#a direct continuation of an earlier piece from this prompt list - I’ve got a few of those the last few prompts

[kumqu4t]

In (Gold) Sickness and In Health

Pairing: Human Female!Reader/Thorin

Request: @anjhope1 requested a human reader with Thorin for the prompt: “I’m done. We’re done.”

Brief Summary: After the Battle of the Five Armies and Thorin’s actions under the Gold Sickness, you wonder if things between you and Thorin will ever be repaired.

Warnings: Violence and injuries

A/N: Gold sick Thorin is a gold mine (pun intended) for angst. Thanks to @anjhope1 for being so so patient and kind!!! I’ve never really written anything other than headcannons and I really enjoyed this!! I have a long list of fic ideas that I hope to write after school ends and this really got the ball rolling! :D

 @fromthedeskoftheraven (who inspired me to actually start writing <333)

 —————————————

 “Thorin?” You called into the seemingly empty castle. Your voice echoed hauntingly. No response. You turned the corner and ventured into the treasury, though a part of you hoped you would not find him there. It was the only place he ever seemed to be, and not for good reason. You followed the sound of digging and hushed whispers. There you found Thorin talking to himself in furious murmurs, his voice tinged with hysteria. He seemed to be digging through the millions of glimmering treasures, bringing each item close to his face for a thorough inspection, and then scoffing angrily and throwing it over his shoulder at the discovery that it was not, in fact, the Arkenstone. You approached him quietly, gnawing on your bottom lip worriedly. You were soon only a few steps behind him, his back to you, yet he made no notice of you.

“Thorin?” He didn’t even flinch. You, about fed up with all of this, put your hand on one of his shoulders and lightly shook it. He whirled around instantly, a mad expression on his face that only eased slightly when he saw you.

 “Ah, (Y/n). How have you been?” He asked absentmindedly, his gaze still stuck on the gem in his hand. 

“Well, I’ve been better I suppose. Things are not looking good out there Thorin. I worry.” You made sure to keep your voice as non-confrontational as possible, because if you were being honest, you were a bit afraid of Thorin at the moment. You weren’t sure if you even recognized the dwarf in front of you. He finally raised his eyes to look at you. His lips curved into a slightly mad smile, one that showed altogether too many teeth. “You have nothing to worry about, my love. Once I have the Arkenstone, everything will be taken care of. The world will finally put itself to rights.” His eyes seemed to reflect the very gold covering the floor. You frowned at this response. 

“Thorin, I know finding the Arkenstone is important to you, but I don’t know if it is the… greatest concern at the moment. The people of Laketown need our assistance, and there is talk of an orcish army heading our way.” Thorin’s head snapped up, and he took an intimidating step forward. You were almost nose to nose.

“Finding the Arkenstone is my one and only concern, as it should be yours,” he snarled. “Are you not on my side? Do you not want to see me as King?” You took a tentative step back. 

“Of course I’m on your side, Thorin. I only want what is best for you.” Your voice turned stern. “But a King should be generous and fair, should know when to help others. 

“A King,” he growled, “is measured only by the amount of wealth he has. If I don’t have the Arkenstone, I have nothing but these pathetic jewels.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your stomach churned at hearing the words he spoke. This was not Thorin. The man you knew and loved, who once spoke so passionately of honor and loyalty. Your sadness and grief were soon overpowered by anger. Not only does he speak such horrid, greedy words, but he would dare be so dismissive and uncaring towards his own beloved? 

“You have nothing?” You asked in disbelief, your voice hard. “What about me? Your wife, remember? What do I mean to you? We have spent almost no time with each other since Laketown, I am surprised you even remember my name,” you said bitterly. Thorin’s eyes seemed to lighten a few shades. But it was still not your Thorin. And his next words only proved that. 

“I have not forgotten about you amralime. I will have you. Seated on a throne next to mine. Adorned in precious jewels and fine cloths. My most prized possession.” 

You suddenly lost all of your fear. Fists clenched tight at your sides, you spat out, “I am not a thing to be had! I am my own person.” 

“You are my wife!” He roared back, “You will do as I say, and you will like it!” Your lip curled in disgust and dismay at this.

