#He was a genius with words and could talk circles around anyone

[whisperedmeg]

QUIET PROOF ―.✦ s.r. soft animal series ∘ part v

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: a morning ambush from spencer’s friends tests a bond still forming. when doubt creeps in, love answers — not loudly, but clearly.

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

w/c: 2.7k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, vague talk of intimacy but nothing explicit, jj and garcia being cutie nosy bffs, reader gets insecure and anxious and spirals a bit, spencer is a reassuring sweetie pie

a/n: this one goes out to all my fellow anxious girlies with a words of affirmation love language. as always, appreciate all comments/likes/reblogs more than I can even express! thank you sm to everyone who has followed this series so far 🫶🏼

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I woke to the faint weight of sunlight brushing my face through the thin curtains, soft and gentle like a secret only the morning knew. For a moment, I laid still, feeling the steady rhythm of Spencer’s breath against my back, the warmth of his body curled close. Something had shifted between us overnight — I could feel it in the quiet spaces, in the way he hadn’t pulled away, hadn’t spoken, yet didn’t quite let himself relax, either.

Neither of us said a word. We didn’t have to. The air between us hummed with a tentative understanding — maybe hope, maybe fear — and I wasn’t sure which of us would break the silence first.

I traced lazy circles on his arm. His hand found mine, fingers curling around mine with a softness that made my chest ache in the best way. I smiled into the quiet, this small bubble of peace we’d started creating together.

Things started to lean toward something more — a brush of lips, the slow heat of skin meeting skin — when suddenly, there was a loud knock at his front door.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling away and scrambling out of bed. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. I’m sorry.”

He padded quickly across the room in just his boxers, trying to finger-comb his hair into something less Einstein-like. From the other side of the apartment, voices drifted in.

“Hey, Spence,” a woman called through the door. “You’ve been kind of off the grid lately, so we thought we’d drop by.”

“And by ‘drop by,’ she means ambush,” another voice added, singsong. “Hi, boy genius. Don’t mind us. We just want to make sure you’re still alive.”

Spencer winced. “It’s JJ and Garcia,” he whispered, looking like he might spontaneously combust. “They’re my colleagues. I haven’t, um, told them… about you.”

I silently thanked some invisible force of the universe for convincing me I should wear shorts under his t-shirt last night instead of just my underwear.

“I figured,” I said, sitting up and clutching the sheet tighter. “Do you want me to, like, hide under the bed, or should I just pretend I sleepwalked into the wrong apartment?”

His face crumpled into a smile — nervous, but genuine. “I don’t want to hide you. Just… maybe wait a second before you come out.” He finished pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before walking out of the bedroom.

He walked to the front of his apartment and unlocked the door. “Morning,” he said, and I heard the practiced calm in his voice. “Everything okay?”

The more colorful blonde woman — Penelope Garcia, I guessed, based on photos he’d shown me — didn’t even pause. “Define okay. We’ve texted, we’ve called. You didn’t show up to our standing monthly brunch on Sunday!”

“I’ve just… been here,” Spencer said, clearly trying not to panic. “Taking time.”

The other woman, who I assumed had to be JJ, narrowed her eyes. “Time for what?”

That was when I moved. I wasn’t sure why — I could’ve stayed hidden — but something in me didn’t want to. Maybe it was the warmth still clinging to me from the way Spencer had held me all night. Maybe it was just that I liked knowing where I stood. So I stepped quietly into view, hair still a mess, heart thudding like a drumline, blanket wrapped around me like a fluffy shield. “Um. Hi,” I said, voice soft and a little shy and awkward, but steady.

Garcia froze mid-expression, her mouth hanging open before she clamped it shut. JJ blinked once, then tilted her head.

Spencer stammered out an awkward laugh. He ran a hand through his hair and introduced me, motioning for me to come stand next to him.

JJ’s eyes flicked from me to him, then back again. “Nice to meet you,” she said, visibly recalibrating. Her smile settled into something kind. “Sorry to barge in like this. We didn’t know Spencer was seeing someone.”

Garcia, clearly never one to resist a dramatic pause, took a breath and beamed. “You are a vision. Spencer Reid, I did not see this plot twist coming. When on earth did you find the time to meet someone?!”

I laughed, a little startled by how easily they both made space for me. “Sorry for the surprise. This is not how I usually meet people,” I said as I gestured towards my overall messy appearance. “And definitely not how I planned on meeting Spencer’s friends.”

“Trust me, it’s not even in the top three weirdest ways we’ve met some of Spencer’s acquaintances,” JJ teased.

Spencer groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Do you guys want coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Garcia said, already stepping inside and handing JJ her purse. “I also want answers, but I’ll wait until we all have some caffeine. I’m not a total monster.”

JJ followed her in with a smile. “This won’t be an interrogation, by the way. We’re just… protective. He’s family.”

“I get that,” I said, glancing at Spencer, who gave me a quick smile over his shoulder as he started pouring water into the coffee pot. “I’m the same way with people I care about.”

We all made our way to the kitchen, where I perched on a stool, still wrapped in a blanket like some kind of toga-clad guest on a morning show. Garcia was already scouring Spencer’s cabinets for mugs.

“So,” she began, “how did you two meet?”

“I’m a nurse,” I replied. Once her blank stare made me realize that my response didn’t actually answer her question, I cleared my throat with an awkward laugh. “At, uh, Millburn. I’m a nurse in the infirmary there.”

That made JJ glance up from where she was doctoring her coffee. “Really? That’s how you two met?”

I nodded. There was a pause — not an uncomfortable one, just a moment of absorption.

“Huh,” Garcia said. “Well, that’s a meet-cute I did not see coming.”

Spencer made a small coughing sound and handed me a mug like he needed to redirect his awkward energy somewhere.

JJ looked at me for a second longer. “That couldn’t have been easy. For either of you.”

“It wasn’t,” Spencer chimed in. “But that part is over now.”

JJ leaned back against the counter. “I’m glad you had someone looking out for you in there,” she said to Spencer.

“I did,” he said quietly. “She’s the one who got me moved out of gen pop, actually. It was her medical report that convinced the warden to put me in protective custody.”

Both women looked at me with something resembling awe and gratitude in their expressions, then we moved along to sipping our coffees.

There was another short pause, broken when Garcia pulled her phone out of her purse and wiggled it dramatically. “Okay. So. About that reinstatement news.”

Spencer groaned. “Penelope…”

“I didn’t break into anything,” she insisted, holding up her hands. “I just… peeked. And word on the encrypted street is, you’re about two weeks away from an official decision. And it’s definitely looking like it’s leaning positive.”

Spencer looked stunned for a second — hope and fear battling quietly in his eyes. He didn’t say anything right away, just nodded slowly.

JJ stepped closer, resting a hand on Spencer’s arm. “Whatever happens, we’re here. Okay? You’re not alone.”

“I know,” he said. His voice cracked a little.

We finished our coffee slowly, the conversation drifting toward lighter things — Garcia’s latest side project (something involving 3D printed dog collars?), JJ’s boys (Spencer’s godsons, I learned) and their ever-expanding collection of Nerf weapons, and the absurdity of trying to explain to anyone outside the BAU what their job actually was. They asked me more questions about myself, but it didn’t feel like an inquisition. It felt like they genuinely cared to know about this new mysterious person in their friend’s life.

Eventually, they stood to go, giving Spencer gentle hugs and me a warm goodbye.

Garcia leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial. “Take care of our boy, okay?”

“I will,” I said, meaning it.

And when they were gone, when the door closed behind them, I looked at Spencer, finally releasing the breath I’d been holding since they first knocked.

“I think they like you,” he said.

I smiled, letting out a sigh of relief tinged with joy. “I like them, too.”

And I liked him. More than I knew how to say. But maybe, for now, this was enough.

—

It had been one week since JJ and Garcia had shown up on Spencer’s doorstep, bright-eyed and suspicious and exactly as wonderful as I’d hoped his friends would be. One week since I stood in his kitchen in a blanket toga, answering soft but pointed questions over coffee. One week since Penelope squeezed my hand and told me to take care of “their boy,” and JJ gave me a look that said she saw me.

In the days that followed, everything had both shifted and stayed the same.

Spencer had his final psych eval with the Bureau. I worked more shifts at Millburn. And each night, I came back to him — or he came back to me — and we made a quiet ritual out of not saying too much about what any of it meant. We kissed until our lungs burned, explored each other’s bodies with hands and mouths that knew how to be reverent. There were moans and whispers, and the dizzying pleasure of being skin-to-skin. But still — no sex. Not yet. Sometimes he’d stop suddenly, forehead pressed to my collarbone, murmuring that he needed a minute. I always gave him one. Sometimes two.

It wasn’t unspoken. But it also wasn’t discussed. It just… was. That boundary had become part of our rhythm. He didn’t rush, and I didn’t press. We were building something with our hearts and hands before letting our bodies finish the story.

Tonight, we laid tangled on his couch, a half-watched documentary playing quietly on the screen — something about extinct languages that I could only follow for about five minutes before getting lost; classic Spencer fare. He was behind me, his arm looped around my waist, and I was tucked back against him like a comma in the sentence of his body. He traced shapes into my hip bone like his fingers were thinking out loud.

But for some reason, my mind wouldn’t still. A silly, passing comment he made earlier about how nice of a person I am tugged at the taut wires in my brain. I stared at the blue light of the TV and tried to focus on the narrator’s voice, the familiar cadence of academia. It was useless, though — my thoughts had already started spiraling.

Spencer always called me beautiful. Kind. Wonderful. Nice. But those words were just broad strokes. They didn’t feel anchored in who I was, not really. He hadn’t said why he liked me, just that he did. And part of me — the part that had built walls and lived too long inside my own overthinking — started whispering dangerous little questions.

What if I was just… convenient? What if I was the safest thing he’d had in a long time, and he was mistaking that for something else? Sure, he looked at me like I was something precious. But that didn’t mean he knew me.

Maybe everything he thought he felt for me was just transference. Maybe I was just the person who kept him from unraveling in prison, and now he didn’t know how to let go.

I felt my body begin to tense. My breathing grew shallow. My chest ached with the weight of my own unworthiness — a feeling I thought I’d outgrown, but apparently not.

Behind me, Spencer shifted.

“Hey,” he murmured, pausing the documentary. The room fell into a soft hush. “You just disappeared. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said automatically, eyes fixed ahead. “Just thinking.”

His hand brushed my side. “You’re shaking.”

I hadn’t realized I was. My throat tightened. “I don’t want to ruin this,” I whispered.

“You won’t.”

“I just… sometimes I think maybe this isn’t what I think it is. Like maybe you only feel any sense of attachment to me because of what I was to you in there.”

Silence. My shame filled the space between us like smoke.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low but steady. “Please look at me.”

I turned, hesitantly, until we were face to face. His eyes searched mine like they were scanning for injuries — soft, deliberate, full of that quiet panic he always tried to hide when someone he cared about was hurting.

“I know it’s stupid, I know I shouldn’t think like that, but… you’ve never actually said what you like about me. You just use words like kind and wonderful, which are very nice things to be called, obviously, but they’re not… they’re not me, not really. I’m terrified this is all just gratitude disguised as something more. Or that one day you’ll stop being grateful and realize I was part of the damage.”

By now my voice had begun to shake, and I was blinking fast. Spencer moved instantly, sitting me up and kneeling in front of me, both hands on my thighs.

“You’re not part of the damage,” he said, and his voice was low and sure. “You’re the reason I made it out of there still believing people could be good. You didn’t just help me survive. You made me want to.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“I didn’t fall for you because you were kind to me in prison,” he said. “I fell for you because you notice things other people don’t. You read people like I read books — not just with interest, but with care. You’re perceptive. Sharp. You ask good questions. You make people feel seen.

“I fell for you because you see me, exactly as I am. And you don’t ever flinch. You don’t try to fix me or save me. You just… stay. Even when I pull back. Even when I don’t know how to move forward.”

His voice caught for a second, then steadied again.

“You’re funny, even when you don’t mean to be. You make these little under-your-breath observations that always make me laugh. You help people like it’s instinct, not obligation. And when I panic, you don’t panic with me. You just breathe, and wait, stay, and let me come back.”

Tears pricked hot at the backs of my eyes. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to interrupt.

“I fell for the way you carry things quietly, like your own heart has had to do the heavy lifting too many times but never hardened. I fell for the way you always ask me what I want instead of assuming. And how when you touch me, it never feels like I owe you anything — you touch me simply because you crave my closeness and want me to feel wanted. I fell for your stubbornness, and your calm, and the way being with you feels like home, no matter where we are.”

He paused, eyes locked on mine. “So yeah. I fell for you. I’m grateful for the way you helped me when I was in Millburn, sure, but it’s more than that. I like you. I want you.”

I stared at him, heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. “You fell for me?” I asked, barely more than a whisper.

He nodded with that pure, honest softness only Spencer had. “I did,” he said. “I do. I'm still falling for you. Every day.”

I let out a shaky laugh that was halfway to a sob, my chest cracking wide open. “Good,” I whispered. “Because I’m definitely falling for you, too. So much so that it terrifies me — good terrified, though.”

His expression softened in a way that made my whole body ache. Like my words had knocked something loose in him — or maybe settled something that had been rattling too long.

For a long, quiet moment, we just looked at each other. Breathing. Shaking a little, together.

Then he leaned in slowly, resting his forehead to mine. “You’re not something I’m clinging to. You’re someone I’m choosing.”

And I believed him.

ᝰ.ᐟ

[freebooter4ever]

"lonesome mystery boy, linguistic rabble rouser"

I HATE THIS SO MUCH oh my gosh cringe ;_; no. No. No . No no no no

[rationaliity]

reunion | dr ratio x gn. reader ( 18+ )

this is !! actually kinda cute !! best friends to lovers ! literally its not obvious that they want each other until two paragraphs before the sex, so.. sorry about that, teehee. but i just thought that the bickering was cute and i left subtle clues that they wanted each other. tags : finger-fucking, penetration, pretty vanilla sex, reader's intimate area is only described as a ' hole ', best friends to lovers, mutual pining, loving sex, missionary position. ratio is kind of ooc here but who cares its cute. word count : 3700 on the dot.

everyone has their natural opposite, someone that they involuntarily gravitate towards even though they're so very different. and for dr. ratio, that person who was his natural opposite, his twin flame, was you. you were his best friend, his closest companion, even though you could be.. unique sometimes. everyone within the intelligentsia guild knew your schedule by now, and that you would come down once every three months to spend a week with the guild and veritas, and, for those weeks, veritas would be the most alive that anyone would see him.

" veritas ! " you yelled, running down the ship runway towards the entrance of the intelligentsia guild ship, your luggage in your hands rolling behind you. " dear veritas ratio, i am here ! "

veritas arched an eyebrow, barely surprised at your enthusiastic greeting. he always wanted to maintain an air of indifference, but here he was, waiting for you at the end of the dock anyway. " always the dramatic one, " he says, feigning exasperation as he called out to you, " how delightful it is to see you again, despite the chaos you bring with you. "

you dropped your suitcase mid run as you bolted up to him, wrapping your arms around him and laughing, quite literally running into his arms. " how is my best friend ? how has the guild been treating you ? ah, these last three months have been quite the storm ! we simply must catch up soon, the moment i put my things away in my room ! also... me ? dramatic ? are you sure we're talking about the same person ? i have never been known to be dramatic in the slightest. "

you feigned hurt as you pulled away from him, dramatically clutching your chest as you overdramatized your words, " my dear veritas, you wound me with your accusations. i have never been known to dabble in theatre. i am always and will always be a very serious and put together individual. "

veritas suppressed a sigh, his hand instinctually coming to grab the small of your back as you pulled away from him, keeping you in his hold for a moment longer, although he looked away, pretending to be offended by unable to hide the warmth in his eyes. " you're not dramatic ? perhaps i have to reevaluate my accusations, " he chuckles lightly, meeting your gaze. " your room awaits you as always. "

your free hand reached up to his face, taking his chin in your hand as you tilted his head, examining him thoroughly. " you haven't been sleeping well, " you pointed out, your tone a mix between disappointment and worry. " has the guild been overworking you ? do you need me to have a word with your seniors ? you mustn't neglect your health, you know. you have dark circles under your eyes, and your eyeliner is smudged slightly. "

veritas paused, caught off guard with your concern for him, but ultimately brushing it off as inconsequential. after all, he was taking care of himself, just a little overworked right now. " thank you for your concern, but i assure you, i do not require coddling. however, i suppose i should pay attention to my appearance, for your sake. "

" perhaps you should ! definitely for my sake ! i would simply combust on the spot if i found out my dear veritas was being overworked ! what would i do if you had no energy to enduring my yapping ? what would i do if you could no longer ground me, and allowed me to run amok with all of my terribly genius ideas ? " you pulled away from him while you talked, reaching for your luggage that you had left behind, your mouth running pretty constantly now that you were in his presence again. " why, the world would be turned into a chaotic mess ! there would be no order, only me running around with enough glitter and balloons to send you into a heart attack !"

" as you can see, if you're tired, this is surely the future that will come true. you must keep yourself healthy, for the sake of the world, you see ! " you laughed as you walked with him inside of the intelligentsia guild, your voice echoing in the otherwise quiet hallways.

" i'm certain the world would crumble without me, " veritas agreed, unable to maintain his stoic demeanor amidst your infectious laughter, " an apocalypse brought by your hand.. quite the disastrous scenario. " he shook his head at your antics, subtly grabbing your suitcase from your fingers, although his gesture did not go unnoticed by you. " the universe needs me to prevent such a fate. "

as you walked, a few people nodded to the two of you, each one getting an excited wave from you, as if you were a puppy excited to see so many people you knew within the same area. a member greeted the two of them, breaking the unspoken rule, and unprepared for it. " ah, you're back within the guild ! " he greeted warmly, stopping the two of you in your tracks.

you smiled at him, your hands behind your back as you spoke. " yes ! i absolutely must bring some color to this monotonous guild ! it's a pleasure to be back, as always. however, at the moment, i'm spending some quality time with my dearest veritas, so i will have to cause mayhem around the guild another time. " your words stung, no matter how gently you spoke them. you always prioritized spending time with veritas above all else, even if that meant turning other people's attention down. after all, you only got to see him once every three months, you had to make this time count.

" o-oh ! my apologies, i'm sorry for the interruption, " the man sulked off, embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he left the two of you alone. veritas didn't say anything, already well aware of where your loyalties lay, although it didn't stop him from holding an air of pride within him.

" perhaps we can find a balance between your chaos and my order during his trip, " veritas suggested as you walked, giving you a playful nudge. he opened the door of your room for you, letting you walk in first. as you settled into the room, you collapsed onto the bed dramatically. this room had became your home away from home, a place that you felt truly comfortable in. meanwhile, veritas settled into a chair, crossing his legs, watching you with a discerning gaze.

" ah, it's so good to be home ! " you whined, pulling a pillow from the bed into your arms, snuggling with it against your chest. " i have been running around like a dog ! world after world, to every corner of the universe, it seems ! " you looked over to veritas, unable to hide your smile, although you were trying to act depressed. " but i suppose i can't be too mad at it, since i enjoy it. what about you, my dearest ? how are your students treating you ? have you been letting more than 3% graduate this year, or is your strictness the focus of the class still ? "

with your attention on him, he feigned sympathy for you, listening intently. his lips twitched into a smile at your dramatization, unable to resist poking fun at you. " oh, the hardships of exploring the universe. truly, a terrible fate, " he deadpans, his voice holding no hint of amusement, although you had gotten used to his dry humor by now. he leaned back, his voice holding a hint of his usual demeanor.

" my students always struggle to meet my expectations. however, a diligent student shall always prosper under my guidance. "

" ah ! perhaps i should take a visit during one of your lectures ? i could whip the students into shape, you never know ! " you teased, rolling onto your tummy, your arms folding underneath your head as you looked up at him, kicking your feet.

he chuckled, raising an eyebrow at your suggestion. " i fear your interference might only worsen matters. they wouldn't stand a chance against you, " he seemed to miss the spark in your eyes until it was too late. your hand reached out, gently grabbing his from his spot in his chair, pulling him until he stood up and got closer to the bed.

" sit, veritas, " you commanded gently, patting the bed with your free hand next to you. " you are far too away. " you picked yourself up to face him properly, on your knees on the edge of the bed as you pulled him into a brief hug, which he reciprocated almost immediately after a moment's hesitation. " i missed you, veritas. these last three months have made it feel like forever since i was back in the intelligentsia guild. "

veritas relaxed into your embrace, his arms curling around you, the tension in his body easing. " indeed, the last three months have dragged on without you. your absence is palpable in my life. i'm.. glad to have you back, even if only for a little while. " he pulled away from your hold, his eyes searching yours, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable.

you couldn't help but laugh a little bit, your gaze soft as you admired your best friend. " ah, the great veritas ratio, renowned doctor and scholar of the cosmos, and yet, his best friend is not a scholar, nor a doctor, and i have only graduated once, unlike my dear veritas who's graduated over eight times. we are so different, and yet, he can't ever seem to shake me off of his tail. a pity, really, or is it ? i think i keep things interesting here. you would get bored if i wasn't here to occupy you, surely. "

" indeed, i find myself eternally cursed with your companionship, " veritas quipped, a note of fondness in the jest as his hand moved from your back to your cheek, gently caressing it with his thumb as he held the side of your face. you nuzzled into his touch almost immediately, your eyes closed. " a fate worse than death, no doubt. yet somehow, i survive. "

this is always how it goes: you make it back, and within the hour, the two of you trap yourselves in the bedroom to share in each other's presence to alleviate the stress of being away from one another for so long. both of you yield to the familiar routine, your bodies responding instinctively to the invitation. your world shrinks to the confines of the bedroom, to his arms, and to this moment.

you hesitated, your gaze flickering down to his lips as you looked at him, but you quickly looked back into his eyes, your words soft as you laughed. " ah ! consider me your own personal devil, keeping you forever by my side. "

you were just friends, right ?

so why were his lips on yours before you could recognize what was happening ? and why were you melting into the kiss, your arms keeping his body close to yours, your kiss deepening, his hands finding purchase on your hips, anchoring you to him. you reveled in the fire ignited by your passion, causing you to gently moan against his lips.

" ver-veritas- " you moaned out against his lips, your eyes fluttering closed as you allowed him to kiss you like this, a kiss that started off smooth and gentle, but got rougher as it progressed, more needy, more desperate. until your lips were sloppily smashed together, your hands grabbing at his vest, hands bunching up in the fabric. his robe slipped off of his shoulders and now hung lazily at his waist, just waiting for him to take his belt off so he could take it all off.

veritas took this time to grab you and push you onto your back on the bed, your legs spread willingly, inviting him closer. his assertiveness surprises you, but you welcome it wholeheartedly, the change in situations so swift that it threw you for a loop. had he seen you look at his lips so briefly ? what was getting into this man ? you did not take veritas for the kind of man to lose his control, and yet here he was, hovering on top of you, his body trapping yours.

he calls your name, his voice thick with emotion, betraying his usual persona. he gazes at you, his eyes mirroring his actions, the want in his eyes obvious. " i'm.. unable to escape you, indeed. but it's a gravitational pull that i find myself willingly falling into. you drive me mad. in ways i'm sure you find delightful. " his fingers trail down your sides, lingering on your hips, holding you firmly, his fingers digging into your body slightly. " let me have you. please. "

everything froze for you, and yet, you relented power to him, more than a little glad to be under his command. you were used to being the one in control during your day to day life - you're loud, commanding, and you have a million opinions that you need to voice. you were a chatterbox, and had a penchant for the love of doing stuff a little on the wild side.

there was only one person who could ever properly control you, properly tame you. he was veritas ratio, your best friend. you trusted him with your life, so you knew you were safe in his command. " mm- veritas, " you whispered softly, your fingers working on his vest, pulling it off of his body, your hands now roaming his naked torso, admiring the muscles underneath your fingertips. " you sure do know how to make a person want you, you know that ? " you teased, picking your head up from the pillow to trail kisses down his neck, " or perhaps, it's just me ? "

veritas' breath hitches, a hint of satisfaction coloring his tone. " its you, " he admitted, his hands working to undo his belt, letting his robes completely fall off of his body, the fabric being thrown onto the floor below you, before he started to work on your clothes, peeling off each layer with a haste that left you breathless. his hands roamed freely now, mapping your body with reverence.

" for tonight, you are mine, " veritas whispered, his proclamation of your body left in the air. " in every sense of the word. i want you, i want to lose myself in you. " he leaned down, each word punctuated by a kiss on your collarbone. " just as i've lost myself in countless debates and lectures, you are my focus. my obsession. "

you may be navigating new waters together, but it felt like a natural progression, the passion filling both of you up completely, pushing you past the brink. amidst the laughter and subtle flirtation, neither of you were even aware of the desires building up between the two of you until it spilled over. each touch, each whispered word, carried the weight of your connection. he pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, relishing in the feel of your skin under his lips. " shall we proceed, or do you wish to draw this out further ? "

the two of you were completely naked now, your clothing long forgotten. you were reveling in the rushed, needy connection the two of you shared. you pulled him closer into another kiss, your hips bucking up into his hand as it hovered over your vulnerable hole. " you're the only one i want to do with with, veritas. please, you can.. take me, if you would like. please, touch me. " you pleaded, your voice cracking, showcasing the needy, desperate person underneath all of your confidence. now that you were done with the theatrics, your need for him was on display. you were striped bare, both physically and emotionally.

" please, " you whimpered, your hips bucking up again to meet his hand, hoping for just a little friction. " i need you to fuck me, veritas. i need to feel you inside of me. "

" how could i deny you ? " veritas whispered back, his breath hitched at your plea. he dipped a single digit into your warm and willing hole, his finger moving slowly at first, testing your readiness for him. then, he picked up the pace gradually, adding a second digit as he began a rhythm. you moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure as he finally gave you a taste of what you so desperately craved.

