the others his eyes aren’t blindfolded, but he’s so weak that he stumbles around the stage.

Jason is slightly surprised when another Thin Man makes his way on stage. He is only up there for a minute, as his duty was to hand the woman a revolver.

Jason’s heart pounds in his ears, his body realizing what’s about to happen before he can think it.

“Goodbye Geoffrey”, the woman says in a sugary sweet tone.

The man’s eyes widen, but he seems too out of it to move.

She points the gun at the man’s head and before he can groan out in protest; she fires the bullet.

He falls to the ground dead in less than a second.

She turns and faces her audience, “Who would like to make the first offer?”

All hands in the room raise.

#batman #batfamily #batmom #batman imagine #batman x reader #bruce wayne #bruce x reader #bruce imagine #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine

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softboywriting · 5 years

Text

The Perfect Arrangement

Summary: When your father, the king of the southern kingdom, arranges for you to marry the werewolf prince of the northern kingdom to create an alliance, you are less than thrilled. The last thing you expect is to actually fall in love and find a better home than you left behind. Will things go as planned, or will this alliance come crumbling down around you? Will you choose love or your family? [fluff] [royal au] [werewolf au]

Word count: 19k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Astoria is beautiful this time of year. The trees are all turning bright shades of orange, red and yellow. Under any other circumstances you'd be thrilled to be visiting such a beautiful place. But now, today, you're driving toward a future here. A future you didn't choose for yourself and one you cannot change.

Your dad, the King of Highwater, made a lot of enemies on his way to the throne. You were only a baby when your family took the royal position in the Southern kingdom. Twenty three years later and he's trying to make amends with those he turned against. But to do so he needs allies and there is no ally more powerful or larger than the Northern wolf kingdom of Astoria, and what better way to solidify an ally than to marry into their family.

When you were eighteen your older sister, the favorite child, married a man in the east who was set to take the throne of the Eastern kingdom. Danielle was always the pride and joy of your family. She was the prettiest, smartest and highest sought after woman in the South. Your parents doted on her, gave her everything. Danielle was a princess through and through and you...well you just did your own thing. You didn't have to worry about being princess like, and that was just fine. You hated all that proper royal hullabaloo and stayed out of it. Until now.

Two weeks ago your dad announced during a dinner that you would be sent to Astoria and expected to marry the prince. It came out of nowhere and completely shook your world. Never did you think that your dad would try to marry you off for an alliance. It's wasn’t unheard of but...you weren't a princess. Well you were technically, but you weren't a princess that anyone wanted to be a queen one day. You tried to fight your dad on it, arguing that you were not the way to go with the alliance, that you had no idea what you were doing. He gave you a choice. Don't marry into the North and put all of your people at risk, or do it and create an alliance. You couldn't risk anyone's life, so you took the deal.

So now you are in the back of a car on an eight hour ride from Highwater to Astoria. You've never met this prince before, your kingdom didn't generally interact with the wolves of Astoria. Your father was never keen on the wolves, which surprised you even more when he said he wanted you to marry one. Their king is supposedly a hardened man who rules with an iron fist and takes no shit, having been the king in Astoria for more than thirty years. You're terrified of what the prince maybe like. You've heard his name is Shawn but you didn't go exploring much farther. You have no idea how old he is, what he looks like or what he has done. You were too nervous to look into anything. Now you sort of wish you had, not knowing is absolutely so much worse.

The car winds through the hills of beautiful trees and old brick homes. The castle looms in the distance, a gorgeous white stone structure. Your new home. The car enters locked gates and circles a large courtyard minutes later and stops before a set of steps where there are two people waiting for you. Your heart feels like it's going to beat out of your chest.

The two people walk down the steps and you can see it is an older middle aged woman, beautiful as can be, the queen no doubt, and a young man. He is handsome, stunning as he walks the queen down the steps with a hand on her arm. He's tall, lean but fit and as he gets closer you can see the resemblance between him and the queen. He must be her son, but surely he isn't the prince you're meant to marry. He is far too gorgeous not to be married. He can't be the prince you’re meant to marry.

You step out of the car and grip your bag strap across your body nervously. "Hello," you smile at the two before you. The prince is just as handsome as you thought, not perfect, no, but far more attractive then any of the men you’d met in Highwater.

"You must be the princess." The Queen says stepping forward and holding out one delicately manicured hand. "I'm Karen, the Queen of Astoria."

You introduce yourself, and she smiles sweetly. "Thank you for having me."

"Of course. We're excited to have you, Astoria hasn't had a princess in this castle since I was young. A human princess will be a breath of fresh air around here." Karen guides the man beside her forward. He hasn't said anything, just eyed you silently. "Shawn, you haven't introduce yourself."

Shawn. This was the prince, the man you would call your husband soon. He steps forward so he’s standing before you a foot or less away. He is so much more than you expected. Breathtaking honestly. Surely this is a mistake.

"Princess." He takes your hand and kisses it, eyes locked on yours in a very commanding gaze. "It's nice to meet you, I’m Shawn, Prince of Astoria."

"I- yeah." You shake your head and look away from him. He’s too much, you’re screwed. "Thank you?"

Shawn raises his eyebrows and the Queen chuckles. "Come, let's get you settled in," Karen says, putting her hand on your shoulder and rubbing softly. “We’ve got dinner prepared and everything.”

______________________

Dinner is wonderful, and the Queen is an incredible lady. The King didn't make an appearance and you are told he is out of the kingdom for trade negotiations with the West. The night is winding down, you had arrived late in the evening as it was. Shawn was quiet for the majority of dinner, watching you carefully and you couldn't help but feel uneasy but not unsafe. He seemed distant and unsure, thought you couldn’t blame him. He was in the same boat as you were.

“Shawn, why don’t you show her to her room?” Karen says as she finishes her after dinner tea. “I’m sure she’s tired from traveling. Right dear?”

You nod and fold your hands in your lap. It was so strange to eat with people who were not your family. You feel like every move you make is under scrutiny. Nobody trained you for this, nobody showed you how to be a proper lady. You really hope you’re doing a good job.

Shawn pushes back his chair and walks around beside you. “Follow me.”

You get up and Karen smiles and gives you a little wave. “Try to realx,” she chuckles “Astoria welcomes you.”

“Thank you,” you nod and Shawn puts his hand out for you to take. You put your hand in his and he walks you out of the dining room.

The halls of the castle are a delicate blend of modern design and historical architecture. The structure is clearly old, having stood for decades no doubt. It’s not at all like Highwater castle which was far more recent in terms of construction. But Highwater was not nearly as old as Astoria.

"This is our room." Shawn says as he opens a set of large double doors. He steps in and you follow so he can close the door behind him. He goes to the dresser and casually starts to take off his watch and bracelets.

You turn to face him in the expansive bedroom suite. "Did you say our room?"

"Mmhmm."

"Why...why are we sharing a room?"

Shawn turns and pulls his shirt off over his head, revealing his trained chest and you can't help the blush that creeps across your cheeks. This had to be a fever dream, you must be sitting in the garden back home experiencing sun stroke. "Wolves share everything with their partners. It's important to building a bond."

You go over to the side of the massive bed and look at the plush rug covering the dark polished wood floor. There are little scratches, like claw marks in the polished wood. You swallow, putting the thought of why claw marks would be there out of your head. Shawn was fine. A little closed off perhaps but he didn't seem inherently dangerous. You were not your dad. You wouldn’t assume things of wolves, it wasn’t fair.

"I guess I can sleep on the floor."

"You can sleep on the bed." He shucks his pants and you really try not to look over at him, not quite used to the familiarity of changing in front of one another, but you do look. He's got a lovely ass, muscled and rounded just right in his fitted red boxers. You look away.

"Why would you sleep on the floor?" he asks as he stretches his arms across his chest.

"I'm not comfortable sleeping with someone I've just met?"

"I'm your fiance. You're going to sleep with me a lot."

"But...nevermind." You shake your head. He just didn't get it and you assume it's because he had different socialization as a werewolf. You open the top drawer of the dresser you figure is yours. Inside is your pajamas, unpacked and put away by the cleaning staff you assume. You take your clothes and head to the attached bathroom, closing the door behind you.

The bathroom is beautiful. It was as if there wasn't a single less than outstanding part of this castle. Shawn's bathroom, no, your bathroom, is black and white themed. White tiled floors with swirled black and white marble counters. A marble tub and black tiles along the walls and floors of the shower. Even the towels match the theme, and it's all lit by a skylight overhead with ivy growing around the edges of it. This bathroom was straight out of a home design magazine and you couldn't be more thrilled.

The freestanding tub is definitely inviting with its curved back and gold fixtures. You could spend hours in that thing reading your favorite books. Maybe living in the Astoria castle wasn't going to be so bad, for sure it has been a massive upgrade from your place back home.

You change into your pajamas, a pair of polka dot shorts and a t-shirt. It wasn't really fitting for the cool northern weather, but you hadn't exactly known what to expect. Though you should have remembered that the North was always colder, and didn't usually get much warmer than seventy degrees in the summer months, and it was fall.

You know you have to go back out there and face Shawn. You look into the mirror at your reflection and sigh. How on earth did you end up here with a prince like Shawn? Surely you did something right, some Gods must be smiling on you. You fix up your hair a bit and splash your face with water. You can do this. You can make the best of any situation if you put your mind to it.

Shawn is asleep in the bed, arm over his face, when you open the door to step out. He's on top of the blankets, legs open, one knee bent up and to the side with his arm over his chest. He looks so comfortable and relaxed. Must be nice. You grab a pillow and make yourself comfortable on the floor. It was going to be a long night.

_____________________

The first thing you learn about Shawn is that he's so damn quiet it's almost unnatural. Well. It is technically. In the first week he scares you at least a dozen times. It's not on purpose, but you think he gets a thrill out of it because he always does this face, just a little hint of a smirk like he is testing you or something.

On your eighth day you discover the library and the garden it lead to. The library is huge, floor to ceiling with books of all sorts. It would seem the family has collected them for many years. You love reading. It was an escape to worlds you could only imagine and dream of, and they made you feel things you were sure you'd never experience. Though now you think maybe with Shawn you will get to experience some of those things.

You grab a book, a romance novel from a shelf labeled "Karen's favorites" and head out into the garden. The plants are still thriving, the flowers long gone but ivy and greenery living on around the trellises and arches. You stroll along, admiring the stone work that lines the raised beds. Each brick looks carefully carved with roses and peonies and leaves. You reach the center of the garden and there is a large sundial in a pond with benches surrounding it.

The air is nice, the sun comes out to warm your face as you take a seat. Peace and quiet. You open your book and start to read, legs crossed under you as you try to get lost in the world in your hands.

Growling puts you on edge. At first you ignore it, thinking it's nothing more than one of your mom's dogs. But then you realize you're not home and this is a kingdom of wolves. A cold chill runs through you as you close your book and look around the garden. There is no one else as far as you can see. The growling stops and you aren't sure if that's a good thing or not.

Suddenly you see movement, a dark and massive figure to your right and a huge dark brown wolf soars over the bench from the raised garden bed behind you. It lands in the pond and you let out a terrified yell, gripping your book for dear life. The thing is absolutely massive and you are sure it's going to hurt you.

"Go away!" You shout, holding up the book in defense. "I'll scream! They'll find you!"

The wolf splashes forward and you watch as it reaches the edge of the water. It's then it begins to lower it's head and curl into itself. Before your eyes the wolf becomes a human with wet dark hair plastered to his head.

"You took that pretty well." He looks up and you realize it's Shawn. He shakes his hair out and runs a hand through it.

"Shawn!" You drop your book and literally melt into the bench. "I thought you were going to kill me or something."

He chuckles. "No, I won't do that. You've never seen a wolf before have you?"

"No. Not like that, well, like you."

"I'm about as big as they come, so don't worry about seeing anything more terrifying." He stands up and water pours down him. He's naked as the day he was born and you get a full view of his goods. Apparently he has no modesty. “Also, if you see another wolf like me in the castle, please scream. Let someone know, draw attention to yourself.”

"I was about to scream because of you, so no problem."

Shawn walks over to you, wet feet slapping on the smooth stone pavers of the garden path. You keep your eyes trained on his and he squats down in front of you. "You scream immediately. Understand?" He waits for you to nod and you do. "There shouldn't be any other shifted wolves here. Ever. I'm an alpha so I can shift like that, and only alphas can. If there is another alpha in this castle, aside from my dad, you let me know. Please?"

"Y-yeah." You swallow thickly, no longer concerned about his nudity then you are about the way he's speaking. This was obviously some sort of test, or maybe a warning?

He lays his hand on your thigh and squeezes gently. "You can go back to reading now. I'll be in a meeting for most of the day." With that he stands and goes for the path that lead back toward the castle.

You look down at your book on the ground. Reading didn't seem appealing at the moment. You are still reeling from whatever the hell just happened. Clearly you had a lot to learn about wolves and this seemed to be just the tip of the iceberg.

____________________

"Tell me about your family."

You look up from your book to see Shawn where he's sitting not too far from you in the library. You're in a central area with couches and a desk for studying. You never heard him come in and you definitely didn't hear him approach the sitting area.

"My family?"

"Yes."

You close your book and set it aside. "What exactly do you want to know?"

Shawn stands and walks along the book shelves, pacing lazily as he speaks. "Your dad, what's he like?"

"He's okay. Kind of a jerk, but I just stay out of the way."

"Does he hurt you?"

"No. Gods no. He is very stubborn. Pig headed. His way or the highway y'know?"

"Mmmhmm." Shawn stops and leans against the desk. "Your mom?"

"She's okay too, very much like my dad."

"Do you have siblings?"

"One. My older sister Danielle. She's married to a lord already. She's not the greatest, really full of herself."

"You don't like your family much?"

You curl into the blanket you've laid across your lap earlier. It's very warm and almost looks handmade. "It's complicated, but no not really."

Shawn walks over and takes a seat beside you and lays his hand on your covered feet. It's very tender and possibly the gentlest you've seen him since you met. "You're not like other princesses I've met. It's not a bad thing. I was just curious as to why, that’s why I’m asking about your family."

"I wasn't raised like a princess. I mean I am one, I know. But Dani was the golden child. She is the whole package, pretty, smart, sought after. Our parents put everything into her, teaching her how to be a proper lady and educating her on everything from piano lessons to how to eat properly. I was just left to my own devices most of the time. No one really cared what I did."

Shawn smiles softly and your eyes widen. This had to be the first real smile you've seen and it's beautiful. "You just did what you wanted huh?"

"Yeah. I learned pretty quickly that my parents didn't pay attention to anything I did while Dani was around."

"And what did you do?"

"Mostly I explored the courtyards and went to the library. Sometimes I'd hang out in the woods behind castle or just wander around town."

Shawn smiles. "No trouble making?"

"No." You smile and he smiles bigger. "Though one time I did sneak frogs from the fountain in the courtyard into my mom's coat pockets because she made me mad."

He laughs, full on laughs and you can't help the giggle that comes out of you in response. "You're cute, bold, and cute."

"What about you? Do you have siblings?”

“No, I’m an only child. The only kids I knew growing up were the staff’s kids. My parents let them bring them to work sometimes. It was great, but you know how it is. People grow up and they grow apart.”

“Yeah. I didn’t have a lot of friends.” You shake your head and sigh. “My parents didn’t think I should play with the kids in town.”

“Wow. They kept you in the castle?”

“Usually. Danielle was my friend until she got older and started to really understand that she was a princess. I swear when she turned thirteen her whole demeanor changed and that's when I started hating her.”

“I’m so sorry.” He looks down. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

“No, no, it's fine. It’s over now right? I’m here, living a whole new life. Astoria is a fresh start. What about you? I’m sure you’ve got some stories me from your childhood."

"Another time." He pats your legs and stands up. "I have some business to attend to right now. I'll see you tonight."

"Oh. Okay, yeah." You watch as he walks away, leaving you alone with your books. He was an enigma, but one you were slowly starting to unravel.