“Is that really what you think marriage means?!” Your tone, while still angry, held a hint of desperation, as if you were hoping Thorin would apologize for whatever sick joke this seemed to be. But alas, that did not happen. He only stayed silent, his eyes unfocused. Whatever clarity they had gained earlier had once again vanished. 

The harsh silence created a lump in your throat. You swallowed once, and in a shaky voice said, “Well, then. I am afraid I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know who I am looking at. Who even are you? This is not the Thorin I know and love, not the Thorin I married!” 

His mouth opened in outrage, prepared to no doubt yell back, but you continued before he could get a word in. “You know what? I can’t do this anymore,” you started. You grabbed your marriage bead- elegantly and thoughtfully crafted by Thorin, and once so tenderly braided into your hair- and harshly ripped it out. You definitely pulled out quite a few hairs along with it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. 

You curled your shaking hand around the small bead, and spoke. “I’m done. We’re done.” In a fit of intense anger and disappointment, you chucked your bead straight at Thorin’s head. You instantly ran as fast as you could in the opposite direction, fearing his reaction. You figured he did not see that coming, and was frozen in shock and confusion for a moment.

As you sprinted down the vast empty hallways, you heard Thorin’s enraged roar in the distance. You ran and ran and ran. You quickly gathered your belongings when you passed the room you had been staying in, and made your way out of the mountain. You said goodbye to none of the company. You ran and you didn’t look back. You squinted your eyes, trying to find your way in what was left of the daylight. 

Tears ran in rivers down your face, and they didn’t stop. Not when you found Bard in Laketown. Not when you reunited with Bilbo and approved his plan. Not when you came across a small room to spend the night in. 

You slid down the wall of the room, sobs tearing at your throat, as you looked at the split pieces of hair that once secured your marriage bead. How could everything have gone so wrong so fast? Smaug was dead. The mountain was reclaimed. Everything was supposed to be back to normal. You were supposed to be living happily in Erebor with Thorin. 

But you weren’t.

You screamed into the night, “Why? Why?” Why did things have to happen like this? Why did Thorin have to be struck with the Gold Sickness after everything he had been through? Why did you two not gain happiness and peace? Did you not deserve that? 

There was no answer. The universe was silent. 

You were not only angry with Thorin. You were angry at yourself. Were you a coward for reacting the way you did? Did you give up too easily, running right when things got hard? Maybe you were a coward, but you simply couldn’t stand to see Thorin like that any longer. It made you sick to your stomach and tore at your heart. 

With a wet laugh, you thought back to your wedding, which took place only about a month earlier. It is odd how things can change so much in so little time. That day had been the happiest of your life. Now here you were, at your lowest, with not even your husband to comfort you. 

The company had been staying in Laketown for the time being. After a much needed relaxing night (free of the stress of orc attacks), you awoke blearily to Thorin’s smiling face. His rough hands tenderly cradled your face.

“Will you marry me?” He asked it in such a soft tone, and you were still so tired, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a strange, albeit wonderful, dream. After clarification that it was not, in fact, a dream, and a discussion with Thorin, you two decided to get married that very night. After all, you two were each other’s Ones. Why should you not? You were crazy in love, and you two hadn’t known contentment like you did during this resting period of the quest. There was also the lingering fear that one, or both of you wouldn’t survive for much longer. 

After your affirmative response to Thorin’s question, tears of joy were shed by both of you. That day was full of warm, fuzzy feelings (and frantic planning by Dori and Balin, who despite being quite pleased with the decision, were extremely frazzled with the short amount of time left to prepare). You didn’t have an expensive, ornate dress (you borrowed one of Sigrid’s). There wasn’t a huge crowd. Just the company (plus Sigrid, Tilda, and Bain- Sigrid and Tilda because they wanted to experience the romantic declaration of love and commitment, and Bain because, in his words, his sisters “forced him to come”). 

But it was perfect. It was all you could have wanted. Kíli, ever the jokester, insisted on being the “flower girl.” Fíli was the bead bearer (like a ring bearer, but with beads, because you and Thorin wanted to do it the dwarrow way). Balin was the justice of the peace. Bombur made a wonderful cake, especially considering the lack of resources.