" please, " you urged once more, your pleas falling on receptive ears, although you weren't sure what you were asking for this time. yet, there's no rush in his movements, every caress of his calculated to heighten your desire further. your walls contracted around his fingers, so tight that it was hard for him to even thrust his finger inside of you, your body warm and inviting.

" your reactions make me.. greedy for more, " he admitted, his fingers deep inside of you, drawing another round of moans from you as you felt the familiar coil build up within your tummy. your heart pounds, synching with his rhythmic thrusts as he fucked your hole with his fingers. " you're ready for me, aren't you ? " veritas asked, his voice laced with expectation as you nodded helplessly.

you spread your legs for him willingly, pulling your knees up to your chest, giving him the perfect access to your body. " please, fuck me, veritas. " you begged, giving him enthusiastic consent to continue and pleasure you both, hissing as he withdrew his fingers. he positioned himself properly in between your legs, his gaze fixed on your face, as he guided himself into your hole.

you whimpered, your eyes rolling back as he entered you inch by inch, slowly penetrating you. his cock was so much bigger than your fingers, and it stretched you out as far as you could take it, your walls constricting around him, as if to milk his orgasm out of him immediately. " fuck..! fuck, you feel so good inside of me, veritas ! " you cried out.

veritas holds still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, fighting the urge to thrust wildly. " relax, darling, " he instructs, his voice firm but gentle, " let me ease into you properly. "

as he finally sheathes himself inside of you completely, you couldn't help but grab at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. " f-fuck- " you cried out, as his hips began a slow roll, each movement calculated, as if he were afraid of hurting you.

" control, veritas, " he whispered to himself as if he needed a reminder, his breath ragged, " don't lose control yet. "

your eyes followed the path of his body as his cock disappeared into you, and then resurfaced. veritas struggled to maintain control, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping them pressed against your chest and spread for him. " our bodies were made for each other, " veritas' possession of you was clear, and you didn't argue with him, knowing he was right.

each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body as you writhed underneath him, " you fill me up so, so nicely, veritas, " you gasped as he fucked you gently. you knew he was trying hard to control himself, desperate not to lose himself in you, but you had already long gave up control, and you wanted him to as well. " i-i want you to fuck me so hard i'm seeing stars, veritas. please, " you begged, moans slipping from your lips with every thrust of his.

veritas' breathing becomes erratic, your pleas for roughness seeping into his mind, breaking down his barriers. " oh, fuck- " he groans, his voice low and gruff, " what have you done to me ? " without warning, his hips piston faster, his movements becoming more forceful. you asked to be fucked stupid, and he's all too eager to oblige.

" fu-fuck..! just like that, veritas ! " you cried out, your body responding to his new pace, his thrusts becoming sharper. with each thrust inside of you, your moans grew louder, fueling your mutual desires. you felt the coil build up again, threatening to spill over at any moment. your entire body tensed at the prospect of an orgasm, your mind going hazy as you lost yourself in his body.

" does this satisfy you ? " he breaths against your skin, his voice laden with lust, as you nod eagerly, unable to manage a coherent sentence, " i'm almost there, please. just hold on a bit longer. " he could feel you nearing the precipice. your bodies move in sync, your connection electric as you adjusted to each other's needs, learning each other's bodies like you knew each other's minds.

" ready for me, darling ? " veritas leaned forward, spreading your legs further apart so he had access to your face, his lips pressing against yours in a sloppy kiss. " i'm so close- fuck- "

your body responded eagerly, your back arching towards him, and you whimpered against his lips, your mouth open to let him kiss you, drooling slightly. " i- i am too, veri- fill me up, make me yours..! " you couldn't hold on anymore, your orgasm exploding inside of you, causing you to moan helplessly against him, your bodies becoming one entirely. he couldn't control himself anymore, his hips meeting yours as his eyes shut for a moment, his jaw clenching, wanting to prolong this for as long as possible, but he couldn't hold it back anymore.

" i- fuck, " he growled, pulling out of you, his hand dropping from your thigh to his cock, stroking himself for a moment as he milked his orgasm out of himself, his cum splattering all over your stomach and chest, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath, both of you finally coming back down from the high of being with each other in such an intimate way.

" ve-veri.. " you whispered a little, your legs dropping down, hurting from where they had been bent so far for so long. you both knew what this meant, and for the first time in a really long time, you were at a loss for words. you had no idea what to say to him, how to even approach the conversation that the two of you were going to undoubtedly need.

but somehow, you weren't worried. this was veritas, this felt natural. he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek. " let's discuss it after our bath, no ? i believe we have a lot to talk about. "

sure. you could handle a bath with veritas.

[koiiiji]

family

starring ; Park Jonggun, Choi family, honorable mention of Goo Kim

tw ; no, just Jonggun being a bit softie for girls.

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

Park Jonggun never truly understood what love was.

it wasn’t something he’d thought about a lot. in his world, love was irrelevant — strength, survival, and loyalty were what mattered. after coming to Korea and getting thrown into prison, those were the only concepts he could rely on. but everything shifted when director Choi Dongseu took him out of that cell. Jonggun wasn’t sure what he expected when he re-entered society, but it certainly wasn’t this.

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

Jonggun stood at the entrance of director Choi Dongseu’s home, fists clenched at his sides. the cut lawn, garden, and the ordinary-looking house contrasted so violently with the man who had freed him from prison — a man who was just volunteer in prison, who stand on his knees before Jonggun, bagging him to help — live in such a place? and as he’d been freed from a prison cell, anger surged through him at how quickly he’d been pulled into Choi's personal world. it wasn’t the business world he’d expected, nor the underground fighting rings he thrived in, but something much messier. domestic chaos.

before he could knock, the door swung open. Dongseu stood there, dressed in a crisp white shirt, his face cold but weary. lines of stress were etched deeply around his eyes, and yet his demeanor was as sharp as ever. and before anyone could say something, a loud bang echoed from inside, followed by a shrill voice.

“IDIOT! i said those clothes don’t fit you!” a shrill voice shouted.

“shut up, you fool! they’re the same size as yours, genius!” another voice retorted, equally as piercing.

Jonggun flinched at the high-pitched screeching. his trained body, honed for combat, was not prepared for the assault on his ears. director Choi’s expression darkened further as his left eye twitch and he massaged his temple.

“don’t mind them,” Choi muttered. they both heard the unmistakable sound of feet stomping and doors slamming. “that’s my daughters. they’re… loud.”

another door slammed, and the background, more yelling filled the air, words like “hysteric!” and “moron” bounced off the walls. Jonggun suddenly wished he was back in prison. it would have been quieter.

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

days passed, and Jonggun had slowly integrated himself into director Choi’s circle of influence.

this time, Director Choi asked to pick him up for an urgent meeting. when Jonggun arrived at the house, the scene inside was just as chaotic as before. “you’re late,” Choi said, his tone clipped, standing in the hallway with his coat on, ready to leave. before Jonggun could respond, you and Crystal stormed past him, locked in yet another argument.

“i’m telling you, this obsession with calories is unhealthy!” Crystal’s voice was sharp.

“like you’re one to talk!” you snapped back. “you freak out over every pound you gain!”

bickering was relentless, filling the house with noise. Jonggun winced, already feeling a headache coming on. This house was louder than any fight ring he’d ever stepped into.

and here director Choi’s patience snapped.

“enough!” he barked, turning to both of you, his voice cold and commanding. “i won’t tolerate this constant arguing in my house.” his eyes hardened, the strict, almost militaristic tone creeping into his voice. “you are sisters and my daughters. act like it.”

Crystal’s face tightened as she looked away, the tension in the room heavy. you muttered something under your breath before the two of you disappeared into separate rooms, slamming doors behind you.

director Choi’s shoulders sagged slightly. he never show it, but the burden of raising two daughters alone was clearly weighing on him.

as they stepped into the car, Jonggun glanced at Choi. “you’ve raise them all alone?”

“yes,” Choi responded, his voice was sharp. the drive was silent after that.

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

another time, while waiting for director Choi to return from a meeting, Jonggun sat in the living room, watching the chaos unfold around him. you and Crystal were at it again, this time arguing about who stole the other’s cream, while your father was upstairs trying to handle business over the phone.

Jonggun found himself in the middle of the chaos, observing from the sidelines. the noise was overwhelming, but his mind wandered as he watched. this house — loud, chaotic, full of arguments and slammed doors — was so different from what he’d known growing up. his family had been strict, yes, but in a much colder, more distant way. there was no shouting in his house growing up, no noise or chaos like this. just silence. silence, and the crushing weight of expectation.

he leaned back in his chair, gazing at the mess in front of him. you two were loud, messy, and emotional — but you were close. as close as sisters could be, dragging each other by the hair around living room, and screaming like fighting cats, while Goo tried to uncouple you.

Jonggun blinked, pulling himself back into the moment, standing up and dragging you away from your sister.

was this… family? was this what it was supposed to look like, when Crystal sent you death wishes for using her cream and you snapping back with threats to smother her with a pillow at night?

he never had this. yet it was warmer then his household... the noise, the messiness of it all. his family had been different. unloving, fractured. this was loud, but it was also strangely… close.

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

later that evening, after the arguments had subsided, Jonggun found himself slumped on the living room couch, with Crystal to his left and you to his right. somehow, you had managed to pull him into watching film together. you and your sister were surprisingly calm for once, though the bickering earlier still echoed in his head. a warm, pleasant weight rested on his shoulders — the unmistakable feeling of being hugged.

Crystal had fallen asleep first, against his chest, her soft breathing a sign of trust and comfort. you, on the other hand, were in a less graceful pose. back was turned to him, head awkwardly resting against his bicep, and… drooling. of course. the phone in your hand beeped softly with a notification from 'cats and soup'. you weren’t paying attention to the documentary about martial arts he’d picked.

“brat,” Jonggun muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t stop a faint smile from tugging at his lips. despite the chaos, the noise, and the headaches that came with being around director Choi’s family, this warmth was unfamiliar, yet… comforting.

he gazed at you and Crystal for a moment longer. both of you had wrapped your arms around his biceps, like you needed him to be there. it was such a strange feeling. was this what a family was supposed to be? a kind of chaotic mess, full of loud arguments and moments of quiet peace?

after gently lifting you both off him, Jonggun carefully carried you to your rooms. Crystal mumbled something in her sleep — something like “oppa” — as he set her down gently. he paused for a second. older brother? the words felt foreign to him.

when he carried you next, you clung to his arm even in your sleep, making it hard to lay you down. as soon as he finally managed to pull free, you shifted and sighed, muttering, “oppa is a fool,” in your sleep.

he couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking his head. he stood there for a moment, thinking about both you and Crystal, realizing he had somehow become a part of this odd, chaotic family. despite everything, the bickering and the noise, he felt something stir in his chest — something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

warmth.

and for the first time in a long time, Jonggun didn’t feel like an outsider.

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

MASTERLIST

[legalmente-loca]

They Were Real

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: You sacrificed your life for humanity twice. Days later you find yourself in an unknown room and with your memory lost. You must not overlook any details since it could be a lie. The most important thing that occupies the center of your head is to discover who he is... Who is that man named Dean Winchester.

They Were Real Masterlist

Word Count: 2,479

Tags/Warnings: memory loss, jump in time

Prologue:

Who makes the rules about what is right or wrong? Surely they are the same people who have never found themselves between a rock and a hard place. Surely, if they were put in that position, they would not know what to do and would end up choosing the “bad” choice. All people are hypocrites and if someone says they are not... It is because they are one of the most hypocritical people on the planet.

To what extent can a person be judged by their decisions?

To what extent would you judge yourself for your decisions?

You walked through the hallways of this abandoned building looking for the monster. Charlie hadn't really found enough information to attack with confidence, but it was enough. A vetala, that's all.

But as soon as you heard a voice, your senses took off and you pressed yourself against the wall, dust sticking to your jacket, knife raised.

“I don't see her anywhere, Sammy.” He said in a tired tone.

You felt him move to the other side of the wall and you strained your hearing. You didn't know who it was, it might or might not be your fighter, but if he was a civilian, he was complicating things.

You concentrated even more when you noticed that he didn't make a sound. You didn't think he was gone.

Then, you understood the cause of the silence.

You took a deep breath and gripped your knife firmly. You quickly moved your back away from the wall and turned around, knife firmly in front of you. At the same time you made your movements, he executed them. You were facing each other, pointing at each other.

“Hey.” He greeted and you narrowed your eyes.

“Do we know each other?”

“Not in person.”

“Are you what I should hunt?”

You looked each other firmly in the eyes, one wanting to guess the other's next moves.

“Let's admit it. No one will lower their weapons.” You said.

“You would really do me a favor if you did.”

“I don't do anyone favors.”

“Not even Charlie?”

Your face paled, putting you on alert upon hearing your sister's name.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. I'm sure you do your sister a lot of favors.” He smiled sideways.

“How do you know her name?” You growled.

“We were talking.”

You both went around in circles, going in and out of the rooms while still pointing at each other.

“Did you murder her?” Your voice shook, but you didn't care. You needed to know the answer even if you didn't like it.

“No.”

You looked at him curiously, and although your body relaxed, you were still on alert. The dust at his feet fluttered with every movement and the stranger's green eyes shone in the rays of sunlight.

“What did you do to her?”

“What I told you. We just chat. Amicably I must clarify.”

“About what, genius?”

“But how much kindness.” He said sarcastically, but slowly raised his machete in a sign of peace. “We killed this vampire together and both sides get the credit.”

“What credit? They don't even pay us and I'm not sure you're not what I'm looking for. Besides, I don't need a partner.”

“Your sister thinks so.”

“Don't mention her.” You groaned and stopped walking.

“Okay, kitten, without taking out the claws.”

You rolled your eyes.

"Besides, it's not a vampire, it's a vetala."

He frowned and lowered his machete.

"What? No. Of course it’s a vampire.”

“Blood sucked, they hunt in pairs, it's a damn vetala.”

“I haven't heard from a second monster.”

“That's because I killed him.”

You raised an eyebrow. Dean could practically feel the arrogance oozing out of your pores.

“Okay, Lara Croft, are we doing this or not?”

“I don’t even trust you.”

“But yes in her, right?

You looked at him in confusion as he lowered his hand to one of his pockets.

“Hey.”

“Relax. It’s just my cell phone.”

And just as he said, he took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number, raising it to his ear as his gaze remained on you. Someone answered on the other side.

“Charlie, there is someone who wants to talk to you.”

He moved his cell phone away from his ear and brought it closer to you. Seeing that you didn't let your guard down, he sighed and left the machete on the ground and then kicked it away from him.

“Believe me, I wouldn't do that for anything.”

You thought about it for a few seconds, looking him up and down carefully, looking for anything that would set off an alarm in your brain. But there was nothing.

You grabbed the cell phone and brought it to your ear.

“Charlie?” You said doubtfully.

“Ahoy, here I am.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

"Are you okey." You nodded.

“Yep, alive and well.”

“So, this guy tells me you made a deal with him.”

"That's how it is."

The way she said it so easily made you frown.

“Just like that? So easy? Were you even planning to consult with me?” You asked angrily.

“I knew what you would say, little sister.”

“And you didn't think that maybe I have my reasons?” You looked at Dean with disdain, his reaction being a shrug. “How can you be so sure he won't betray you?”

"Listen, I've already talked to his brother too-"

“Oh, so there are two?” You interrupted her. “This just keeps getting better.”

“Everything will be fine. You just have to trust me.”

“You know I trust you.” You paused. “But it's them I don't trust.”

“Listen, little sister, let's make a deal.”

“Haven't you done enough for today?”

“Trust me and let's do this. If everything turns out as expected, then we'll move on with our lives and go out for a drink. If it doesn’t work out… I’ll admit I was wrong.”

“I like the sound of that. Although I don't think it matters much when we're dead, but oh well.”

“We have a deal?”

“In a minute you will have my answer.” You looked at the man in front of you. “If you betray us, can I take care of her?”

“No one will betray you.” Seeing that you didn't say anything, he sighed and put his hands in his jacket pockets. “But yes, you can. Damn, I'll even give you all the tools you want to torture her.”

You nodded and returned your attention to the call.

“I'm in.”

“Yay!” Shee exclaimed in a triumphant tone. “You won't regret it.”

“No, I won't.”

You hung up the phone and handed it to Dean. You decided to put the knife away for now. He gave you a charming smile that you actually didn't find charming at all and extended his hand.

“Welcome, darlin’.”

You watched his hand nonchalantly and he cleared his throat, removing it and instead combing his hair.

“My name is Dean and the other guy is my brother Sam.”

You sighed and extended your hand, giving him your name. He looked at your hand before extending his own. Your hands touched, a gust of wind moved the dust at your feet.

“Your sister told me that you know when people are going to die.”

“Exaggerate. They are just… Instincts.”

“Uh…” He nodded and let go of your hand, running it over his chin. “But are you really right?”

“Yes, why? Do you want to bet?”

He smiled sideways.

“You shouldn't bet with me, sweetheart, I always end up getting the most.”

"C’mon. I will tell you if anyone will die during the mission, and if it turns out that way, you will give me that machete.”

“What if I win?”

“What do you want from me?”

You extended your arms and turned around. Dean smiled, but preferred to save the perverted comments for when he got to know you better.

“Your knife.”

"Really?"

"What? Are you afraid of losing?”

You shook your head in amusement. The mere idea of fearing something you were so sure of seemed ridiculous to you.

“Of course not. I have never missed a premonition.”

“Then we have a deal.”

He extended his hand again and this time you took it without protest, giving it a firm squeeze.

“We have a deal.”

He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but smile back. You had to admit he was charismatic and engaging.

You still couldn't separate your hands from each other, your smiles like mirrors, and they reflected each other in your eyes.

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling them heavy. In fact, as you slowly gained consciousness, your entire body felt heavy. You turned your head to either side as you studied the unfamiliar room in which you lay groggily.

Where were you?

You sat up slowly, your body aching at the movement. You had an IV and you took it out, a little blood coming out. You placed your feet on the ground and a shiver ran through your body as you felt the cold surface. You ran a hand over your forehead and closed your eyes for a few seconds, needing to come back completely.

You were wearing a hospital gown, but you didn't seem to be in one. You looked for your clothes, but they didn't seem to be there.

Suddenly, you began to hear sounds of footsteps heading towards the room. You looked for something to defend yourself with and ended up grabbing the IV. You stood against the wall, behind the door. Seeing someone open it, you prepared yourself.

It was a man. A very tall man who slowly approached the bed, surprised to not find you there. You quietly walked up behind him and placed the tip of the IV against his back, applying light pressure to let him know that what was behind him was sharp and therefore dangerous.

“Stay still and don't make any noise, understood?” He nodded. “Now, how many people are in this place?”

“Listen, I-”

You pressed the needle harder.

“Answer.” You said firmly.

“Six.”

“I can finish all of you.”

“Wait, you must listen to me.” He said your name and you cocked your head. “…And you know me.”

“Nice trick, but it won't work.”

“It's the truth. Did you have an accident-”

“Stop talking! Take me to the people who kidnapped me.

“What? No one kidnapped you.”

“You want to die?”

He sighed.

“Fine…” He gave up. “I'll take you to them.”

“Good boy.”

You pushed him towards the door. You walked close to his back. The place caught your attention. It looked big, full of hallways, but there were no windows in sight. Were you in a bunker?

He stopped before turning and you understood. His friends were there around the corner, the room without a door.

“We’ll go into the room and you and your friends will answer some questions.” You whispered. “If you don't do it, you will die.”

“You must listen to me…”

“Don't you dare talk to me like you know me.”

He stayed silent and you gave him a little push to keep him going. When you two entered you observed the people scattered around the place.

"Guys…"

“Oh, heya, Sammy.” Commented a man who had his back turned. “How is she?”

No one turned their gaze towards you, they were quite busy reading.

“Why don't you ask her instead?” Your voice echoed through the room, making everyone turn around.

Those who were sitting stood up and stuck their noses out of the books. Each one seemed to be going through different emotions.

“I don't have time for this.” You growled. “Each of you will release what you have in your hand and hold it high. You will then head over and stand in the middle of the room. If anyone makes a sudden movement, I swear I will give him a big cut on their back.

“How did I not prevent it?” Lamented one wearing a trench coat.

“Do what I said.” You ordered.

Everyone obeyed and went to the center of the place, standing side by side.

“Now that there is order you will answer my questions.”

“The angel ruined it again.” A bearded man in a suit rolled his eyes.

“…And no one will speak unless it is to answer my questions.” You continued.

The room fell silent.

“What am I doing here?” You asked.

They exchanged glances.

“You live here.”

“I don't think I explained myself well.” You pressed the needle against Sammy's back.

"Wait!" The one in the rain trench coat exclaimed. “We are honest with you.”

"Did you have an accident." One with green eyes followed.

You softened your grip because he didn't seem to be lying. But you couldn't risk it. You weren't sure if they worked for someone or alone.

“Let's say I believe you. Tell me what is happening.”

“How much do you remember?” Asked an older man in a cap

“I ask the questions, old man.” You answered.

“Okay, okay. Let's start again. You are part of us…”

“You had an accident that left you in a coma.” Another followed.

“I don't remember any accident…”

“It seems that you lost your memory.”

“The question is…” The one in the suit looked at you curiously, studying you. "How much?"

You looked at each one of them. The only thing that made sense of his entire story was memory loss. That would be the answer to all your questions. They seemed confident when they spoke, even when one of their own was under threat.

At that moment, you remembered Charlie.

“Where is-?”

“Guys, something happened to my…”

You turned around, seeing Charlie, who was rushing into the living room.

“Bitch…” She whispered.

In your distraction, that man snatched your weapon and pushed you. You tried to get closer, but he pointed it at you. You sighed defeated and raised your hands.

But he, instead of continuing to point the needle at you, threw it on the ground, which surprised you. You lowered your hands as you looked at Charlie.

“What is happening?” You asked her.

“Something happened to you and you lost your memory.” The one in the raincoat explained instead.

“But… I don't understand…”

“Don't worry, you're safe here. We are your family.”

"Family?"

“What is the last thing you remember?”

“I…” You ran a hand through your hair. “I remember surviving with you, Charlie.”

She was thoughtful and something clicked in her mind. After the death of her parents and finding you, many years had passed in which you survived every day.

Everyone exchanged glances with each other, observing the conversation.

“What's going on?”

“That happened a long time ago, little sister.”

“I don't understand… How much exactly?”

Charlie walked over to you and held both of your hands.

“It was many years ago… Many years…”

Loca's notes: Ha! It's true that I deceived you. Summing up the prologue ahead of time is a gift of joy to you, my precious followers. Comment what you think, I love you!

Dean Winchester Series/Mini Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Masterlist

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[captainamericasmotercycle]

A james potter x fem!reader request <3

James is in love with Lily. He always has been, right? Ever since the first year of attending Hogwarts he has been chasing after her affection. It’s all anyone thinks of when they think of him. “The boy who chases the unattainable.” Through all of his failed attempts, Reader has stood next to him, supporting him through everything despite the raging love she feels for him.

James does something bad while trying to attain the affection of Lily… again. While his attempts work and he gets the girl, he ends up losing his best friend in the process.

Please have it end with a happy ending where they end up togetherrrr!! Thank youu!!

(If you want to of course, if you don’t mo worries. You can also add smut if you want 👀)

Lacy

smart, sexy lacy, i’m losing it lately

pairing: james porter x reader

warnings: cursing, jealously, james being stupid, insecurity, confessions, lowkey toxic!james, rosekiller and dorlene my babies, hurt/comfort, ANGST, twin evan and pandora 💘, james being shit on for being a douche, happy ending

wc: 2.5k

a/n: ok i absolutely love this idea but i’m not sure if i executed it very well, however i did have so much fun doing it :)))

It was no secret that James Potter was in love with Lily Evans. He always has been, it was just a part of Hogwarts life now - a wild shenanigan to gain the affection of the woman he wanted.

It was also no secret that you stood by his side and picked up the pieces for 6 years every time his schemes got shut down by Lily.

You and James had grown up together, your families running in the same social circle. So you were well aware of his antics and escapades. But in these 17 years of being by James’s side as a friend, you wanted more.

You have wanted more since the two of you escaped from one of your family’s parties when you were 12. He led you out to the garden where the two of you stargazed for the remainder of the boring, high-class party.

But you could never let James know the love you had for him. You were his highest confidante and his best friend, you didn’t want that to be ruined. You’d rather keep James as friend than not have him at all.

You love James, however, you hate Lily Evans. You hate everything about her. Her stupid beautiful smile, her perfectly kept hair, her sweet personality, her Outstanding test scores, and of course the undeniable love and admiration from James Potter. She is just perfect, and you hate her for it. Except you can’t really hate her. You hate the envy you’ve curated towards her. She is so admirable it’s annoying as hell.

You sat in the Marauders’ room, helping James plan out his next gesture for Lily. The rest of the Marauders were spread around the room doing various things, reading, drumming, smoking.

You were getting annoyed at him now, you just wanted him to notice you. Of course you were there but you wanted him to see you, not see through you. Tension had been thick between the two of you for weeks.

“Alright so pink flowers or blue flowers? Or both?”

“Is this a baby shower?”

James frowned at your harsh tone, “Okay…”

You held your hand at the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes, “Just get her Calla Lillies or something. Simple flower and her name is Lily,”

“Oh that’s an amazing idea! You’re a genius, what would I do without you?”

You rolled your eyes, probably get yourself killed, you thought.

James noticed your slumped demeanor, and so did Remus as he perked up from behind his book to listen in on your conversation.

“What is wrong with you?”

“I beg your pardon?” you snapped at him.

“What. Is. Wrong. With. You.?” he annunciated every word archly, like you were a small child.