_____________________

Shawn doesn't come to bed that night. You wait up, expecting him any time after ten. You even take a bath for the first time in that tub of yours. You had held off, unsure when would be a good time not to be interrupted and to be honest you were nervous because it was so exposed, right in the middle of the bathroom. If Shawn walked in, which he didn't seem like he'd ever really do, he would be able to see everything. The bath had been just as amazing as you imagined. You curl up on the bed instead of the floor afterwards and read for a few minutes before falling asleep.

You dream of Shawn. He's a wolf, bigger than he was in real life and you ride on his back through the woods. There's something in the distance, a fire it seems. He's running towards it but you want to turn back. The trees end abruptly and before you is the castle you grew up in, burning to the ground. You grip his fur tightly and make no move to do something about the fire, as if you could do something anyways. A noise from behind startles you and you turn with Shawn to see a large wolf approaching from the dark forest, it lunges and you wake up, sitting up right in the dark bedroom.

The bed remains empty. You push back a blanket across your lap. You don't remember covering up before you fell asleep and the lights had definitely been on. You can't shake the feeling that somehow the wolf in the dream and your burning home in Highwater we're omens of some sort. They felt too real.

You crawl off the bed and your feet land on the cold floor. Your rug is gone. The cleaning crew must have taken it to wash. You grab your robe from it's hook by the dresser and head for the door. The moment you lay your hand on the curved handle, a voice breaks the silence of the room.

"Where are you going?"

A chill runs down your spine and you squint in the darkness to see where the voice was coming from. "I'm going to the library."

A light comes on and you see Shawn sitting on the floor beside his side of the bed. "At two in the morning?" He sounds rough.

"I had a nightmare. I just need to read for a bit and I'll be tired again. Why are you sleeping on the floor?"

"I'm on the floor because you were in bed." He pushes himself up and walks over to the door with you. "I thought I'd let you have some good sleep for once. I know you're still not comfortable sleeping with me."

"Oh. Well you can go back to sleep. I'm just going to the library like I said."

"I'll come with."

"It's just the library. It's fine."

Shawn puts his hand on your lower back and guides you out the door. "I'm going with."

The library is dark and Shawn goes for the lights, finding them with absolutely no trouble though they are along the wall to the left from the main doors. You can’t help but wonder how he does that. You go for your book you leave on the table between the sitting areas. You purposely leave a sticky note on it so the cleaning crew won't put it away. Shawn goes to a couch and flops down, feet hanging over the end as he crosses his arms and closes his eyes. You take a seat on an armchair beside him and open your book.

An hour passes, the large clock near the entryway chimes as it strikes three in the morning. Time flies when you're engrossed in the romantic world of life on a ranch with a hot new ranch hand. Shawn is snoring away and you wonder why he felt the need to go with you if he was just going to sleep. You aren't tired yet but you decide to go back to the bedroom. Shawn stirs when you get up to put your book back on its table. He says nothing and follows you back to the bedroom.

"I'll take the floor." You say softly as he falls on the bed face first.

"Just sleep on the bed." He mumbles into the comforter. "I don't bite."

"You might." You go to your side and crawl on, one knee sinking into the plush mattress.

Shawn pushes himself up and crawls under the blankets, laying so he's facing you on his side. "I won't even touch you without permission."

You lean back into the pillows and look over at him. His sleepy eyes are half lidded and golden amber colored like they were the first time you saw his wolf form. He’s so...interesting.

"Can we talk tomorrow?"

"I'll see. I have meetings with my dad all day."

"What are your meetings about?"

Shawn shifts against the sheets and pulls his pillow down to wrap his arms around. "Governing stuff. Really boring."

"Should I go to these meetings too?"

"No. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, honey." He growls softly. "Go to sleep."

Honey. Your stomach flutters. You lean over him and turn off his bedside light before settling down under the fluffy black comforter. You aren't going to sleep well, mind not yet off the dream despite reading and now his pet name is also running through your head. This sucked.

_____________________

"What're you doing today?" Shawn asks as he gets dressed a few days later.

You look over from the bed where you're still curled up. You and Shawn have started sharing the bed and it's much better than the floor. Go figure. "I don't know. Probably just going to read or maybe hang out in the kitchen with chef Marty. There isn't much else to do."

"Do you want to do something with me?"

You're surprised. He always seemed so busy. "Like what?"

Shawn turns around as he rolls up the sleeves of his button down shirt. "I thought we might go practice dancing."

"Dancing?"

"Yes. For the announcement ball? My mom told you about it right?"

"Well yeah but I have to dance? I don't really know how."

He chuckles. "I'll teach you. Wear something comfortable and meet me in the ballroom in a few minutes."

You roll over in bed as he leaves. Great. You couldn't dance, well, you could a little bit. But in general you could barely walk without tripping sometimes. Oh well.

You meet Shawn in the huge empty ballroom after putting on a pair of yoga pants and a tee shirt, not bothering to do your hair or anything else. It's crazy how Shawn looks like he belongs in the place. Always well dressed, looking like a real prince. You feel like you must stick out.

"You came," he smiles and your heart flutters. His smile is so damn beautiful. "I thought I was going to have to dance alone."

"You don't have to dance alone, but you will have to teach me a little."

Shawn turns on a radio he's got sitting a few feet away and a beautiful piano ballad begins playing, the acoustics of the ballroom making it louder and seem like it's a live piece of music. He walks up to you and puts his hand on your waist, taking your other in his free hand. "Follow my lead."

You swallow thickly at the closeness. He smells so good, you're not sure what he wears but it's absolutely intoxicating.

"Breathe," he laughs, rubbing his hand up your side. "You're going to pass out and we haven't even started."

"Shit, sorry." You shake your head. Focus.

Shawn leans in close, looking down at you, eyes locked on yours. "Here we go." He steps to the right and you follow easily, letting him guide you to start.

The song picks up and you follow along naturally as he spins you and leads you around with his hands in yours in a very waltz like dance. You can't help but laugh and he does one last spin that ends with you against his chest.

You lay your hands on his chest as he holds your hips. "I can't believe I did it."

"You did." He smiles. "I can't believe how well you did since you said you can't dance. You most definitely can by the way."

"I'm surprised too. Maybe you're just a good teacher."

"Or maybe we're really good partners."

You flush as he leans in and presses his forehead to yours, heart beating wildly. "Can we do it again?" You ask softly.

"I'd love to. How about something a little faster?"

"Alright." You smile nervously and he pulls away to go to the radio. An uptempo dance melody comes on and he takes your hands.

"Follow me." He steps back and you step forward in time with the music, footsteps getting increasingly faster as you go back and forth, side to side, hips turning as you change hands. You stumble a few times but he patiently starts over and guides you along.

Once you have the main steps down, he pulls you in and spins you so your back is against his chest. His hands slide down your arms and he turns you out again before the goosebumps can fully form on your skin. He does this two more times until you flow with him easily.

You slide into him as he pulls you in again, this time face to face. His hands go to your hips and he guides you back and forth with him. Your eyes are locked on his and it's insanely intimate. You can't speak, can't breath. He grabs your hips and lifts you up and you automatically wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you up with one arm as he guides you back against the column of the balcony overhead.

The music keeps playing but the two of you have stopped, frozen in time against the cool marble pillar. His breathing is heavy and so is yours. Your chemistry is undeniable. The tension is so thick you could suffocate.

"I wanna kiss you," he whispers, voice lower than usual.

You nod and he leans in, mouth warm against yours. His hand goes to your neck and he tilts your head up a bit. You grab his hair, and he growls into your mouth. A moan escapes you and he slides you down against the column, body trapped between his warmth and it's cool surface.

He breaks the kiss and you stare at each other. A smile creeps across your face and he breaks out into a little laugh. The two of you part ways, Shawn stepping back while you remain against the marble. He rubs the back of his neck and you bite your lip.

"You're a good dancer," you say softly and he chuckles, looking over at you and then down at his feet.

"You are too."

_____________________

You wake up a few days later to find a small package on your pillow. A rectangular box wrapped with a silky black ribbon. You sit up and look around the room. There is no sign of Shawn. The box has your name on it so you pull off the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside is a book. You turn it over in your hands and smile. The back cover describes a princess falling in love with a non royal werewolf and their forbidden romance. How similarly perfect for your current situation. You open the front page and there is a sticky note inside.

I picked up this book in hopes you would like it. I can only hope to be as good of a man to you as the wolf in this book is to his princess. Their romance is incredible and touching and everything I hope we can be someday. -Shawn

"Good morning."

You look up and Shawn is leaning against the bedroom door frame. "Good morning," you hold up the book. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I thought you might enjoy it. I can take you to the book store one day if you like."

"Really? I'd love to go."

He walks across the room and sinks on to the bed. "I have a meeting this afternoon but I'll take you soon okay?"

You nod. "I can't wait."

_____________________

The next day Shawn finds you in the library by the window seats overlooking the garden. He walks over carrying one of your jackets.

"What's up?" You ask, looking over your book.

"You wanna go to the bookstore?"

“You’re serious?” Your eyes light up and you uncurl yourself from the window seat.

He holds out your jacket for you. "Yes, I promised you I would. It's chilly so I figured you might want this."

You pull it on and zip up the front. "I need shoes." You wiggles your toes in your socks and he chuckles. "I'll be right back!" You run across the library to the hall that leads to the stairs to your bedroom.

When you come back Shawn is waiting for you outside the library doors. He smiles at you and offers you his hand. You take it and he walks with you to the front doors. The two of you drive to the bookstore in downtown Astoria City. The second he parks the car you're gone, running into the small shop. He follows close behind, as you begin to walk the rows of books. It feels like it's been forever since you were in a place like this. The familiar smell of new pages, binding glue and fresh ink is like home to you.

"Good afternoon Prince Shawn!" A small older guy behind the counter says excitedly, waving at the two of you.

Shawn waves back and smiles. You grab his hand and drag him toward the romantic suspense section. "What can I get?"

"Anything you want."

"Anything?"

He laughs softly. "Yes, anything."

You start grabbing books, not even looking at their descriptions. You don't care, you will read anything by the authors you're grabbing. Shawn offers to hold some and you begin stacking them in his arms. He raises his eyebrows as you add more and more to the pile.

"You're sure?" You ask, holding one more book in your hands and staring at the stack he's holding. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not. Enjoy yourself." He carries the books to the counter and asks the clerk to start totaling them up and bagging them.

You sit down on the floor and browse the very bottom shelf. Shawn sits down behind you and you grab a few titles and hug them to your chest, falling back into his lap. He laughs, staring down at you and your books.

"Thank you so much for bringing me here."

He leans down and kisses your forehead. "I figured you needed some more books. I noticed you had started to reread them."

"You noticed that?"

He nods. "I've been reading a few myself, between meetings and after you've fallen asleep."

You giggle at the thought. "Prince Shawn is reading romance novels?"

He flushes a bit and rolls his eyes. "I figured it's something you enjoy, I should try it out too."

You sit up and look at him. He really did that. He really decided to start reading your books because you enjoyed them so much. "That's so sweet. I-I wish I could return the favor."

Shawn stands and helps you up with your last few books. "You don't have to worry about that."

"No, I want to know what you like."

"Well, I like playing piano, and I like taking long runs." He walks with you up to the counter and smiles at the clerk while he hands over his card and you place your last few books on the counter. "I like to read, before you came I did read as well."

"Well, I suppose I'm not too good at any of those things besides reading."

"No worries. I don't expect you to learn to play piano or start running with wolves overnight." He grabs your bag off the counter and you glance into it. There is at least fourteen titles in there.

You thread your fingers into Shawn's free hand and he kisses your knuckles. "Thank you. These will keep me busy for days."

"Anything to make you happy, Princess."

You flush and he swings your hands together as you leave the shop to return to the castle. You are happier than ever. You have new books and your relationship with Shawn is getting better every day. You don't feel like this is arranged at all. It feels like you and Shawn are just dating..

_____________________

For the next few days Shawn gets up very early, usually waking you up in the process and saying good morning with a kiss on your cheek. He always leaves, dressed in his pajamas and then appears a few hours later and heads for the shower.

Curiosity gets the best of you after a few days and you want to see where he's going. You wonder if he's shifting, since once he came back completely naked like he did when he shifted that time in the fountain.

On Wednesday you decide to follow him, camera in hand to try and get a picture of his wolf form. You're curious, you can't help it. He makes his way to the lower level at the back of the castle, past the garden and out a set of doors that lead to the private garages. You hang back, watching him from the window as he strips off his black tank top and shorts. Your suspicions turned out to be correct. He shifts into his wolf form, just as big as you remember, and walks into the treeline.

You zoom in on your camera and snap a picture. You stare at the little screen, enamoured with the way the sun highlights the red and brown colors in his dark fur. You want to touch it. Suddenly, fear grips your stomach. Why would he leave every day to go into the forest? Was he meeting someone? Another wolf? Was he really just running? Why was he doing this now?

You step away from the window and head back into the main part of the castle. You didn't mean to upset yourself like this, you just wanted to see him shift again. Now you're all in your head.

A couple hours go by and you see Shawn pass the library doors that you've left open. You decide to wait until he showers and gets dressed in his regular clothes to ask him what he's up to. It's not long after he passes the doors before you feel something on the back of the couch you're curled up on and you look up to see Shawn leaning against it, his big hands spread out across the cushion.

"Hello?"

"Why were you following me?"

You swallow thickly. Of course he noticed you were tailing him. "Uh...um."

"Hmm?"

"I was wondering what you were doing every day that required you to come back and shower."

He chuckles and walks around to sit on the coffee table in front of you. "And what did you find out?"

"That you are shifting and going into the forest to run I think, because you said you like to do that. I was just curious."

"You're curious? About what?"

You flush. "About you?"

He folds his arms over his chest and his arms look huge. You try not to let the thought of him picking you up like he had when you danced go to your head. Goodness he was so big and you know he's ridiculously strong. "You want to know why I've been going out running every morning?"

"Yeah."

"It's getting close to a full moon. I just need to stretch my legs and burn off some energy." He runs his hand over his hair. "I can...I can bring you along if you want?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're curious right? I want you to be comfortable with me in both forms. I know we've spent a lot of time together like this but not so much when I've been shifted."

You set your book aside. "When are you gonna go next?"

"We can go right now if you want. I'll show you where I go in the forest. I think you'll like it."

You stand up and he offers his hand to you. You take it and you feel warm, butterflies in your stomach. Every time he touched you, you felt incredibly alive. This isn't at all how you expected this conversation to go. This is much better.

____________________

If someone told you weeks ago that you would be running through an Astorian forest in fifty degree weather with a wolf at your side, you would have called them crazy. But here you are.

Shawn runs ahead as you start to get tired. Running isn't your forte. You watch as he bounds across fallen trees and boulders. It's the most carefree you think you've seen him yet. He doubles back and circles you, bumping your back with his head to get you to move faster.

"I'm tired," you laugh, pushing at his massive head. Standing, he comes up to your chest. His size was no joke and he could easily overpower you if he wanted, but he won’t. "I'm not running anymore."

He nudges you again and you stumble forward.

"Shawn." You grab his huge face and it's the most surreal thing as you stare at him, knowing behind those eyes is the man you're falling for. "I'm not a wolf, my stamina sucks."

He turns and walks ahead, leading you off the path. There's a cluster of rocks and you can hear water trickling somewhere close by. Shawn disappears and you hear a splash. When you get to a gap in the rocks you see Shawn, human again, treading water in the middle of a large spring.

"Oh wow, this is amazing." You lay your hand on the smooth damp rocks that enclose the water. "Incredible."

"I knew you'd like it. I come here after running to chill out for a while and just relax." He swims over to the edge. "It's warm. Come on in."

"I didn't bring a bathing suit."

"Who needs one? Just strip down and get in."

You pull off your sweater and push down your jeans. Being naked in front of Shawn wasn't something you'd done yet despite your growing closeness. Of course you've seen every inch of him, but he had a very different view of modesty. You still changed in the room with your back to him or in the bathroom.

"I'll just wear my underwear and bra." You put your clothes off to the side and Shawn swims over to look up at you. He smiles and you flush, knowing he's definitely checking you out. "What?"

"You're hesitant aren't you?"

"Of course I am."

"I can turn away if you want to get naked and get in so I can't see anything."

"I'll be fine."

"But you'll have to walk back in wet underwear and it's cold out here."