It was a magical day. Your wildest dream had finally become a reality.

You remembered the vows from your wedding. You remembered the promise you made on that day. ‘For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.’ You couldn’t help but snort at the unfortunate irony of that. 

You wondered what Thorin was thinking right now. Was the gold sickness still plaguing his mind? Or was he too thinking back to your wedding day, to the broken promises left between you two? 

You crawled into bed and tried to calm your thoughts, to no avail. You laid your head on the flat pillow, feeling oddly numb. You let your eyes flutter shut, a lone tear escaping to trail down your now puffy face. 

No sleep was had that night. 

 ———————————————

 Around you, the battlefield raged. You had arisen early in the morning, for the orcish army was no longer just a rumor, but a promise. A promise of war. The knowledge of the bloodshed the future held electrified you, helping you to use your fear and anger to aid your fight. You wielded your sword with ferocity and confidence, a scowl on your face as you quickly swiped at the blood that dribbled down the side of your face. Your head swiveled at every sound as you frantically looked to see if you recognized any faces around you. 

You plunged your sword into an approaching orc, making a face at the horrid squelch it produced as you pulled out your blade. You ran across the battlefield, swiftly killing any orcs that dared get in your way.

What you saw in the far distance, through squinted eyes, made your heart drop into your stomach. 

You saw Thorin, fighting Azog on the ice. 

You watched as the pale orc fell off of the chunk of ice he stood on, and into the murky abyss. You prayed to all of the Valar that he was dead. But fate was not on your side. You watched in horror as a knife plunged upwards from below the ice and impaled Thorin’s right foot. 

You heard his guttural roar of pain, and your body moved into action. You ran as fast as you could, your chest and legs burning. But you were still too far away. Everything now seemed to be happening in slow motion. You could still hear the echo of Thorin’s cry in your head. 

Suddenly, Azog jumped out of the water and landed on his feet. Thorin was on his back blocking each strike from Azog to the best of his ability. All that you heard was the sharp clang of metal against metal and your own blood roaring in your ears. 

You felt something harden within you. You were no longer afraid. You had only one job, and that was to save Thorin. Azog’s blade was now only inches away from Thorin’s chest. Thorin grit his teeth and gasped deeply, using every bit of his strength in an effort to block the attack. 

You were sprinting straight towards Azog’s back. You had absolutely no plan. Common sense and battle strategy had officially left the building. Yet your rage towards Azog, who had already taken so much from Thorin, fueled your fight. 

You propelled yourself up, in a strange burst of strength, and clawed your way up Azog’s back, clinging to him. He grunted and twisted his head around. But before he could do anything more, you drove your sword into his back with all of your might. 

Azog’s roar seemed to shake the very ground he stood on. Your hands, slick with sweat, burned as they tightly grasped the hilt of your sword. Your heart sped up as you tried to pull your weapon out to strike once again, but it was stuck. Azog turned, his face now pulled into a sickly sneer, and he slashed at your shoulder with his sword. You hissed in pain, and jerked yourself away. You saw Thorin breathing deeply and attempting to get up out of the corner of your eye. 

Go, you screamed at him in your head. Go, my love. Leave and get to safety. 

Seeing Thorin in pain, thanks to Azog, filled you with a boiling rage. It filled you up from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head- a fiery, molten lava swirling inside of you. 

Your lips twisted into a ferocious snarl as your hands tightened on the hilt of your sword. You twisted the sword further into Azog’s wound, plunging it deeper into his mangled flesh. As you twisted one last time, you pulled it out with a hard gasp. Azog’s stinking, black blood splattered your neck and arms.

You still clung to the pale orc’s back and shoulders, your nails digging into his scarred skin. He thrashed and blindly slashed at you, but you held tight still. You kept your mind sharp, blocking and ducking to avoid his stabs. Reaching your hand into your bloodstained tunic, you hurriedly patted yourself down, frantically searching, until your hand was greeted by your hidden blade. 

You grabbed the hilt of the sharp knife and whipped it out. You positioned yourself so that your feet were pressing into Azog’s back. You drew your arm back and threw the blade, with masterful precision, into the back of Azog’s neck. He roared once again, his head spasming, and made to grab you. 