Remus stepped in like a parent, “James don’t talk to her like that,”

“No, I want to know what’s wrong with her attitude,”

“There’s nothing wrong,”

“You know what, fuck you, I don’t even care,” he turned around to put his parchment down.

“Yeah, you never do,” you got up to leave when James grabbed your wrist.

“You’re just fucking mad that no one cares about you like I care about Lily,” this brought the rest of the people in the room to the conversation.

“James!” Peter and Remus shouted at him simultaneously. Peter was always on your side, he had grown up with you, Marlene, and James as kids. And he knows about your crush on James.

“James, what the hell?” Even Sirius was shocked he could say such a thing to you.

Your expression hardened as you tried to hold in tears, you pulled your hand away from him and mustered up as much strength as you could to speak back to him, you looked at him with glassed over eyes, “Fuck you, James, I never want to see you again.”

You ran out of their dorm, Remus and Peter in tow, and into your dorm, slamming the door in their faces.

Falling flat on the bed, face first, screaming into your pillow, you wanted to die. Actually. This was actually the end of your life because there was no coming back from this.

Soft knocks on the door pulled you from your trance. You stood up and opened the door meeting Lily’s soft face, “Are you alright, I could hear you screaming from outside?”

You wanted to throat punch her.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just stressed,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, 100%,”

“Okay. Well Mary, Marlene, and I are going down to the greenhouse if you’d like to join?”

“I think I’m going to stay… and study,”

“Alright, well we’ll see you later then,” Lily left the dorm doorway with a smile and you went back to you bed and flopped down. Does she have to be so perfect?

You were never getting over this.

Back in the Marauders dorm, James was being berated by his friends.

“How could you say that to her?”

“James, you’re so fucking dense,”

“Do you ever think before you speak?”

“You’re an actual idiot, genuinely,”

“You clearly need time to think, so we’ll give you some time alone to reflect on your relationship with her,” Remus and Sirius stormed out, Peter following.

At the doorway he hesitated and turned to James sitting slumped on his bed, “James, have you ever thought you’re not in love with Lily and she’s just a distraction for you?”

A distraction? What? From what? From who?

Peter left shortly after sticking James with the question of a life time. Was he talking about you?

It didn’t matter. He loves Lily. Right?

The next day he expected everything to go back to normal, you would be back by his side and his friends would be alright. Except this wasn’t the case. His friends were still wary of him and you were no where to be found.

At breakfast his friends only talked about school work and he noticed you weren’t at the table with them. He had also noticed that Marlene gave him an upturned look every time he looked in her direction. You must’ve told her what happened.

At lunch he noticed you still weren’t in the Great Hall. He hoped you were eating something, he knew how easy it was for you to accidentally skip meals. He left lunch early to look for you after his friends wouldn’t talk to him and he kept getting dirty looks from the rest of the girls at the Gryffindor table.

He took a couple laps around the school until he remembered that you loved the library and you had to be there! When he got there he beelined for the spot you and him always shared and as he approached he heard hushed voices and giggles.

He peeked around the corner of a bookshelf and saw you sitting way too close to Evan Rosier.

What the fuck were you doing with Rosier? How do you even know Rosier? Why are you talking to him? Since when did you even become friends?

Evan was one of your closest friend’s twin brother, you’d grown up next to Pandora and Evan just as you had with James, Peter, and Marlene.

You were quite well-known in the wizarding world because of your parents' social lives; always throwing lavish parties and social events.

Evan had been a confidante of yours for a couple of years now, especially since the two of you exchanged advice and stories about the guys you’ve been pining over for years.

But what were you doing with him, of course? Debriefing.

James suddenly felt like he was going to throw up everywhere. How dare you fucking bring Evan fucking Rosier to your spot.

He stormed out of the library and into his next class. He couldn’t even focus on transfiguration. Everything he touched just blew up, which was quite the parallel to his social life.

At dinner he noticed that you still weren’t at the table. There was no way you were going to skip all three meals just because you were avoiding him. That’s when he saw you across the Great Hall sitting at the Slytherin table, in between Rosier and Crouch, laughing at something that probably wasn’t even that funny.

His appetite was suddenly gone. Not to mention he was getting looks from almost everyone at the Gryffindor table. Alice Fortescue, Marlene, Mary, and even Lily were all avoiding his pleading gazes.

Emmeline Vance, Dorcas Meadows, and Emma Vanity would occasionally catch his attention with their hard and disgusted stares.

Fuck. How many people had you told about what happened?

Tomorrow will be better. Everyone is just tense today.

Tomorrow was not in fact better. It was quite possible that it was almost worse than before.

James felt alone. If you were still here with him, he would wrap himself in your arms and cry into your shoulder. But you weren’t here because he pushed you away, quite harshly he may add.

In the morning you sat with the Slytherins, at lunch you sat with the Slytherins, and at dinner you sat with the Slytherins. You may as well be one by now.

The next day came and everything was the same, except for the fact that his friends were a little more talkative. But he didn’t have you.

You were gone, Lily wouldn’t even look at him, which at this point he didn’t even care. He just wants you back.

On the third day of losing you, you still weren’t around and it was really affecting James. You’ve never gone this long without something as simple as a check-in.

He thinks by now all of Hogwarts has known what he had said to you and for the past two nights he’s laid awake thinking about it, wishing he could take it back.

You hadn’t really told anyone except Dorcas, Pandora, and Evan. Dorcas told Marlene, Marlene told Mary, Lily, and Alice. Pandora told Barty who told Regulus and Mulciber. Regulus told Emmaline and Emma. And from there it spread like wildfire.

A week passed and you got closer to the Slytherins and he increasingly got worse. He lost the quidditch game to Ravenclaw. He failed his Defense Against the Dark Arts paper. And most of all, he was losing it, snapping at everyone and constantly drunk or high.

His friends cornered him in his dorm one afternoon, “Have you thought maybe you’re like this because you love her?”

“Of course I bloody love her! I fucking messed up,”

Merlin. He’s had so much time to think about you and he realized that Peter was right. Lily was just a distraction from you.

He hated how long it took him to figure out his feelings for you. You were just perfect in his eyes — your hair, your teeth, your eyes, your smile, your kindness, your humor, he wanted every single part of you and he irrevocably fucked it up.

“Talk to her, that’s the best you can do.”

He found you in the library, alone this time. Calling your name hesitantly, you looked up from your book with an arched brow.

“Can we talk?”

”No,” you said archly. James was taken aback, not expecting you to say that. You packed your things and James watched as you left the library. What the fuck just happened?

He stormed back into his dorm where the group had added Marlene to the mix. James came in and slammed the door.

“I take it the talk went well,” Marlene added sarcastically.

“Fuck off, Mckinnon,” Marlene hated that. Standing from her place next to Sirius’s bed she walked towards James aggressively.

“No, fuck you, Potter. Dorcas told me what you said. Dorcas! Not even my own best friend told me what happened, I had to hear it from my girlfriend!”

“Ok,”

“You’re so fucking dense it’s actually painful,”

“Please can you just help me talk to her,”

“Go to our dorm, she’s in there, I’ll stand at the door to keep her in,”

“Thank you, Marlene, I’m so serious, I owe you big for this one,”

“Yeah, okay, just go fix it, you’re getting really horrible to be around.”

James raced to your dorm and knocked on the door, which was the mistake. He knew you weren’t going to answer. He opened the door, seeing you laying on your bed with a book.

“We’re talking. Right now,” you looked up at him and rolled your eyes.

“Please, please hear me out,”

“James-“

“No, please,” you let out a breath and nodded your head at him, curtly, egging him to go on.

“I cannot even express how horrible I feel for shouting at you and saying some horrid things. I want you back more than ever, I love you so much and I am so fucking daft for not seeing it sooner,” your gaze softened but you were still skeptical.

“Listen, what you said isn’t what totally bothered me, it was the way you said it. James, I have stood by your side for years while you pinned over Lily, and when you said that I wished I had someone to love me like that, I was hoping it would be you,”

“And it is me, I love you, so much, and I can’t even comprehend my love for you because it’s absolutely wild,”

“How can I even trust what you’re saying right now? How can I know everything isn’t going to revert back to the way it was?”

He moved closer to your bed, his knees against the mattress, standing above you.

"Because I promise to give you everything in my entire being. I want to give you my all - my heart, my mind, my soul,” he sat beside you, taking your face in his hand, brushing away stray hair with his other hand.

“I want you James, but I can’t trust you anymore,”

“We can build on it,” you want him so bad. You need him so bad.

“Do you promise?”

“I swear on my life.”

You lean in and softly press your lips to his. Your lips move rhythmically against his, as if they were meant to be together.

The kiss was more than electric, it was as if everything in the world went silent and the stars had aligned in your favor. The short time you were together you felt a need and an urgency to be with him.

There was nothing you loved more in the world than James Potter.

[moonstruckme]

Omg a movie marathon with tasm!Peter being in criminal minds?? I think his friendship with Spencer would be saur cute, especially if he was with bau!reader!!! 😭😭🖤

Thanks for requesting my love! This is probably all highly inaccurate, I don’t know how to build bombs and I was scared to do too much research and get on a watchlist </3

bau tasm!Peter x bau!reader ♡ 665 words

“But he couldn’t have done it with urea nitrate.” Spencer’s brow is furrowed, his eyes stuck on some point in space. “It’s highly regulated, he’d need to make it himself and nothing we profiled indicated he had those kinds of resources.” 

“Maybe he knows someone who does?” While Spencer is still in his contemplation, Peter’s bouncing all over the place. He keeps getting up and sitting back down, spinning his chair in circles. He’s been tapping an uncapped pen against his jaw for the last five minutes; Spencer hasn’t noticed, and you feel like it’s probably your job as his girlfriend to tell him but neither you nor anyone else on your team wants to interrupt his thinking. “If he knew someone who worked in a lab or maybe at the university, he could have gotten it from them.” 

“But would someone really make an explosive chemical like that without asking any questions?” JJ wonders. “They had to have wondered what he was using it for.” 

Peter’s pen stops moving. He sits up in his chair. “Maybe he didn’t ask.” 

Everyone else’s brows furrow, but Spencer’s unfurrows. He looks at Peter. “We didn’t profile he had a partner, but it could be—”

“A mentor!” Peter laughs, ecstatic. “That’s the helper!” 

“Only he doesn’t know he’s helping,” Spencer agrees, getting out his phone. “When the fire department got there—”

“They poured water on the flames, decomposing it into—”

“Urea and nitric acid.” Spencer puts his phone to his ear. “Garcia, we need a list of all non-students or faculty who had access to the labs at the university. Start with family of professors, administrative staff…” 

“Hey.” You slide onto Peter’s desk, wetting your thumb when he turns to you and brushing it over his cheek. Blue ink smears across his jawline. “I’m getting the impression that you guys figured it out, but, uh, do you want to tell us what you figured?” 

Peter’s grin is half sheepish. He wraps a hand around the back of your knee, squeezing excitedly down your calf. “The reason we only found that fertilizer compound on the site of the explosion was because the original compound was this homegrown explosive, and when water hits it it separates into its original parts.” He starts talking faster as he explains, amping himself up again. “The only people who would have access to the chemicals needed to activate it are professors in the university labs, so since we profiled he doesn’t have a background in education…” 

“He’s probably getting access to the lab through the professor,” you finish. Your boyfriend grins proudly, taking your hand and kissing the inside of your wrist. Behind him, Rossi makes a face, and you retract your hand shyly, using it to smooth down the cowlick at the crown of Peter’s head. “You think the professor taught him how to combine them, too?” 

“They could’ve,” he says. “Even if someone doesn’t have a science background, professors are always excited to talk about their field. The unsub only would have had to ask a couple of questions to get them to show him.” 

You hum, nodding. “You’re a genius,” you tell him. 

Peter grins, jutting his chin towards Spencer. “That’s him. I’m just the wall he gets to bounce ideas off of.” 

“Shush,” you chide, forgoing the team’s judgment for a moment to press a kiss into his hair. He smells like his shampoo, like freshness and home, and he squeezes the back of your knee in response. “You’re both freakishly smart.” 

“Okay.” Spencer shuts his phone off. “Garcia’s narrowed it down to three, we need to bring them in for questioning.” 

“Here’s your moment,” Peter says, nudging your leg with his. “Ready to kick down some doors, sweetheart?” 

You laugh. “Think Morgan will let me have a turn?” 

“He will.” He stands, kicking his chair under his desk and helping you down. “I told him I’d build upgrades into his phone over the weekend. He owes me a favor.”

[your-favblondie]

The Genius

ART CREDIT: novalise1 on Twitter

(I found this on Pinterest so if I'm wrong please correct me)

Hi again, thank you guys so much for the amazing support on my last post!! And I hope this post also lives up to your guy's expectations.

Word Count: 2.1k (and somehow 11k characters?! TuT)

-----Younger Armin ( Bowl Cut ) -----

Armin wasn't exactly the most social type back then, so I imagine for you two to get close enough to date you must have spent quite a bit of time together.

I can think of a few ways you two may have met and gotten close. Maybe you guys sat next to each other in classes, were sparring partners, or maybe you were there for Armin all the times Mikasa and Eren seemed to have forgotten he was also a part of their friend group.

It had been just a few minutes after lights out when Sasha shook me out of bed and yelled whispered for me to grab my coat and follow her. By the time we were out of the cabin a few of the other girls had gotten up and were grabbing a few items. Sasha led our small group until we reached a clearing in the forest, a good distance from the bases. "Sasha, what's all this?" I asked her as the rest of our group ran over to their own friends. "It's a party, Duh." She said looking at me with a goofy smile until Connie yelled for her to come help him roll a joint. I watched her run off and then made my way to a group of my classmates sitting in a circle. Jean, Ymir, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin Arlet all sat around a small bonfire. Spewing out a few 'hey's and 'hello's before claiming a seat in the circle. Jean and Ymir were in some argument over brunettes or blondes being cuter, and next to them Eren sat trying to carve a spoon out of a small log. Mikasa and Armin were talking about something I couldn't really make out over the sound of the fire crackling and Jean and Ymir arguing. As I watched the fire crackle all I had on my mind was why the hell Sasha had brought me along. It's not like I'm antisocial but I hadn't really established many close friends and the ones I had were human meatballs now. So a party wasn't the most comfortable place to hang out. Before I could continue my thoughts I got distracted by Mikasa getting up pretty abruptly and running after Eren who had somehow broken the log he was carving and wanted to look for a new one. Doubt we'd see them again tonight. My eyes flicked over to Armin and as we looked at each other, a mirror of slight shock reflected on both our faces. Before either pf us could look away I burst into laughter at Mikasa's weird behavior and Armin just stared at me even more confused than before. "I'm sorry it's just I never see anyone so serious act like that, I'm not trying to be rude she just catches me off guard," I tell him, feeling like he may have kinda misunderstood me. A shy smile pulls on his lips as he looks back at me. "Yea it is kinda odd isn't it?"

And that's where your friendship bloomed from. A right place and right time you could say. Though Sasha says it's all thanks to her.

Over time the two of you became really close. While Armin read you'd sit near him fiddling with your own hobbies. Sometimes you'd get caught up in him and end up spending a few moments watching him while his eyes scoured over dusty pages.

Armin was such a sweet friend, always asking how you are, being there to talk, explaining the stuff you don't understand from class to you a million times until you understand.

And once again you both were at a party when your guy's relationship finally takes the next step.

Through a stupid game of truth or dare...

Sasha scans over each and every one of us as she carefully picks her victim. "Jean!" She exclaims and Jean looks at her with an annoyed expression. Sasha and Connie have been picking on him all night, each time either giving him the truth of exposing his crush on Mikasa or the dare of letting them draw on his face. This time was no different as Sasha added a small horse on his forehead that would definitely not be gone by tomorrow. After Sasha got done we all burst out laughing. "Hey!" Jean yelled, "It's my turn alright so shut it!" And of course, I had responded to him with a snarky "Okay, Horse face" Jean turned to me with a sarcastic smile and asked me truth or dare. "Dare" I chose nervously. Jean turns to Connie and they start to whisper between themselves before Jean turns to me with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Kiss Armin."

So now here you and Armin were. At first, he'd be kinda shy about y'all's relationship but I could see you bringing out a more confident side of him.

He would be the type to remember all the little anniversaries, picking you a small bouquet for your first month.

Now I can't see him being great at making gifts but he would try his hardest!

Would definitely choose you as his partner for almost all group activities. Don't think that means he's gonna let you do no work, oh no no no. This man would rather teach you it a million times than let you get by being ignorant. (Sees this as an act of service kinda love lol) Told you before with the most serious face that " Knowledge was the greatest currency he knew"

Speaking of acts of service, that and praise is probably his love language. Of course, he would love holding your hand, a little bit of cuddling, or a few pecks on the cheek. But when he wants to show his love for you he'd tell you what he's thinking and just genuinely spend a lot of time with you.

I can't see him being big on any forms of PDA, except hand-holding. Hear me out though, I think he'd be the type to hold pinkies instead though.

I could see him writing you hundreds of love letters he'd never give to you but be too scared to get rid of them in case someone else (Jean and Connie) read them, or God forbid you saw them.

He would swap books with you if you were an avid reader. ( Would want for you guys to make matching bookmarks as a kinda of date!! )

But if you were more of a sporty type then he'd definitely love to watch you play, even if he cares nothing for the game itself. Maybe even give you some pointers he noticed or help you strategize. After watching you for awhile he would be able to go on like hour-long rants breaking down each and every little detail and rule of the game and way overthinking it.

Now if you guys for whatever have a fight he'd be quick to apologize because he'd never want you mad at him. (Still believes he's right though, just won't tell you that )

Definitely has a few red flags and will work on some of them.

When he's struggling with all the things going on with Eren, one of his main stress relievers would be you playing with his hair, tracing your nails against his scalp.

If you ask realllllyyyy nicely he just might let you braid his hair or tie it up. Even though he knows he won't hear the end of it from the others.

Surprised you a few times with flower rings he made for you.

I could see him being really involved in the wedding planning. If it was up to him either a light purple or sea blue color theme.

In a more modern au, I could see him offering to paint your nails for you if you ever complain about it being able to get them done. He would spend hours trying to perfect it and maybe it didn't match the reference perfectly but they were perfect to you ♡

(These are less relationship-focused and more so things I think about Armin )

Struggles so much with Eren always doing everything so rashly and getting into trouble that he never lets anyone help with it. I feel like he may have had a fear of being replaced or left behind by Eren and Mikasa because he isn't as strong as them.

Just someone tell him he's making the right choices and that he can't make everything right. He needs to hear that.

Jean and him are really close and hang out a lot. Jean is a way more chill and less stressful friendship for Armin compared to half of his other friendships. I can see Armin feeling like he needs to be a therapist friend for everyone, outside of just Eren and Mikasa too, big people pleaser.

Jean just really knows how to chill and not ask a lot of Armin, of course they've talked about heavy stuff before but it's a lot more talking from both of them rather than Armin needing to comfort the other person. Every once in awhile Jean actually is the therapist for Armin.

He does grow out of that though. Starts to become a lot more set in reality after seeing all the deaths in the recon missions. Some meaningless little drama isn't something he needs to focus on helping a fellow cadet out with. Still holds onto some of his people-pleasing tendencies but has figured out a lot of his priorities in his personal life.

I think Armin truly believed that fighting those bullies back in his childhood wouldn't have been the right choice and wasn't just because he was weaker.

I could see him knowing how to play a ton of card games that he learned from his grandpa.

I also think at one point he learned how to sew from Eren's mom. Eren would tease him by saying things about how he's "finally fitting into his girly hair" Then when he actually tries it and sees how hard it is and how much better Armin was he quits the teasing comments.

I think Armin has a lot of trust issues in almost everyone after figuring out Annie was a traitor. To him, they seemed pretty close and had a good understanding of each other. But Annie's betrayal really shattered some of his innocence and trust in the world.

One time he told Connie that if he walked around barefoot he could get flesh-eating worms. Connie was a bit more than traumatized by that information.

As sweet as Armin seems he is honestly so manipulative. It can hardly be noticed by anyone except maybe Commander Erwin or Levi but Armin's a bit too smart to try it on them. He accidentally tried to manipulate Commander Erwin one day over something small and when Erwin subtly commented on it he almost died of shock.

I could see Armin having a lot of respect for his superiors but not being the type to follow them blindly. Like the smart kid who isn't afraid to correct the teacher. And yes he was that type of student, to an annoying extent.

Armin as a student mostly just studied the material he was being tested on to a point where he was confident he knew it. And then would dig extremely deep into any topics that interest him. He knew every type of rock that existed inside the walls but couldn't remember his 12 multiple facts.

He definitely isn't antisocial or introverted. A little shy, yes, but mainly he's just a extrovert or ambivert who's not very loud. In no way has he ever been afraid of talking to people or making his thoughts known.

Speaking of talking to people, him and Hange are total geek besties. The spent hours looking at the hardened titan skin fragment and theorizing on all sorts of topics

I think when he was younger he saw a really huge pond and thought he had some how found the ocean inside the walls.

Probably would spend days going on picnics with his parents and reading in flower fields before the wall break. Once tried to bring Eren and Mikasa on one and never got any reading done.

This man's library card would be personalized in his favorite color (sea blue) and bedazzled.

I could see Armin being a really big Jazz and blue grass guy. Mostly because it's non-lyrical and doesn't tend to distract him as easily.

Would bust down to some Megan thee stallion and nasty redd. I mean, look at that stance-

————————————————————

Sorry to all those hoping for older Armin, I STILL haven't watched season 3/4 of AoT so I don't really have too many thoughts on older Armin other than that ma is SOOO FINEE Soon enough I'll write for him, and yes there will be another poll for writings posted after this post!! I like when you guys interact with the story's makes it feel really personal. And thank you again to everyone who liked and reposted my last post!! It did so much better than I ever expected. A Big thank you to all my new followers. I'm so glad to have you guys as followers!! And I hope this post is just as good as the other if not better.

[adhdnursegoat]

Episode 12

Word count: 11.2K

Content Warning: none

Pairing: Edward Nashton X OC Romy Winslow

Setting: Pre-Arkham Origins; 2013

Ao3 link here!

─── [ sequence: loading ] ───

Friday, February 15th, 2013 

He wanted her.

So what?

No big deal.

He could control this.

Edward straightened his tie with an abrupt, jerky motion. The fabric felt tighter today, stifling, though he knew it wasn’t. The knot sat at his throat like a noose, cinching tighter with every passing second. He adjusted it again, tugging sharply, but it didn’t help.

The discomfort wasn’t the tie.

He knew exactly what the problem was—though he dreaded admitting it.

Romy.

His student. His protégé. His assistant. That’s all. That’s all she’d ever been.

That’s all she should ever be.

She was there to learn from his greatness, his brilliance. That was the arrangement. She was there to soak in whatever fragments of genius he deigned to offer her. Someone so insignificant, someone with barely two brain cells to rub together, could only ever hope to hold a candle to his intellect. Maybe— maybe —if he were feeling generous, he could spare her one of his brain cells. Then, perhaps, she’d finally have a whole brain to call her own.

She was nothing more than a passerby. A background character. Someone who would fade from his orbit as easily as she’d entered it.

And the idea—the thought that she could be more—felt tenuous. It was jagged and dangerous, daring him to acknowledge it. To acknowledge her.

Control.

Control over his work, over his world, over the fortress of logic and reason. It was who he was, who he’d always been.

He was Edward Nashton, for God’s sake. He didn’t lose control. Not to anyone. Not to her.

Yet, that truth felt thinner now, stretched taut and fraying at the edges. His fingers twitched at his sides. Thoughts circled back to Romy with maddening insistence.

It was infuriating. She was infuriating. The way she smiled—self-assured. The way she carried herself, confident and poised, always with that faint air of amusement like she was in on some cosmic joke. The way she talked to him, like she belonged there, like she belonged in his world. 

She shouldn’t. She didn’t. 

The tie felt unbearable and he yanked it loose this time, abandoning the pretense of composure. His jaw tightened as he passed an officer climbing the steps of the precinct. 

Puffs of hot breath condensed in the air. It was cold today. Freezing, actually, and here he was loosening his tie as if he’d run a marathon, as if it were the middle of summer and sweltering. 

Get it together.  

He wouldn’t let this… this thing —whatever it was—undermine him.

Control. He repeated the word silently, again and again, like a mantra as he pushed through the front doors. Like a prayer. If he said it enough, thought it enough, maybe it would drown out the traitorous ache clawing at his chest. Maybe it would silence the part of him that wanted to linger in the memory of her touch, that wanted to let his mind wander to what-ifs and maybes .

Because that wasn’t who he was. He didn’t let anyone—especially someone like her—get under his skin.

And yet…

The ghost of her palms lingered on his cheeks, invasive and persistent. The scent of her perfume—the one he swore was too sweet, too honeyed—still clung faintly in his nose. The image of her hair hanging around him in curtains, shielding them both from the world, was burned into his visual cortex. He remembered the way her hands moved with deliberate care. He remembered the sharp hitch of his breath, the tightness in his chest, the way his pulse quickened against his will. And worst of all, he remembered the unbearable, humiliating heat that coursed through him, how his pants had felt too tight.

  Stop it. He avoided eye contact with everyone he passed, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. This is just biology. A chemical response to proximity, to touch. Nothing more.

It is just lust , Edward told himself, his footsteps echoing sharply against the tile floor as he strode through the precinct. That’s all this was. Biological. Logical. Manageable. Lust was simple, a physiological response, a chemical reaction coded into his DNA. His superior intellect knew better than to read into it. Romy was female, and he was male. That was the entirety of it. Cause and effect. There was nothing more. There couldn’t be more. 

It was just lust. Lust was manageable. Lust was easy.

Edward cast a sidelong glance at Officer James Edison as he passed him by, noting the smary smirk in his direction. He met the gangly officer with a glare. 