You sigh. He has a point. "Okay, turn around." You undress completely and get in the warm water beside him, sinking in and going under for a moment. He turns, eyes low as he takes in what he can see of you and you flush. "What now?"

"Are you still curious?"

"About what?"

"Me." He floats closer. "I'm curious about you."

"O-oh."

Shawn pushes a wet strand of hair off your forehead. "Let me know if I'm being too forward. Are you uncomfortable?"

You shake your head. "I'm not used to attention like this...and we haven't really done anything since we kissed when we were dancing."

"I know. Can I touch you?" He asks and you nod. He puts his hands on your waist and runs them up and down. "You can touch me too."

You lay your hand on his chest and it's solid, warm, and you take note of little freckles scattered across his skin. He's broad, much bigger than you, and being this close and naked is so different then when you were dancing. It's intimate in a different way.

"I didn't think I'd like you," you confess suddenly, eyes trained on his chest.

He chuckles. "Why?"

"Because arranged marriages don't usually work out."

"I know I took a while to open up, and that's because I didn't want to rush you. I really think you and I are good together though, great actually."

You smile and laugh to yourself. "Your mom said that too."

"Mmm," he slides his hands up your back and you arch forward, breasts hitting his chest. "Have you heard of the term mates before?"

"Like soulmates?"

"Yeah, something like that," he smiles into his words and you flush. "It's a special bond for wolves, and is what I'm pretty sure humans base the idea of soulmates on."

"Mates for wolves can be humans?"

He nods and cups your face. "Yes, definitely."

You slide your hands down his chest and he cups the back of your head, pulling you against him. You slip your arms around his middle and he lets out a soft hum. The two of you stay in your comfortable embrace for a while, enjoying the new found closeness with each other. You're glad your dad sent you to Astoria, if he hadn't you never would have met Shawn.

_____________________

The next day you decide today you're going to leave the castle and explore Astoria's shopping district on your own, eager to learn more about your new home. The trip to the bookstore was enough to get that itch for exploration in your bones. On your way to the front doors you pass a guard who stops you just as you get there.

"Princess, you need an escort."

"An escort? Why? I'm just going in town."

"Prince Shawn's rules."

You sigh. "Okay, well, who can escort me?"

"Prince Shawn."

"Really? I can't take a guard with me?"

The guard shakes his head. "No ma'am. We're under strict orders. You can't go out without protection."

"Why?" You cross your arms. You don't like being trapped.

"That is not for me to discuss Princess."

You turn away and head for the library. There was a gate you could get out of in the garden. You would go into town one way or another and you sure as hell were not waiting for Shawn to take you anywhere. He was in meetings all day again.

Sure enough the garden gate is guarded too. You roll your eyes and take a left to a trellis that you can climb just out of sight from the gate. A few carefully placed steps and you're on the back lawn of the castle, free to explore the town as long as you sneak around the guards out front.

Half an hour later and you're walking through the streets of Astoria City. The place is busy, bustling with life. There are vendors everywhere as if there is some sort of open air market going on. You wander around taking your time at each stall. You didn't bring any money, in fact you completely forgot your purse. It's fine. Window shopping was just as satisfying.

You approach a booth selling bracelets made of copper like the ones Shawn wore. They're gorgeous, shiny rose colored and intricately designed. You wish you could get one for Shawn. He'd probably really like it, and it would be a sweet gift in return for the books he got you. Just as you pick one up that has a braided design on it, a hand lands on your side and you jump.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

You turn and see a man with dark hair smiling at you. He's close to your age and not bad looking. He's big like Shawn and that makes you worry about what type of wolf he is. "Yeah. It's nice." You place the bracelet back in it's display and pull away from the man's touch to the other side of the booth.

"Would you like one?"

"Ah, no. I'm just browsing."

"Browsing alone?"

You pick up a necklace with your fingertips, admiring it's inlaid obsidian centerpiece, the stone of the royal family. You want to seem disinterested in the man's conversation so he will leave. He's making you extremely uneasy.

"A princess shouldn't be alone."

You swallow thickly and turn to look at him. He's gone, replaced by a woman who is looking at a bracelet. Your eyes dart around the crowd and you don't see him. This couldn't be good. You place the necklace on its stand and leave the booth, hightailing it back to the castle as fast as you can in the throngs of people.

Arms wrap around you just as you slip past the gates and before you can scream you hear a familiar voice. "What are you doing out here?" It's Shawn.

"I-I just wanted to get out of the castle."

Shawn keeps his arm around your back and walks the rest of the way with you up the driveway that leads to the castle's front courtyard. "I can't believe you snuck out. Well, no, I can. You realize that you put yourself in danger?"

"You can't trap me in the castle."

Shawn growls, pulling you aside in the main hall and holding your shoulders firmly. "I'm not trapping you. There are wolves in this kingdom who will try to take you. You're not in Highwater anymore, you can't go unnoticed here."

"Take me? Why?"

"Because you're my fiance. There are people who would do anything to get the upper hand on family right now. Dad and I are undergoing negotiations with other wolves in the north beyond the forests. They’re wild, part of Astoria but never following my dad’s rule. We’re trying to come to terms with them. That's why I have meetings all the time."

"Why didn't you tell me before? Why don’t I know these things?"

"I wanted to protect you, I didn’t want to drag you into all the political bullshit but clearly I just put you in further danger." You look around and Shawn holds your face. "What are you looking for?"

"Nothing, I'm just nervous."

"Oh." Shawn lessens his hold on you and drops his hands to your arms. He looks worried, genuinely concerned. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be angry with you. You didn’t know. Please, just...just stay in the castle."

"Okay, I will. For now, but I want to explore soon."

"I promise you I'll take you out again." He cups your face and it's gentle, a loving caress. "Promise you won't sneak out or try to leave without me again until things settle down?"

"I promise."

______________________

Two days later you wake up abruptly to Shawn pinning you down to the bed. Immediately you panic. You thrash under him and he holds fast until you start crying, begging him to let go of you. At that he releases your arms and sits up, thighs bracketing your hips.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes!" You shove him and he doesn't move. He's so much bigger than you and it sucks. "Get off me."

"You were screaming in your sleep and when I tried to wake you up, you started attacking me." Shawn runs a hand over his hair. "I didn't want you to hurt yourself. I was freaking out."

"Oh. I...didn't realize."

Shawn crawls off of you and lays on his back. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I'm sorry. I just had a horrible dream. It's fine, just a nightmare."

"Talk to me about it."

"I don't remember."

Shawn turns his head to look at you and you look away. "You're lying. Why don't you just tell me?"

"I'm not lying."

"You are." He lays his hand on your arm. "You always look away from me when you're lying. You never look me in the eye. What is the big deal if it's just a dream?"

You sigh heavily. "At the market the other day I saw a wolf."

This gets his attention and he rolls onto his side to fully face you. He looks irritated already. "Like shifted or something? Because there isn't a lot of alphas in Astoria."

"No not shifted. He was big like you and he approached me in a stall I was checking out. He knew I was a princess and I was alone. I think he was chasing me in my dream."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were already mad at me for sneaking out and I didn't want to make it worse."

Shawn gets up and goes to the window that overlooks the garden. "That wolf was probably from beyond the forest. Remember what I said about someone possibly wanting to take you? What did he say to you?"

"Not much, he just asked me about the bracelet I was looking at and asked if I wanted it. He asked if I was alone and then said princesses shouldn't be alone. After that he disappeared and I left."

"Fuck." Shawn closes the curtains. "He is probably looking for a way to get into the castle. How did you sneak out that day?"

"I went through the garden, over a trellis."

Shawn pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. The tension is rolling off of him in waves and you can't help but feel like you've really screwed up somehow. "We need to alert the guards and have them start searching the castle."

You twist your hands in your blanket and swallow hard. "Why? What is going on? Did I do something wrong?"

Shawn walks over to you and sits on the bed. He takes your hand and you can feel that he's burning up. He was always warm when he slept and he was generally warmer than you, but this was something different. "That wolf knew you had to of snuck out of the castle if he knew you were alone. He got close to you to get your scent so he could find out how you, a princess, got out without being noticed. He was looking for a way in."

"Oh. I fucked up huh?" You tremble, your dream coming back to you. A man shifting into a big gray wolf and chasing you through the castle, running as fast as you can to get to a hiding place, not knowing your way around suddenly. "I'm so sorry Shawn. I didn't know...I just wanted to go out."

"It's okay." He brushes his hand over your hair. "It won't be the first time someone sneaks in. We'll take care of it."

"What if he's already here? What if he takes me?"

"I would never let that happen. I'll protect you to my last breath." He wipes some tears that fall down your cheeks. "I swear I'll keep you safe."

"Thank you," you mumble, hand in his and he leans forward and kisses your forehead.

"I'm going to go alert the guards. Stay here and lock the door." He gets up and puts on a shirt from his dresser. "And I know it might be hard but you should get some more sleep. I'll see you when you wake up okay?"

"Y-yeah."

"Lock it after me."

You get up and go to the door, holding it open for him. He pauses and lays his hand on your cheek, kissing the opposite one before going out for you to lock the door behind him.

_____________________

The search for intruders comes up empty over the next three days and you're glad. If something had happened you don't know if you would be able to live with the guilt of knowing it was your fault. You wander around in the afternoon, looking for Shawn since you hadn't seen him since last night. He didn't say good morning or anything which was odd.

You hear the sound of a piano playing somewhere near where you're exploring. You think it might be coming from the grand hall. Sure enough there is Shawn sitting at a huge piano, playing a soft melody. Was there anything he couldn't do? You know he said he likes to play, but he just seems so perfect already it is unreal.

"Hey," he looks over at you as you cross the vast empty room. "What're you doing here?"

"I came to find you. You didn't say good morning."

As you get closer you take in his appearance. He's in a sweater and some jeans. He rarely dressed so casual unless he was planning on shifting, and he actually looks super soft and cuddly.

"Sorry. I've been in my head for the last few days."

"Because of the wolf at the market?"

He nods and scoots over on the bench for you to take a seat. "It really worries me."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"It's fine."

There's a silence between the two of you as he plays a few notes. You feel like you've fucked up. Even though nothing has happened, you feel like Shawn is mad at you.

"You smell really good today." He says softly out of nowhere.

"Thanks. I don't think anyone's ever told me that."

"You always smell good." He looks over with a little smile. "It's a big deal for us wolves. Scents are everything."

"I'm glad I don't stink then."

He laughs and you duck your head and smile. "Can I tell you something else?"

"Sure?"

"I like when you wear my clothes."

"You noticed that I took a shirt the other day?"

He nods. "Like I said, scents are a big deal. When you walked into the dining room for breakfast I about pounced on you."

"Over a shirt?" You giggle.

"No, over my scent on you. It just drove me wild for a moment."

"Oh. Well, you smell really good too. I like your cologne that you wear everyday."

He plays a few keys and mumbles, "I just really like you."

You flush and look away to stare at the white keys. "I really like you too."

_____________________

Your family would be arriving soon for you and Shawn's announcement ball. It's a huge formal event that includes dancing and a dinner for both parties families and other important figures in the kingdoms. You aren't particularly excited to see your parents, it's been really nice being away from home and being paid attention to here in Astoria. At home it had been nice to do whatever you wanted, but your parents didn't actually seem to care about you and when they did pay attention it was usually to criticize you. Here, Shawn is definitely into you and you're very much into him. Even his parents really like you and you love the castle.

The worst part of your parents coming to visit is that they will be bringing Danielle. Just her, not her husband as far as you know. You almost want to rub it in her face that you got Shawn. Even if it is arranged, you do actually have real feelings for him. He's much more handsome than her husband Jackson and overall a better man. You're sure she'll find some way to make everything about herself though.

You walk into the grand ballroom and take in the incredible architecture. You and Shawn had danced together in there not too long ago and you smile to yourself as you remember. There are a few staff members setting up tables and chairs for the guests who would be there in a few days time, but other then the tables obstructing the view, it's absolutely breathtaking. You walk around the outer ring, a balcony overhead. It reminds you of the ballroom from beauty and the beast and you wonder if the wedding will be held there. If not you might ask if it can be.

You go up to the center steps leading to a landing that goes out to a balcony that overlooks the garden. There are big double doors open and letting in the fall air. You step out and run your hand over the smooth stone railing and look down at the trees and plants that are starting to fade. Most of the leaves are gone and fallen, cleaned up and bagged a few days ago. You had grabbed a few to make a collage with before that happened though. It's hanging in the bedroom now, and Shawn loves it.

There is movement below you and you try to see what it is. There's something in the far area by the gate, slinking low to the ground. It's large and a flash of gray fur between the bricks makes your stomach churns. You know what it is. A wolf. As soon as it registers in your brain, the wolf looks at you.

You turn and look for the staff members in the ballroom but they're all gone. You start across the room, jogging quickly as to get away from the balcony to find Shawn as soon as possible. By the time you reach the big wooden doors you hear footsteps. Claws on the stone floors. You tug the left door open and start running.

"Shawn!" You scream, running as fast as you can. There is no way you're looking back. You don't need to, you can hear the wolf behind you. "Shawn!"

You take the main staircase two steps at a time and doing so bites you in the ass. You misstep and go sprawling on to the landing at the bottom, stomach colliding with the ledge of the last step and head bouncing off the floor. The big gray wolf stalks towards you, teeth bared and growl echoing in the entryway.

"Shawn!" You yell, coughing as the force hurts your chest from falling. You pick yourself up to run but your knees are skinned pink and raw. They feel tight and are resistant to moving and you're dizzy, vision spotty.

From the top of the adjacent stairs you see what looks like Shawn. He's shifted and running but he's not quick enough. White hot pain burns through your back and you collapse, head hitting a step. The last thing you see is a gray wolf standing over you growling before you black out.

You wake in your bedroom, the sky through the window is bright orange with the setting sun. You aren't sure how you got here and you're not sure what happened. You vaguely remember seeing a wolf that wasn't Shawn in the ballroom. No. Outside? Everything is fuzzy.

Beside you, Shawn is curled up, hand over yours at your side. Was it a dream? You move to sit up but you can't, a tight binding around your chest prevents you from moving very much.

"Shawn?" You wiggle your hand in his and his eyes open, gold and dilated. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. "Are you in pain?"

"No. I'd like to sit up though."

"You should just stay laying down for now." He leans up on his arm and pulls the blanket down your body and lifts up a white tee you're wearing. Your whole mid section is wrapped in gauze but somehow you don't feel any pain. "I'll have to change your wrap soon."

"What happened to me? I remember a wolf and I fell, and then my back burning and then nothing."

"A wolf broke into the castle. I'm not sure if it was the one you saw at the market but it chased you. He knocked you down and you were clawed in the process. I wasn't fast enough to get to you before him." He closes his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey," you lay your hand on his cheek. "I'm alive. That's what matters. I'm okay."

"I failed you. I promised I would keep you safe and I failed."

"Shawn. I'm okay. I don't even hurt right now. You fought him off didn't you?"

He looks down and nods. "I did, I tore him apart. But you...I'm sorry."

You guide his face up to yours and he looks broken. His eyes are searching yours, desperate to make this right. "You still saved me. That's what you should focus on."

"And I'll keep saving you." He lays his hand on your stomach. "This will never happen again."

"Nothing can be predicted."

"I know, but I can do my best to prevent a future breach." He sits up and crawls off the bed to walk around to your side. "I should check your bandage. Can I carry you to the bathroom?"

"Can you lift me?"

He smiles and chuckles softly. "You're cute." He slides an arm under your knees and one under your shoulders, lifting you up with ease. "You'd be amazed at how much I can lift, remember when we danced?"

"Yes." Your cheeks heat up. "Of course."

"I carried you with one arm, remember?" He chuckles softly.

"Oh yeah..." you smile softly. "I'm constantly amazed by you."

"I could say the same."

_____________________

Shawn is incredibly gentle with you. He sits you on a stool in the bathroom and carefully unwraps your torso from the cotton bandages. When the cool air hits the wounds you feel a tingling pain and cold wetness on your back.

"I'm going to wipe it down okay?" Shawn says softly, showing you the wet towel in his hand. "I promise I'll be careful. If I hurt you please tell me."