Unfortunately, this time, you were unable to avoid his grasp. His sharp nails dug into your neck as he grabbed you and pulled your body off of his back. He held you in front of him with only his right hand, the blade at the end of his metal arm pointed at your throat. You felt the pressure building on your throat, and a low buzzing noise started to take over. The blade dug painfully into your flesh, and you felt it begin to break the skin. All of your previous confidence had vanished. You were now at the mercy of the pale orc. 

Azog gave a sickening smile, his pointed teeth glistening with blood. He issued a raspy chuckle that chilled you to your core. Time seemed to slow down once again as he drove the blade of his arm into your side. You gave a sharp intake of breath, as if you could not fathom what was happening, before you let loose an ear-splitting yell of pain. Your voice crumbled and cracked as you screamed until your vocal cords were weak. In the back of your subconscious, you registered a voice, desperately screaming your name. You struggled uselessly, trying to escape the pain. The blade felt hot, as if your insides were being lit on fire and seared open. You wondered for a moment why he did not completely skewer you, and quickly rid himself of your bothersome presence, until it hit you. He wanted your death to be agonizing. Slow and painful. You felt the blade being slowly pushed deeper in, creating a sickening puncturing sensation, and you could do nothing. It must have been almost halfway through you at this point. He tightened his other hand around your throat, and you saw spots floating at the edges of your line of vision. 

You were dancing at the edge of oblivion, barely holding onto consciousness, when you felt your hand which dangled at your side, still clutching your sword. A glimmer of hope sparked inside you. With a guttural cry of pain, you used your last bit of strength. Your arm elongated at your side and rose before you swiftly cleaved Azog’s head from his shoulders. Your face was promptly sprayed with his blood and innards, before his hold on your neck loosened, his grasp slack. His severed head hit the ground with a satisfying klunk, his eyes glazed over. His body collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, bringing you down with him. 

You gave a low groan of pain at the impact. Azog’s arm, still impaled in the side of your torso, left the two of you attached. You slowly took your sword, whimpering softly at the painful stretching the motion caused, and sawed off the small bit of flesh that attatched the metalwork to his body. You were left sitting on the ice, a blade sticking out of you, as a ringing filled your ears. You heard your name being called, and a blurry figure made its way into your field of vision. You squinted your eyes, trying to see who it was. Once your vision cleared, you breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

Thorin was here. 

He hobbled over to you, his wounded foot dragging behind him. He lowered himself to the ice slowly. He looked at you with such sorrow as he scooted closer and cupped your face. His warm hands grounded you to reality. You felt every callous on them as he softly ran his fingers along the sides of your face, his touch only a whisper. 

“Ghivashel,” he started, his voice cracking. “I-

“No,” you interrupted, your voice hoarse from the abuse it had endured. You gave a pathetic cough and said once more in a slightly stronger voice, “No. Not right now.”

Tears ran down his face, their clean tracks a stark contrast to the dirtied skin it ran down. “I am so sorry. So very sorry. I cannot even begin to apologize for all I have-“

You reached forward and put your finger against Thorin’s lips. You gave a soft smile. “I know,” you replied. You brushed his hair out of his face gently. “We have much to discuss. Many things have been left unsaid.” You gazed into his warm blue eyes, “But right now, just be here. Be here with me, my love.”

Thorin’s lips quivered slightly as he gave a sad smile of agreement. He gently positioned you so that your head was resting in his lap. You gazed up into his face. The soft cloth of his tunic tickled the back of your neck. The warmth of his body was much more comforting compared to the harsh cold of the ice you both lie on. The pain would have been almost unbearable, but Thorin’s presence was like a balm to both your soul and body. He took on a tinge of panic as his eyes locked onto the blade sticking out of your side. Knowing he should not simply pull the weapon out, he quickly tore fabric from his body and wrapped your side with it, securing the sword into place, so it wouldn’t move and cause more damage. You reached out and grasped his hand, your fingers shaking slightly as they ran over his bloodied knuckles. 

“Thorin,” you rasped. “You are here.”

“Aye,” he replied softly, his eyes glistening in the light. 