He didn’t have time for this. For her. For whatever ridiculous, intrusive thing this was. He had people to expose, people to burn at the stake of his crusade.

His fingers twitched, itching for something to anchor him—his tie, his glasses, anything. But he forced them to remain still, his hands balled into loose fists, one of them gripping the strap of his bag. He was methodical, composed. Always. 

Edward moved past the bullpen, ignoring the low hum of activity around him. Officers and detectives chattered, phones rang, and the sharp scent of stale coffee mingled with the faint tang of too many bodies in one space. It was familiar, predictable—a symphony of chaos that usually grounded him. But not today. Today, it was all static, noise he couldn’t seem to tune out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a cluster of officers gathered around a desk, laughing at some inside joke he had no interest in deciphering. Their laughter grated on him, too loud, too carefree. It only reminded him of the tension coiled in his chest, the thoughts he couldn’t seem to suppress. 

He brushed past a pair of officers carrying coffee cups, their conversation halting briefly as they glanced at him. He ignored them. He ignored everyone. He had to. Because if he stopped, if he let himself think about the way his chest still ached, about the way she looked at him with with those easy eyes of hers, he’d fall apart.

Connection. Care. Intimacy. He’d never needed those things. He’d never wanted those things. They were messy, unnecessary, and dangerous. He’d built a life around avoiding them, and he’d thrived because of it…

Hadn’t he?

So, why did the memory of her touch still burn? Why did he feel as though he were standing on the edge of something he didn’t understand, something he couldn’t control? 

Edward sank his teeth into the inside of his cheek, the sharp sting grounding as he now stood in front of his office door. He exhaled, breath shallow and quick, and forced himself to straighten.

The door clicked shut behind him with a satisfying finality, sealing Edward away from the prying eyes and relentless noise of the precinct. For a moment, he let himself sag against the wall, his head tilting back as his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The ache refused to subside, gnawing at him, growing heavier with each passing second. It was as though everything he’d been pushing down had clawed its way to the surface, demanding to be felt.

You can’t crave what you don’t allow yourself to have.

It was a rule. A line he’d never crossed. The one that had kept him safe, untouchable, in control. But now Romy was here, with her maddening presence, pushing against that line, testing its limits, making him question why it existed in the first place.

And he hated her for it. Hated the way she’d made him feel unsteady, uncertain. Hated the way her touch felt like a brand, the way her voice wove through his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to shut it out. Hated the way she was always there, so impossibly close, and yet just out of reach.

So, he decided. He’d pull back. Reassert boundaries. Rationalize. Compartmentalize.

Distance, he decided, jaw tightening. It was the only solution. Distance from the curve of her lips, the warmth of her hands, the smokey softness in her voice. Distance from the way she tilted her head when she teased him, the way her emerald eyes glinted with amusement like she knew all his secrets. Distance from her.

It was the only way. It had to be.

But the thought barely settled before it was swept away.

“Mr. Nashton, um, you good, bro?”

Edward’s took a deep, deliberate inhale, forcing the sharp edges of his frustration into something cold, controlled. The ache twisted, meddling with irritation as his narrowed gaze shifted to Romy. His brow ached from the intensity of his furrow, his thoughts shattering like glass under the weight of her intrusion.

“Of course,” he snapped. “Why would you ask such a stupid thing?”

Romy didn’t flinch at the tone, which only irritated him further. Instead, she simply raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re just standing there…?” She gestured vaguely at his position against the wall.

For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. He felt exposed, caught in a moment he hadn’t meant for her to see. He combed a hand through his hair, forcing his expression to harden into one of natural disdain.

“And why does that concern you?” He pushed off the wall with calculated indifference, shrugged off his bag, and removed his coat and scarf. His steps were deliberate, precise, when he moved toward his desk, stomach twisting the closer he got.

She watched him, her attention following his every move, and he hated the way it made his skin crawl. He pretended not to notice, pretended he wasn’t hyper-aware of every glance, every breath, every slight shift in her posture.

“I’m just asking.” Her tone was light but probing. ”You seem... distracted.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t even look at her as he dropped his bag and settled into his chair, his fingers immediately finding the keyboard. The sharp clack of the keys filled his ears, a pointed dismissal, but his mind wasn’t on the work in front of him. It was still on her—her voice, her scent, her everything .

The solution was simple: distance.

But with Romy sitting there, her presence a constant, inescapable force. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the work in front of him, his thoughts kept circling back to her.

“What are we doing today?” 

For a long time, Edward didn’t answer. His gaze fixed on the monitor as if sheer willpower might drown out the sound of her voice. He really would have liked her to shut up.

“Finishing the case for Gordon and Bullock,” he offered finally, words bland, flat, uninterested. The tone was meant to push her away, to make her think he didn’t care. Maybe if he said it enough, he’d start to believe it himself.

“Is there anything you need from me?”

“Yes,” he snapped, not looking at her. “Sit there, shut up, be quiet.”

She clicked her tongue, the sound making him look to her. Her lips pulled to one side. Her eyes flick over him, making his skin prickle. “So, we’re back to this?”

“Back to what ?” 

“Back to you pretending you don’t like having me around,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair with an ease that grated on him as she looked at her nails, almost in an absentminded manner. “Bit exhausting, don’t you think?”

His fingers tightened on the edge of his keyboard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ Fine ,” she quipped, the word harsh in a way that made him think everything was anything but. She shifted in her seat and crossed one leg over the other, the motion drawing his attention. “Keep pretending.”

Edward’s teeth clenched. “Why don’t you find something useful to do instead of wasting my time with your inane commentary?”

She blinked at him, her expression unreadable for a moment, and he hated how his chest tightened at the thought that he might have gone too far. But Romy only pursed her lips, squinted her darkened eyes, and sucked her teeth. “Whatever.” She turned her attention back to her laptop.

He didn’t respond. But out of the corner of his eye, he watched her. It was a mistake—one he realized the moment his gaze lingered too long.

She was leaning forward slightly, her posture relaxed yet purposeful, the glow of her screen reflecting faintly against her porcelain skin. Today, her hair was pulled into a ponytail, sleek and deliberate, skimming her spine in a way that sent his mind spiraling back to that night. Drinks at the bar. The way she had opened up to him, the way her ponytail swayed when she walked, exposing the delicate curve of her throat. He remembered the warmth of her arm brushing against his when she walked by him, the scent of her lavender and vanilla perfume mingling with the smack of alcohol and the smell of her berry flavored vape. He remembered how she wrapped the scarf around him and held on for a fleeting moment. And, God help him, he remembered how it felt like it meant something.

The stirring in his belly was immediate, unwelcome, and entirely too familiar. Why did Romy have to be so goddamn distracting? He forced himself to look away, his jaw tightening. His gaze snapped back to his monitor, the lines of code blurring for a moment before he blinked them into focus. He furrowed his brow into a deep scowl.

Work . That was the answer. That had always been the answer.

Control. Logic. Precision. Work.

But as his fingers moved over the keyboard, there was still an undercurrent of irritation, a low buzz beneath his skin that refused to dissipate. It wasn’t just her—or maybe it was. 

With mechanical efficiency, he pulled up the file from Gordon and Bullock. The familiar lines of the case details flashed onto his monitor, crisp and clinical, and for the first time in minutes, his thoughts began to shift. Numbers. Patterns. Solutions. This was what he knew, what he could control.

The ache in his chest dulled slightly, replaced by the familiar hum of focus as he began to work. His eyes skimmed the text on the screen, zeroing in on the cluster of digits that had been rattling around in his brain since the file landed in his hands: 044809111. His lips twitched into a quick sneer, irritation flickering across his features. He should have been working on this yesterday instead of indulging Romy’s and Kristen’s tomfoolery —a word that grated on his nerves just thinking about it. He wasn’t here to babysit or entertain anyone.

But then, the thought shifted, unbidden. No. Had yesterday not happened, he wouldn’t have felt her body in his arms. He wouldn’t have noticed how perfectly she fit against him, the way her chest rose and fell against his, the soft catch of her breath as she steadied herself. He wouldn’t have felt the delicate texture of her stockings beneath his fingertips or the way the warmth of her cashmere sweater clung to his palms as though it was designed to drive him mad.

Stop.

The heat in his body flared, mingling with irritation. His hand twitched toward his glasses, adjusting them. He straightened in his chair, forcing himself back to the task at hand. Focus.

The numbers on the screen blurred slightly before snapping into sharp clarity. He copied the string into a blank document, splitting it into chunks.

04.48.09.111.

04.48.091.11.

04.480.91.11.

0.44.80.91.11.

044.8.091.11.

0.448.0.91.11.

One by one, he arranged them into plausible IP address formats, each set separated by dots. His fingers tapped a steady rhythm as he fed the options into his query system, checking their validity. The process was painstaking, but his mind thrived on the meticulousness of it. The dull ache in his chest receded slightly, replaced by the familiar hum of focus.

Results began to populate his screen, each address associated with a far-flung corner of the world.

One pointed to a server in northern India. Another to a remote corner of Brazil. One led to a fishing port in Japan, another to a private network in Australia. Each address felt like a dead end, the sheer distance from Gotham making it unlikely they were connected to the case at hand—for the most part. He would only consider foreign servers as a last resort.

Edward sighed, leaning back in his chair. It was going to be one of those puzzles—layered, messy, time-consuming. His fingers drummed against the desk, his mind already working ahead. If these arrangements didn’t yield anything useful, the only logical step would be to reconfigure the digits into new permutations, even if it meant hours of painstaking effort.

He started again.

This time, he took the digits and began rearranging them systematically, testing every combination that could fall within valid IP address ranges. It was a grueling process, but Edward didn’t flinch from the tedium. The numbers flashed on his screen, one after another, as he cross-referenced each possibility.

Finally, his patience was rewarded. A handful of addresses surfaced, all associated with Gotham. Most of them were innocuous: a municipal server for the water department, a secondary school’s network, an outdated retail database. But one caught his attention.

10.194.8.140.

His eyes narrowed as he clicked on the address, running a deeper search. It was subtle—quiet, almost invisible in the digital noise—but there was something off about it. A sense of purpose behind its placement. He recognized the patterns, the fingerprints of someone skilled enough to bury their trail but careless enough to leave just enough for someone like him to notice.

Edward straightened, his pulse quickening as the pieces began to align. This wasn’t just another innocuous server. This was something different. His eyes narrowed at the screen, his thoughts sharpening with the thrill of discovery. He felt the familiar rush—exhilaration tempered with the satisfaction of being right. His lips twitched into the faintest smirk.

“Found you.”

But finding it was only the beginning. Now came the real work. His stilling for a moment, calculating his next move. He needed to delve deeper, to engage with the server without triggering any alarms. He was already working on autopilot, slipping into a rhythm honed by years of navigating Gotham’s digital underworld both professionally and for personal interest—just because he could.

The first step was hiding his presence. He activated a series of anonymizing protocols, bouncing his signal through a labyrinth of proxies and encrypted channels. Each one layered his trail, making it harder for anyone—if they were watching—to trace his intrusion back to him. The process was seamless, almost second nature, but he double-checked his work anyway.

Satisfied, Edward sent a ping to the server, his connection slipping through the cracks like water through a sieve. The screen flickered for a moment, then resolved into a basic directory structure. It was rudimentary, but he knew better than to trust appearances. Simple interfaces often hid the most complex systems. He began poking around, testing the architecture, searching for vulnerabilities.

At first, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. The file names were cryptic, coded in a way that suggested deliberate obfuscation. Numbers. Letters. Random symbols. It could have been anything.

But Edward wasn’t deterred. He dug deeper, methodically unpacking layers of encrypted data, breaking through firewalls that would have stumped lesser minds. Each barrier he breached only confirmed what he suspected: this wasn’t just a random server. It was something bigger. Something important.

And then he started to see it.

The first folder he decrypted was filled with transaction logs—hundreds, maybe thousands of them. The numbers were staggering. Payments funneled through offshore accounts, routed through shell corporations, obscured by layers of digital misdirection. His eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the entries, his mind racing to piece it together.

Edward shifted to another folder, this one containing images and blueprints. Weapons caches. Shipment routes. Lists of names. Some were marked with red flags, others with checkmarks, but all of them pointed to one thing: organized crime. Big organized crime.

He leaned closer, his focus absolute now. The deeper he dug, the clearer it became: this wasn’t just a treasure trove. It was a gold mine—a sprawling network stretching across Gotham and beyond, connecting players and operations he hadn’t even suspected.

And then he found it.

A file buried deeper than the rest, hidden behind layers of encryption that took him longer than he cared to admit to crack. His fingers flew over the keyboard, his movements precise and practiced, until the final barrier fell away with a satisfying click. A name appeared at the top of the screen: Omertà .

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Oh," he muttered. "What’s this?"

This wasn’t just any server. This was important .

His smirk deepened, but it wasn’t just satisfaction—it was hunger. A new puzzle, a new game, laid out before him in tantalizing fragments. This server belonged to someone. Someone powerful. Someone dangerous. But who?

Edward leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled, and let the enormity of it settle over him. His eyes never left the screen. The pieces were there, scattered but tangible, waiting for someone with the intelligence to arrange them into victory. And who better than him?

He tapped his fingers together thoughtfully, his mind racing. He could see the shape of it now—like a chessboard mid-game, each piece representing another layer of Gotham’s corruption. But this wasn’t just about the server’s contents. This was about leverage. Power.

Yet one question gnawed at him: Who owns this?

He opened a new browser window, his fingers flying across the keys. A quick search for the term “ Omertà ” brought up the expected results—articles on the Mafia code of silence, historical references to organized crime syndicates. Omertà. Silence. Secrecy. A code that demanded loyalty above all else. Nothing immediately useful. But then, he wasn’t expecting to find anything obvious.

“Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.” His smirk widened. “Where’s the fun in that?”

His eyes scanned the screen, absorbing the information with mechanical precision. Omertà was a name chosen for a reason. It wasn’t just about secrecy—it was about trust. Control. Whoever owned this server wasn’t just any player in Gotham’s underworld. They were the player.

Edward exhaled through his nose, a quiet sound of amusement and determination. This was the kind of challenge he lived for. But if he wanted answers, he’d have to be careful. He didn’t know whose toes he was stepping on yet, and the wrong move could set off alarms he wasn’t prepared to handle. He needed to put out feelers, to see if anyone else in the digital shadows had heard of this. A name like Omertà would carry weight, but it would also demand discretion. He couldn’t just ask outright—not without drawing attention to himself.

Edward opened a secure terminal, routing his connection through layers of encryption. The familiar sight of the droll black-market forums greeted him, the digital underbelly of Gotham alive with chatter. He navigated to a board frequented by hackers, fixers, and smugglers, his reputation already established among the more elite players over the years.

He typed a message under his long-time alias, carefully wording his inquiry.

Quant:Whispers of "Omertà"? PM if you know something worth sharing.

He hit send and leaned back, his eyes flicking over the screen as the post went live. It wasn’t much, just a single thread in a sea of chatter, but it was enough. The right people would see it. They always did.

Now, he just had to wait.

Edward tapped his fingers against the desk, his mind already spiraling through possibilities. Who would respond? Would anyone? And, most importantly, what would they tell him?

The thought sent a thrill through him. He loved this part—the anticipation, the slow unraveling of a mystery only he was smart enough to solve. This wasn’t just about finding the answer. It was about proving, yet again, that he was the only one in Gotham capable of untangling its secrets.

His gaze returned to the screen, lingering on the nam: Omertà.

“Let’s see who you really belong to.”

This was the game he was born to play.

But now came the question—the pivotal moment where most people would falter: What do I do with it?

He chewed the inside of his cheek, his teeth worrying at the soft flesh as he stared at the screen. Realistically, if he were to bring this to Bullock and Gordon’s attention, it would set off a chain reaction. He would be obligated to follow through—to shut the network down, to hand over the cache, to let them bumble their way through an investigation that would yield mediocre results at best.

He frowned. No. That wasn’t enough. That wasn’t worthy of the potential this discovery held.

Then, his gaze sharpened, his thoughts beginning to crystallize. Turning the information over to them would be the moral and ethical choice—the obvious choice. But it wouldn’t be the right one. Not when there was so much more to gain. Not when he could put this knowledge to better use.

He was still staring at the screen, but his mind was already racing far ahead, envisioning possibilities, plotting outcomes. This wasn’t about altruism or justice. It never had been.

No, this was about control. About wielding this knowledge, bending it to his advantage. With Falcone’s network in his hands, he could do more than just shut it down—he could understand it, dissect it, manipulate it. He could learn everything. Every name, every connection, every hidden facet of Gotham’s criminal underbelly. And with that knowledge came power. Power that belonged in the hands of someone who could use it properly.

Someone like him.

Edward’s frown eased, replaced by a small, calculating smile. His thoughts sharpened, coalescing into a singular, undeniable truth. He knew what he needed to do. The solution was clear.

For now, he’d keep this to himself. He’d dig deeper, map the network, extract every last detail until he knew it better than its creator. And when the time came—when he was ready—he’d decide how to use it. On his terms.

“What’s that?”

The voice shattered his focus like a brick through glass. 

Edward jolted upright, his spine snapping straight as his hands flew off the keyboard. “Jesus fuck! Bell ! I’m buying you a bell!” His voice cracked with unguarded irritation as he whipped his head to the side. “What are you doing ?”

Then he saw her.

Romy stood just behind him, leaning over his shoulder with that infuriatingly casual demeanor she always seemed to have. His breath hitched, his words caught halfway between indignation and alarm. His chin tucked defensively, but his gaze didn’t leave her—not when she was this close, close enough for her perfume to stir, faint traces of citrus and vanilla today, into the stale air. Close enough that he could feel the faint warmth radiating from her. Her hands braced on her thighs as she leaned in further, the hem of her skirt teasing just above her knees. 

Edward’s eyes darted downward before he could stop himself, catching the lace trim of her thigh-high stockings peeking beneath the fabric. A flush of heat crawled up his neck, and he clenched his fists around the armrests of his chair, his nails digging into the fabric.

Why was she always there ? Always finding ways to throw off his careful balance, to make his focused feel like it was built on sand? He forced his gaze back to the monitor, jaw tightening against the frustrated noise threatening to escape.

“I’m just seeing what you’ve found, bro. Chill.” She leaned in further, her ponytail slipping over her shoulder, the soft strands landing on his shoulder. “You know you talk to yourself?”

Edward exhaled sharply, skin prickling. “And you are a nosy twit ,” he snapped, the words clipped and defensive. His eyes flicked to her again, unwillingly drawn by her movements as her pink-tipped nail tapped at the screen.

“That looks like a log.” Her tone was casual, conversational. Too casual. Like she hadn’t just obliterated the fragile peace of his focus.

He sucked in a breath through his nose, turning back to the monitor with deliberate force. “And you look like someone who doesn’t know what the hell she’s looking at.” 

Again, she didn’t flinch. She never did. Instead, she tilted her head, lips curling into that faint, amused smile that grated on his nerves and twisted something deep in his gut. “Well,” she drawled, “that’s why I’m asking you , Mr. Nashton. You’re the genius here, aren’t you?”

The words should have inflated his ego, but they didn’t. Instead, they coiled around him, needling at him. 

“Don’t you have something better to do than hovering like an overgrown fruit fly?” 

Romy laughed softly, straightening but not stepping back. “Touchy.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Must be something important if you’re this jumpy.”

Edward exhaled through his teeth. God help him, one day he was going to figure out how to get her to stop .

But not today.

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Instead, he locked his jaw, his eyes fixed on the monitor as though the screen alone could save him from the mess Romy had made of his thoughts. His heart pounded erratically in his chest, his mind racing with conflicting impulses—none of which involved the focus he so desperately needed to reclaim.

“I’m not touchy or jumpy.” His chair creaked as he swiveled slightly, putting more distance between her and the monitor. 

Romy’s purple painted lips flattened into a tight line, her head tilting slightly as her expression shifted into something skeptical, almost amused. “Uh-huh. Sure.” She nodded toward the monitor, her gaze flicking to the screen and back to him. “So, what’d you find?”

The muscles around Edward’s eyes contracted ever so slightly, his lips pulling down into a subtle frown. His mind raced, weighing his options, searching for the right response. He didn’t find one.

“Ooooh,” Romy drawled, her eyes narrowing as she leaned forward, bracing a hand on the desk beside her. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

Should he?

Should he let her in on something so secret, so titillating, so revelatory, so dangerous?

His mind flitted through the possibilities, each one carrying its own set of risks. Trusting her would mean exposing her to something she might not be ready for, something that could put her in harm’s way. But keeping it to himself meant shouldering the weight of it alone, guarding a secret that grew heavier with each passing moment.

He looked at her. She blinked.

Edward’s eyes traced her face, catching on the faint freckles across her nose or beauty mark beneath her left eye, the subtle imperfections that made her impossibly perfect. The flecks of color in her irises caught the light, contrasting with the rich color of her lips, and for a moment, he felt the ache in his chest return with startling clarity. 

Romy was young. She had a future ahead of her—something bright and untouched by the shadows of Gotham.

There was something to be said about protecting that. About keeping her untainted by the sordid secrets he uncovered.

“It’s just a bunch of transactions for the Gotham City Waterworks,” he offered finally, his voice even, controlled. He leaned back slightly, forcing a smirk onto his lips. “Nothing interesting.”

Romy’s brow lifted, and her face fell flat, the light in her expression dimming into something cold, calculating. It was almost unnerving how quickly the change came, how her usual playfulness was replaced by a sharp intensity. She studied him closely, dragging over every line of his face like she was trying to pull the truth from his skin. 

“You’re lying, Mr. Nashton.” 

His gaze flicked away for the briefest moment before snapping back to her, sharper this time. “I don’t like being called a liar.”

“Then don’t be one.”

Edward’s teeth ground audibly, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he forced himself to rein in the rising tide of frustration. His breath came in slower, deliberate pulls, but it wasn’t enough to quell the simmering heat beneath his skin. “ Girl ,” his voice was low and deliberate, “I suggest you tread carefully.”

But she didn’t falter. Her expression remained calm, her lips twitching into the faintest of smirks as a glint of defiance sparked in her eyes. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned forward, her movements measured, the space between them shrinking to something unbearably personal.

“Or what ?” 

Edward’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his mind stalled, caught in the haze of tension and irritation she so effortlessly conjured. He crossed his arms over his chest, body taut as if holding himself back required every ounce of strength he had. His gaze bore into hers, searching for something—fear, hesitation, anything to remind him that he had the upper hand. But there was nothing. Only steady defiance and the sharp edge of amusement that made his blood simmer.

He leaned forward without thinking. His breath mingled with hers, shallow and uneven, his narrowed eyes locking with hers like a game of chicken neither of them wanted to lose.

“ Careful ,” he murmured. The word wasn’t just a warning—it was a plea, a desperate attempt to reassert some semblance of control. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Her head tilted slightly, a subtle shift that made his pulse quicken. Her lips curved into a faint smile, not mocking, but something worse: knowing. The glint in her eyes sharpened, a spark of duality that sent a shiver down his spine. “Maybe I do.”

His mind reeled, caught between fury and something darker, deeper, something that made his throat dry and his hands twitch with the effort to stay still. 

Did Romy know what she was doing to him? Did she understand the chaos she left in her wake, the way her voice, her presence, unraveled the careful threads of his control? He wanted to believe she didn’t, that it was accidental, that she was reckless but not calculating. But the way she looked at him, steady and unrelenting, made him doubt.

His eyes flicked down to her lips, parted just enough to tempt him further. His pulse roared in his ears as he swallowed hard, fighting to keep his breathing steady. But his body betrayed him—every muscle locked tight, every nerve ignited by the heat radiating between them.

Distance. He needed distance. Now.

His lips twisted into a faint smirk, the bitterness in it his only shield against the vulnerability clawing at him. “Don’t test me, princess.”

She didn’t pull back. Instead, she smiled wider, her gaze trailing his face with that unnerving steadiness. Her hands came to clutch his armrests, her face dangerously close to his. “What if I want to, Mr. Nashton?” 

Edward blinked, his mouth dropping open, but no words came.

And then, she moved.

Before he could respond, before his thoughts could untangle from the chaos she stirred, Romy’s hands glided up to grip his forearms, her fingers curling with quiet determination. He barely registered the warmth of her touch before she tugged, pulling his arms away from the protective barrier he’d crossed over his chest. His body complied, yielding too easily, as though it had been waiting for her command.

The breath caught in his throat as she climbed into his lap with slow, deliberate grace. Every movement was fluid, calculated, her confidence disarming. She moved like she had all the time in the world, like she was savoring every second of his unraveling, piece by excruciating piece. When her soft thighs settled on either side of his hips, Edward froze, his lungs constricting painfully as her weight pressed down in a way that felt alarmingly natural. Her warmth seeped through his clothes, grounding him and suffocating him all at once. 

Romy’s lithe hands slid to his wrists, gripping and tugging gently, guiding him around her with a sureness that left him reeling. His palms hovered just shy of her waist, the heat of her body radiating beneath his fingers.  She didn’t stop. Her hands moved upward, tracing the line of his arms, her touch impossibly soft as she kneaded the tense muscles of his biceps and shoulders. His breath stuttered, the rhythm jagged and shallow as she worked her way closer to his neck. Each stroke of her fingers, each deliberate press of her palms, was maddening. The memory of her touch from yesterday returned in sharp relief, but this was different. This was slower, more intimate, her touch no longer an act of calming but something far more intimate.

Then her nails skimmed his skin.

The featherlight drag sent a shiver coursing through him that made his teeth chatter, his pulse pounding so loudly in his ears that he almost missed the way her hands moved higher, the way they trailed to his jaw. Her touch was maddeningly intentional, her fingers brushing against his skin with a precision that felt both personal and teasing. When her hands finally cupped his face, his breath hitched. His gaze flickered, unable to focus on anything but her—her dark lashes, her parted lips, the intensity in her impossibly green eyes as she tilted his head back ever so slightly. He didn’t resist; he couldn’t. Her thumbs brushed gently across his cheekbones, the motion so tender it made his chest ache.