You nod and he goes to work, gently wiping your back clean of whatever was on there. It doesn't hurt as he's cleaning but when he's done you can definitely feel an ache. "It's starting to hurt."

"I know." Shawn picks up something off the counter and brings it around to show you. "I'm going to put this on you."

"What is it?" You take it and turn it over in your hands. It's a small jar, round and unlabeled. "Ointment?"

"It's a healing salve. Wolves use it when they get injured with silver."

"I don't understand."

Shawn takes the jar and opens it, walking back around behind you. "Werewolves are allergic to silver. If something silver cuts us or comes in contact with our skin for an extended period of time, it prevents our bodies from healing."

"So you just have open wounds?"

"Yes. But this salve will heal them and numb the pain."

"I wasn't hurt with silver though? And I'm not a wolf."

Shawn swipes some across your back with his finger tips. "I'm aware. It heals your body quickly as well. It’s like an all purpose ointment."

"Oh."

He finishes and grabs a roll of gauze to wrap your middle with. You keep your arms up while he secures the bandage and helps you get a clean large shirt on. When he's finished he holds your shoulders and stares down at you, still taller than you on the stool. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Stop apologizing. I'm going to be fine."

"But your parents will be here soon, and the wedding. You're going to be bandaged up. It's my fault."

"No one can see the bandages. It's not like my face got hurt. I’m sure I’ll be healed over in a week or two. Everything will be fine."

Shawn lays his hand on your cheek and cups your jaw. "I'm glad you don't hate me."

"Why would I hate you?"

"Because I couldn't protect you and I swore to you I would."

"Shawn. Stop." You lean into his hand. "You've been nothing but good to me and so what? Like I said I'm not dead. If you hadn't been there when you were I may have gotten seriously injured. I could have ended up somewhere with someone much worse and gotten hurt and been left to die. I could be miserable. I'm not miserable here, in fact I think I'd rather be here with you than ever go back to Highwater."

"Really?"

You stand with his help and move a bit to get accustomed to the stiffness of the bandaging. "Yes really. Here I am cared for, loved and appreciated. Your parents really seem to like me too. Back home I would go days without seeing my parents and when I did they had nothing to say to me but how I wasn't as good as my sister."

"Your parents sound horrible." Shawn wraps his arm around your shoulders and walks with you out of the bedroom to the hall. "You really want to have them visit before the wedding?"

"Not really, but what choice do I have? Our dads are making alliance negotiations. I'm the biggest pawn he has, though I don’t know what he expects me to do."

Shawn stops and comes around in front of you and holds your shoulders. "Do you want to marry me?"

"Yes."

"I know we've really been hitting it off and getting close and everything but...if you’re marrying me just for the alliance I don’t know if we should do it. I know it’s the arrangement but-"

"Hey," you cup his face and he looks at you with soft eyes. "I would still want to be with you even if the alliance fell through."

Shawn takes your hands and holds them in his delicately, kissing your knuckles. "I feel the same way." He presses his forehead against yours and you close your eyes. "Let's head down to dinner? I'm sure Mom will want to see you."

_____________________

"How is your back darling?" Karen asks half way through dinner. You look up, startled at the sudden conversation starter. The majority of the meal had been silent.

"It's good. Shawn put some ointment on it and it doesn't even hurt."

"The healing balm." She smiles. "He's all too familiar with that himself."

"Mom, please."

You smile at a clearly embarrassed Shawn. "Tell me more?"

"It's nothing."

Karen balks. "Nothing? He nearly died is what he did." You raise your eyebrows and Karen folds her hands readying herself to start telling Shawn's story. "When he was sixteen he picked a serious fight with a boy from the East. The son of a lord there and he nearly lost. The Eastern boy brought a silver dagger and got Shawn right in the lower stomach before Manny broke it up."

"Mom." Shawn holds his head in his hand. "She doesn't need to know what a dick I was."

"Oh psh." Karen rolls her eyes. "Anyway, that salve saved his life. He's got a nice scar to show for it too. Rare for wolves, but it's there."

You look to Shawn with wide eyes. You didn't really peg him as the type to pick fights. "Where is this scar?"

"My stomach, by my hip bones. I'll show you later."

"I'm surprised I haven't noticed it."

Shawn rolls his eyes. "I don't like to flaunt it. It's kind of embarrassing because it never would have happened if I wasn't being a dick."

"Everyone makes mistakes." You take your last bite of chicken on your plate and shrug. "I've done plenty of dumb things too."

_____________________

Two days later you decide to take a bath. Showers were good and all but your body aches and you just feel like you need a hot bath. You undress in the bathroom, carefully unwrapping the gauze from around your chest and wincing as it sticks to your wounds.

"Need help?"

You turn and Shawn is in the doorway in his pajama pants. "I-I got it."

"Let me help." He says softly, crossing the room and taking the balled up wrap from your hands. "I'll be careful." He unwinds the last few feet of gauze off your chest and sets the bandages in the trash.

"Thanks."

"Are you taking a shower?"

"A bath actually."

Shawn goes to the cupboard where the extra towels and first aid supplies are kept. He digs around for a second before bringing out a paper bag. "Start the water and I'll mix this up."

You get in the tub and turn on the water, sitting in the center of it so your tender skin doesn't touch the back. "What's in the bag?"

"It's a blend of herbs for body aches and wounds. Another thing wolves use when burned by silver or after fighting."

"Oh."

Shawn crosses the bathroom and sprinkles a good amount of the mixture in the bath. He swirls it around and you can see dried flower petals and little bits that look like oatmeal. The water turns a soft purple color and you relax as best you can without being able to lean back.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"You don't need to."

"I'd like to." Shawn cups his hand in the water and pours it over your back. It feels wonderful as the warm water flows over your tender skin. "If you don't mind."

"I don't mind." You yawn big and he keeps pouring water over your back.

"Do you want to try sleeping without the wrap on tonight?"

"Can I?"

He leans forward on his knees and touches your back gently. "I think we should probably let it breathe. You'll have to sleep on your stomach."

"That's fine."

"I'll stay up and make sure you don't roll over."

"Shawn, no, you need to sleep too."

"Shh." He pours more water over your back and you hang your head down, enjoying the sensation. The rest of the bath is quiet and he lets you finish up while he changes the bedding so you could sleep on fresh sheets after you were all soaked and clean. When you walk into the bedroom all dressed up in one of his tees and a pair of sweatpants you find he's made a little nest for you to lay in.

"What's this about?" You chuckle as you crawl between the pillows flanking either side of your half of the bed.

"It's roll guards." He flops on his side. "So I can sleep for a while and not have to keep a close eye on you at all times."

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

He leans over and kisses your head. "I'm sure you will be too."

_____________________

"That outfit isn't very flattering."

You look up from the book you're reading and standing before you is your sister. She's got her hair down and it's longer than you remember. She is also pregnant, a few months by the look of it.

"Danielle?"

"Yeah it’s me? Why are you wearing old jeans and a huge sweater? You're a princess and you should be dressed up for your future family. Do you let them see you like this?"

"It's just my clothes." You stand and she towers over you. In heels and pregnant. This woman never took a break. "What's wrong?"

"You look like a commoner. A dirty farm girl or something."

You look down at yourself and pull your sweater out a bit. It was one of Shawn's from the back of his drawer. You figured he wouldn't miss it too much and since it was big and roomy you were more comfortable without your bandages. "But it's comfortable."

"Ugh." Danielle rolls her eyes. "How did mom and dad ever pass you off as a princess to these people? Oh wait, they're animals, no wonder you fit in."

You ball your fists up and walk away from her without another word. You can't believe she's here already and if she is here then your parents must be as well. You stalk down the hall to the main entrance and sure enough your parents are standing there talking to Karen and Manny. You turn and go to the hall that leads to the kitchens. You want to find Shawn because dealing with your family alone is not going to go well.

Shawn is sitting on a counter in the kitchens eating a bowl of cereal laughing at something Marty, the head chef, said when you walk in. He knows something is wrong right away because he drops his bowl in the sink and walks over to you.

"You okay?" He gives you a once over real quick. "You look freaked out."

"My family is here." You cross your arms. "And Dani already came to insult me in the library."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know! She hates me. I guess I look like a dirty farm girl but that's okay, because apparently you're an animal."

Shawn growls. He pulls you into a hug. "Danielle can leave if she's going to call us animals and insult my fiance."

"Yeah, good luck. My parents will defend her to their graves." You wrap your arms around his back and he sways you gently. "I would say we should get revenge but she's pregnant."

"Someone is having a baby with her?"

"Yeah. Unfortunate bastard."

Shawn drops a kiss on your head and looks out the doors behind you. "I guess I should meet them huh?"

"I guess."

"Do I have to be nice?"

"That's up to you."

He growls and you pull your head from his chest. "Well let's go then."

_____________________

Dinner is a shit show. Your parents can't seem to talk about anything but Danielle and her baby on the way. You would think you weren't even getting married in a week. You're invisible as always.

"So we are just ecstatic that were going to be grandparents!" Your mom, April, says, beaming at Danielle. "We always knew someday that Danielle would have a baby. She’s just too stunning not to carry on the bloodline."

Shawn clenches his jaw and puts on the biggest smile. "Never expected much from your younger daughter then?"

Your mom looks over at Shawn and you look up from your food to asses the tension filled room. Shawn just keeps smiling as he awaits an answer.

"What does that mean?" April asks fake politely.

"You don't expect grandkids from us?"

"Well, I hope not."

Karen sets her glass down a little loudly and clears her throat. "Excuse me? You hope not?"

"Well a human and a werewolf have no business having children. It's just unnatural."

Shawn lets out a loud growl that clearly puts your family on edge as they shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"Unnatural?" Manny asks over a sip of his drink. "What's unnatural about cohabitation of races?"

"You know, come on Manny." Your dad, Thomas, chuckles nervously. "It's just not right. The children would be ....well, wolves just shouldn't intermingle with humans. It's always been that way."

"You sent your daughter here to build an alliance and you think so poorly of wolves? What do you think will happen when they have a child? You think she’d going to birth a puppy dog? My people are shapeshifters, we are not animals."

Thomas clears his throat and you stare at him, waiting to see how he talks his way out of this one. "We sent her to create an alliance, yes. But as for children, and intermingling of races, I have my opinions and you have yours."

"You expect my people to live and fight alongside a man who thinks nothing more of them than animals?"

"I expect them to uphold our agreement."

Manny scoffs and shakes his head. "Thomas, I think you need to find a better way to win my favor and alliance. Our deal is off."

"What?! I sent my daughter here to make sure we wouldn't have any issues! Your alliance is critical to me, my people could be attacked and we would have no defenses! I'm offering you my youngest daughter and crop shares!"

"Then offer me something better Thomas. My people will never obey me if I ally with a man like you for just a marriage and minor crop shares. Your alliance is nothing to me, and everything to you. I can get southern agriculture through other means. Thinking your daughter's hand would be enough to over rule your inherently racist mindset was a mistake."

Thomas stands and so does Shawn and Manny. "This is your fault girl!" He points at you, red in the face. "You were supposed to seal the deal you little bitch! What have you been doing here?!"

"Thomas!" April shouts, standing up as well.

Karen lays her hand on your shoulder, as if ready to protect you from your dad.

"I didn't do anything! You didn’t tell me what exactly I was supposed to be doing here. You sent me here for a marriage that I still don’t quite understand! What do you gain from me being here? What do you gain? Wait, I know! You got me out of Highwater and out of the castle because I’m a disappointment to you aren’t I? I’ll never be Danielle and I never want to be! Losing this deal is your fault!" You stand and look around at the angry wolves before you and you’re shaking. Years of pent up emotion is coming out right now and you’re not going to stop it. "If anything you ruined this yourself because you’re an asshole and everyone hates you!"

"Don't you talk back to me! I am your father, I am your k-"

"You are not my king!" Your voice falters and you hate it. "I will not return to Highwater, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. I renounce my title as princess."

Shawn moves close to you and puts his arm around your waist, heat rolling off him in droves. "You can stay with us." He presses a kiss to your head. "Stay with me. You're safe here."

"You're a traitor to our house!" Danielle exclaims. "You’re leaving to ally with a foregin kingdom. You could be sentenced for-"

Karen rises and sets her hand back on your shoulder, rubbing soothingly. "Astoria is a kingdom of non-extradition. She is safe here from outside law."

"Your move Thomas," Manny says calmly. "Make a wise one or you'll have another enemy before dawn."

_____________________

Shawn comes to bed late that night. You can't sleep until you know what's going on. Never in your life had you stood up to your dad like that and now the alliance deal was off and it did feel like it was your fault. It wasn't, no, it was the fault of your parents and their small mindedness of wolves.

"Hey," Shawn says softly as he enters the darkened room. "Are you still awake?"

"Yeah."

His weight sinks in the bed a bit and you roll towards him. "Are you worried about the argument at dinner?"

"How could I not be?"

His hand finds yours and you let him thread your fingers together. "You don't need to worry. I swear I'll keep you safe here in Astoria. I know the alliance deal is off and I guess that means we aren't technically engaged, but I won't stop caring for you."

"Oh..."

"What?"

"We aren't getting married in a few weeks anymore? All the planning your mom and I did, it's all for nothing now? I'm supposed to go to a dress fitting in a few days. I thought we agreed we would stay together in the event the alliance went bad?"

Shawn puts his arm over your stomach and you lay your hands on his warm skin. "You seriously want to marry me still?"

"Yes. How many times do I have to say that I want to be with you? I've gotten used to the idea that we’ll be mates, and I’ll get to wake up to you everyday, and I'll be the princess of Astoria. I never wanted to be a princess, but Astoria is wonderful and I'm really happy here. It's like...it's like I'm living in one of my favorite books but it’s real and you’re real. I’ve never felt more at home and more loved before and I don’t want to lose that.”

"I'd absolutely love for you to be my mine, alliance or not. I definitely think you and I are meant to be together. I don’t want to lose you either.”

You play with his arm, running your nails over his skin. He lets out a low rumble and you grin to yourself. You explore a bit more, hand going up his arm over his shoulder and to his head. You hesitate, fingers poised in his hair. He takes the initiative and leans his head into your hand. Your fingertips meet his warm scalp and you scratch gently, working up and down through the mess of hair on the top of his head.

Shawn lets out a tiny groan, more of a sigh almost. He curls the arm on your stomach around you and pulls you closer, careful of your back. He holds you flush against his chest and you melt into his warmth. He presses his face into your neck as you keep up your scratching. There are tiny little noises coming from him, things you'd never hear if he wasn't pressed against your neck. Little groans and whimpers, half caught in his throat growls. He is putty in your hands and you had no idea he could be so easily broken down.

"Shawn?" You ask after a few minutes, he has started to mouth at your neck, wet tongue leaving warm stripes up and down your skin. "Hey." His attention is making you feel warm, the idea of his tongue on your body going much farther than you should be thinking.

"Yes?" He growls, literally growls and you don't know why but that brings a whole new wave of arousal across your stomach.

"I think we should probably sleep."

"Mmm yeah, but you smell so good." He presses his nose against the back of your jaw. "It's going to be hard to sleep." He runs his hand over your stomach, fingers flexing across your skin where your shirt has ridden up and your bandage ends. "So soft."

You giggle as he tickles you with his fingertips and he chuckles. "Shawn, quit!"

He slides his hand away and rolls onto his back beside you. You instantly miss his warmth. "I'm going to shower." He says and gets off the bed. You watch his figure cross the dark room and he pauses at the bathroom door as the light comes on. He looks back at you before going in and closing the door.

Your heart is racing, pounding out of your chest. That was a very intimate exchange. Now all you can think about is his hands on you, his tongue, his body over yours. You have to stop. He's already aroused and you aren't going to help by being turned on still when he comes out of the shower.

_____________________

You and Shawn head down for breakfast late in the morning, knowing that everyone would be up as well. You know Shawn was up late after his shower because he left the room and didn't come back for a few hours. You're sure your family was up too, well, maybe not Danielle because she never did care about anything but herself. Chances are she doesn't give a fuck about the alliance. She's an Easterner now anyways.

"Look who finally showed up." Danielle says with an eye roll. "I guess I can eat now."

"Sorry?" You roll your eyes in return.