“My bead,” you begged. Thorin looked confused for a moment, before understanding lit up his eyes. He pulled out your marriage bead, that you had thrown at him not long ago, from inside his tunic. He had evidently kept it on himself. He took your hair into his hands, and quickly wove a small braid into your hair, placing the bead at the end of it. He moved aside his own hair, showing you his marriage bead that still lie in his own braid. You gave a watery smile as you clutched at his hand.

After a pause, you spoke. “You are mine, and I am yours.”

“Always,” he replied, his voice strong. “My wife,” he added after a moment, the word an unspoken promise. My husband, you thought warmly. He ducked his head down to meet your own, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on your lips, his hand cradling the back of your neck. You responded in kind, deepening the kiss. You felt as if the part of yourself that had broken earlier had been sewn back together. You were whole again. You let out a soft sigh of contentment as Thorin pressed his forehead gently to rest on your own, his eyelids fluttering shut in the moment.

The King slid himself down, so that he too was laying down. Your head rested on his chest. His large hand rubbed soothing circles gently on your back as you breathed shakily in and out. You gazed out over the ice and saw eagles flying in the distance. You gave a grin of relief and squeezed Thorin’s hand. Healers were rapidly bustling about, gathering the wounded and tending to them. You had no doubt that you and Thorin would receive the help you required soon. 

But for now, you were here. And he was here. You were together at last, once again. Your hands intertwined in each other’s, your head tucked under his chin as he planted soft kisses on your head and murmured soothing words into your hair.

“My King,” you said softly, petting the soft hair of his beard as your hand ran over his jaw.

“My Queen,” he responded, his voice full of emotion, as he pulled you into one more kiss, your bodies melding closer together.

The eagles were coming. And all was well.

 ——————————————

  A/N 2: I hope you guys liked that! I am very new to writing, so I know I have lots of room for improvement, but I really enjoyed writing this. By the way, I do not picture Thorin and the reader dying at the end, but it is kind of a vague ending, so if you want to imagine that happening, no problem! (It would be quite tragically romantic, them dying in each other’s arms). Though personally, I like to imagine that they both eventually recover from their injuries and everyone lives happily ever after in Erebor with their beloved King and Queen under the mountain! :)

[ijustwant2write]

Grow Up Fast-Fred Weasley x Reader

(GIF credit to @hogwartsfansite​)

Part 2

Tags: @obsessedwithrandomthings​

Masterlist

Prompts List

Requested by anonymous: 'Ohhh your one-shots are amazing! Could you do a cute Fred Weasley one where a baby is abandon near the shop and they Adopt it because the reader and Fred got to attached'

Characters: Fred Weasley x Reader (married), George Weasley x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Abandonment/Neglect, adoption/orphanage, lots and lots of fluff

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I placed my hand over my stomach as I felt it rumble, thinking about what I would have for dinner tonight. It had been a long day in the shop, it was becoming busy now, especially with all the children getting ready to go back to Hogwarts. Sighing, I passed by George who had just finished with a customer, deciding that now would be a good time to start cleaning up if we wanted to go home soon.

“I’m going to start tidying up. Call if you need anything.” I explained, receiving a nod from my brother-in-law.

Heading into the stock room, I spotted the pile of cardboard that needed to be taken out to the bins. Although I was tired, I mustered up all of the energy I had left, managing to carry it all outside. Once it had been dumped, I brushed my hands against each other to get rid of any dirt when I heard a strange sound. Freezing on the spot, I listened out once again, hearing a muffled cry. I couldn’t be sure what it was, taking out my wand in case it was something dangerous. Perhaps it was an animal that had escaped one of the shops and had smelt the food thrown out. Slowly and cautiously, I stepped towards the noise, quickly pulling back a piece of cardboard and pointing my wand in that direction, gasping when I saw what was laying there.

A baby lazily swaddled up wriggled around, crying out louder now. I was stunned, not expecting this. Putting my wand away, I carefully picked them up, wrapping the baby up tighter. It was a boy, he couldn’t be older than a few months old, but it wasn’t a newborn. He was still small, and I wondered how long he had been out here. It was cold and wet, he would have surely died if left out here any longer. Going back into the stock room, I perched on a crate, struggling to take off my jacket as I held him, but once off I wrapped it around the baby, providing extra warmth. He wasn’t wailing anymore, he had stopped once he was in my arms. He snuggled his face against me, holding onto as much warmth as he could. Who could leave a baby to defend for itself like this? 