“Make me stop,” her lips whispered against his.

Edward’s heart slammed against his ribcage, his thoughts scattering. But instead of pulling away, instead of issuing the sharp retort balanced on the edge of his tongue, something deep inside him snapped.

When his lips met hers, there was no hesitation, no restraint, no second-guessing. His hands grabbed her waist, gripping her with a force that was almost bruising, pulling her closer as if he could fuse their bodies together. The kiss was ferocious, consuming, his mouth moving against hers like he was starving, devouring her with a desperation he couldn’t suppress. She gasped into him, and it only spurred him on. His hold on her tightened as he leaned into her, his fingers digging into the fabric of her sweater like he was afraid she might disappear. He kissed her harder, his teeth grazing her bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. She moaned softly, the sound vibrating against him, and his entire body tensed, heat coiling low in his pelvis, making his cock twitch. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging sharply, and he growled against her lips—a low, guttural sound that came from somewhere deep and primal. She wasn’t just meeting his intensity; she was matching it, her tongue tangling with his. He didn’t care that it was reckless, that it was maddeningly out of control. In this moment, it was everything.

The taste of her, the heat and the feel of her body against his—it consumed him entirely.

And then the vision shattered.

Edward blinked rapidly, his breath ragged as reality snapped into focus. Romy’s face was still in front of him, her gaze locked on his with an intensity that made his pulse trip. Her hands weren’t on his face but gripping the armrests of his chair, her body leaning forward just enough to invade his space. His lips were parted, his chest heaving as though he’d just come up for air. For a few beats, he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, the ghost of the vision still clinging to him, vivid and maddeningly real in his mind.

“Something wrong, Mr. Nashton?” 

He swallowed hard and he fought to compose himself. “No,” he managed hoarsely. “Nothing at all.”

Romy’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. He forced himself to look back at the monitor, his gaze snapping to the blurred numbers until they sharpened into focus. The cold glow of the screen felt like his only anchor, a fragile but necessary distraction from the fire burning beneath his skin. Because he knew, if he looked at her again, if he let her push even a fraction further, it wouldn’t just be her testing limits. 

He felt her stare pressing into him, heavy and deliberate. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, and the silence curled around him, sharp and suffocating.

Finally, he heard the huff as she pulled away.

“You’re always so in your head .” The statement was laced with enough exasperation to make his jaw tighten. It grated against his ears, a needle sliding beneath his skin and burrowing deep.

“You ready for a break?” she asked, tone casual, but the sharpness lurking beneath it was impossible to miss. She gestured vaguely to the screen, the movement dismissive. “You’ve been staring at whatever”—her hand waved—“ this is for hours now.”

“No,” Edward replied curtly, voice clipped as he spun around to resume his work, fingers trembling against the keys.

“Holy fuck,” she muttered under her breath. The sound of her sigh—long, exaggerated, and theatrical—tugged at his focus despite his best efforts.

“C’mon. You can’t be serious.” Her voice rose slightly, the sharp edge unmistakable as she grabbed the back of his chair and jerked him to turn just enough to face her. “Are we really doing this today? First, you want me to shut up. Then you barely talk to me—like I don’t exist. Your hiding whatever the hell you’re working on, like I’m some kind of liability. Now, you’re skipping our breaks? Our breaks ? The ones we’ve been taking every day for weeks. ”

She continued, the frustration in her voice escalating with each word. “I mean, seriously, what is your problem? What the hell is going on with you?”

He stiffened as her hand jabbed sharply in his direction, a perfectly manicured nail as sharp as a pink blade.

“Talk to me,” she demanded, her voice low but firm, narrowed eyes boring into his. “I’m done playing this game. You’re acting like an ass—moreso than usual—and I’m not just going to sit here and take it. So, spill. ”

The words struck a nerve he’d been trying to bury all morning. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his gaze flickered briefly to her before snapping to the side. His jaw worked, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing.

What was going on with him? 

Romy—that’s what. 

Romy, with her stupid questions and her insufferable persistence. 

Romy, with her soft, sweet-smelling presence that made the air around him feel too warm, too thick. 

Romy, with her sharp wit and sharper tongue, pushing him into corners he didn’t even know how to navigate. 

Romy, with her gorgeous face and mouth watering body.

It all clawed at him, sharp and unrelenting. This wasn’t about her. It wasn’t. 

He didn’t want to answer her. Didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how deeply she’d gotten under his skin, how thoroughly she’d unsettled him. It was bad enough that she was here, in his space, her presence a constant distraction. But the way she was looking at him now—eyes narrowed, expectant, unyielding—made it impossible to ignore her.

Finally, he exhaled sharply. He turned his head slightly, just enough to meet her gaze out of the corner of his eye.

“ Nothing ,” he snapped, voice cold. “I’m just trying to work. But someone is making that impossible. And , after your stupid little detour yesterday, I am behind.”

It became quiet. He saw the faint flicker in her expression—a tightening around her mouth, a subtle narrowing of her eyes—and it sent a pang of guilt rippling through him, though he pushed it aside. She’d always been so composed, so infuriatingly confident, but this moment felt different. He’d struck a nerve, and for some reason, it didn’t bring the satisfaction he thought it would.

“Stupid detour?” she repeated, her tone calm but edged with incredulity. She shifted her weight, a hand on her hip, and head tilted. “That’s what you’re calling it?”

“Yes.” 

Romy didn’t let it go. Because, of course, she didn’t. 

“If you hadn’t been there I’d have likely broken something. Or worse.” Her gaze hardened, pinning him. “If you hadn’t been there, that asshole, Hartley, would have probably continued making his comments about me. But it was a stupid detour, right?” She scoffed. “Good to know.”

“You shouldn’t have been doing something so asinine and useless as putting up decorations anyway.”

“It was something fun . Something different. Not everything has to be black and white and boring.”

“Little girl,” he snapped, “you are heading into the wrong profession if you think anything we do has room for nonsensical holidays.”

“We can have a little fun while we work, Mr. Nashton. Morale matters. It’s productive—just as much as taking breaks can be, you know.”

Edward rolled his eyes, the movement exaggerated as though to dismiss her point outright. “You’re—”

“What?” she cut him off, her voice colder now, sharper. “ Stupid ? An idiot? A silly little girl? A menance? A pest? A nuisance?” The string of insults tumbled from her lips, each word laced with venom, and her black eyeliner, sharp and deliberate, framed her narrowed eyes with a glare that could cut steel. “I’m a bother. You don’t want me here. You don’t like me. I get it.”

The air felt tight, suffocating, and Edward swallowed hard, throat dry. His hands twitched against the desk, jaw clenching as he fought the urge to snap back, to escalate the tension boiling between them. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t trust himself to respond without giving too much away.

His gaze slid back to a monitor in sight, but the words on the screen blurred together, meaningless against the noise in his mind. Something bitter swelled in his throat.

“It’s not like that,” he muttered finally, his voice quieter, almost begrudging. The words felt weak, hollow, and he hated himself for even saying them. But he couldn’t seem to stop. “You’re just—” 

Just what? A distraction? A problem? Something else entirely?

She stared at him, her gaze unyielding, demanding an answer he didn’t have the courage to give. The silence pressed down on him, heavy and unrelenting. His fingers flexed into fists.

When she finally sighed and stepped back, the sound was heavy with exasperation. “Whatever. I’ll be back. Then I’ll be quiet and not exist. Not breathe .”

Edward flinched, though he masked it quickly, as he watched her turn away. The room felt colder in her absence, the silence that followed deafening. But relief didn’t come. Instead, the ache remained, heavier than ever, pulling on his shoulders. He stared at the monitor but he couldn’t focus. The memory of her words, her glare, the frustration etched into her face, lingered, replaying over and over in his mind. And for all his attempts to rationalize it, to shove the feelings aside, he knew the truth. Edward sighed and ran a hand through his hair before taking his glasses off and pinching his nose with the same hand.

It wasn’t just about her being here. It wasn’t just about the decorations or the case or the stupid detour.

It was her. It had always just been her.

─── [ sequence: loading ] ───

Edward paced the short length of his workspace, his mind a tangled web of calculations and anxieties. The single fluorescent light above flickered intermittently, the uneven rhythm mirroring his thoughts.

Gordon and Bullock weren’t geniuses—that much was clear. But dismissing them entirely would be a mistake. Bullock was brutish, but occasionally he stumbled onto a truth through sheer stubbornness. Gordon, however, was sharp. Too sharp. His moral compass might as well be a beacon, but even that wouldn’t blind him to the implications of a half-empty report.

Edward pressed his temples harder, willing his thoughts to align.

“Think!” he muttered, the word biting in its desperation.

The digits—448009111—mocked him from the photocopy beside his keyboard. Stripped of any other identifiers, the string was a beacon of suspicion. No cop worth their badge would dismiss it as coincidence. But if he gave them everything, there’d be questions he couldn’t deflect. Questions he couldn’t answer without implicating himself—or Romy.

Romy.

He gritted his teeth as her name slithered through his mind. That wry smile, utterly unbothered by his tension. Her very presence fogged his thoughts, turned his meticulous plans into spirals of chaos.

“This is what she does,” he hissed, his fingers curling into fists. “She’s a distraction. A toxin .”

But even as he berated himself, the thought of her tugged at him, softening his anger like a drug he couldn’t quit. 

No . He couldn’t let this spiral. He needed a solution. A plausible story for the numbers. Something to misdirect Gordon and Bullock but not too much—it had to be just enough to seem credible.

Edward sat, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. For a moment, he hesitated, his mind racing through possibilities. The digits—448009111—stared back at him, deceptively simple but pregnant with implications. They couldn’t stay meaningless; Gordon and Bullock wouldn’t buy that. He needed a story, something plausible enough to satisfy their curiosity while keeping them far from the truth.

His fingers twitched, then began typing, slow and deliberate.

The digits: a bank account.

Yes, that would work. A dormant account tied to a ghost. He thought of a name—a low-level thug he remembered from an old case file. Someone forgettable, someone already missing or presumed dead. The sort of person who would leave just enough of a trail for Gordon and Bullock to follow without raising their suspicions.

Edward pulled up the GCPD’s financial crime database, sifting through inactive accounts until he found one that fit the profile: sparse activity, minimal funds, and an owner whose name was buried in the precinct's archives. He copied the account details into his report, his typing growing faster as the narrative began to take shape.

Now the trail. A series of deposits. He imagined an untraceable source—a shadowy benefactor with a penchant for cash-only transactions. Edward fabricated timestamps, spacing the deposits irregularly across months. Some were small, insignificant amounts, while others suggested something bigger: a payout for a job, perhaps, or the spoils of a deal gone wrong.

Withdrawals came next. He staggered them, placing some in Gotham’s seedier neighborhoods and others in nondescript suburbs. Enough variety to suggest movement, but not so much that it seemed coordinated.

Finally, the kicker: a transaction leading nowhere. Edward paused, considering his options. A shell company would be too obvious, but a failed transfer? That had promise. He added one final detail—a payment flagged as incomplete, the money vanishing into a defunct digital wallet.

He leaned back, his pulse quickening as he reviewed the trail. It was good. More than good—it was elegant in its simplicity. Just enough information to tantalize Gordon and Bullock without giving them anything solid. Still, it couldn’t be perfect. A flawless lie was just as dangerous as a bad one. 

Suspected link to organized crime. Further investigation is required.

It was the sort of conclusion that would make Gordon set his jaw and Bullock roll his eyes. Exactly what Edward wanted.

He pressed “Save” and printed the file, his pulse finally steadying. The numbers were no longer a threat. They were a tool—a means to an end, and a brilliant one at that.

Let Gordon and Bullock chase their phantom. By the time they realized the trail was cold, Edward would be several steps ahead, as always.

But even as he reveled in his success, a shadow lingered in the back of his mind. Romy. The thought of her refused to dissipate, her presence haunting his thoughts like an unfinished puzzle. She was a distraction, yes. But perhaps, he mused, she was also his muse.

For now, though, he set that thought aside. There was work to be done, and Edward Nashton never let anything—not even her—get in the way of his plans.

He looked at the time. 12:47. He had told them he’d have it done by Friday afternoon. And here he was.

Edward was nothing if not on the mark. With a sigh, he stood and simultaneously collected the warm pages from the printer on the far corner of his desk. Then, in movements so mundane they were hardly worth mentioning, he gathered the reports, exited his workspace, and into the bullpen. 

The sharp chill of winter wafted through, carried inside by officers who hadn’t shaken off the frost clinging to their jackets. The precinct’s heating system struggled to combat the cold, leaving pockets of the room uncomfortably brisk. The muted glow of overhead lighting cast uneven shadows on the tile floor, where the damp prints of boots formed. The bullpen was alive with its usual symphony of chaos. Phones rang out sporadically, their shrill tones cutting through the low hum of chatter. Officers shuffled between desks, some clutching steaming Styrofoam cups of coffee while others balanced precarious stacks of files. The air was thick with the scent of burnt coffee and stale doughnuts, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the salt tracked in from the icy streets outside.

Edward walked with purpose, his shoes tapping quietly against the floor. His gaze remained fixed ahead, avoiding the eyes of the uniformed officers who milled about in small, animated groups. A pair of detectives argued near an evidence board, their voices low but tense, while another officer leaned against the water cooler, scrolling idly through his phone.

A few desks away, someone’s radio crackled with static, followed by a voice calling out a code Edward didn’t bother to listen to. The sound faded into the background as he navigated the narrow aisles between desks, papers rustling in his wake. His grip on the folder tightened as he approached his destination.

In the heart of the bullpen sat Gordon and Bullock, their desks pushed together in a functional but inelegant arrangement. Gordon’s desk was impeccably neat, while Bullock’s was a chaotic sprawl of coffee-stained files, candy wrappers, and loose change. A single green banker’s lamp illuminated the mess, its light casting a warm hue over the clutter. Gordon leaned forward, his brow furrowed as he scribbled notes into a leather-bound notebook. Bullock, in stark contrast, was reclined in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest while the other clutched a half-eaten hoagie. The crumbs tumbling onto the manila folders beneath him made Edward’s stomach churn.

“Mr. Nashton,” Gordon greeted without looking up. “You’ve got the report?”

“As promised.” Edward placed the papers neatly on the neater detective’s desk. “Friday afternoon.”

Bullock snorted, his mouth full. “Great. More paperwork to keep me awake at night.”

Gordon ignored him, flipping through the report with a practiced eye. Edward watched as the senior detective’s expression shifted, his brows knitting closer together. It was the reaction Edward had anticipated, one that sent a faint thrill of satisfaction through him. Confusion was a powerful tool.

“This account…” Gordon began, pausing to tap the page with his pen. A shadow of doubt crossed his face as his brows knitted together. “Why haven’t we seen this before? It doesn’t align with the rest of the data. Feels incomplete.”

It seemed quieter now, or maybe it was Edward’s imagination as he gauged Gordon’s words. He gestured lightly toward the page, his tone measured. “That’s why I flagged it. I came across it during a secondary search of dormant accounts.” A slight shrug followed, effortless, as though the explanation had cost him nothing. “I thought it best to bring it to your attention immediately.”

The precision of Gordon’s scrutiny was almost clinical, as though he were picking Edward apart fiber by fiber. Holding the stare with calculated ease, Edward remained upright, his hands hanging casually by his sides, betraying none of the tension coiling beneath the surface.

“Uh-huh,” came the soft mutter, Gordon’s eyes falling back to the report. The pages rustled as he flipped through them again, slower this time, his frown deepening. “Secondary searches? Dormant accounts don’t just show up out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, sounds convenient.” The sound of Bullock gnawing on his sandwich filled the pause, crumbs tumbling onto his tie with every obnoxious bite. Edward ignored him, his focus locked on his partner. 

“The transaction patterns were unusual,” Edward offered smoothly. “It wasn’t apparent at first glance, but some entries suggested something more deliberate. Of course, I could have ignored it, but…” His lips curved into a faint smile, calculated to land just shy of smug. “That’s not what I do.”

Gordon adjusted his glasses, leaning back slightly in his chair as he mulled over the answer. His pen began tapping agains the wood of his desktop, steady and deliberate. “You’re sure this isn’t a goose chase? We’ve had enough of those lately.”

“I wouldn’t have brought it to you if I thought it was insignificant.” Edward held Gordon’s gaze with a measured confidence. He gestured toward the file again, as though offering it up as irrefutable proof. “The activity warrants a closer look. It might connect to something bigger—or it might not. But I believe it’s worth investigating.”

For a moment, Gordon didn’t move, his sharp blue eyes still locked onto Edward. Then, he stopped tapping and tossed the file onto his desk. “Fine. I trust you. We’ll look into it.”

Relief flickered in Edward’s chest, though his expression remained neutral. “I’m sure you will,” he replied, his voice carrying a faint note of satisfaction. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

“Yeah, yeah, Nashton. We’ll call you if we need more numbers to crunch.” Bullock brushed the crumbs from his shirt and tie.

That’s not all he does, but okay. 

With out responding, Edward rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, his footsteps echoing softly as he made his way back across the bullpen. He resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder, to see if Gordon was still scrutinizing the report. He had done his part. Now it was their turn to flounder.

As Edward returned to his corner of the main chamber, his eyes were drawn—against his better judgment—to the small group gathered near his workspace. Romy sat perched on the edge of a desk, her posture effortlessly relaxed yet commanding attention. Her glossy, dark ponytail swayed slightly as she laughed, her shoulders moving with the rhythm of her amusement. Renee leaned casually against the same desk, her arms folded, while Kristen stood with her hands on her hips, an easy grin on her face.

The source of their laughter was a younger officer Edward didn’t recognize. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty-two or twenty-three, his freckled face flush with the kind of youthful exuberance Edward found insufferable. Light brown hair curled just slightly at the edges of his regulation haircut, and his uniform was so crisp it practically squeaked. He gestured animatedly, clearly in the middle of recounting some story or joke. Whatever he’d said had landed perfectly—Romy and the others burst into laughter, their voices echoing faintly in the bullpen.

His steps slowed, gaze narrowing as he observed the scene. The young officer chuckled too, rubbing the back of his neck in an almost bashful manner. His grin widened as his eyes flicked to Romy, lingering just a second too long. Edward’s jaw tightened. It was subtle, but the kid’s body language screamed: the slight shift of his weight toward her, the way his smile softened when she looked his way, the way his shoulders straightened as if subconsciously trying to seem taller.

Romy, for her part, seemed utterly at ease, her low laughter fading into a cool smile as she tilted her head, watching the young man with a look of amused indulgence. Her smile glinted with mischief, and her demeanor—one hand resting lightly on the desk beside her, the other gesturing lazily—was that of someone completely in control.

Edward’s stomach twisted, a sharp, irritating pang that settled somewhere between his ribs and refused to dissipate. The sound of her laugh grated against his nerves in a way he couldn’t entirely explain. She had always been a distraction, but this… this felt different. The easy camaraderie, the way she drew people in without even trying, the effortless coolth that seemed to radiate from her—it was infuriating.

His eyes flicked back to the young officer, who was saying something else now, his hands gesturing as if trying to illustrate his point. Kristen nodded along, chuckling softly, while Montoya muttered something that drew another round of laughter from the group. The kid looked at Romy again, his grin faltering slightly as a faint blush crept up his neck. 

Romy was still chuckling, hand now covering her mouth as if trying to stifle the sound, her ponytail swinging as she leaned forward slightly toward the young officer. Her laughter tapered into a sly, knowing smile, her eyes alight with amusement.

Edward’s chest tightened as he moved closer to his workspace, gaze unwillingly pulled to her again. And then, as if she felt his stare, Romy’s eyes darted up to meet his. Her lips curved into a slow, deliberate smirk, her gaze locking with his for the briefest of moments—enough to send a jolt of heat through him. Then, just as smoothly, she shifted her attention back to the officer, the smirk still tugging at the corners of her mouth as she gave the officer a playful push on his shoulder. 

“Give us another one, silly .”

Edward’s pulse quickened, his chest a knot of irritation and confusion.

The officer’s, ‘Mark’s,’  voice rang out again, a bit too loud, as if he were compensating for his nerves. “Okay, okay, you’ll love this one, computer girl.” He gesture to Romy. “Why did the computer go to the doctor?”

Kristen rolled her eyes. “Let me guess—it caught a virus?”

“Close.” He chuckled nervously. “It had cancer!”

“Wooow. That’s some… cutting-edge humor you got there.”

The kid flushed, freckles standing out against his red cheeks. “Promise I’ve got better ones.”

“Oh, please don’t,” Montoya groaned, though her grin suggested she was enjoying the show. “I don’t think I can survive another one of your bad jokes, Thompson.”

“I’m serious! I’m good at this,” Thompson protested, his confidence faltering as he glanced at Romy again. “I mean, at least Romy thinks I’m funny, right?”

She tilted her head, her ponytail swaying as she gave him a sly smile. “Ehhhh, you’ve got potential,” she offered, drawing out the words in a way that made Thompson light up like a Christmas tree.

Kristen giggled. “Don’t encourage him. He’ll never stop.”

“Oh, I think he should keep going,” Romy replied, tone laced with playful mischief. “It’s entertaining. Besides…” She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing when she added, “I like a guy who can make me laugh.”

Edward’s nostrils flared involuntarily as he caught the flicker of pride in Thompson’s expression, the way his shoulders straightened like he’d just won a prize.

“See? Someone gets it.” Thompson grinned triumphantly at Kristen and Montoya. “Romy’s got great taste.”

“Debatable,” Montoya shot back before winking at Romy. “She hangs out with us, after all.”

“You said it; not me.” Romy chuckled and held her hands up in defense. 

Edward’s fists clenched when he walked past, head held stiffly forward as if ignoring the scene could erase it from his mind. The noise of their laughter receded, swallowed by the general din of the bullpen.

The corner of the building that he could call his seemed darker, colder, as though even the light from the overhead lamps had dimmed in his absence. He stalked to his workspace, every movement tight and clipped, and shoved open the door. The sound of it slamming shut behind him was louder than he intended, the sound sharp and stunted in the cramped walls of his office. His hand lingered on the doorknob for a moment, gripping it and clenching his teeth, before he let go and stalked to his desk.

Romy’s laugh—low and cool—refused to leave him. It spiraled through his thoughts, threading itself between the images seared into his mind: the way she leaned in, her ponytail swaying with a graceful ease as she tilted her head; the effortless curve of her smile, the way it transformed her face, making it glow with a warmth he couldn’t unsee; the softness in her voice as she teased that man—no, that boy .

Edward’s lip curled. The thought of him —flushed, fumbling, basking in her attention like a fool—made his stomach churn. She doesn’t need a boy.

He dropped heavily into his chair, the worn leather groaning under his weight, protesting the force of his descent. His hands moved to adjust his glasses, but the tremor in them betrayed him. The subtle shake was maddening, as if his body were staging a rebellion.

The room seemed quieter now. Too quiet. The faint hum of his equipment filled the void, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the ghost of her laughter. It echoed in his skull, insidious and maddening, worming its way into every crevice of his mind. He clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together as he glared at the monitor in front of him, its soft blue light lost to his faraway mind.

He shivered suddenly, a sharp, involuntary spasm that sent his teeth chattering for a split second before he forced them still. The air in the office felt thinner somehow, brittle and biting, seeping through his suit like winter had followed him inside. He clasped his hands tightly in his lap, his fingers digging into his palms as he waited for the feeling to pass. The tension in his chest hadn’t eased; if anything, it had grown sharper, settling under his ribs like a splinter he couldn’t remove.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered to himself in the empty room, the words barely audible. “It’s not my business.”

The lie tasted bitter, but he forced it down, his gaze focusing as he began to type. The keys clicked beneath his fingers, sharp and methodical, as he pulled up the files he’d been working on earlier: the Omertà, the response time case, the endless tangle of Gotham’s corruption. These were the things that mattered. This was his purpose. Not the stupid group in the corner. Not her laugh. Not the way she touched that boy’s arm. Not the way her smile lingered in his mind, soft and inviting—a temptation he couldn’t afford.

Ridiculous.

 He clenched his fingers, his knuckles tight under his gloves as he fought against the intrusive thoughts clawing at his mind. His throat felt tight, the pressure mounting. 

She wasn’t his concern. She wasn’t his problem.

Why do you care? The thought whispered traitorously, slipping through. Edward shoved it away, his fingers resuming their staccato on the keys. He focused on the numbers, the data, the cold precision of his work.

Edward scowled at his screen. He didn’t care. He didn’t.

He can do this. He only has: 

2 months and 11 days

10 weeks

70 days

1,680 hours

100,800 minutes

6,048,000 seconds

6,048,000,000 milliseconds

6,048,000,000,000,000 nanoseconds

1.122×10^59 Planck seconds

…

…

…

Edward shoved his hands under his glasses, face in his palms.

Fuck.