"What took you so long? Because you sure didn't clean yourself up before coming down here."

Shawn wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your cheek. "We were having a little fun.” He grins against your ear. It’s not true but he’s trying to rile her up and her expression says it’s working. “Besides, it's our home, if you don't like how we present ourselves you can leave."

Danielle scoffs and rolls her eyes. "I'd love to."

"Let me call you a cab, or maybe a b- witch like you prefers a broomstick?"

"Excuse me!" Danielle's eyes go wide and she looks to your parents as they walk in from an attached parlor with Shawn's parents.

"What's going on in here?" April asks, eyeing you suspiciously. "Are you bullying your sister?"

"Are you f-"

Shawn cuts you off. "We were just talking. She'd like to leave she says."

"You can't leave until we finish our business here," April says and takes a seat beside Danielle who just huffs and mumbles something under her breath about having someone come pick her up.

The kitchen staff brings in breakfast and begins to set up around you. It's a fairly large amount of food and you're not sure if it's all going to get eaten. Marty only knows how to cook for werewolves. If the food doesn't all get eaten, it goes to the staff for their families so at least you can feel less guilty about not finishing it all.

“How are things with the wild wolves?” Thomas asks as everyone begins to eat.

“Excellent. We made an agreement.” Manny says smugly. He knows why Thomas is asking and it’s because he thinks that he has a shot at negotiations if Manny is under pressure from outside forces.

“Good, good. Glad to hear it.” Thomas sounds drier than an empty bucket in the western desert.

A few minutes later Shawn bumps your hand with his. You look over and he’s grinning. "It's going to snow soon."

"Really?" Your eyes light up, glad for the change in conversation, and shift in the tension filling the room. You've never seen snow before, the south didn't get below freezing. "Can we go out in it?"

"Yeah of course. I'll go out and catch the first snowflakes with you when it does."

"Promise? Even if its the middle of the night?"

"I swear."

____________________

Your parents and Danielle leave without coming to an agreement with Manny. Things didn't get any worse, so Highwater isn't on bad terms with Astoria, but they are not allies either. You know your dad won't give up anything major and the only thing it seemed Manny would accept was open trade and expanding Astoria's border to grow more crops in the southern region. Your dad's dislike of wolves would never allow him to do that, and he would never approve of losing land to Astoria.

Two days after their departure you find yourself sitting in a boutique in Astoria City, waiting for one of the assistants to bring you dresses to try on.

"So you and Shawn are still getting married?" She had been visibly surprised when you came to find her this morning to go to the appointment.

"Yes. I haven't told my family yet since they left, I kind of don't want to."

"I understand. They're not at all like you. I was shocked when April said she hoped you never give her grandkids with Shawn. The way they spoke about us, it reminds me of when Astoria was still a small kingdom of wolves that people didn't understand." She sighs. "The way humans treated us was absolutely disgusting. To think that some people still have such a closed off mindset in this day and age."

"Yeah, I'm still nervous though."

"Why? Well, I mean anyone getting married is nervous."

"The seriousness of it all is a lot to handle."

The attendant brings you three long white dresses with silk accents. They're bulky looking and you already don't like them. "This is our most traditional dress style. All three are by a designer here in Astoria and-"

Karen holds her hand up. "Can we see some more non traditional dresses? Maybe some colors as well?"

"Colors?" The attendant looks to you and back to Karen. "For a royal wedding?"

"Yes. Our bride to be here is not your traditional type, and this won't be a traditional wedding."

"Yes ma'am." The attendant hurries off with the white dresses.

"I don't mind white." You say softly and Karen shakes her head. "It's really okay."

"No. Astoria is entering a new age and with it should come new traditions. I want it to be your choice, and your wedding, not your parents and not following any traditions you don't want to follow. I want you to be comfortable and not worried about it being some uptight affair."

"Thank you." You smile and look down. "It means a lot more than you know."

Karen pulls you into a side hug and leans her head on yours. "You're like the daughter I never had and the carefree princess I never got to be. I want the best for you."

____________________

"You're not technically a princess anymore right?" Shawn says as he walks out of the bathroom towel drying his hair, a second towel slung low around his hips.

"I guess I did renounce my title." You shrug and stand up to stretch, setting your book aside and staring at him. No matter how many times you saw him naked or nearly naked, you don't think you'll ever get used to it. "I guess you're going to be the prince who married the common girl."

He chuckles. "Not quite. You'll be a princess again when we get married."

"How? Marrying royals doesn't change your title."

"I'll coronate you. At the announcement ball tonight, I'll make you the princess of Astoria. I have a tiara picked out already." He smiles shyly and you flush. "It's a new too, not one of mom's."

"You chose it?"

"Yeah. Last night."

You walk over behind him and wrap your arms around his chest, pressing against his back. He's damp and smells like warm vanilla and spice from the shower. "Thank you."

"What's this about?" He chuckles, laying his hands over yours.

"I've never gotten a tiara before, and I've never felt like a princess."

Shawn turns around in your hold and plays with your hair. "Do you want to feel like a princess? Were you ever jealous of your sister?"

"I-I guess I was a little bit."

"I'll treat you like a princess." He drops his forehead to yours. "I'll give you everything you ever wanted."

"I don't want much." You giggle and he bumps your noses. "You've given me more than I've ever dreamed about having."

"I haven't given you much?"

"Love? Attention? Affection?" You run your hands up his bare back. "Protection."

"Oh." He rubs down your back in return. "I'm not sure about that last one."

"You're still beating yourself up about that? I'm nearly healed over. You took care of it."

"I know." He closes his eyes. "I still just can't help but feel like I failed you."

"Shawn." You hold his face, making him look at you. "Do you need me to forgive you? Do you need me to say that?"

He nods.

"I forgive you. I forgive you for everything you feel guilty for."

"Thank you," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. "You have no idea how much it helps."

"I'll forgive you everyday if I need to."

He lets out a little half laugh. "No, this is fine."

"Good." You kiss his nose. "Let's get ready for the announcement ball."

_____________________

You step into your dress and pull it up over your shoulders. It’s beautiful, a flowy long black dress with quarter sleeves made of soft lace. There is just enough tule beneath the skirt to give it shape while providing your legs room to move. It was one you picked out with Karen the day the two of you went dress shopping for the wedding. She had recommended getting one for the ball as well since you’d hadn’t gotten one yet.

One of Karen’s assistants, Millie, helped you get your hair and make up done but she had to leave before you got into your dress. You reach back, hand not quite touching the zipper. You can’t finish without someone to zip up your dress. You gather up the skirt and head for your bedroom, you know Shawn is probably getting ready still. He can help.

You knock on the door and wait. Sure enough the handle turns and there is Shawn, standing before you in a fitted black tux, jacket open and blue shirt half buttoned underneath. He looks so good, absolutely outstanding. You realize this is a sort of peek at what he’ll look like on your wedding day and you get jitters in your stomach.

“Hey,” he says softly, touching a curl falling from your temple. “Can I help you darling?”

“I need my dress zipped,” you flush, dropping your skirt and pointing to your back.

“Come in.” He opens the door and you shuffle in until he can close it. He walks over to you and runs his hands up your exposed back. “Your back does look really good.”

“Thanks.” You glance back and him and he’s smiling. “I wouldn't have healed so well if it weren’t for you.”

“Mmm,” he traces a faint scar from the deepest scratch. “The salve and all those herbal baths really made a difference. Your skin looks gorgeous.”

“Shawn,” you giggle and he pulls the zipper closed, looping the top little button to prevent it from pulling open while you danced later.

He wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your head. “I can’t wait for you to be my princess.”

“I thought I was already?”

He chuckles. “You’re right, I can’t wait for everyone else to know you’re my princess.”

You pull out of his hold and sit on the edge of the bed. “You should finish getting ready.”

_____________________

Your stomach twists into knots as you walk down the stairs from the upper balcony of the ballroom, hand in hand with Shawn. Below you can see all of the most important figures of the Astorian government and their families. There is no one from Highwater, not a single soul and that's the way you wanted it.

"Are you nervous?" Shawn whispers against your ear.

"Extremely."

"Don't worry. You'll have a good time. These are your people now."

The two of you reach the landing at the bottom of the stairs and stand beside Manny and Karen. A man announces the king and queen first and they step down, bowing to the crowd.

"I announce to you Prince Shawn Peter Raul Mendes, heir to the Astorian throne and his fiance..." The man looks at the sheet and over to you before he announces just your name and no title. He is clearly perplexed by the lack of title considering only days ago you were most definitely a princess.

Shawn steps forward and takes the microphone from the man and thanks him for his work. "Lords and Ladies, governors and governesses of Astoria, you'll notice my fiance is no longer a princess." He looks to you and takes your hand. "She has renounced her title and association with the royal family of Highwater."

A soft murmur breaks out across the quiet room and you feel nervous.

"I'd like you all to join me in coronating her as the Princess of Astoria." He grins and people begin to clap. A man walks up with a small white pillow that has a gold tiara adorned with diamonds and obsidian accents on it. It's absolutely stunning. Shawn lifts it off and steps up to you, the delicate adornment in his hands. "Bow your head for me."

You lean forward and Shawn places the tiara gently on your head. You raise back up and look at him as everyone begins to clap, the room explodes in cheers for you.

"How does it feel, Princess?" Shawn whispers with a smile.

"Weird?" You giggle.

He leans in and kisses your cheek. "Get used to it honey."

The rest of the ball is amazing. Everyone takes the time to meet you and congratulate you and Shawn on your engagement. It's incredible, feeling so involved and accepted by the people in charge of your new home. A woman named Alice, the daughter of the head of agriculture, hits it off with you right away.

"So how did you and Shawn meet?" Alice asks when you sit down beside her to take a rest for a bit.

"Um, well...it started out as an arrangement."

"Really?! I never would have thought the royal family would do that here in Astoria."

"It's kind of a long story, but I'm glad I came here. I'm glad I met Shawn." You look over where he's laughing at something with a group of people and you smile. "He's absolutely incredible. I'm so lucky."

"You really love him don't you?"

"I do." You let out a little laugh and pick at the table cloth, it was the first time you've really admitted that to anyone, even yourself. "I really do."

"That's amazing." Alice sighs. "Are you two going to be mates?"

"I think so."

"Are you going to make it official?"

You raise your eyebrows. "We're getting married? Is there more than that?"

Alice grins big. "Well since Shawn's an alpha, he'll claim you."

"Claim?"

"Do you know nothing about wolves?" She asks and you look down. She sets her hand over yours. "I didn't mean to sound so rude. I'll explain."

"Thank you."

"So basically, for a lack of better terms, Shawn's going to want to fuck you senseless."

Your eyes snap to hers and you flush hot. "Alice!"

"What? That's what wolves do! Mates are compatible pairs who are bonded physically. Usually resulting in a baby."

"A baby!?"

"Shh, jeez. You're so loud." Alice looks around and leans in close. "How did you think mates worked?"

"I-I don't know. Shawn didn't really explain it to me, he just said it was like soulmates."

Alice snorts. "Soulmates. That invisible bond that humans supposedly have to another human they've never met? Yeah. Right. Wolves take mates physically. Once he's...inside you...you'll always have his scent on you."

"I-"

"Shawn probably didn't say anything about it because he didn't want to freak you out. He's probably planning on it happening naturally."

"As opposed to unnaturally?"

"No, as opposed to planned."

"Oh."

"Anyway, yeah. But you're getting married and you love him. So a baby is naturally the next step right?"

You nod. Honestly you hadn't thought about kids. Not since the conversation with your family about Danielle. The look on your parents' faces when you tell them you are going to have a child by Shawn...oh the horror. Serves them right. Hell, they'd probably be appalled if you told them you were still marrying Shawn despite the alliance. Who cares though? They left you here where you wanted to be. You have no loyalty to them.

"I need to go talk to Shawn." You excuse yourself and walk out onto the dancefloor to find your fiance.

Shawn actually finds you before you find him. He pulls you aside behind one of the pillars and takes your hands in his. "How's it going?"

"Good. Um, actually, can we talk about something?"

"Anything."

"I was talking to Alice about being mates and-"

"She told you." He sighs softly. "I swear to you I won't push you into anything you don't want. If having a kid isn't what you want, I can just say you're my mate. I'll use condoms. We don't have to-"

"Shawn." You grab his face. "Relax. I just wanted to know if that's the only way to be mated."

"Yeah. I mean, it's okay. I should have told you. I know we haven't discussed the whole sex part of our relationship n detail and honestly if you don't want to ever do it, I understand. I won't think any less of you."

You smile softly and just stare at the nervous man before you. He's so sweet. "I want to have sex with you, for the record. I do trust you and I plan on marrying you next week after all."

"Oh good." He sighs in relief. "Because I really want to as well."

You let out a laugh and he chuckles along with you. "Well now we've settled that. Will you dance with me?"

"Any time." He takes your hands and steps out from behind the pillar. "I'll lead the way, princess."

____________________

The day before the wedding, you and Shawn are separated. It’s some sort of superstitious tradition. You don't like it and you spend most of the day trying to stay calm. You got the bedroom at least, your room with Shawn, so you had everything to remind you of him. All day you spent being fussed over and you’re exhausted. It's after midnight but you can't sleep. If you just had Shawn you could relax.

You roll over for the dozenth time in an hour. Something in the window catches your eye. A flashing from across the garden. You crawl out of bed and pull back the curtain to get a better look. Across the garden in the window parallel to yours, Shawn is standing there. He's got a flashlight and he is literally signalling to you. He stops once he sees you and you pull open the latch on the window. It's just wide enough for you to squeeze through. You fall down onto a hedge and slide behind it.

There are two guards in the garden at all times and you have to avoid them. You sneak around, staying low as you skirt the outer edge of the dying hedges. Keeping out of sight was hard since most of the greenery is gone now. It's also freezing cold outside and you are in your thin polka dot pajamas. There is a guard between you and Shawn's window and you aren't sure how to get rid of him, until you see a loose bit of paving stone on the ground. You grab the stone chunk and throw it toward the fountain. Your plan works and the guard goes to see what it is.

Shawn has the window open when you get to it. He hauls you up off the ground and you collapse on the floor of his temporary bedroom.

"You are absolutely insane." He laughs, staring at you on his floor. "I didn't think you'd sneak out the window! I was just going to try and talk in morse code."

You stand and brush yourself off. "I'm quite good at sneaking, not so good at morse code so that would never have worked. I'm absolutely freezing now."

Shawn latches the window and wraps his arms around you. His warmth seeps into your bones and you melt under his touch. "I couldn't sleep without you," he mutters into your hair.

"Me neither. I'm so nervous I can't relax."

"Me too."

The two of you walk to the bed and you crawl on it with him in front of you, pulling you into his chest. "We aren't supposed to see each other you know? It's bad luck supposedly."

"I don't care." You press your face into his shoulder. "I need you. Traditions be damned."

He runs his hand up and down your back. "I need you too."

"I think I can sleep now."

"Good. Not so nervous?"

"No. Well, just a little maybe."

He chuckles. "I promise tomorrow will go by easily. It's just you and me. Don't worry about anything else."

"I know."

He noses your hair and you relax. "You're my best friend. I can't wait to be your husband."

"You're my best friend too." You hold his hand over your chest. "I love you."

Shawn growls softly, curling around you tightly. "I love you too."

_____________________

Snowflakes. Little white glittering snowflakes catch your eye as they fall against the large glass windows behind the justice as he reads out your vows. You know you should be paying attention to what's being said, this is your wedding after all. But the snowflakes are something you've never seen, not in real life and they are all you can focus on.

Shawn squeezes your hands and your eyes snap to his, tearing away from the windows reluctantly. He gives you a look as if to ask what you are doing. You look back to the windows and then to him and he gets the idea.

"Snow." You mouth silently and look outside again.

A grin spreads across his face and he pulls you toward him, interrupting the justice and pulling you up the steps to the balcony of the ballroom. "I'm so sorry Justice Holland. But I made a promise and it's time to follow through."

You step out onto the balcony into the cold air. The little flakes fall onto your face and arms and you giggle. "It's snowing!" You grin, looking up at the sky.

Shawn tilts his head back and catches some snowflakes on his tongue. "I promised you I would catch the first ones with you."