“(Y/N), are you back here?” Fred called out to me, shock showing on his face as soon as he spotted me.

“It’s not mine.” I stupidly said.

Fred’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly, unsure what question to ask first. His eyes remained on the baby as he approached, still baffled by the sight before him.

“(Y/N), what’s going on here?” he finally said.

“I found him by the bins. He was underneath some cardboard, there was no note, there was nothing but this blanket he’s wrapped up in.”

“We’re going to have to call someone, someone official.”

“Can someone come help out here, I would like to go home soon...” George burst in, his words trailing off when he saw what was happening.“Well you kept that quiet, you hardly even showed (Y/N).”

“He’s so cold.” I mumbled, holding the baby closer.

“Poor little fella.” George joined us, smiling down at the child.“Look, let’s shut shop early, then we’ll call around, see who can help us.”

I remained where I was, starting to walk around and rock the child to keep him content. His big, brown eyes stared up at me, he had such lovely eyelashes. For someone who had been left out for who knows how long, he had small smile on his face the entire time. The twins managed to close without me, only Fred returning.

“George is trying to figure out who to contact. No doubt he’ll be taken to an orphanage.” Fred said, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“He’s not made a sound since you left. I didn’t want him to fall asleep either, he’s just so frail.”

“Here, I’ll hold him for a bit.” 

Passing over the baby, I realised how careful we were being, never having actually handled a baby like this before. The shock of finding him had clouded my mind, and now it was clearing once I saw my husband holding the baby. It was quite a sight, this tall man holding someone so tiny in his long arms. Of course we had discussed creating our own family, but that was further down the line. However, I couldn’t help but melt at the sight, imagining this was our own boy. Fred’s toothy grin was contagious, especially when he started cooing and speaking to the baby.

“It looks so natural on you.” I pointed out, standing beside him.

He glanced down at me.“I thought the same thing when I saw you.”

“Fred, are we-”

“Someone has contacted one of the local orphanages, the won’t be able to come for a few hours though. I gave them your home address to pick him up from, is that alright?” George interrupted.

“That’s fine Georgie.” Fred nodded, starting to walk around with the baby.

“I’ll get our things.” I offered, heading back into the shop where our coats were hanging behind the counter.

George followed behind, and I saw out of the corner of my eye that he had a huge grin on his face. As I put on my coat, picking up my scarf, I watched him do the same, though he was almost laughing.

“What’s tickled you Georgie?” I asked, wrapping my scarf around my neck.

“I’m not amused by anything, it was just nice seeing what my brother’s future is going to be like.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“You look great you know, as a family. I know you’re waiting but,you two are going to be great parents.”

“And our children are going to have the best uncle.”

It felt extremely weird to bring a baby home. Luckily there were no neighbours around, it would be a strange story to tell. Fred had wanted to hold him the whole time, and I found it funny that I was becoming a little jealous. I wanted to hold him again. We laid the baby on the bed, grabbing another blanket to lay him down on as well as wrap him in. I took my jacket away, throwing it on top of the pile of washing that needed to be done. Sitting either side of the baby, we found ourselves just staring at him. My hunger from earlier was all but gone, I couldn’t think about anything else.

The baby was flickering his eyes between the both of us, closely watching. It was amazing how infatuated we were, I could watch him all day. He was just too cute. And I loved the adoration in Fred’s eyes, and how he had looked when he held the baby. 

“I wish we had some food to give him.” I frowned, lightly tracing the baby’s soft cheek with my finger.

“He hasn’t started crying again, though I’m worried that’s because he’s weak.” Fred sighed.

“Why would someone just leave him out there?” my breath was shaky, remembering how he looked when I found him.“I understand if people are struggling, but they could have given him to an orphanage.”

“Don’t cry love.” Fred breathed out, getting upset himself, he held one of my hands.

“I’m sorry it’s just so sad. He’s such a beautiful baby boy, I could never leave him, even walking out to get my coat made me feel guilty for leaving him behind.”