[enemiestolovershoe]

20 Times bsf!Nick Proved he’s the Best Best Friend Ever

bsf!Nick x bsf!reader

Words: 675

bsf!Nick who always hypes you up, no matter what. New outfit? "Ohhh, she ATE!" Finished an assignment? "You’re literally a genius." Even if you’re just making toast, he’s clapping like you won an award.

bsf!Nick who always FaceTimes you at the most random times. He never texts first—just FaceTimes out of nowhere. Sometimes he’s ranting, sometimes he’s just lying in bed staring at the ceiling. "I don’t even have anything to say, I just needed to be annoying."

bsf!Nick who will fight anyone who disrespects you. "Give me their @, I just wanna talk." He’s already cracking his knuckles like he’s about to go feral.

bsf!Nick who makes you do dumb challenges with him. "Let’s see who can chug a Capri Sun the fastest." "Bet you can’t spin in a circle 10 times without falling." Every time, it ends with one of you on the floor laughing.

bsf!Nick who steals food off your plate like it’s his own. "You weren’t gonna eat that, right?" He’s already chewing.

bsf!Nick who calls you out in the most loving way. "That outfit? Giving 2016 Tumblr." "You like HIM?? Be so fr right now." He keeps you humble, but it’s always out of love.

bsf!Nick who texts you full-blown paragraphs when he’s ranting. No context, just: -AND ANOTHER THING, BRO… -Tell me why this man thought he could... -I need to scream. Answer the phone NOW.

bsf!Nick who drags you out of the house when you’re in a funk. If you’re sad, he’s not having it. "Alright, shoes on, we’re getting Starbucks and talking mad shit."

bsf!Nick who can communicate with you through just looks. Someone says something weird, and you both make eye contact across the room, already knowing you’re thinking the exact same thing.

bsf!Nick who would literally drop everything for you. You call him at 2 AM, and he picks up instantly. "You good?" And if you’re not, he’s already grabbing his keys.

bsf!Nick who roasts you 24/7 but would actually die for you. "You’re literally the dumbest person I’ve ever met." Two minutes later: "If anyone says anything bad about you, I’m throwing hands."

bsf!Nick who makes everything dramatic for no reason. You trip over nothing? "OH MY GOD, SHE’S DOWN!" You sneeze? "That was disgusting. I’m reporting you to the CDC."

bsf!Nick who would 100% fake a relationship with you to get you out of an awkward situation. If someone’s being weird, he doesn’t hesitate. Throws his arm around you, drops his voice a little. "Babe, should we tell them how we met? Or is that too personal?" He lives for the theatrics.

bsf!Nick who makes fun of your texting habits. You send a single "k"? "Wow, dry. I’m leaving you on read." You type too many exclamation points? "Calm down, are you okay?"

bsf!Nick who will make fun of your mistakes for eternity. You tripped on a curb three years ago? "Watch out for curbs, don’t wanna lose you again." You mispronounced a word once? "Say it again, please, I need a laugh."

bsf!Nick who randomly gives you the most unhinged compliments. "You look like you’d survive in a zombie apocalypse." "If I had to be stranded on a deserted island, I’d pick you because I know you’d panic and it’d be funny."

bsf!Nick who gives you the dumbest nicknames. Forget your actual name. You’re now "Dingus," "Goober," or "Grandma" depending on his mood.

bsf!Nick who will not let you make bad decisions on his watch. "You wanna text him back? No. Hand me your phone before I block him myself."

bsf!Nick who will sit in silence with you just because. Sometimes you don’t even need to talk. He’s just chilling next to you, scrolling on his phone, occasionally showing you a meme. "This is us."

bsf!Nick who makes you laugh when you’re trying to be mad at him. You’re annoyed, and he just looks at you, grinning. "Damn, you’re really trying not to laugh right now. Be madder."

Taglist: @sophand4n4 @courta13

[mod-kyoko]

Oh~ how about another prompt with Miu where she has actually has a boyfriend, which is a surprise to her entire class, and personality wise, he's the opposite of her. He's kind and polite and a bit shy. Everyone is like, why is he dating miu, and isn't the relationship a bit toxic with shuichi and kaede being the only two to really support the relationship. Though when asked why he's dating Miu, his answer is that he finds miu to be adorable and loves every part of her. And Miu overhears this and is super embarrassed but also touched.

miu iruma w/ total opposite boyfriend

info: male!reader, established relationship, slight nsfw mentions, miu does what miu does best, around 1,900 words

type: oneshot format, non-despair au

a/n: I have a feeling you like miu a lot, not that I blame you at all I wrote this in a oneshot format just to make it flow better

⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡⟡♡

it was a normal day in homeroom, students of class 53 formed small groups and talked amongst each other softly. it was oddly peaceful this morning. shuichi looked around and hummed in thought.

"isn't it more quiet than usual...?" he asked to his circle of friends who were kaede, kaito and maki.

"now that you mentioned it... it does feel quiet, did something happen?" kaede pondered.

"that's a surprise considering kaito is here..." maki said in her usual sarcastic and deadpan tone, to which kaito grunted in response.

"hey! I can be quiet too!" he rubbed the back of his neck. "but you're right, something doesn't feel quite right... like we're missing something."

as if on cue, the door was kicked open and a certain blonde genius proudly made her entrance.

"....that's why." maki growled.

"good fuckin' mornin' you lonely sons of bitches!" miu laughed harshly with her hands on her hips, walking into homeroom and lounging herself over her desk.

"miu... you seem very high in spirits." kirumi commented, gently nudging miu's shoes off of the desk. miu smirked and leaned back on her chair, putting her arms behind her head.

"who could blame me? anyone would be happy to be a beautiful girl like me!"

"doooooubt it." kokichi butted in with a sing-song voice. "was there a discount on scented vibrators or something?" he stuck his tongue out with a wink. miu went red and sat up properly, clenching her fists.

"no you fuckin' dwarf! since you're so damn nosey i'll tell ya..." she gestured for the others to come in close as a proud smirk stretched upon her face. "I, miu fuckin' iruma, girl genius and incarnation of beauty itself... has a boyfriend!"

suddenly the room went very quiet and all of her classmates turned to her with variations of surprise.

then kokichi started laughing. "bahahaha! good joke, miu! i had no idea such a bitch-brain like yourself was capable of decent humour!"

miu clenched her jaw. "shut the fuck up, you little shit! it's not a damn joke!"

"oh... oh you're being serious? it's not a lie?" kokichi raised an eyebrow. "you have a boyfriend?"

"inventions don't count as boyfriends, miu..." maki cut herself in, for once actually working along side kokichi and sharing their disbelief. before miu could bite back, maki sighed and crossed her arms. "whatever... who would even want to date you?"

"tch! you're just fuckin' jealous i have charm and beauty!" miu pouted, scratching her temple with a slight blush on her face. "it's y/n... y'know, the guy in the class below us?"

if anyone wasn't shocked before, they certainly were now.

"y/n... y/n l/n? are you sure?" even kirumi couldn't hide the fact that such a person like miu could bag a person like... him.

"even though he's a degenerate male... i never thought he was your type, miu!"

"kehehehe... like the tales of a forbidden love between an angel and a demon..."

"nya-ha-ha! you must be truly blessed by atua, miu!"

"there's no way you didn't cast a high seduction spell on him..."

"yeesh... poor guy... he probably couldn't even say no..."

all these influxes of doubts and jokes, it made miu curl into herself on her chair, eyes darting around at the mocking faces. why the hell did they not believe her?! and why was she starting to doubt herself too...?

in the sea of everyone else, kaede's words cut through them all.

"come on guys, that's enough!" she puffed up her chest. "i think it's really nice that miu found a special someone! who are we to judge?" she gently nudges shuichi who snaps out of his thoughts, clearing his throat and nodding.

"y-yeah...I think it's great you've found someone, miu."

miu felt a little better about it although she didn't show that she appreciated the two's support, she just stands up with a grin on her face. "i'll prove to you that me and him are made for each other, like antony and cleopatra!" she whips around to kaede and shuichi. "you can both be my witnesses! let's meet at the diner after school!"

"oh I've got to see this.. I'm coming too." kokichi said with a devious smirk. maki chuckled under her breath as well.

"I don't normally do this... but i'll come too just to see you fail."

"tch... get ready to be proved fuckin' wrong..." miu had to keep her word now, should be easy enough right?

after school, kaede, shuichi, kokichi and maki all went together to the nearby diner that miu specifically told them to go to. the diner wasn't that busy at all, with the occasional tired worker coming in for a cup of coffee.

the group had been waiting 20 minutes and miu still hadn't arrived with her supposed 'boyfriend'.

kokichi groaned out loud, reeling back as he tugged on his own hair. "aaargh... can we just order now? i'm hungry!" he whined.

"no, kokichi! we need to wait for miu and y/n!" kaede scolded him for his lack of patience which only made him groan louder.

"should it be taking this long, though? I hope everything is alright..." shuichi hummed, looking out of the window for any sign of the blonde.

"maybe she was just bluffing about this boyfriend..." maki sighed. "what a waste of my time... I'm leaving." she began to stand up yet a familiar voice caused her to sit down.

"hey dumbasses!" there was miu, with her arm linked around a timid-looking young man who followed behind her like a lost puppy. this would be... you.

"feast your lucky eyes on this cutie!" miu pointed her thumb towards you and you immediately felt embarrassed, rubbing your hands together, managing to throw a gentle wave.

"H-hi... it's nice to meet some of miu's friends..." you tried to speak confidently yet your voice cracked on the first word.

"we're not friends." maki spoke up quickly, leaning her cheek into her hand as she huffed. she was hoping that she could leave quickly but now she actually had to stay.

"maki!" kaede sighed softly, turning to you and giving a friendly smile. "it's good to meet you too, y/n! i've seen you around school but we haven't officially met. I'm kaede, and this is shuichi, maki and kokichi!" kaede gestured to who the names belonged to, shuichi gives a smile of his own, maki just gives a lazy attempt of a wave whilst kokichi was... staring with a straight-face.

"tsk... why the fuck you suddenly so quiet for, cock-itchy?! cat got your dick or something?" miu suddenly got defensive, tugging your arm closer to her. kokichi kept the straight face for a moment... then suddenly smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"kokichi oma! charmed, i'm sure!" he extended his hand out to you, you were about to shake it until miu suddenly grabbed your wrist.

"don't grab it! he's got some shock toy for sure!" miu spat with venom, you quickly put your hand back to your side. kokichi sighed.

"buzz-kill!" he giggled like a little imp.

soon enough you were sitting down with miu's friends, ordering your food and just making idle chatter although you were quiet. it was true then... miu did have a boyfriend and quite the unlikely person too. admittedly, shuichi was starting to worry about you. he supported the relationship, of course but... would it really be okay? miu was loud, pushy and... overbearing, you didn't come off the type to enjoy that at least, that's what shuichi was starting to gather.

after eating, miu yawned her heart out and stretched. "welp, this golden girl is going to have a golden shit in the bathroom, don't fuckin' leave without me!"

"too much info..." maki grimaced.

"be right back, cute stuff." miu ruffled your hair as she stood up, you smiled and nodded your head with a gentle blush.

"o-okay, babe..." you watched your girlfriend make her way to the bathroom, once she was out of your sight you looked down at the table sort of in silence. you weren't exactly the type to initiate conversation.

"okay so... biiiiiiiiig question..." kokichi put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the booth. "how much did miu pay you for this?" this question caught you off guard and you looked at kokichi dumbfounded. kaede sighed, facepalming in complete disappointment.

"w... what...?"

"come ooooon... there's no way a guy like you wants a seething whore like her, right? there's gotta be a catch!"

you frowned, scratching your cheek and shaking your head. "no... I want to be with her..."

kokichi looked confused. "uh... what was that now?"

"yeah... are you serious?" maki leaned in closer against the table to look at your face as if she was searching for something. "you do realise how she is, right? she's a thorn in the backside... and loud, and cocky..." maki grumbled.

"I know..." you shifted around in your seat nervously, looking off to the side and a smile melted on your face. "but... I actually like that about her a lot... she's really confident and... she's really cute when she gets all excited about her inventions... I love listening to her talk, actually..."

"awww...." kaede smiled warmly at your words whilst clutching her chest.

you giggled. "miu is actually really sweet when you get to know her... I think she's perfect for me, actually... she's confident when I'm not... I think people judge her too much... but under the surface she's just a warm, caring person... I love her a lot and she's really beautiful, and smart..." you chuckled, shaking your head. "sorry, i'm probably gushing so much... but.. it's the truth of how I feel..."

the table was silent; kaede was still tearful at the beautiful display of love you possessed for someone like miu, shuichi was smiling a little bit and now he understood it... you two were actually perfect for eachother. maki seemed in thought but... she seemed less likely to make fun of it now. kokichi stared at you again, only to sigh a few moments after.

"well, he isn't lying... but jeez... boooooooooooring!"

"look who's fuckin' talking!" miu came back from the bathroom, glaring daggers down at kokichi. you immediately tense up with a bright red blush on your face.

"m.. miu..? did you hear that...?"

miu sits down next to you, raising an eyebrow with a confused expression. "huh? hear what? all I heard was dickhead over there being an annoyance!" she growled directly at kokichi, who stuck his tongue out. you sighed in relief, you couldn't handle the embarrassment if she knew what you were saying about her... maybe another day you can say it to her face...

miu heard everything. she heard the voices when she had left the bathroom but hid around the corner to listen. did you really mean all those things you said about her...? you thought she was beautiful and smart? of course she was! she was miu iruma! but... when it came from you... it just felt all the more special. she had to take several minutes to calm her blush before walking back, she just couldn't believe how cute you were...

she looked over to you chatting away to shuichi and she smiled softly. her hand gently took yours underneath the table, squeezing it and running her thumb over your knuckles. it was satisfying to see the tint of red on your cheeks yet you squeezed her hand back.

she was so happy that she met you, all the more happy that she could call you her boyfriend.

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-Mod Kirumi

[peachyyykid]

Deceivers Ch. 22 - Plans

word count: 3681

Chapter 21 - Hope

Chapter 23 - Travels

The general mood on the Victoria Punk was bad. 

Kid's brows were furrowed even more than usual and Flipper, Mammo and the others kept pacing around on deck. Killer, who stood next to a brooding Kid on the gallery, watched them through his mask. 

"Well", he started, but he had to admit that even he didn't know what to say.

You had left, Kid was pissed, everyone was worried. Basically, all shit at the moment.

"What the fuck did she think taking the tiniest boat out to the sea in the New World?"

"Worried much?", Killer inquired, knowing well how Kid would react.

He said nothing and just stormed off, his hair looking wilder than usual.

Flipper, Heat and Mammo came around the corner after Kid had left and situated themselves next to Killer. The latter looked at them and waited.

"We have come to a conclusion", Heat started.

"We have got to help (y/n)", Flipper added.

"I owe her my life!", Mammo exclaimed and the three nodded in unison.

"She's one of us now", Flipper said, "and we leave no man behind."

Mammo's curls bounced as he nodded in agreement.

"Women neither. Or anyone else for that matter", Heat chimed in.

Jonah came running from afar and halted next to the other three men, who were standing around Killer in a half circle with their arms crossed. 

"It's about (y/n) isn't it? I really think we should-"

Killer interrupted him.

"Guys, I know. You don't need to break a leg here to try to convince me. I feel the same. She's pleasant company and a good doctor, we need her here."

Kid needs her here first and foremost, he thought.

"But we also want her to be here", Flipper added, no room for discussion. The others nodded again.

"Of course", Killer sighed.

"I'm not even mad at her for knocking me straight out with that stupid apple", Jonah whispered, more to himself, "that was genius."

"The problem is that we have no idea where she is."

Everyone eyed their shoes. Killer was right. 

"Okay, realistically", Mammo started, then pausing for a second to think, his hands folded in front of his lips, "she's been gone for like what, not even twenty four hours?"

"She gave me the apple at like nine, half nine."

"Would mean it's been about twenty hours", Flipper concluded.

"We should talk to the navigator and ask how far you could get in that time and in which possible directions!"

"Guys", Killer interrupted their hopeful babbling, a little louder now.

"I don't want to sound too pessimistic, but the sea here is fucking brutal, and I think your positive spirit clouds your brains. You know how rough it is out here, maybe she isn't even alive anymore. She's not like us and her 'ship' isn't more than a twig to the waves here. We can't throw our logic overboard."

Realisation hit them. Of course, Killer was right. 

"We are unfortunately also bound to the restrictions of the log pose."

There was a deafening silence, apart from small waves breaking at the hull. Flipper nervously fumbled his pistol and Jonah tugged at his bottom lip.

"I know she's your friend", Killer conceded, "we'll figure something out."

He left them with heavy steps to go and find Kid, who was probably looming in his workshop. 

Killer scolded himself on the way there. He knew that he had said 'we'll figure something out', but that was such a stupid thing to say. That was a promise that could not be held under certain circumstances.

He knocked on the workshop door twice. Angry rumbling could be heard from the room.

"This better be fucking Killer", Kid spat through his teeth. 

Fiery eyes met Killer's mask when the door swung open.

"I'm coming in", the blond said, and Kid didn't obstruct.

"We don't need to help her", was he first thing the captain said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders, but Killer knew better.

"I'm speaking to my best friend and not my captain when I say this, but holy hell, shut the fuck up Kid. It's just the two of us. No need to play tough. I know you've been walking up and down this room for the last ten minutes."

Kid's brows furrowed. He was annoyed that Killer knew him too well. On the other hand, he was relieved that his first mate has granted him the opportunity to show some emotion at least. His facade faltered instantly as he sat down in his big chair in the workshop.

"It's my fault."

Killer didn't say a word. He was waiting for more because he knew there was more. Kid leaned forward and let his head drop into the palm of his hand, chin propped up so he could mindlessly stare at the wall.

"I failed her."

Pause.

"We'll figure something out."

Shit, I said it again, Killer thought.

"I physically cannot bear to lose her", Kid choked up. 

He didn't cry though, he was just angry at himself. He felt a tug in his heart when you crossed his mind, the thoughts of how you slowly warmed up to him because you just seemed to know how to treat him, when to annoy him, when to be patient with him, when to question his words, when to listen to them, how to decipher the look in his eyes and how to touch him physically and mentally. 

He couldn't possibly know that you in fact did not know how to read him like he thought you did, it was all just natural, spontaneous and whatever felt right in certain moments. He couldn't know how many times you had struggled with his behaviour and his actions, not being sure how to react.

He just liked you so much that it felt like you were the only person besides Killer who actually understood him, although that wasn't always the case. And he had toyed with the opportunity to make you stay forever by disappointing you. 

He swore to himself that he would make you his forever - no matter what lengths he had to go to - as soon as he found you. He had to find you. The slight chance that he would never see you again couldn't be accepted under any circumstance.

He remembered the day you arrived on the ship. At that time, he wanted to get rid of you as soon as possible to avoid trouble, even if it meant killing you. 

When interrogating you he found himself wanting to fuck you into submission all of a sudden because you were just so pretty tied up. You seemed so fragile and easy to manipulate, to ruin, but then he felt pity for you when he saw the hoof of the flying dragon burned into your soft skin.

To his surprise, Brone wanting to violate you had made him so unbelievably angry. That night he made an example of what would happen to his men if they even looked at you the wrong way. Was he already so obsessed with you at this point? He didn't recall, but it could have been.

It was always your eyes. Your stupid, innocent doe eyes looking up at him with not enough fear. You should have been more afraid of him, like everyone else, he thought, but there was always this little hint of trust in them that drove him mad. You even slept in the same bed, just because he told you to. So easy to manipulate, and not scared enough. 

And the look in them when he walked in on you naked in the infirmary. The timing was bad, but he felt his dick twitching slightly at the thought of seeing you so vulnerable. The image of your body had been burned into the back of his brain that day, it was so perfect, and he then decided that it was just for him to use. 

When you nearly had Mammo killed he was aggravated and on edge, but when you saved his life, he couldn't help but be absolutely impressed with your skills. It became clear to him that you were more than what he initially saw in you, and he had been slightly ashamed of making you a mere object in his head.

Then it became increasingly difficult for him to be around you, so he chose to ignore you when he was overwhelmed, which was more often than he cared to admit. That he regretted too, but it was the only option for him to not go insane, because why did a woman have such an effect on him?

He had a similar feeling when he watched you being pulled onto your stupid fiancés ship, whatever his name was. He had a bad feeling about him from the first time he laid eyes on him, he was just a greyish, squirming maggot and you were... simply above him. By far. Too pretty, too clever, too lively. Seeing you broken because of this excuse of a man had evoked something in Kid. For the first time, he had felt the need to protect you forever.

He huffed when he remembered how he called you an angel. He meant it. He killed twice for you, actually three times when you considered Brone, and he would do it again and again, because you were an angel. He would never let you kill. He swore after meeting and finally getting rid of Big Patch that something as grave as murder would never get the chance to ruin you. 

Not because he thought you were incapable. No, he had seen you sparring with Killer many days on the Victoria Punk and your medical knowledge did the rest. Because killing wasn't easy. It seemed easy to him when he did it, but it always leaves a mark and poisons one’s thoughts. Never would he allow that to happen to you. You had enough to deal with after what happened to you.

Then he remembered how he had felt dismay when he realised that he liked holding you. Just because it was new to him, and he wanted more. On the day he sent you shopping with Heat he didn't even want to suck on your neck in front of the entire crew. He smirked a little at the thought. It was just this egging feeling of possibly loosing you when you weren't under his watchful eye that made him want to show everyone that you were off limits.

And then he had claimed you - halfway at least. Just to ruin it a few days later by trying to live by his old ways when exploring an island. Visiting a whore. Your face when he finally got you back had been horrible for him. He was sure you hated him. It had pushed him to show you a more vulnerable side of him, and luckily it worked. 

Generally, you pushed so many buttons in him, challenging him. The first person he apologised to in a decade had been you.

He had made up for it by fucking you senseless. He replayed your little moans in his mind over and over again. You were so perfect, just for him. Fucking you never bored him, which was new to him. The same sensation he had when he discovered that he wanted you to stay with him after he finished. Not once, but every damn time. He was obsessed with every inch of your skin, every word you uttered from your pretty lips and every second he could spend with you. 

You had flipped another switch in him when you spoke back to him in the kitchen where he fucked you with dried blood all over him. He saw a completely new side of you, an unhinged one that was proof to him that you felt comfortable around him. He made you promise not to leave. 

Initially he was pissed off when he realised that you broke that promise. But now after thorough rethinking and reassessing the situation he found himself to be at fault entirely. 

He needed you so badly.

The pleasant memories were slowly replaced by dread. 

"I haven't seen you like this since Victoria", Killer stated, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Don't remind me. That's something else."

Victoria's murder was a sensitive topic, but their time before it happened and the feelings he (and Killer) had for her were different than the feelings he had for you.

"We were kids back then and now I...", he started, no intentions to finish the sentence.

Usually, a normal person would end the sentence with 'I know how real love feels like' or 'I am actually in love with her', but Kid wasn't the average guy. The possibility of being head over heels in love with you didn't cross his mind, he was just that oblivious to his own thoughts.

He took your wanted poster that he stored on his workshop desk and looked at the picture. The girl in it was not his (y/n), it was just a ghostly form of her. You had looked like this when you stumbled on his ship. Dull hair, empty, teary eyes with dark circles to the floor, cuts, bruises, and sunken shoulders. 

He imagined what you looked like before your world shattered. Soft, innocent, smiling from ear to ear while doing things you loved. He didn't know. But he knew how much you improved while being with his crew and... maybe him? He hoped that he played a part in you coming back to life. He watched it happen in front of his own eyes. How the sparkle returned to your eyes, which made them seem brighter when the sun hit them. How the frown slowly turned into a smile, showing your straight teeth occasionally. 

It had been fascinating to watch you interact with his men, too. How effortlessly you handled their naggings and how you were able to joke with them. At first, Kid had kept an eye on them to avoid another Brone situation, but he soon realised that the only thing they felt for you was brotherly love. 

Inexpressible anger and fury spread in his chest when he looked at what the World Nobles had done to you. Irritated, he crumpled the wanted poster into a tiny ball and tossed it into a corner. 

He leaned back in the chair and his fingers lingered on the arm rest, impatiently tapping on the cold leather. His frowning face still rested in his other hand.

"You're actually scared shitless", Killer said, his voice raised due to surprise.

"I'm never", Kid answered too promptly. 

He was. The uncertainty was driving him insane. The weird tug in his heart was back, but stronger. The unfamiliar feeling of fear mixed with anger. Anger he knew, he could calculate it, use it to his advantage, but fear was something he never experienced before. What would he be scared of anyways? He was always the strongest, his friends and his crew were always the strongest, there was no need to be afraid. 

But there was still you.

"Please help me, Killer."

He hadn't noticed that his fingers weren't lightly tapping the arm rest anymore, they were instead digging into the roughened leather and hurt from cramping. 

Killer raised his brows under his mask. Seeing Kid vulnerable was relatively new to him, and it made him nervous. 

Both the crew and their captain were too emotionally invested in the matter to see clearly and think rationally. Obviously, Killer would go to hell and back to help, but there was still the lingering fear that you were beyond saving and as of now, Killer was the only person on the ship who saw this spiralling out of control. 

"Kid..."

He didn't answer.

"You know what could happen, right?"

Kid didn't reply on purpose. Of course he knew. Best case was that you were still sailing or that you had stopped on an island, worst case was that you were dead or that the nobles caught you. 

"We shouldn't mess with the World Nobles either. As soon as they have her..."

Killer was right. Even Kid knew that facing the Dragons and expecting a good outcome was stupid and would never happen. Strawhat punched Charlos once and all hell broke loose on Sabaody. 

"We won't. But we will get her back, I owe her that."

And I need her, he added in his head.

Killer placed one of his large hands on Kid's shoulder and tapped it lightly.

"I know. We'll come up with something."

Fuck, he thought, again.

"Will you tell her about all the things that were brewing in your head just now?", Killer asked.

Unbeknownst to the masked man, Kid's eyes widened. Killer wouldn't and couldn't know what exactly went through his head, but he probably had vague ideas. 

"Stop doing that", Kid muttered instead of answering. Killer sighed.

"Come back on deck when you're done here, we need our captain."

Kid nodded and Killer left the room, closing the door behind him. 

Kid's hands wandered towards his face, and he buried it in his palms. He felt the lump in his throat first, then came an unfamiliar burning sensation behind his eyes. 

He let out a heavy-hearted sigh, followed by a sob and a single tear slipping out of his eye. He wiped it away immediately and he was glad that there weren't more tears forming. 