You stick your tongue out and giggle as the cold little bits melt on you.

"Shawn, we need to finish the ceremony." Justice Holland says as he approaches the two of you.

Shawn wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. "I think we got the point." He brushes some snowflakes from your hair. "We just need to kiss."

"But-"

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him softly. It's perfect. The wind picks up and blows a swirl of snow around the two of you and you both laugh as it chills you to the bone. The justice looks resigned as you walk back into the ballroom.

"I pronounce you Prince and Princess of Astoria. Long may you love and reign in happiness and joy." Justice Holland sighs softly.

The crowd erupts in cheers and you and Shawn walk down the steps smiling and covered in snow. You couldn't be happier than this. A romance and love you never thought you would have is beginning before your very eyes. You couldn't be luckier.

_______________________

One year later

"Princess, I have news for you." Shawn sing songs as he walks into the library.

You look up from your book and quickly tuck it into the pillows on your window seat. "What's up?"

"Your father has stepped down from the throne of Highwater. He's realized he's outnumbered by the Astorian forces and our western allies. We're taking Highwater as of this morning."

Your eyes widen. For months your dad has been in negotiations with Manny for land and trade since the south had officially begun to fall apart under his rule. Things escalated with the bad blood between the two rulers and your dad declared war. It was a fruitless attempt to bully Manny into agreeing to his negotiations. Thomas had no idea the size of the Astorian forces or their allies. Today marked the end of that war, no bloodshed needed. Your dad had obviously come to his senses once he realized he could never win against the Northern and Western alliance.

"The south will be Astorian land, Highwater is ours."

"Ours?"

Shawn smiles and sits beside you. "Ours as a kingdom. My parents will be going to the castle to meet with the members of government there and decide what to do. We'll control Astoria proper until things are sorted out."

"That's insane." You laugh, shaking your head. "I can finally show you Highwater! I...I actually have some news for you too."

"Yeah?"

"Well," you smile and bite your lip. "Remember how we talked about remodeling the old nursery?"

Shawn raises his eyebrows. "Yes. I said as soon as you are pregnant we could do that."

"We should start remodeling then."

"But I just said-" his eyes go wide. "You're pregnant!"

"Yeah! Six weeks the doctor said. It's a rough estimate but yes!"

Shawn lays his hand on your stomach. "This is perfect. We can raise it in both of our home kingdoms." He closes his eyes. "This is the best news ever."

You take his hand and he leans in close. "Remember when you promised to give me everything I ever wanted?"

"Of course."

"I think you've made good on that now. I couldn't ask for more."

He presses his forehead to yours and bumps your noses together.

"Thank you for the happily ever after I never thought I'd have. I love you."

He presses a soft kiss to your lips and rubs your stomach gently. "I love you too princess. I love you too."

End

------

Than you so so much for reading! I know this was long but i hope it was so worth it :) Big shout out to everyone who’s helped me write this and gave me feedback in the process. I can’t wait to write more and bring yall more stories!

Please Reblog if you read, enjoyed, or just want to save for later!

Thank you again. You’re all amazing and so supportive. - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#stories #werewolf au #royal au

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heresince93 · 4 years

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Gillian Anderson Sunday Times Interview Transcript

There is a moment in the second series of Netflix’s Sex Education when Gillian Anderson’s character, Jean, sighs a deep resigned sigh as she is lying in bed one morning and spots the messy pile of small change her latest lover, Jakob, has left on her bedside table.

It’s my favourite moment of this uplifting show about the tangled love lives of British secondary school teens that manages to appeal to both parents and adolescents alike. Anderson plays the outrageously inappropriate sex therapist Jean Milburn, a stylish, confident single mother.

The sight of those coins will resonate with any woman of Anderson’s age and stage of life (she is 51), whatever kind of relationship they are in.These pennies, a symbol of how untidy life gets and the constant imposing presence of someone else even when they aren’t in the room, represent for Jean the gradual realisation that the excitement of a new love soon becomes tempered by the boring bits.

For those of us who have been married a while, the coins are perhaps the equivalent of the dull domesticity of picking up the shirt always dropped on the floor or the wet towels you always end up refolding after your teens have left them near but not on the bathroom radiator. Anderson and I chat about this a lot when we meet to talk about the second series of Sex Education, given that we are both working mothers in our early fifties.

The actress, who is most recognised for her role as Scully in The X-Files, is twice divorced and has three children, Piper, 25, Oscar, 13, Felix, 11, all of whom live with her in London. Her partner of three years is the playwright, screenwriter and creator of The Crown, Peter Morgan, himself a father of five.

In person Anderson is chatty and witty, aloof and friendly at the same time, a peculiarly feline trait that I often encounter in driven, confident women who have reached midlife. Tell me about Jakob and the coins, I say, what is it like starting a new relationship in your forties, compared with your twenties?

“It’s very different,” she says. “I think you are more fully formed, especially if you have taken time out of previous relationships to find yourself.

“Early on after the break-up of my last relationship and before my current one, somebody encouraged me to write a list of needs and wants in a future partner. Needs are non-negotiable. If you go on a date with someone and realise they won’t meet, say, three of those needs, then they are not the person for you. It may last as a relationship, but it won’t make you happy. Wants are easier, not more frivolous per se, but easier to deliver. Doing this made it clear to me going forward who would be good for me in a relationship.

“And there is a new creativity nowadays to what a relationship should look like, too. For instance, my partner and I don’t live together. If we did, that would be the end of us. It works so well as it is, it feels so special when we do come together. And when I am with my kids, I can be completely there for them. It’s exciting. We choose when to be together. There is nothing locking us in, nothing that brings up that fear of ‘Oh gosh, I can’t leave because what will happen to the house, how will we separate?’. I start to miss the person I want to be with, which is a lovely feeling. And it is so huge for me to be able to see a pair of trousers left lying on the floor at my partner’s house and to step over them and not feel it is my job to do something about it!”

I’ve never interviewed a celebrity who, even though she is wearing heels (little pointy white boots) is still shorter than me (I’m barely 5ft 2in), but Anderson is tiny. This is only important to note, I think, because her roles since Dana Scully have been so big and so powerful: Blanche in A Street Car Named Desire and Margo Channing in All About Eve on stage; Lady Mountbatten in the film Viceroy’s House; Stella Gibson in The Fall; and now Jean Milburn.

I wonder if she is perhaps filed under “tricky, unpredictable, charismatic, spiky, intelligent and fearless woman” in the casting director’s directory of suitable roles. After all, her next part is going to be Margaret Thatcher (in The Crown). And when she arrives for our chat in the closed Chinese restaurant of a central London hotel, she apologises for the sticky mess in her hair caused by wearing the Iron Lady’s wig the previous day. Her nails are manicured pale pink like Thatcher’s too.

“She had a condition that meant two fingers of each hand would curl around — Reagan had it too — so it affected her gestures and she would wear lots of rings and bracelets to distract. But she kept her nails long, which is how I have to keep them now,” Anderson says. She is fascinated by Thatcher, concluding, after studying her childhood, that “nobody ever existed like her. She was unique.”

Anderson might be unique herself, and despite giving many interviews (three last year), I see that she has been smart and managed to remain a bit of an enigma. When I listen back to the tape, she is very good at general talk, but not so hot on specifics.

She spent her early years in north London with her American parents before going back to Michigan for high school. She was a teenage punk plagued by panic attacks that have continued to trouble her over the years, particularly during her intense work schedule on The X-Files. She went into therapy at 14, then became world famous at 25, and had her first child at 26 (the same age her parents had her, before going on to have her two siblings 12 years later). She split up with her first husband three years after that.

In 2011 she endured the death of her brother, Aaron, aged 30, from a brain tumour, which she rarely discusses. She is an impressive activist, campaigning for a variety of issues including women’s rights in Afghanistan, Burma, South Africa, Uganda and South America. There are 10 charities she has worked with listed on her website, and in 2017 she co-wrote We: A Manifesto for Women Everywhere, a well-received book of advice for women. She has also designed two small fashion collections for Winser London, which include some gorgeous silky blouses. I found I had three in my wardrobe without knowing they were hers.

She is a Bafta nominee and Golden Globe winner, and Neil Gaiman, who cast her in the TV series of his book American Gods, said: “She is in this strange place where everything exists in the shadow of Scully, yet she is bigger and better than that.”

When I listen to her 2003 Desert Island Discs, though, she tells a darker story. In between Radiohead and Jeff Buckley, she talks of troubled mental health that she has worked ferociously hard to improve. She has been in therapy for more than 30 years.

Anderson tells me she has been teetotal since her early twenties and despite some mild probing on my part is reluctant to elaborate on exactly why. I understand. She has soon-to-be teenage children who don’t need to know about any of the “dangerous things” she has done, as she described them to Sue Lawley.

I’m fascinated by Anderson and can see why she was the perfect person to cast as the quirky, funny therapist Jean in Sex Education, which really hits its stride in the second series. While still a comedy at heart, the subject matter tackled by its fantastic young cast is revelatory. Sex Education is one of the first productions to hire an intimacy director to make the young actors feel comfortable and process what they were doing, often naked in front of multiple cameras, to be happy and authentic about what they did and feel they had input.

Anal sex, drugs, masturbation, STDs and nudity feature graphically in this show, which I would advise all parents and teens to watch, though not at the same time — only Jean would do that. When I interview Anderson I have yet to see the finale, but Jean’s journey is that of many women in the middle of their lives after divorce with teenage children.

“There’s a grief, isn’t there?” Anderson says as we discuss the menopause. “I haven’t quite got to the place where I don’t have my eggs, but your body is going to mourn that, isn’t it? I remember the very last time I breastfed and it was heartbreaking. I wept and wept through it.

“And I know people who describe particularly difficult periods at home without realising they are describing their mothers going through the menopause.

“We’re all at the point where we’re kicking off just as our teenage children are kicking off. I was looking at some home videos of Piper when she was three and wondering where all my patience came from in my twenties. I have forgotten that version of me.”

She says she doesn’t feel quite ready for her two boys to become teenagers, but sometimes Jean slips into their conversations at home.

“I find myself saying something embarrassing at the dinner table and I don’t know if it is me or if Jean has given me the licence to say that. Maybe I have always been that way, though. Some of what she shares is too much information. I wouldn’t share it, even with my eldest in her twenties. But my son came home after having a sex education class and I completely clammed up. I couldn’t bring myself to continue the conversation. I just let it die. I really don’t know why.”

Over the years Anderson has tried to schedule her roles to fit in with her children, but like many of us who have devoted much of our time to careers, she still lives with nagging doubts about doing the right thing.

How did you deal with a small child while filming back-to-back episodes of The X-Files for 16 hours a day, I ask, especially when you decided to go it alone as a mum. “I missed her, really so much. Those moments when you see a small child in the street when you are apart from yours and the conversation just drops, it’s hard. She was on a plane a lot when she was six and we moved production to the West Coast. I justified that, I mean it was selfish on my part. I just could not imagine being away from her for long periods of time.

“I became obsessed with schedules, and I still am because of that time. I would plan and colour-code everything, make a series of propositions about schedules so I could see her, and the show would either reject or accept them.

“With the boys the longest I have been away from them was during the two X-Files movies, but again I would be travelling constantly to see them.”

I ask her if she regrets working so hard. “Not yet,” she says. “I have a feeling that will come. I definitely feel like on a level I do regret Piper flying back [to her dad, when she was six] as an unaccompanied minor.” We sit in silence for a bit, mulling over the thought.

“But there’s another version of my life where I could have worked less, had a smaller life and been more present as a parent. I could have chosen that, that could happen. But sometimes it feels like why would you, if you keep getting work as an actor, doing things you dreamt of doing and being offered incredible roles at this age, while paying the bills, and you still get to see them a huge percentage of the time and they witness a mother enjoying her work?”

She has talked to her daughter about it, but says Piper is not yet at the place where the lightbulb goes on and she realises Mum was still up at 6am the days she faced 16 hours of work to be with her, or those days we all have when we are still on the edge of the sports pitch, despite the demands of a job.

But Anderson is an all-or-nothing personality. She tells me she is either on a healthy eating plan, meditating and working out or hiding like a hermit at home eating chocolate. She has been plagued by frozen shoulders all her life, leading to months of pain-filled insomnia and cortisone injections.

“My default position is sedentary,” she tells me when I ask about her meditating and yoga right now. “I like being in bed in my PJs. When I’m working, like right now, I seem to exist mostly on chocolate. Then I go through a stage when I feel dreadful and I review it all and start a food plan, torture myself counting shots of milk and all that.

“In the cycle of all or nothing, I am in the nothing phase right now. It has gone on for quite some time, but I think I am better to be around. I was having lunch with my daughter and we were just, you know, eating, not asking for stuff without oils or sugar, and she said, ‘It’s so much better when you are not in that place.’ ”

I’ve enjoyed my hour with Anderson; she is likeable and thoughtful. I sort of hope we’ll meet again one day. It’s unlikely she’ll read the interview; she has said before that she rarely does. So what do I think as I walk away from her? I’m impressed by her curious nature and, obviously, her sense of style, a blueprint for us all at this stage of life, but mostly I’m inspired by her strong sense of self. It has obviously taken quite a bit of work for her to get there, but from what I can see, it has been worth it.

@GillianA

Sex Education series 2 is available on Netflix from Friday

Hair: James Rowe at Bryant Artists. Make-up: Mary Greenwell at Premier Hair and Make-up. Nails: Saffron Goddard at Saint Luke using Sisley Hand Care

#gillian anderson #sunday times #interview

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marksongyeom · 4 years

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Catch | Part Two

Pairing: Mart Tuan x Reader

Genre: College!au, slight angst

Warnings and Disclaimer: Alcohol, frat party; y’all please drink responsibly. Also I don’t know how frats and parties on college campuses work b/c the frats at my school are practically nonexistent and we’re a hella dry campus.

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Friday had finally rolled around and so did the party. Everything was going great, including with Mark. At least they were at first.

Previous: Intro

The first week of classes went by so quickly. Maybe it was because labs hadn’t started yet, or that I only had to go to two or three classes a day. Regardless, the week flew by and it was already Friday.

Amanda and I sat in chemistry (Who in their right mind thinks it’s a good idea to have college chemistry at 7:40 in the morning on a Friday?) chatting as we waited on Jackson to show up. “Are you going to Alpha Sigma Phi’s party tonight?” Amanda asked suddenly, excitement glimmering in her eyes.

Oh shit. I’d completely forgot that was tonight. “Yeah,” I sighed, “Jackson roped me into when one of his teammates who’s a part of AS Phi invited me.”

“Ooo,” Amanda giggled, “first week and you’ve already caught a frat boy’s attention. Not to mention he’s on the baseball team, too. I love this for you.”

I laughed. “I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve only talked to him once and I got this kind of weird feeling after.”

Amanda cocked her head in confusion. “Good or bad?”

I didn’t get to answer. I was cut off by Jackson’s cheerful voice. “Ladies, I come bearing a new friend!” Amanda and I looked at Jackson and his said friend.

Speak of the devil.

Mark smiled and waved at me.“(y/n), you already know him. Amanda, this is Mark,” Jackson said motioning to the the brunette boy. “Mark, Amanda.” Once introductions were over, Jackson and Mark squeezed passed Amanda and I, slipping into the seats next to me.

“That’s him,” I mouthed to Amanda.

Amanda’s eyes widened, as she tried to hold back an excited grin. She looked back and forth between Mark and I before nodding her head vigorously. I rolled my eyes, heat rising in my cheeks. Jackson eyed the two of us as all of this happened. “What are you two not talking about and why am I not included?” he whined.

Amanda and I laughed. “Nothing,” I said. Jackson pouted, shooting me puppy dog eyes. Dammit. “I’ll tell you later, okay?” Jackson sat back in his seat, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Good morning class.” Like an angel sent from heave, our professor began class.

I don’t know what compelled me to do it, but I peeked over at Mark. My eyes met his brown ones. He smiled at me and winked. I felt my cheeks heat up and I quickly looked away, trying to suppress the my smile.