Like all the other new feelings he had discovered since meeting you, this was new as well. Sadness, dread, fear, and anger turned into a dangerous cocktail, brewing in his heart and the pit of his stomach. 

Before he could release the tension by hammering his fists into the wooden wall, Shiki's voice made him halt.

"Captain Kid! Quick!"

It took him only half a second to leap through the door towards the deck. 

Would they be able to decipher his wandering mind just like Killer? Probably not. There was no time to check his face for remainders of tears or anything like that.

On deck, most of the crew stood around Killer holding a piece of paper. 

Eagerly, he ripped it from his hands and his eyes started scanning the letters.

Hey you guys,

You're probably wondering how the fuck I sent you this letter. Long story short: My new friends and I threatened and blackmailed the newspaper bird. I can't wait to tell you, it was an experience. Good news is, I am safe and not alone. I have help. 

I'm so sorry for leaving. I really am! It was stupid, I didn't think it through, and I foolishly thought I could handle it alone. I was too chicken to ask for your help. I thought maybe you wouldn't want to help me. I realised too late that that's not the case at all. You guys (all of you!) are the closest thing I had to a family in months. But I will tell you all that to your faces when we see each other again, because that's what you deserve, and I don't have much time. 

They have J and my brother. And by they I mean everyone we don't like. Captain was right, something was fishy. Remember J? You should know where she lives. I will be heading there tomorrow. Might take me a day or two to get there, depending. I have a ride, but unfortunately, it's not durable enough to drop me off with you.

I don't expect you to be there for me after I drugged our night watch and the captain and fled, but I wanted to let you know that I'm safe. The sea didn't get me.

I WILL NOT do anything stupid, I promise. No confrontation and such. I just want to do everything I can to help my brother and my best friend. My new friends can't come with me, so I'm on my own.  

I miss you. Please wish me luck.

The next paragraph is just for our captain. Seriously, hand the letter to him now. I mean it. I know that F and J are still reading it at this point. Hand it over or I WILL cut of your fingers one by one with a rusty butter knife. 

Hey you,

I am sorry, from the bottom of my heart. I broke my promise. If you are willing to give me another chance at being your... doctor, I will gladly take it and not mess up. I will make up for everything, no matter how and how long it takes. You're confusing me most of the time, but right now I'm sure that I'd rather be where you are than anywhere else. 

Love,

Doc

Kid smirked at your attempt to keep Flipper and Jonah from reading the last bit, it was so cute that the letter could have only been from you. There was no hidden message, but he still was glad that you didn't use any full names or other identifying indicators.

His index finger brushed past your signature. Doc. He liked that.

He decided that you should indeed think of making up for your actions, but you probably had cleaning the toilets in mind. His idea was much better, but he would never tell you that there was no need to actually make it up to him. 

He had already forgiven you. And now, since he knew you were safe, there was no need to sit around doing nothing but drowning in self-pity and sorrows. 

"We have a goal now", Kid bellowed, and his crew joined in with cheers.

"Theres only one problem...", Mammo sighed, quickly silencing the men around him.

"Oh, come on!", Flipper exclaimed.

"Well, the island where Jeany lives is already far behind us. There's no way to get back there! We would need to go through the calm belt to make it, and you know damn well that that would be our end. Our ship won't make it."

Before the general mood on the Victoria Punk could plummet again, the navigator chimed in, holding binoculars in front of his eyes.

"Ours won't, but theirs will."

He pointed towards the open sea, and they all squinted their eyes to see better.

Very far away, at the horizon, they could make out a ship. The white sails with the blue bird logo were prominent against the setting sun and Kid started laughing lowly.

"What a fucking coincidence", he sneered.

It was a coincidence. The marines weren't looking for anything special, just patrolling the New World. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

[the-bar-sinister]

Chains of the Dragon (52775 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth

catch up here

-

October 4, 2028– 10:45 am 

Trucy had been poring over the translated legal tomes for so many hours she felt like her eyes were about to cross. Even considering the judge– who was very nice– had come in to tutor her for a little while before. But he had gone to take care of legal matters even with the court closed for the day, and for now, Trucy was alone in the quiet little room with only her thoughts.

It wasn’t like she was a complete novice…she had cases upon cases under her belt by Apollo and her father’s side…she’d read his old law books when her tomes on magic and showmanship ran dry…

But this was a whole new country’s whole new legal structure.

It felt like she was trying to cram a whole year’s worth of school into her head at once. 

Am I really going to be able to do this? She wondered, flipping to the next page. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to pep talk herself.

Apollo seemed about ready to flip his lid when we brought it up…he studied for years to pass the bar back home, right? She sighed and forced herself to read the dry text on the next page. But if he could do it…if Daddy could do it, why can’t I? It’s not like I’m going to be trying any murder cases.

Yeah. Yeah it's basically just going to be paperwork. I'll be fine. I'm a genius at magic, I can pick this up easy.

Easy… She sat back and took her hat off, rubbing her forehead. She could feel the tension gathering there. She was going to get a headache if she kept studying much longer.

Daddy was an art student, wasn’t he? And he’s famous now…She took a deep breath, and dropped her head into her hands to massage her temples I wish I could pull some aspirin out of my magic panties right about now, though. 

As she worked at tense muscles around her eyes, she heard a soft gasp from near the door “oh!”

Trucy turned at the little noise, grateful for any distraction. "Hello?"

A girl, only a handful of years younger than her, stood in the door…one Trucy realized after a moment she recognized from the trial months ago.

Rayfa, the princess that did the dance of devotion. She looked like she’d been crying, dark circles set under her deep green eyes.

“Hello…I was no’t aware anyone was using this room at the moment.” 

"Oh, well, don't worry, I'm not really here at all!" Trucy put her finger to her lips. "So if you're looking to pull a vanishing act you don't have to worry. C'mon, close the door."

The girl gave her a dubious look as she sidled in and shut the door with a quickness that spoke to just how well Trucy hit the nail on the head.

She was trying to vanish.

“You’re not really here, yet I see a number of legal texts opening themselves. How curious.” She sniffed softly and crossed her arms under her chest with the muffled ringing of the bells around her wrists.

"It's a magic trick," Trucy said with a wide smile. "I think if someone were in this room, they'd be a magician, you see. In addition to the princess who isn't here either, right?"

Rayfa’s smile started small, before it grew into a wide grin as she nodded her head once. 

“I think it’s rather like that indeed! A magic trick and a spirit.” She looked from side to side before she settled herself down at the table, staring at Trucy with wide and curious eyes. “You’re a magician? I’ve never seen one up close…” 

"Look as close as you want. It won't spoil the trick," Trucy said proudly. It was nice to see the girl smile a little, when it was so clear she'd been crying.

Trucy pulled off her hat and reached into it, in the exaggerated way that seemed to make her whole arm disappear, before she pulled out– Rayfa's little tiara! And presented it to her with a flourish.

Rayfa’s eyes widened further, and her hand snapped up to her hair, and then down to Trucy’s hands

“How?? You..I…” she scooped the Tiara up and turned it over in her hands. “I didn’t even feel you take it!” 

She popped her hat back up on her head and put her hands up apologetically. "A magician never reveals her secrets, your highness! It spoils the fun a bit. But I promise I only use my powers for good."

Rayfa , despite her clear surprise…actually looked really delighted as she re-settled the tiara on her head with a grin. She still looked curious, however, seeming to look Trucy over for any sort of sign to the trick

“Only for good, hm? Good! I wouldn’t tolerate any evil magicians in my court…oh! I haven’t introduced myself! You just seemed a little familiar and it slipped my mind!” She bowed her head “I am Rayfa Padma Khura’in, heir apparent to the Kingdom of Khura’in. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Trucy performed a flourishing magician's bow in return. "The pleasure's mine, Princess. I'm–"

Somehow she stumbled over her introduction. Trucy Gramarye, legendary magician? Trucy Wright, rookie lawyer? 

She’d always been ‘Trucy Gramarye, Legendary Magician’. Even with her daddy’s last name, that’s what everyone knew. Trucy in Gramaryeland. Trucy, holder of Magnifi’s inheritance. ‘Legendary magician’ was who she was…right? But when she tried to get it out, her eyes flicked down to the legal texts below her and memories came flooding back to stop her. Her uncle…her father…her grandfather and her mother. The history of secrets, lies and inheritance that left too many bodies in its wake. The fact that she’d only ever been what she was raised to be, from holding bombastic shows to handing forged evidence to her own brother in court. 

"Trucy Wright," she said, after a heartbeat's pause, and the age of the universe.

Rayfa said slowly as she curled her finger rather cutely under her chin, her head tilted to the side

“Trucy…” “w…w…w..” She pointed suddenly “WRIGHT!!! LIKE BARBED HEAD!!” 

Trucy jumped, holding her hands up. "Barbed head? Oh! That's my daddy!"

���Daddy!?” she squeaked “oh…oh my…”She looked down at the legal texts before her “...so you’re one of the dev—--defense attorneys too? Like he is?” 

She sounded… excited, maybe. And Trucy Wright couldn't resist.

"That's right! I'm studying up on your laws to help with Polly– Apollo's case load!" she declared it boldly. Naturally.

“Wow…” Rayfa’s fingers covered her lips, splayed so they still showed her smiling lips. “Horn head– Apollo, he really needs the help.”

She did sound excited; even more so when Trucy confirmed. Despite her near slip of calling them devils, she seemed to have quite the respect for her daddy, and even for the profession since Trucy had seen her last from afar “are you finding our laws difficult to acclimatize to? Perhaps I can help? Mother says I’m not…that…well.”

She puffed her cheeks “I can help.” 

"If you'd like to help, I'd love some help," she nodded. "There's a lot of local terms I'm not too familiar with…"

Mother says she's not… what? Trucy wondered.

Rayfa hopped up, and scampered rather unprincess-like over to her side of the table to plop herself down where she could look over Trucy’s shoulder.

“Well if it is local terms…I know most of them!” she declared proudly “..an…and I wish to help. You’re Barbed Head’s daughter…a lawyer and a good magician. It’s my royal duty to help.”

Even so, Trucy could see the nervous way she glanced at the door when she spoke. 

"I won't say no to royal duty," Trucy said. She tried not to think about how exciting being seen as a lawyer was. It suddenly reminded her of all her old excitement at being a magician. "But maybe you could help me out as a friend, too?"

She gave the princess a timid but hopeful look.

Rayfa looked up at her with a surprised expression, her fingers over her o-shaped gasp. 

“A friend, Miss Wright?” She ducked her head almost shyly “I do not have many of those. I’ll do my best.” 

"I've got a good feeling about you, miss princess!" Trucy smiled. "Now let's see…"

Rayfa, she seems like she could use a friend as much as I could… she turned the page of the text with a smile that felt more genuinely excited than she’d felt for ages.

Attorney Trucy Wright…learning the ways of Khura’inese law to save the lives of people trapped by an unjust system…she couldn’t deny the feeling welling up inside her. Joy.

But that…and all the complicated little feelings that came along with it…would need to be unpacked later.

October 4, 2028– 10:50 am 

After a couple of hours of paperwork, touring the courtroom, and interviewing with Nahyuta over prosecutorial duties, Klavier brushed his hair out of his face and smiled a dazzling smile at him.

"So, do I have the job?" he asked teasingly, lounging against the frame of the high judge's podium in the empty room.

Nahyuta looked down at the stack of finished paperwork in his hand with a subtle smile and an almost teasing amount of amusement. 

“Let's see…your qualifications are impressive, Klavier. Though you’re a little theatrical for the Khura’in courtroom.” He glanced up at his smile with an amused huff of breath “perhaps it’s the winning smile that tips the balance. You’re hired. Welcome to the court of Khura’in– your honorary prayer beads will be waiting for you in the prosecutorial office.” 

"Perks of the job, ja?" he chuckled, "I won't say no. Thank you for the opportunity, prosecutor Sadmadhi."

“Perks of the job.” Nahyuta placed the papers down by the judge’s desk and looked Klavier over with a smile. “Of course…honestly, I should be thanking you. You came flying in when Apollo…and I…really were really in a bind.” 

"Well, every now and then I'm a useful man to have around," he offered with a smile. He liked it when it was the case, really. He wanted to make some kind of difference here– to make up for the time he'd let pass when he shouldn't have.

Nahyuta paced forward, his arms folding delicately behind his back as he continued in a loose half circle to stand face to face, a little closer to the other man.

“I’ll be hoping to keep you around then, for at least a little while. I know Khura’in is quite different from LA…you must feel a little out of your element.” 

"I have been all the way around the world on tour mein freund, and I know a thing or two about being a fish out of water. But I'll admit, that I am a stranger in your strange land. I commit myself to your hands for guidance." he smiled, leaning a little closer to Nahyuta. He knew a flirtation when he saw one.

The prosecutor prince smiled thinly. “Poor thing,” he mused playfully “I could treat you to a personal tour– as thanks for your kindness in prosecuting for the crown. I could buy you a magatah'man.”

"Oh? Those pretty things I've seen you all wearing?" Klavier slipped his fingers under Nahyuta's necklace playfully in return.

Nahyuta chuckled “actually it’s a bun. A pastry…but I would be delighted to buy you a magatama as well.”

He leaned a little forward, the stone was smooth as it shifted against Klavier’s fingers. 

“They’re good for centering the spirit, of course…but I also think it’d look quite nice on you, Klavier Gavin. I haven’t been able to convince Apollo to wear one yet, much to my chagrin.”

Klavier frowned, for a moment– trying to listen to the difference between words– and then he laughed.

"Ah, whoops. They sound so close I misunderstood," he chuckled, pushing back his hair. He tried not to be embarrassed by the mistake. "I have a weakness for jewelry I'll admit– but I have a more secret weakness for pastry as well."

Nahyuta laughed musically. 

“admittedly, my friend…the pastry is named after the magatama. They shape it to look like it, and named it after it in turn…easy mistake to make, really.” He offered his arm “allow me then. I’ll indulge your weakness for jewelry and pastry. Out of the kindness of my heart.” 

Klavier slipped his arm in to link with Nahyuta's and smiled.

"It seems like you have a kind heart as well as a beautiful face, mein prinz. A powerful and rare combination indeed."

Nahyuta led him back out into the beautiful hall of justice within the great Temple, making his way past old murals of the Holy Mother and her sister in various tableaus of Khura’in’s distant past.

He seemed to flush, just a little as he ducked his head with a laugh. “You flatter me. Not too long ago, few would have believed my heart held any kindness at all.” 

"Ema has said a little about your reputation," Klavier said, walking closely with him. The murals were beautiful, and eye catching. but a little unsettling all the same. "But only a little. Were you really so cold?"

The faceless woman looming above the people, arms outstretched as dramas played out beneath her…her sister with the dagger in hand mid leap in another mural.

They framed Nahyuta as he passed them, glancing over at him with a small smile.

“People could read my determination to do whatever I needed to as a kind of coldness. I had to be cold…or the blood Ga’ran demanded spilled on my hands would have destroyed me.”

Once more, the image of Lana Skye was brought to mind. Ema’s stories of her sister sacrificing everything down to her emotions to do what ‘had to be done’. 

"It seems you've had much weight put on your shoulders, for quite some time, mein prinz," Klavier said. "It made you strong– but hard, too."

Nahyuta’s arm tightened around his as he nodded. 

“and so very few saw any measure of kindness in me. Ema did, though I know she had her reasons.” He glanced sidelong at Klavier “it made me into something I didn’t like. Strong, a bulwark for Rayfa…but cold as a sheet of ice. It’s my hope that perhaps now I can change it. Hearing someone dear to Apollo notice that I’m trying helps.”

"I hope for your sake it can change too," Klavier nodded. "I can imagine what Ema sees in you, Nahyuta. Tell me, does she ever talk about her sister?"

Nahyuta lead him down the long hall, past a chamber where music drifted from the closed doors, and out into the bright sunlight and crisp, slightly thin air.

“Sometimes,” he mused “but not nearly as much as I’d hope. She’s murmured here and there about her, and her circumstances. I heard enough to know the woman was incarcerated for a crime that stemmed from a need to protect Ema.”

"Ja, that's right." he leaned closer to him, his fingers brushing Nahyuta's as they walked arm in arm. "She made herself cold for her sister's sake too. So I think Ema sees some of her affection for her sister in you, ja?"

Nahyuta’s fingers brushed his, slowly winding their way into a loose grip as he smiled up at the sky. His narrow shoulder brushed against Klavier’s as he stepped closer.

“I suppose she must,” he chuckled, “how funny. I suppose I must have gotten lucky! I’d ask if I reminded Apollo of anyone, but…well. We have history.”

He glanced at Klavier “maybe I’ll continue to get lucky, however. Should the Holy Mother will it.” 

Klavier chuckled. "Ja, mein prinz, perhaps you will. Do you know the alternate meaning of that phrase in english, or do I have the opportunity to tease you?"

He batted his eyelashes coyly at the other man. In fact there was someone he suspected Apollo reminded him of. And he reminded Klavier of him too. But he put it out of his mind.

Nahyuta held his free hand towards him with a wry smirk. “Enlighten me, Klavier. I am ever interested in new knowledge. Tease away.” 

Klavier smiled and put his finger to his lips. "Ah well you see 'get lucky' colloquially means to have sex with someone."

Nahyuta’s dark cheeks turned a touch red as he cleared his throat. His pace quickened…maybe just to put a little more space between the raunchy Klavier and the holy Temple, center of faith for those who practiced Khura’inism.

Or maybe he was just really excited to buy Klavier that bun he’d promised.

“I can understand where it sprung from.” he said after a moment, a wry smile gracing his face. “Tell me. Were you hoping to be graced by luck…so to speak?” 

"Mein prinz, I am a man who rarely turns down a stroke of good fortune." Klavier walked quickly with him, happy enough to be out of the holy temple as well. He was no vampire… but just the same. "Besides, you come highly recommended– so to speak."

“My, my.” Nahyuta mused as the breeze blew the strands of his hair against his cheek “is that so?”

His fingers brushed against the back of his hand, fingertips trailing his perfect nails against the skin just under his knuckles.

“I’d ask who’d be improper enough to gossip, but I know the answer well as you do.” he closed his eyes “the impropriety is part of the charm.”

Just ahead, a rather tasty, sweet smell was wafting through the air from a bustling market area. 

"Oh I'm glad you see the appeal, mein prinz," Klavier chuckled. "I've been told I'm very improper. Overly bold even."

He wondered just how much he could get away with…

Nahyuta tugged him through the crowd of people, weaving between them until he oriented on a stall.

Even as he walked, he gave a sly glance back at Klavier. For a reserved monk…there was something almost playfully coy in his glance.

“Overly bold, hm? I’ll be sure to prepare myself in the case I have to slap your hand a few times.” 

"A slap on the wrist hmm? Well, I'm a man who knows how to take my punishment. Don't do the crime if you can't do the time I always say."

Klavier tested his luck, pulling Nahyuta sharply toward him– into the edge of an alleyway– so that their faces were close together.

He was reward by an overt flush on the man’s face and an absolutely delightful look of surprise as his chest bumped against Klavier’s “Oh!!”

"Do you have those slapping fingers ready, mein prinz? You may need them." 

Boldly, he pinned Nahyuta against the wall below him, and leaned in to steal a kiss.

The prosecutor’s lips were soft, and tacky with what must have been a subtle touch of lipstick, and his breath came warm and surprised on his lips as he pressed back against the wall…and against him.

His hand reached out, touching Klavier’s stomach…but they didn’t slap just yet. Instead, his lips parted slightly for Klavier. 

Klavier scooped his arms around Nahyuta's shoulders, encouraged by the lack of a rejection. he pressed his luck, and his tongue into the other prosecutor's mouth. 

So this was the mouth that had been kissing Ema. Had been kissing Apollo. It was sweet, and soft, and tasted good on his mouth. He kissed him eagerly.

What a beautiful man– and softer than he'd give himself credit for.

He felt Nahyuta’s fingers curl around his necklace, pulling it taut against the back of his neck as he leaned in suddenly to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushed against his, tasting of the tea he’d had brewing through the paperwork session…sweet and fragrant…

He was downright eager under the buttoned up uniform. 

Klavier wasn't quite satisfied just to kiss him– he trailed his hands down over his chest and to his hips, searching the hems of his clothing in an obvious manner. He let his lips linger on Nahyuta's as he slowly let him go.

Klavier gave him a teasing, coy look under his long eyelashes.

Nahyuta was flushed, his long lashed eyes heavily lidded and staring right into his as he caught his breath in heavy ,controlled breaths.

His fingers tightened around Klavier’s necklace as he gave it a tug. 

“Clever opening move, Klavier,” he murmured. “..bold. Decisive.” His other hand trailed against his side “you seem to have designs beyond the sort of kiss a slap on the wrist could forgive.” 

"I'm not unfamiliar with the occasional slap across the face either, mein engel," he purred. It was true– every now and again. Not always for being too bold. Sometimes because he'd invited it.

Nahyuta’s slender hand raised from his side…and there was a sudden slap, teasing and light for the moment, against his cheek as Nahyuta’s wry and subtle smile grew.

“For shame. Working your hands under the shirt of a monk in broad daylight. Would a few slaps straighten you out? Or dare I suggest drastic measures?” 

"Drastic measures?" Klavier grinned. "A good whipping, perhaps? A night in the dungeon, ja?"

Nahyuta’s lidded eyes watched him with a trace of amusement…and perhaps something else. “I have a number of ways to elicit penance. I’ll consider that an admission, then.” 

"Ja, consider it my confession," he teased. That was, unfortunately, when Klavier's cell phone started to ring. He cursed the interruption to his flirtation as he fumbled to answer it. "Who– Ema?"

“Hmm?” Nahyuta leaned over to look with a raise of his eyebrow. “I wonder if she’s found a lead…” 

Klavier answered the phone, putting it on speaker. "Ja, fraulein?"

“You’re not gonna believe this, Klavier! It’s a fucking shitshow!” Ema’s voice was tense, loud and marked with the telltale sharpness of barely restrained anger. In the back, shouts and screams played as accompaniment to her as she continued.

They could almost hear them in echo on their end.

“There’s a fight. A full on fistfight in the middle of the market…by the old entrance to the Defiant Dragons base, the …gah, okay, you know where the big goddamn bird was while we were walking? There. Multiple parties….Apollo’s gotten involved too. Just threw himself right into it when communication broke down.” 

Klavier grimaced as panic shot through his system. "Ja, fraulein, we'll be right there! Not to worry!"

Without a second thought– and without hanging up– he shoved the phone in his pocket and grabbed Nahyuta's wrist.

Nahyuta’s eyes flashed with something dark as he began to run. Out of the alleyway they burst , and in only a moment Nahyuta was the one tugging him through the crowded street.

“Dammit, a fight in the market? It couldn’t be–Apollo, we have to help him.” 

"On it, mein prinz!" Klavier agreed, heart beating in his chest as they pushed their way through the maket. The sounds of the crowd getting louder– and more urgent.

If Klavier had been paying attention– if he hadn't have been screwing around– they might have been there when the fight started. Hell, they might have kept it from happening. Kept Apollo out of it.

Hopefully they wouldn't be too late.

Nahyuta’s muscles were tensed…he could feel it even through his wrist, and the man’s eyes were narrowed dangerously as he waved between members of the crowd before they noticed and began to part with whispers of ‘the Lord Regent’ and ‘Prosecutor’

The scene opened before them, a flurry of bodies slamming together and punches thrown in the dust of the market street. 

Klavier barely waited to catch a glimpse of Apollo before he waded into the brawl himself. It was chaos. At least 10 people were already involved not including bystanders, and the shouting had devolved to a point that Klavier had no idea what was going on.

Frankly, he didn't care.

He threw himself in front of a blow meant for Apollo, who yelled out his name as he saw him.

“Dammit, Klavier!” Ema Skye called out as she lowered her phone. Nahyuta passed her, patting her on the shoulder with a serious frown.

“Let him get Apollo out…I’ll put a stop to this madness.”

For Klavier, the voice soon faded into the chaos of the brawl, as a man’s fist nearly collided with his face, and a set of nails swiped for his arm. 

Klavier was by no means an experienced brawler– but he'd been in enough fights and mosh pits in his time. He grabbed for the man's wrists and tried to grapple him, acting purely on instinct and rage on Apollo's behalf.

He came face to face with a dark haired man with a sharp grimace of fury on his face, a distinctive smattering of sun-bourne freckles across his cheeks that Klavier soon got an up close and personal view of as he attempted to headbutt him at the same time

Klavier reeled at the sick crack and sharp pain in his own nose, but it elicited an angry snarl from him rather than a yell of pain. From somewhere inside of him there was a reserve of ferocity as he struggled with the man, slamming him backwards in return into a stall with a great heave.

He turned to see if Apollo was alright.

Apollo stood, eyes wide, and yelled, "Behind you!"

Klavier started to turn, but Apollo grabbed him and pulled him out of the way as an iron bar passed through the air where his head had been only a moment before.t

It was as the pipe swung that he heard Nahyuta’s voice again. 

“Cease this, in the name of the Holy Mother and the Kingdom of Khura’in!” It boomed loud and commanding over the ensemble as he stepped into view at the edge of the crowd. “....You will all be allowed the chance to air your grievances in the appropriate forum. The guards have been called, and I ask you all again to stand down!” 

Klavier didn't know what pacified the crowd– the threat of the guard, the command in the regent's voice, or something else. But he did know that the shouting, brawling mob came to a standstill for a moment.

And then some of them grabbed one another and started to run off.

Nahyuta ran in…but instead of giving chase he bent down to Klavier and Apollo with his hands outstretched “damn it all…”

He looked up “Miss Skye!”

Ema saluted before she took off running after the fleeing individuals, already writing something in her notepad…possibly identifying markings. 

Klavier was panting– and he was suddenly aware of the sensation of wetness on his face. He let Ema give chase as he touched the spot over his mouth.

"Klavier– you're bleeding." Apollo stared at him, and at the same time, he saw that it was true. Blood came away staining his fingers.

"Oh. Oops." He smiled dizzily. "Guess you won't want to kiss me until I clean up, ja?"

Apollo grabbed his shoulders. "You idiot!"

He kissed Klavier anyway. It didn't do anything to help how dizzy Klavier was feeling– but it was nice. Their first kiss in months, even.

October 4, 2028– 11:40 am 

Ema came back to the spot where the brawl had happened, with a notebook full of details– as full as she could make it– on the fleeing suspects.It was still difficult to believe it had happened. They'd run into a few dragons at the market, and Apollo had asked if they knew anything about the graffiti. 

Before they knew it one of them had tried to clock her in the damned face. It was only a few words exchanged, and the man’s growing anger in his voice as she leaned in to ask if he knew anything about who might have bought the paint at the shop they’d zeroed in on.

It was a simple question, and a simple answer… though one told in violence rather than words. It was only her surprise in darting back that saved her from being struck down, and Apollo’s sudden and furious interference when they made it clear they weren’t happy with either of them. 

The knot of dragons had split into those defending them, and those clearly incensed. When Ema returned to the scene, she saw Nahyuta, Apollo, and a bloody faced Klavier talking to one of the Dragons who'd remained.

Ema leaned against a post holding up an awning, taking a number of deep and shaky breaths. When she noticed the blood on Klavier’s face, she was struck.

“Dammit!” She stomped forward , ripping her handkerchief out of her pocket and grabbing his shoulder. “Klavier…is it fucking broken?” 

"No idea, fraulein," he said with typical good humor. "I've never broken my nose before, ja?"

Apollo turned to Ema, rubbing his face. She could see bruises already forming. "I can't tell if he broke it or if it's just messed up. There's not that much blood is there? Are YOU okay?"

Apollo had a little blood on his face too, but Ema could tell it wasn't his.

Ema began wiping under Klavier's nose with her handkerchief, cursing under her breath

“dammit… She looked at Apollo with a mix of deep, affectionate respect and quiet fury…but most assuredly not at him, as she watched the bruises form. “I’m fine…they never touched me thanks to you. I managed to get a pretty decent view of ‘em too.” 

"That's good at least. That you're alright, for sure," Apollo nodded. "I didn't– I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start a fight just by talking."

Klavier let Ema have her way with his nose obediently standing there while she inspected him. "Herr forehead, what do you mean? I can't imagine this was your fault."

“I’m the one that started asking them about the graffiti.” Ema countered with a sharp sigh. “...Apollo, this isn’t your fault.”

She brushed the cloth under Klavier’s nose before she grabbed it lightly to feel for a break. 

"Oogh…" Klavier winced as she touched his nose. It didn't feel broken at least, but it was going to be sore for a while.

"Well– it's not your fault either then, alright, Ema?" Apollo insisted. "I just… I wish I could say I can't believe it happened, but I guess Datz already warned us."

“He did…” Nahyuta frowned. “Now I suppose we have solid proof of the schism appearing before us. With Dhurke gone…there’s a contingent of the dragons who are tired of letting the monarchy continue its reign and are willing to use methods he’d never approve of.” 

The dragon who'd been talking with Nahyuta gave a salute. He was a rough, young looking man with a dense beard and fierce eyes, under one of which was a pale scar. "It's hard to believe it's happening. But Hatir's got half the dragons spewing this communist propaganda, your highness."

“Communist propaganda, huh?” Ema murmured. “so that’s what it’s about…”

Her brow furrowed. It was a growing political struggle…one where some of the people wanted to rise against the monarchy and take power for themselves.

Part of her couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t like she was a monarchist, typically, and Ga’ran’s regime had utterly destroyed the country’s infrastructure, legal system…hope.

Why wouldn’t they be wary of it?

But part of her couldn’t forgive the growing violence– not against people she cared about. Part of her wanted desperately to miraculously convince Rayfa and Nahyuta to abdicate…to run, just like she’d talked about with Klavier. 

"Communist," Apollo frowned. "Well. Great. Well, can you tell us who's involved?"

"Aside from those you saw?" Hatir shrugged and spread his arms. "I think I can give you some names. I hate to turn against my brothers, but it was they who cast the first stone."

“Yeah…” Ema pinched the bridge of her nose “thanks. If nothing else we’re gonna have to interrogate them.”

“Hatir’s the one, then?” Nahyuta spoke up from over her shoulder. 

The dragon nodded. "That's him. I heard a rumor he's been calling meetings in secret, but I was never invited to any of them."

"And you are?" Klavier asked, around the handkerchief over his nose.

"Radik," the fierce eyed nodded. "Radik Al Yenceh. The prince regent knows me– I believe our brave friend here may as well."

He gestured to Apollo who smiled abashedly.

"Your dad was in the Dragons when I was here as a kid, I think?" he offered. "Ah… I''m sorry, I don't remember his name."

"Fers. Fers Al Yenceh," Radik said. 

Apollo snapped his fingers. "That's right. Fers. He was one of Dhurke's oldest supporters. A famous defense attorney from before the DC act."

“Ah yes…” Nahyuta nodded with a smile “I remember your father well, Radik…and you of course. Thank you very much, old friend. This information should prove helpful.”

Ema watched with her hand still on her face, leaning against Klavier with a pensive frown.

He put his arm around her and whispered into her ear. "We are really in the political shit, aren't we, liebchen?"

Ema nodded against him with a shaky smile. “Yeah I’d say” she whispered back. “way deeper than I ever wanted to tread, I’ll be honest.” 

"Any clever ideas, fraulein?"

Ema watched him as his gaze followed Apollo who was talking with Nahyuta and Radik.

“Aside from just pack up and drag them outta here while we ask someone with a little more experience in international goddamn politics to sort this shit out?” she watched Nahyuta herself, her brow creasing with worry.

She knew how badly the title of Regent weighed on him. It showed in the subtle slump of his shoulders and the forced tranquility. 

"We might be in luck there," he murmured back. "I think I may have softened herr prinz up a little."

“You did, huh?” She turned against him, looping an arm around his waist as she whispered excitedly. “You’re kidding…how?” 

"Just talking. Well, and then some making out. But that came later. I think he wants to be convinced. But we shouldn't talk about it here."

Ema flushed brightly, and coughed as he mentioned making out. 

“I think so too. Let’s…let’s talk in private.” She glanced back as she saw Nahyuta give a warm smile and pat the dragons on the shoulder with another thanks. 

[your-local-squip-fanatic]

i really wanna infodump my ideas and plans the entire lesterverse but im scared to spoil things

i also really want to share more of such on son of the priest but now it's pretty much all possible spoiler material

so instead i will drop this and leave you to it hehe, and excuse the backgrounds it is NOT my strong suit

oh ykw, also...

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

You paced anxiously around Lester, who kept walking past you, ignoring your worried state. "Lester, you need to tell me what's going on!" You exclaim. "You keep disappearing, you don't want to talk, it's like you're avoiding me!"

Lester hurried his pace. "Because I am, genius."

"I just want to help you." You started to feel irritated at your friend. "Just give me-"

Lester whirled around to give you an irksome glare. His strange golden eye seemed to even glow. "Help." The word was like poison coming from him. "After what I've been through, after what I've done, you seriously want to help? Why?"

"Because, Leander, I'm your friend," You say. "I want to help you, but I need to know what's happened."

Lester went still at the mention of his real name. It usually didn't bother him to hear it, but today seemed to be a bad day.

He looked around. "You... really want to know?"

"Of cours-"

THWACK. It all happened so quick, but you could register Lester hitting you... you fell... then what? Everything blacked out too fast for details.

When you came to, you weren't on the street late at night. You were... wait, wasn't this his apartment? You were asleep on the couch.

"Get up." Lester's voice came from nearby. He looked tired, but anxious.

"Why the heck did you hit me?" You asked him.

"I don't trust anyone anymore." He walked closer to you, that gold eye piercing into your soul. "But you... I've decided you can join the inner circle."

You blinked in confusion. "The what...?"

"The few people that know what's up with me." Lester sat down next to you on the couch. You felt a melancholic aura coming from him...one laced with malice.

"My story is not for the faint of heart. It is not what you think it is. And it only gets worse as you go. I'm not always the hero."

Lester took a deep breath, bracing himself for his next words.

"I didn't want you dragged into his, but if you insist... let's start at the beginning."

[ru-fiction]

Playground Rivals: Ken x Fem Reader

Chapter 5

"Barbie, Raquelle and I will take them somewhere. Okay?"

Barbie nods as Y/n motions to the boys.

"This way you can think, they have something to do, and we don't have to listen to anyone whining."

Y/n looks at each of them sternly before smiling.

"Though, I say that with love."

Everyone nods along before Y/n motions for them to follow her, leaving Barbie on the bench by herself. Ken keeps looking behind him at her, seeing how far he can go but stops when Y/n turns his face to look forward.

"Don't go far."

"Okay!"

The dolls round the corner. Y/n sighs and looks at her sister, who was already looking at her.

"We aren't gonna listen are we?"

"Nope."

Y/n sighs again as Raquelle starts to lead the boys farther and farther away.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

"Why are we back at the beach?"

Raquelle looks around the beach with a confused look on her face. All the other dolls look at each other and shrug as if to say "What's she doing?"

Y/n watches her sister's face light up, she follows her eyes to see what had her attention. It was the guy from earlier. She looked at the other boys only to find Ken smirking back at her and Ryan looking completely lost.

The dolls watch Raquelle walk up to the guy and talk to him. After a while the two walk back towards the others before Raquelle motions for everyone to follow her.

"What's this?"

Raquelle walks past her twin; the guy nervously follows after her eyeing Ryan as he goes. Ryan glares at the boy's back walking after them.

"Raquelle! Who is this guy?!"

Y/n shakes her head at the scene. Ken reaches for her hand while watching the others, Y/n smiles when she notices and she intertwines her hand with Ken's and pulls him along.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Barbie exhales trying to get her thoughts going.

She opens her eyes and starts to look around hoping to find something that could help her find this girl.

She watched a bunch of cars drive past and seen a lot of people walking by but saw nothing that could help her.

She stands up and walks around in a circle before sitting down again.

She really needed this to work, she closed her eyes again and started to think of a memory.

-

"You look stressed Barbie."

Barbie turned around to find her friend walking to her with a tray of cookies in hand. Barbie scratches her cheek before looking back at the riddle one of the other Barbies gave her.

"Hehe yeah, um Barbie gave me a riddle. It's supposed to lead to a surprise the Barbies are planning but I have to find all the clues to find the real location."

"Oh that sounds fun."

Barbie shrugged, she wasn't much of a puzzle person. Y/n smiles at Barbie and offers her a cookie.

"Do you think I could help?"

Barbie smiles at the doll.

"Sure."

Y/n took the riddle from Barbie excited to help out. Every now and then Ryan would give her tiny hints whenever he stole her stuff and hid it somewhere.

"What five letter word can be read the same way upside down?"

Barbie taps her chin in deep thought and Y/n looks around not really looking for anything particular it was a small habit, she smiled when the answer came to her.

"Is this the first one?"

"The third."

"Well the next clue is at the beach."

Barbie looks thoughtful about her answer.

"Swims?"

Y/n nods her head at the blonde beside her, Barbie's eyes lit up and she pulled the girl into a hug.

"You're a genius. Come on."

Barbie then pulls the doll into the direction of her car so that they could head to the beach.

-

Barbie smiled at the memory, maybe that was the key to finding the girl.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

"Hey Blaine. How's it going?"

Blaine was the guy that Raquelle was hanging out with. He had learned that the others had never seen a movie with moving pictures before; it totally confused him about what they meant by that; he decided to bring them to his favorite movie theater.

"I'm doing pretty good."

The girl smiled at him and then sent Raquelle a friendly smile which kinda threw her off.

"Who's this?"

"I'm Raquelle."

Blaine smiles at Raquelle before handing some money over to the cashier. He had used to work there before and visited there a lot so he knew how much things were.

He had agreed to get everyone drinks and food but the movies are expensive so he told the others that they would have to find a way in.

"I got an idea."

Y/n shook her head, she already knew what he was going to do but Ken looked at Ryan in wonder.

Ryan put on his best smoldering look and walked up to the girl as Blaine and Raquelle waited for the food.

"Hey."

The girl looked unimpressed and just looked down at her computer system.

"What movie are you trying to see?"

"The same one as them."

Ryan points to the other two who were now getting food handed to them.

"Tickets for three please."

The girl types in her system before looking up.

"That'll be $40.56 please."

Ryan frowns.

"I don't have any money."

"That's too bad. Next person please."

Ryan gave her a desperate look.

"C'mon please, isn't there anything I could do to get me and my friends in there."

The girl shook her head, an apologetic look filled her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"Please."

Y/n sighed as everyone started to look in the direction of her brother, she quickly walked up to him and pulled him away from the register.

She looked around, trying to think of something when her eyes landed on a poster with Ken's face on it? No, not Ken. A Ryan Gosling?

She motioned for Ken to come to her and he does so. She takes his face in her hands and moves her eyes back and forth between him and the guy on the poster.

She waits for the other people in line to finish grabbing their tickets and pulls of Ken's hat then ruffles his hair.

The girl at the countertop eyes lit up when she saw him.

"Oh my... I'm a big fan of yours."

Ken just smiles not knowing what to say.

"Hi. We're friends of Ryan. We had talked to your manager not too long ago and he said it was okay for us to go in."

Clearly starstrucked the girl just nods along, letting the trio through without checking. They meet up with Raquelle and Blaine and make their way to their seats.

Y/n places Ken's hat back on his head then kisses his cheek. She was happy her plan worked but she did feel bad about lying to that girl.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

"Raquelle, I wanna show you something. It's a place really special to me."

Raquelle smiles at Blaine, intertwining their fingers.

"Okay."

Ryan quickly breaks their hands apart and puts his arms around both people, receiving a glare from his twin.

"Nope, I'm coming too."

"Really, Ryan."

Ryan sends the brunette a cocky grin.

"Yep."

"What about Y/n and Ken?"

Usually Raquelle would do anything for her little sibling to get alone time with Ken but she really wanted to be alone with Blaine right now.

Ryan turns to look in the direction of his other sister and then back to Raquelle and then back to her. He was clearly torn.

He bit his lip in thought before walking back to Ken and giving his shoulder a hard squeeze.

"I trust him to look after Y/n."

Raquelle's face fell at that so Y/n decided to enter the conversation.

"I mean what if someone starts causing trouble with me and Ken. You know I can be pretty passive sometimes."

"That's what Ken's there for."

"But-"

Ryan shakes his head and walks to Raquelle.

"You'll be find, I know Ken. He wouldn't let anything happen to you."

He puts his arms around Blaine and Raquelle and walks away.

Ken grabbed Y/n's hand and pulled her in the other direction, taking her around that part of the city. He didn't know where he was going but he sure acted like he did.

"Excuse me sir."

A guy stopped Ken, easily getting his attention. Ken nodded at the man as he walked past before turning to the (h/c) doll behind him and smiled.

"Did you see that?"

Y/n smiled at him, she was happy to see him having a good time in this nice but messed up world.

"I did."

The two walk pass the Century City Center and just talk about any and everything they've experienced in the past week in Barbieland, venting about times they were annoyed, talking about times where they were happy, leaving out some parts where they were not so happy or embarrassed.

The two of them watched as a man walked out of the building wearing a fluffy fur coat. Which both Y/n and Ken admired on him.

Another guy waved at and congratulated Ken which earned him a happy smile from the doll.

The two walk by a gym watching two of the men walk out and fist bump each other. Ken turned to Y/n wanting to do the same so the doll decided to entertain him on his little quip.

He pulls her inside the gym and their noses are instantly filled with the smell of sweat and musk. They watch as a couple of men take turns punching punching bags, some lifting different types of weights and others on a running machine.

When they came out Y/n noticed how Ken started walking differently. She was kind of concerned.

"Ken? Babe, what are you doing?"

"Nothing. Just walking."

"Yeah but...you don't walk like that."

Ken just sends her a playful smile and shrugs off her comment.

Ken stops walking after a while to watch a car drive by, his eyes started to shine at the sight of it.

His eyes got even brighter when he watched the police men riding one of his favorite animals, the horse. He patted Y/n's arm, jumping up and down at the sight of them.

He then grabs the doll's hand and goes inside of another building. The two watched as the men below were having a meeting, Ken crossed his arms and started acting like one of them. Normally Y/n would laugh whenever he did his imitation but part of her couldn't shake the feeling that this was bad somehow especially because the guy Ken was imitating had disrespected a woman in front of his group.

Y/n had gone to the restroom to wash her face. She was getting a sick feeling from the whole experience but she couldn't quite pin point what it was.

She panicked after she walked out when she didn't see Ken anywhere. She ran around the building looking for him before she ended up bumping into him at the door. He had the biggest smile on his face.

"Oh my god."

She pulled Ken into the tightest hug shocking him but also making him melt.

"Don't do that again."

Ken giggles.

"I was only upstairs."

"I don't care."

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Barbie sat at the bus stop with her eyes closed. The world went quiet and suddenly she could see the swing of a child's foot. Next she saw the child braiding someone's hair.

She took that moment to focus on what the memories were showing her. It was a little girl doing a hand shake with someone but she couldn't see who. The next few memories were flashes, her and someone eating ice cream, then she was playing dolls with who Barbie assumed is her mother, next she ran into her mother's arms and then the next she was sad and started to push her mother away. The girl was now throwing her toys away, her mother keeping one, the girl kept pushing her mother away at this point they didn't seem as close.

Barbie opened her eyes, all those memories, they were intense. She felt a tear running down her face.

"That felt achy but good."

Barbie looked up watching her surroundings, she watched as a family had a picnic on one side while another family played in a park together, One mom pushed a bike down the road while her two daughters followed her, she watched as a couple argued with each other, how the trees blew in the wind, she watched as two men laughed with each other causing her to laugh along even though she had no idea what they were laughing about, she watched as a man looked upset with himself. She wondered if anyone ever looked like that in Barbieland, everything was different, everything felt different.

She looked beside her finding an older woman sitting not too far away from her. The woman looked back up at her and Barbie couldn't help but smile at the woman.

"You're so beautiful."

"I know it."

The two took a moment to admire the beauty of the other. This is what it felt like to be real.

Barbie's eyes widened when she saw Ryan walking back sulking.

"Hey Ryan, what's wrong? Where are the others?"

Ryan sighs passing the lady to sit next to Barbie, sinking down on the bench.

"I've been ditched Barbie. My own family turned against me."

Barbie chuckles as Ryan whines dramatically.

"You're still sulking about."

Raquelle walks up to them now without the guy she ran away with.

"I can't believe you just ditched me."

"I hardly ditched you."

Ryan just looked at the brunette in disbelief.

"You literally told a girl, 'what you met my brother Ryan,' and left without another word. If that's not ditching, I don't know what is."

"Barbie! Barbie!"

The trio turned their attention to the yelling blonde as he runs at them full speed, Y/n following close behind him.

"Yes!!"

Barbie smiles widely at the appearance of the two.

"I got it!"

"I got it!"

The siblings all looked at Ken, confused about what he 'had.' Ken looks all bashful when he notices everyone's eyes on him.

"Oh, what do you got?"

"You go first."

Barbie was also interested in what he had to say. She gave him a big smile.

"No, no, you go."

"We'll go at the same time."

Ken giggles excitedly and Barbie does the same.

"Okay."

The two yell at the top of their lungs gleefully.

"She's at school."

"Men rule the world!"

The siblings eyes widened and their jaws dropped to the floor. What did he say?

Barbie's face scrunched up in confusion and Ken got nervous at the looks he was getting.

"What was that?"

"Ken?"

"The kid's at school?"

He brushed off both of his friends' concern.

"But what did you say?"

Ken just shook his head putting on a smile.

"Nothing."

Barbie just shrugs it off.

"Okay."

"Well, let's go to the school."

"Okay!!"

Barbie was super excited to meet the girl, Ken laughs along with her walking her away from the other dolls who all looked at him in shock.

"Is he okay?"

Y/n looked at the twins as they studied her face.

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'? You were with him all day."

"That's supposed to mean I should know what's going on with him?"

The two dolls gave him a blank stare.

"Yes!!"

"Yes."

Raquelle shakes her head in disappointment.

"You're basically in a relationship, how could you not know what's going on in his head."

"We're not in a relationship."

"Could have fooled us."

The trio bicker as Ken and Barbie lead them in the direction of the school.

[trismp4]

tristan was certain he was going to get out of there . the whole thing was so strange . it was moments like these he wished he was high . maybe then he wouldn't be losing his mind watching kellan in his current state . there really wasn't anything normal about what was happening . if anything , it was so 𝐁𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄 , he was starting to question everything himself . questioning what the hell was going on and why kellan was so invested in whatever it was . there was a split second he thought that maybe this was all some big joke . kellan just doing the things he did because it caused 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 but now . as he got to know the male , it was starting to become clear that the things that came out of his mouth , the things that he did and the things that happened around him . . . that was just kellan . it was like getting an 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 look into the madness that ran circles in his mind . . . or maybe it was the outside that was running wild and the inside of his mind was actually more calm ? ( there was no telling at this point . ) tristan feeling as though maybe he'd 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 truly understand the ramblings of . . . a potential genius . . . or mad man . . . either one .

watching as kellan grabbed one of the pillows and placed it over the top of the little toy car . tristan tilted his head a bit as he looked at the now covered up toy . just seconds ago he wanted to get the hell out of there . something about the initial madness when seeing keanu reeves head on the coffee table in the middle of the room gave him the sense that he should probably get out but now . . . now he was 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐃 all over again . walking back over to the couch slowly , tristan sat down next to kellan . head tilting as he looked at the sculpted head . lips pressing together in a line before he looked at kellan . ❛ gonna be honest . . . ❜ tristan began as shake of his head as he reached out and touched the head before pulling his hand back quickly . it may have just been clay but there was still something demonic about that keanu reeves head . oddly realistic looking . tristan truly did believe that he was getting the full on ramblings of an insane person but . . . at the same time . . . it was like watching a car crash . . . he couldn't turn away when things were starting to get good . which was exactly why he had to sit back down and take a second look at this head that apparently had 𝐀𝐋𝐋 the answers . . . but as he looked at it . . . 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 . all he could see was keanu reeves head . ❛ i have no idea what you're talking about . ❜ standing back up again , he brought a hand up to his face . the pain from the chicken wing hitting his eye sneaking back up on him . ❛ i'm gonna go . . . but i won't . . . don't worry , i don't think i'll have a reason to tell anyone that you have a secret vault you keep your sculpture of keanu reeve's head in . . . no one will know . ❜ walking further , he stopped before leaving the room . ❛ and stop whispering to that thing . . . it's fucking weird . . . freaky . . . ❜ he said , almost shuddering at the words as he finally left kellan's place in disarray .

kellan  ,  in  his  great  wisdom  ,  barely  registered  all  the  logical  questions  that  tristan  was  asking  .  this  situation  was  beyond  any  logical  understanding  ,  the  universe  so  great  and  vast  that  no  man  or  human  being  could  possibly  abridge  all  the  things  one  needed  to  know  to  get  a  grip  on  reality  .  after  the  shenanigans  which  had  required  such  physical  effort  ,  kellan  sits  down  as  tristan  stands  .  kellan  raises  a  hand  to  his  mouth  as  he  makes  eye  contact  with  keanu  reeves  clay  head  …  pulling  a  strawberry  flavoured  vape  from  his  pocket  and  taking  a  puff  as  a  cloud  of  strawberry  scent  floats  out  into  the  air  surrounding  them  ,  the  whole  time  the  eye  contact  maintained  .  despite  tristan  still  being  present  ,  kellan  says  quietly  (  to  the  head  )  ,  "  he  doesn't  know  what  i've  seen  …  "  taking  another  stress  puff  of  his  vape  which  then  disappears  back  into  the  aforementioned  pocket  for  any  future  moments  of  great  distress  . kellan  actually  seems  calm  then  which  is  almost  more  worrying  because  he  starts  to  look  up  at  tristan  who  is  still  standing  there  ,  the  moment  of  attempting  to  leave  taking  too  long  to  cause  a  big  disconnect  in  his  external  monologue  …  "  don't  you  get  it  …  this  head  is  the  key  to  everything  …  "  spoken  with  true  conviction  .  it  was  all  too  obvious  to  kellan  why  someone  would  break  in  to  steal  his  masterpiece  which  he  had  put  blood  ,  sweat  and  tears  into  .  keanu  reeves  head  was  at  the  centre  of  everything  ,  it  was  so  clear  .  "  i  have  to  keep  it  in  my  panic  locker  because  its  my  greatest  creation  .  i  haven't  even  started  showing  my  celebrity  head  models  to  the  public  and  this  one  has  to  stay  here  at  all  times  …  "  he  points  at  tristan  ,  "  you  can't  tell  anyone  about  this  because  this  is  like  the  fucking  macbeth  of  clay  sculptures  ,  "  the  reference  perhaps  not  making  complete  sense  but  a  wilderness  in  their  eyes  despite  the  calm  atmosphere  that  was  now  settling  despite  the  array  of  chicken  wings  ,  crumbs  and  the  toy  car  that  was  now  set  on  the  table  .  kellan  leans  forwards  and  places  a  pillow  from  the  couch  on  top  of  the  car  to  confuse  the  sensors  and  ensure  whoever  was  listening  wouldn't  be  able  to  hear  what  he  was  saying  next  .  "  tristan  …  this  head  is  something  that  a  lot  of  people  would  want  but  they  can't  ever  get  their  hands  on  it  .  it's  too  powerful  ,  there's  evil  within  it  …  you  have  to  keep  this  between  me  and  you  .  "