* * *

The day passed by fast and before I knew it, I was in my dorm chatting with my roommate and getting ready for the night. Thoughts of Mark continued to occupy my mind throughout the rest of classes. The glances and captivating smiles continued the entire chemistry class, leaving me with a smile on my face and a swirly feeling in my stomach. I hadn’t felt like this since sophomore year of high school. It felt good.

“Wait, how long have you known him?” my roommate, Allie, asked. I was confiding in her about my Mark Tuan predicament. Despite knowing her for only about a week, we’d become as close.

I hesitated, not daring to meet her gaze, and instead choosing to keep looking in the mirror as I clasped my necklace. “I met him Monday,” I said. Allie raised and eyebrow as me. I sighed, “I know, I know. I haven’t talked to him a whole lot either. I’m just as confused as you are.”

Allie leaned her back on her bed, and shrugged. “I don’t really know, (y/n). I mean it sounds like it’s just a surface level crush. I mean, it’s normal to be attracted to people based off of looks alone. Just be careful. Frat boys tend to be nothing but trouble,” she said, rolling her eyes at the lost part.

“Don’t remind me,” I groaned.

I looked in the mirror one last time. At least I felt cute. My hair and make-up were done. Nothing glamorous, just enough to feel good. I’d put on my favorite black shorts, and a cropped grey tank top that showed a peek of stomach, but not so much that I was going to feel self conscious.

There was a knock at the door. “Come in!” Allie and I called in unison. Jackson walked in, a bright smile on his face and looking as stylish as ever. He said hi to Allie before looking at me. He gasped. “You look so good! Well, you always look good, but you know what I mean.”

I laughed and thanked him as I grabbed my keys and phone. When I turned around, Jackson was digging through my closet. Before I could ask what he was doing, he held up a black flannel. “Put this on he said. I don’t want you to get cold.” I smiled and put it on, saying bye to Allie before heading to the party with Jackson.

* * *

The house was already bustling with people by the time we arrived. I could feel my nerves getting the best of me. Jackson seemed to notice, too. He gave me hand a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, you know I’ll be there when you need me. Just find me or text me,” he said with a gentle smile.

I smiled and nodded. “Thank you,” I responded softly.

Jackson nodded. “Of course,” he said, his smile turning into a grin. “I’m sure Mark will take care of you, too.”

I rolled my eyes, my cheeks getting warm at the thought. “I barely know him.”

“Okay and? It’s obvious that he’s attracted to at the very least,” Jackson responded. I stayed silent, my cheeks getting even warmer. Jackson snickered at this, throwing his arm around my shoulder. “At least talk to him. He’s a really good guy.”

“Okay, fine,” I sighed. “I will.”

I was glad Jackson had me put the flannel on because it was so packed in the house that people were literally rubbing against each other just to squeeze by. Jackson introduced me to a few of the guys on the baseball team, then went off to be the social butterfly that he is. “Don’t forget, text me if you need anything,” he said before disappearing.

I continued to mingle a bit, talking to a few people that I had class with. Eventually, I made my way to the kitchen to get a drink. I was going to need one if I was going to be here for a while. There were coolers packed full of beer, hard seltzers and vodka, and water for when people needed to sober up a bit or for those who weren’t drinking. I grabbed a drink out of one of the coolers, twisting the top off.

I walked around, sipping on my drink and enjoying the music, despite how loud it was. I continued to talk to a few people and even met a few new people. I was actually having a pretty good time.

“(Y/N)!!!” a very familiar voice shrieked. I turned around to see Amanda scurrying over to me. She looked even more stunning than normal with her hair up in a chic bun and big hoop earrings. Amanda threw her arms around me. “AAH, I’m so glad I found you! You look so good!”

I laughed and hugged her back. “Thank you! So do you!” She thanked me, striking a pose in typical Amanda fashion. Her cheeks were a little pink from the drink in her hand. We continued to talk and laugh. “Ya know, I’m glad I sat down next you in chem on the first day. I consider you one of my best friends here.” Amanda said, as she swayed to the music, a smile on her face.

I smiled back. “Me too.”

Suddenly Amanda gasped. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger. My gaze when to were she was pointing across the room. Mark. “It’s your maaan,” she sang, a grin on her face.

I shook my head, my cheeks getting warm for the second time that night, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. I shook my head. “He’s not my man,” I said.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. He clearly has a thing for you, and you definitely feel the same way. I saw you two looking at each other constantly during chem,” Amanda replied with a smirk. “Plus, frat boys are fun. Even if it’s not something serious.” Before I could respond, Amanda was calling and waving Mark over.

Mark looked at us, his eyes locking on mine. His face lit up. Excusing himself, he made his way across the room to us. It was like he was moving in slow motion. Mark looked so good with his messy hair falling in his eyes ever so slightly. He took long strides, his jeans fitting him just right. He wore his shirt unbuttoned, the white t-shirt underneath exposing just enough of his collar to let the imagination wander. I kept telling myself that somebody with a face that pretty was nothing but trouble, yet I didn’t really seem to care.

“I’m glad you guys came!” He said as he finally reached us. He looked over at me and smiled. It was different then how he smiled at others. There was a twinkle in his eyes.

“You guys did a great job on putting this party together!” Amanda exclaimed.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “Thank you, I’m glad you guys are having a good time.”

There was small talk for a bit, until Amanda held up her now empty bottle. “I’m going to go get another and find Jackson,” she said before making her way to the kitchen and leaving Mark and I alone. Well as alone as we could be at a party.

Mark chuckled a bit. “She’s fun.” I smiled and nodded in agreement. We stood in silence for a bit. I’d never been alone with him before and didn’t exactly know what to say. I was getting that excited swirly feeling in my stomach again. “Are you actually having fun?” Mark asked suddenly, catching me off guard. He looked at me, laughing lightly when he saw the confused look on my face. “Jackson told me you don’t like parties that much.”

I made an ‘oooh’ shape with my mouth and looked down. Now I felt bad. I looked back up at Mark. His eyes met mine. They were soft and kind. “I really am,” I said, smiling at him softly.

Mark smiled back, charming and sweet as always. “Good. The last thing I’d want is for you to have a bad time.”

It was quite again. Oh my gosh, why are you so awkward, (y/n)! Mark cleared his throat. “You look really pretty,” he finally said. His voice was shy and his cheeks were a bit flushed.

I fidgeted with the ring on my finger, trying to hold back the smile that was making it’s way on my face. “Thank you,” I said, finally meeting his eyes again. “You look really good, too.”

Mark smiled and finally looked away. “I don’t think I ever asked and now that I’m thinking about it, it’s such a lame thing to ask at a party, but what’s your major?”

I giggled a bit. “Civil engineering,” I responded.” And it’s not lame. It’s an essential question in college. A person’s major says a lot about them. Mine just so happens to give away how much of a nerd I am.”

Mark grinned at this. “I guess we’re both nerds then. Mine’s chemical engineering with a minor in math.”

I laughed, grinning back at him. “Oh so you’re a super nerd. The only thing that says more about a person than their major is their minor,” I teased.

Mark laughed. It was high pitched and honey sweet. I could feel myself melting more and more with every passing second. “Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

We continued talking, about everything. He told me about baseball and how he met Jackson. Turns our Mark is a sophomore and already the star catcher for our school’s baseball team. We laughed about stories from high school and even talked about our plans for the future.

I hardly noticed how close we were to each other. We were both leaning against the wall. He was borderline hovering over me, but I didn’t mind one bit. “Okay, but what makes you happy?” he asked me.

I titled my head slightly as I looked up at him. His face was so close to mine. “What do you mean?”

Mark hummed as he thought, searching his mind for the right words. Oh, how I’d love to search the darkest corners of that beautiful mind. He smiled and finally said, “Like, what makes you feel alive?”

I thought for a bit. “I’m not totally sure, to be honest. I mean, I really like to travel. Going to San Diego with Jackson was probably one of the best times of my life.” Mark smiled at this. “What about you?”

As Mark was about to answer, he was cut off. “Maaaarrrrk,” a voice sang out. We both looked in the direction it came from. A pretty girl sauntered up to us. She had long brown hair and glowy skin. Her skirt hugged her just right. She glanced at me, annoyed, then threw her arms around Mark’s neck. I couldn’t help but notice how his hands immediately went to her waist. “Markie, baby, I’ve been looking for you aaallll night.”

Markie? Baby?

I looked between her and Mark. Instinctively, I pulled my flannel tight around me for comfort. “I’m going to go find Jackson,” I said to him, trying to hide my disappointment. Mark pushed the girl to the side lightly, but it was too late to say anything. I was already gone.

I squeezed passed people as I made my way through the house. It wasn’t hard to find Jackson. All I had to do was follow the excitement and I’d find him at the center. I could feel myself getting worked up. My stomach was tying itself in knots.

I finally spotted Jackson. He was laughing and dancing with Amanda and a few others. ��(y/n)!” Jackson said, but his smile was quickly replaced by a look of concern. Him and Amanda pulled me to the side. Jackson kept an arm around me. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” he asked in a gentle voice.

I told them about what happened with Mark and that girl. I don’t know why I was so upset about it, he wasn’t my boyfriend or anything after all. Still, I couldn't help but sniffle as my eyes began to water. Jackson pulled me into a hug. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said. “I’ll talk to Mark next time I see him. For now, why don’t we get out of here?”

“Oh, hun, it’s going to be okay. She’s lucky I just got my nails done,” Amanda said, muttering the last part with a frown. “Boys are stupid, not offense Jackson.” Jackson feigned hurt, making me laugh a bit. “How about we go to the diner a few blocks away? We can get fries and milkshakes!”

I smiled a bit and nodded, wiping away tears with the back of my hand. Jackson kept his arm around me as we left the party, acting as a wall between Mark and I when we passed him. The three of us walked to the diner, laughing along that way.

I felt a bit better by the end of the night, but the feeling in my stomach still lingered. I was right, somebody with a face a pretty as Mark Tuan’s is nothing but trouble.

* * *

Next Part

@mara-twins

I’d let Mark Tuan fuck my life up, just sayin’. Anyway, that was part two. I’ll hopefully be able to start working on part three soon. I have two tests with week and a project that I haven’t started due on Friday. Fun Fact: Amanda is based off of my chem lab partner. Lover her bunches. Thank you for all your love and support! <3

#justrightkpop #mark tuan #got7 #College!AU #mark tuan scenarios #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan drabbles #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 college!au #got7 mark #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop fic #kpop x reader #mark fic #mark tuan x reader #got7 mark scenarios

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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My Favourite (Gigi x Nicky) - Mina

A/N: Im sorry it’s been so many queues! The next fic I write is gonna be reallly long and good and yes so I did this in the meantime. Definitely not my best work but I hope you enjoy it anyway :>

Gigi and Nicky have silently competed over the title of Arcelia’s favourite aunt for months now, until they coincidentally have to babysit her at the same time.

Gigi Goode was a reasonable woman. She was reasonable enough through her childhood that her parents declared that she was a gifted child, even though all she did was study and be a good kid in general. She was reasonable enough in high school that she managed to enter the most prestigious University in the country, and secured the valedictorian title since she went into her first class. And of course, Gigi was nothing sort of an unreasonable woman so she made connections everywhere - work, organizations, charity, so on. What mattered was that she made connections to smooth her life. A reasonable woman needed a best friend, someone to call when she felt down or felt giddy, and for her, the best friend came in the form of Jackie Cox. Tall, had an IQ of 148, liked to read psychological books for fun, and most importantly, she had dimples. The Persian was perfect as a best friend, Gigi adored that woman, aspired to be like her, even. She was successful, beautiful, and had a good sense of humor even though people around them didn’t find it funny.

The brunette had found a reasonable job with a more than reasonable pay, finally could afford the apartment she had aspired to live in since she was a mere high school freshman, and because she was a very reasonable woman, Gigi had planned to hit the club and maybe make out with a guy or girl – she wasn’t picky – because tonight was Friday night and she had made it through a very tough day at work. Some asshole didn’t turn in their report on time and left Gigi reeling because everything had to be delayed. That was fine. It had passed and everything was fine so she was allowed to treat herself to a nice make-out session.

At least until Jackie had called her and asked for her help. “We really can’t miss tonight’s banquet,” she said hurriedly, and Gigi had heard a child crying faintly in the background. “We can’t bring Arcelia because the invitation says no children allowed – “

“And why is that, by the way?” The brunette asked, putting down the tight red dress she was going to wear realising that she wouldn’t be having a make-out session tonight. “Isn’t it your own company?”

Jackie sighed into the phone, Gigi could practically hear the frown on her face. “I know. It’s – it’s ridiculous but Jan’s brother was supposed to go with her but he’s suddenly down with the flu and She refused to go alone. You know how it is.” she sounded so agitated that the brunette couldn’t help but felt pity for her.

“Is Arcie crying?”

“Yeah,” The Persian woman sounded so tired, and Gigi thanked God profusely that she didn’t have a child yet. “She kind of senses that we’re going to go somewhere? She’s definitely handful.”

The brunette hummed, finally settled on a pretty black sweater after rummaging her closet. “You love her anyway.” She chuckled, fumbling through her purse to find her set of keys.

“Of course. I wouldn’t trade her even for the quietest kid. She – “ Jackie hesitated, “She said she wants a sibling, you know?”

“A sibling?” She had to swallow down her laugh, Jackie could hardly keep track of her wife, let alone two children.

“Yep,” the older woman simpered, “we aren’t ready, not so soon after adopting. We’re still adjusting to the life of parenthood, you know.”

“I know.”

Gigi was in the elevator when Jackie asked timidly, “You’re coming, right?” She could hear the worry in her voice, the sound of Arcelia squealing echoing through the microphone.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied, “Be there in 10.”

“Thanks, Gigi.”

She was behind the wheel less than five minutes later. She truly didn’t mind that he had to babysit Arcie on a Friday night when she was supposed to be hitting on people at the club, Gigi adored that kid. It was starting to get repetitive, anyway, ordering a drink, chatting up the bartender, buying a drink for the most attractive person in the room, dancing, kissing, groping, and then the sweaty and sticky situation she would end up into by the end of the night. Perhaps it wouldn’t be repetitive if she had someone to take care of, someone who cared about her just as much as Gigi cared about them. But so far, she hadn’t found one. The people she went to dates with rarely got a ticket into the second date, because she would find them too boring, too daring, too pessimistic, too enthusiastic, and she was a reasonable woman who needed a reasonable partner, so she shrugged them off her shoulders and went home without looking back. Maybe baby sitting her friends kids gave her a sense of commitment, or maybe she just liked watching Arcelia smile.

She was reasonable. Very reasonable, in fact, that she grinned when Jackie opened her door with a distressed demeanor 10 minutes later. “Hey Jack. Where’s the baby?”

“Inside..” She answered, chewing on her. Gigi arched her eyebrow. “Hey, I’m going to apologize to you. You’ll forgive me, right?”

The younger woman tilted her head. “Are you not going to the banquet?”

If it was true, it was truly not a big deal for Gigi. Sure, she hadn’t gone to the club because of this but after thinking about it, she would rather soak in the bath up rather than going to a sweaty and sticky place. She had bought a book last week, too, so maybe he could catch up on her reading. Probably not.

Jackie sighed. “We’re still going. But,”

“Spill it. It’s okay.”

The other grimaced, and Gigi started to feel something stirring in her stomach. Definitely not something good. “Jan didn’t know I already called you to babysit,” she started, “so she texted Nicky to come over and she’s already inside with Arcie.”

Oh. Oh.

Gigi didn’t know what to do with the information.

Nicolette Doll, Jan’s best friend and by extension Jackie’s friend, a tall, thin French woman with golden blonde hair and a stupid accent. Gigi didn’t like her, and Nicky certainly didn’t like Gigi much either. They’d met many times, might’ve even been friends a couple years ago perhaps, and she couldn’t pinpoint when exactly they began to despise each other but the animosity was certainly there. Nicky was a bitch, controlling, ambitious and strikingly similar to herself, which the brunette hated her for. The only time they willingly interacted was when Arcie was involved, silently competing over the esteemed title of ‘Arcelia’s favourite aunt’.

Gigi was the favorite aunt because she bought her favourite chocolate milk last week, obviously. Nicky tried her best, she supposed, she wore daisy perfume and did funny voices for the characters in picture books, made macarons for fun, but of course the brunette was much more likeable or else she wouldn’t have been in the running for so long, and what Gigi wouldn’t give to knock her gigantic ego down a few pegs.

She snorted. She wasn’t going to let Nicky snatch up her hard-earned position. Gigi was Arcelia’s favorite aunt and God help her if she ever lost to Nicky fucking Doll. “Cool.” She replied, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I’m still going to babysit her.”

Jackie frowned, eyes clearly expressing her hesitation towards the idea. Gigi couldn’t blame her, really, because the last time they babysat together Arcie had cried so much that Jan had refused to talk to either of them for a week. But that was then, this was now and the brunette was sure that they could handle each other just fine.

“Don’t stress too much about it, Jack,” she grinned reassuringly. “Where’s my favourite niece?”

“She’s your only niece.” The Persian woman replied dryly, opening the door behind her and allowing Gigi to step through.

Their apartment was warm, a more modern place combined with little family touches that made it feel homey and safe. Normally Gigi would’ve thrown herself over the couch, maybe opened the fridge to check that the couple was still capable of buying food, but when she glanced at the love seat where Nicky sat covering her eyes delicately with her fingers and counting down from ten in that stupid French accent, Gigi didn’t even attempt to conceal her scowl.

“Hey Gigi, it’s been so long!” Jan beamed from the kitchen, a tiny dark haired child hugging her leg as she struggled to tie up her dress one handed “Someone’s been very excited to see you.”

“Hi honey,” Gigi beamed, grabbing Arcelia’s attention as she came running over to her instantly with a squeal. “and here’s my favorite niece in the world! How are you doing, sweetie? I haven’t seen you in a week and look at how much you’ve grown.”

The child giggled, gently tugging on the brunette’s hand. “Aunty Gigi, play with me! Dolly’s counting to ten while we hide my new teddy!”

Arcelia pointed to a tuft of brown fur sticking out from between some cushions, the tag of what Gigi knew to be a very expensive toy shop poking out as well. Shit, Nicky was pulling out the big guns. Fine, two could play it that game.

“She’s going to grow up spoiled,” Jan complained at the gesture, even though her wife was practically dragging her out the door. “You always buy her things. Why don’t you just have your own children?”

“It’s no fun,” Nicky spoke for the first time, eyes still covered by well manicured fingers. “My own kid requires me actually taking care of them. With Arcie, you two do the taking care and I can do the spoiling.”

The blonde huffed. “Whatever,” then, she kneeled down to speak to her daughter who was still hugging Gigi. “Hey baby, Mommy and Mom are going out now, okay? Be good with your aunts.”

Arcelia grinned, sticking out her tongue playfully.

Jackie bent down to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Bedtime’s at 9, kiddo. ‘Ahbak. Don’t throw a tantrum when your aunties tell you to go to sleep.”

“I won’t” The child nodded determinedly, hands on her hips. Gigi laughed painfully, she knew from years of babysitting experience that was most definitely a lie.

“Be careful, okay?” Jackie looked back towards the two woman, lip again pulled nervously between her teeth. “Call me if anything goes wrong. And remember that she’s not allowed chocolate after seven. I’ll be re-“

“We’ll be fine Jackie, go to the fancy banquet or whatever.” Gigi rolled her eyes, shooing her out of the door and pulling Arcelia close to her side. “It’s not like we would ever fight in front of her” she scoffed, shooting Nicky a piercing glance.

“Merdé, of course not. You Americans worry so much.” The French woman remarked. She peaked through the gaps between her fingers with narrowed eyes “Arcie, I hope you hid Jeromeo well because I’m getting hungry!” She growled, stomping her feet against the hardwood. Of course Nicky had somehow made the kid name her bear fucking Jeromeo.

Arcelia shrilled, sprinting to go hide behind the kitchen countertop. “You’ll never find him!” she yelled triumphantly, dark brown hair peaking just slightly overtop the marble. “Not over my dead body!”

“We’ll see about that, petite fille. If I don’t find him, I’ll have to eat you instead!” Nicky grinned, jumping up off of the couch and almost comically pausing when she saw Gigi standing awkwardly to the side, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “Oh yeah, hi Gigi.” The French woman smirked, eyes bright and taunting while tiny strands of hair fell out of her loose ponytail to frame her face.

Right now, it was white blond, cut short to brisk the tops of her shoulders. Gigi could picture herself running her fingers among the strands, hands grazing her scalp and tugging softly. She scoffed to herself, no way in hell was she going to be running her fingers through Nicky’s hair anytime soon. Why would she even want to.

The other looked up, grin tensing into an offended frown. “Are you making fun of me?” She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

Gigi faulted, flinching at the angry tone. “Wh – how? I didn’t even insult you.”

The blonde didn’t stutter, tilting her head. “You scoffed. You think I didn’t hear you?”

Gigi scoffed again, just to prove that she could. She looked over at Arcelia, who had forgotten about whatever chasing game her and Nicky were going to play in favour whispering something to Jeromeo, petting his soft head carefully.

She studied the stuffed animals detailed embroidery, tan fur resembling the French woman’s own hair. “You bought her that?” Gigi asked nonchalantly, mind running through ideas of how she could top it. A toy boat, maybe? Some nice clothes?

“Yeah,” Nicky answered, looking caught off guard. “She actually declared me as the aunt of the week moments before you arrived.”

Gigi scowled, watching as Arcie swung the teddy around fondly in her arms. “Oh please. I’ll have the title by next week tops.”

“You really think I would let you do that?”The shorter woman asked sagely, raising a challenging brow. “I am her favorite aunt ever, so no matter wh-“

“I am her favorite aunt ever times a thousand, you fuck – “

“Fuck!” Arcelia giggled against her wrist, looking up at the two older women with a grin. Gigi gaped, staring down at her with horror and frantically waving her hands in front of the Persian child to will her to stop. Arcie only said it louder, smiling innocently while chanting the curse word around the living room like a nursery rhyme.

Nicky cackled, clapping her hands at Gigi’s misfortune. “Have fun explaining that, Miss Goode.”

She was fucked.

***

“Do you want coffee?” Nicky asked, pursing her lips and gesturing to the kettle sitting on top of the marble counter. Gigi looked up from the couch, smoothing down the layers of blankets and pillows while Arcelia fiddled happily on the living room rug.

The brunette glanced up, blinking, “Can you make me a hot chocolate?”

The older woman snorted. “I was generous enough by offering you a cup of coffee.” Still, she reached for the mason jar full of cocoa powder and carefully sifted it into a mug.

Gigi shrugged, pulling her gaze away from Nicky’s hands (dainty, elegant hands) back to the television. “It’s for Arcie, though.”

The Blonde tilted her head, narrowing her eyes, “You don’t want some?”

“No,” The shorter woman scrunched up her nose, “I need something stronger than hot chocolate.”

“What, like a drink?”

She hummed. “Yeah, can’t drink it with the little one present, though.” Arcelia looked up with a bright smile, cheeks puffing out like a squirrel. Gigi pulled her close, ruffling her dark hair.

Nicky sat down on the sofa after, setting the mug down carefully on the table and taking a sip of her own coffee. “What movie is this?” She asked as the intro music played, running her eyes critically at the screen.

“Frozen. You know, Elsa, Anna, all the magic shit.”

“Shit!” Arcelia giggled quietly, to enamoured with the movie to really pay attention. Gigi groaned, bringing a hand to her head in frustration.

The blonde laughed, throwing her head back, “Jan’s gonna be fuming if she finds out all the words you’ve taught her.”

“Yeah,” she replied with a sigh, picking at the edge of the couch cushions, “At least I’m your favourite Aunt, right Arcie?”

Nicky clicked her tongue, “No way. I’m her favorite aunt, I won this week fair and square.”

“Fine,” The brunette sighed in defeat, rolling her eyes, “But we’ll see about next week. She obviously is gonna pick me.”

Nicky smirked, “You think so? I’d like to see you try.”

The blonde focused her attention back to the movie, not giving Gigi a second glance. The younger woman tried to do the same, but every few minutes she couldn’t help but gaze conspicuously in Nicky’s direction, eyes roaming the others features appreciatively. Gigi told herself it was because the French woman happened to have white blond hair, a very distracting color in the dimly lit room. Yes. Gigi was sure. Nicky Doll’s only attractive body part was her white blond hair. Soft, golden, white blonde hair.

Why was she thinking about Nicky Dolls attractive body anyway? Gigi shook her head, she was just tired because she had had a long day and needed something to relax and Nicky was right there, eyes narrowing in disdain because some character in Frozen did something stupid, lips pursed and bitten a diluted red.

“Why,” The blonde started exasperatedly, startling Gigi out of her thoughts, “does Elsa have to isolate herself in a fucking room?”

“Language,” The shorter woman chastised, glancing down at Arcelia who was slumped over her lap, eyes sleepy and unseeing. “She didn’t want to hurt her sister.”

“Oh s'il te plait, she already has gloves,” Nicky pointed out with a frown, leaning back against the sofa.

“It’s still dangerous.”

The blonde puckered her lips again, ready to complain but clearly thought better, instead running a hand through the child’s hair gently and leaning down to face her, “Hey, sweetheart, do you want a hot chocolate?”

Arcelia shook her head tiredly, eyes unmoving from the screen, so Gigi sighed and tried to enjoy the movie for her sake, even though she had seen in hundred of times before.

At least until Nicky complained again.

“Anna is the stupidest character I’ve seen, and I’ve seen plenty of stupid characters.”

“She’s not stupid!”

The blonde snorted into her coffee. “Falling in love with a man she met on the same day? Stupid, if you ask me.”

Gigi shrugged. “We don’t know about that, really. Don’t you believe love at first sight?”

“I don’t,” Nicky answered curtly. “Love at first sight means you only look at the person’s appearance, right? It means you fall for a person because of their looks, and not their personality.”

“So are you saying,” The brunette laughed a little, “that you’re willing to date anybody as long as they have a great personality?”

Nicky groaned, looking back at the movie. “I’m still shallow enough to prefer good looking woman, Gigi. And I don’t just fuck anybody. I’m not like you.”

She laughed again, leaning her head back against the sofa. “I actually wanted to get laid tonight.” Gigi reminisced, remembering the leather jacket she had left at home. She would’ve looked ravishing in that.

“I don’t need to know that, you dummy.”

Gigi didn’t answer, instead looking down to check on Arcelia, who was already sleeping. It was rather an odd position to fall asleep in, head resting on Gigi’s thigh while her legs tangled in between Nicky’s.

“She’s sleeping,” murmured the French woman quietly.

“No shit.”

“Should we take her to her bed?”

“Yeah,” she replied, “She’ll get cranky if she’s in that position too long.”

Nicky scooped the child up into her arms easily, hand brushing slightly against Gigi’s side. The blonde nodded, signalling to the younger to wait while she put the kid to bed. Gigi didn’t have to be told twice, her mind was reeling. She didn’t understand how she was feeling, heart racing although she couldn’t pin point why. Maybe it had all started when Nicky had touched her thigh, but she’d never felt so romanised by it…ever. Repulsed, sure. But this was an entirely new reaction and it bothered her, so so much.

Nicky wasn’t ugly. She was really attractive and even if the brunette didn’t like her, she had to acknowledge that. Nicky was so attractive, she looked like a model straight out of a fashion magazine that Gigi might’ve fawned over when she was younger and fuck did that make her head spin. Her lips were pretty as well. They looked soft. Gigi wondered if they felt as soft as they looked.

She was fucked. Especially when she realized just how much she wanted to kiss the older woman and melt into her embrace. She was extremely fucked, especially when said woman was in the other room and was coming back to sit next to her to continue watching the movie. With nothing separating them now.

“So,” Nicky announced once the child was taken care of, sitting elegantly back down on the lounge, “You believe in love at first sight, then?”

“Not really. But countless people fell in love at the first sight, so who am I to squash the theory?” Gigi shrugged, eyes burning holes into the television scream to avoid Nicky’s piercing gaze.

The blonde clicked her tongue. “There’s no theory,” she mused, “it’s just statements after statements and people can lie, you know.”

Gigi hummed, “But will we ever know?”

“No.” She shrugged. “I didn’t believe in love until recently, actually.”

Her heart stung at the hint behind those words, shoulders slumping in disappointKent although she didn’t really know why, “Did you finally find a girlfriend? Gee, took you a while.”

Nicky chuckled, picking at her cuticles with a sigh. “No, still single as ever.”

“Oh,” Gigi immediately relaxed, “Well, that makes two of us I guess.”

She knew she had stepped into personal territory, but Nicky didn’t seem to mind. “I want to find someone but I’ve been so busy with work, you know? And dating apps don’t really work for anyone, so..”

“Why are you telling me this? Ew.” Gigi stuck out her tongue, scrunching her nose up in disgust.

“Why?” The French woman raised an eyebrow, “You jealous?”

The brunette scoffed, but it didn’t sound as convincing as it should’ve. “No. Why would I be?”

“I don’t know,” the other replied, “maybe because you have a crush on me?”

Oh god.

Shit shit shit. “I don’t.”

“Gigi,”

The brunette didn’t move.

“Cherì,”

Gigi hesitantly looked up, the French nickname sounding warm in her ears. It felt weird, and yet familiar at the same time. Her breathing hitched when Nicky held her shoulders, expression unreadable and satire.

“You do, don’t you?”

Gigi still didn’t move, still staring at the taller woman in disbelief. She herself had only come to realize that fact just now, but how could Nicky –

Oh. It made sense now. “What am I thinking right now?” She asked breathily, eyes wide in terror.

Nicky looked dumbfounded, emotionless facade faultering. “What?”

“Answer me. What am I thinking right now?” There was no better explanation as to why Nicky was able to guess his feelings right away, plus that stupid French accent certainly added to the witchy aesthetic. Nicky was a fucking mind reader. Gigi was sure of it.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, by reading my mind?” She reiterated, waving her hands to encourage her to continue.

“Why the fuck would I be able to read minds?”

“You tell me!”

“No,” Nicky snapped, “I don’t read minds. You’re just an open book.”

“But,” Gigi narrowed her eyes, “You were able to deduce this five minutes after I realised it?”

The French woman’s jaw dropped wide open, eyes once again widening. “You mean to tell me you realized that you like me five minutes ago?”

“Yeah.”

“And before that?”

“I hated your guts.”

“I hated your guts too, by the way.”

Gigi smirked, lifting her chin, “Past tense”

The blonde rolled her eyes, “Can I kiss you?” She sounded depraved, fingers twitching on top of Gigi’s shoulders.

“What?! Why?!” The brunette jolted, recoiling backward.

The other woman sighed deeply, looking like she was contemplating her choice. Maybe she would’ve taken back the words but it was rather late for that. “That means I like you, you dumbass. And I know you like me back, you’ve been hinting at it for months and I was waiting for you to finally crack.

Gigi stared at Nicky in disbelief, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t give you any hints. What are you talking about?”

“You asked me to put sun screen on your back even though it was the middle of winter?”

“That’s a completely valid ask, you perv!”

“Okay, what about all the times you’ve laughed at my jokes.”

“Maybe I hated you but if you’re funny I’m still going to laugh.”

“When you winked at me during brunch”

“Crystal punched me seconds before that.”

“When you go to the vegetable section with me at the grocery store.”

“Because Arcie likes vegetables?”

Nicky groaned, face red in embarrassment. “I’m so humiliated right now, damn it.”

The brunette laughed, hesitantly wrapping her arms around Nicky’s waist. “No, don’t be. I still like you back, remember?”

The taller woman looked up and stared at Gigi with an open mouth, as though waiting for her to take it back. “Wait, you meant it?”

“Of course,” Gigi snorted. “Enemies to lovers, or whatever.”

They were silent for a moment, just basking in each other’s presence. Gigi’s eyes traced every line of Nicky’s face, wondering what would it feel like if she touched it.

“Can I kiss you?” The blonde asked quietly, rolling her eyes while Gigi giggled at the words.

It was a very sweet kiss.

And because Gigi was a very reasonable woman, she kissed Nicky back

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #nicky doll #gigi x nicky #jankie #lesbian au #fluff #enemies to lovers #mina #concrit welcome #submission #s12

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