“Should we wash him? He’s very dirty.”

“Maybe. I’ve never washed a baby before.”

“How hard could it be?”

“I’ve seen people do it in sinks, should we do that?”

Fred went to fill up the sink with water and find some sort of soap that wouldn’t irritate the baby. For some reason, I laid down beside the baby, giggling when he looked at me and smiled. He was gurgling now, making funny noises as if he was trying to communicate. I spoke to him in a high pitched voice, laughing along with him. As the baby continued wriggling around, kicking his legs erratically, I felt someone watching as. Glancing at the doorway, Fred was stood there, smiling again.

“His bath is ready.” he pointed out, rolling up his sleeves as he left.

“Come on you, let’s get you nice and clean.” I said to the babe, lifting him into my arms once again.

The three of us were laughing non-stop as we bathed the baby. He enjoyed the water, and not being in full control of his limbs, he splashed the water about everywhere. Fred and I were soaked, but it didn’t matter. Fred grabbed a towel, wrapping up the baby and creating a hood for him, it was the cutest thing I had ever seen. I went to get changed, putting on comfy (dry) clothes before I went to swap with Fred. However, as I returned, I realised how quiet it was, melting at the sight I saw in the living room. Fred was relaxed across the sofa with the baby resting on his chest, both of them falling asleep. I didn’t want to ruin the moment; unfortunately it was when there was a knock at the door. My heat sunk as they stirred, and I went to answer the door, realising that it was time to say goodbye. 

A woman was here, she showed me her official badge, thanking me as I let her in. She seemed lovely, very warm and welcoming. I lead her to where Fred was. He was awake, but still cuddling the baby.

“Oh, you two seem to have everything handled here.” the woman said.

“He’s been no bother at all.” Fred explained, not looking at her. 

“Well, cuddle time isn’t over yet, I’ve got some questions about how you found him. Also, I’ve brought him something to drink, I bet the poor thing is starving. It’ll give him some nourishment.”

“That’s good news.”

“Fred, why don’t you get him a clean blanket to wrap him up in. He’ll catch a cold otherwise.” I suggested, sitting down with the woman as he left.

“Have you got any children of your own?” she asked.

“Oh, no we don’t, not yet.”

“Well, you’re both very natural. You both looked very solemn when I arrived. 

“Thank you. And I’m sorry, that was nothing against you obviously. It’s just been...nice to see what the future may look like.”

I answered all of her questions as Fred returned, sitting beside me and feeding the baby. Sometimes I had to repeat questions to him, he was too distracted, even after the baby was done feeding. Time seemed to fly by, because soon enough, the woman was ready to leave. Standing beside Fred, I sadly let him hand over the baby, the woman placing him in a carrier, before saying her goodbyes, thanking us again. We waited by the door, waiting until she had disappeared completely before closing the door. The baby had been sound asleep again, unknowing that he was being taken away. Fred remained silent as he slumped towards the bedroom, and it did seem like something was missing now.

As I followed my husband, I noticed the woman had left a business card behind, for an adoption agency. The name was in beautiful writing, being re-written over and over, her details on the other side. Fiddling with it in my hands, I thought back to what she had said; we looked like naturals. 

Fred and I had hardly said a word to each other as we got ready for bed, even when we were laying down together, his head resting on my chest as I brushed back his ginger hair. All of the lights were off, the sound of rain hitting the window being the only thing I could concentrate on. I sighed before speaking.

“He was lucky we found him.” 

“He was lucky you found him.” he pointed out.

“It was fun, wasn’t it? Even if it was small amount of time.”

“Yeah, he was still a cheeky little thing.”

I kissed his head.“You looked great you know. I...I really enjoyed seeing you with a baby, it was like I had a peek at what we would look like as parents.”

“I was thinking the exact same thing. I know we said we would wait a while but...”

“I mean, we could...”

“Do you...do you feel guilty about him?”

“Thinking about having a baby when we just found a baby who needs a home?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, I do.”

“(Y/N),” Fred propped himself up, now looking down at me,“it’s pretty clear we’re on the same page here.”

I laughed.“You really want to adopt him?”

“I just have this feeling about him.”

“No, you’re attached to him.”

He chuckled.“I guess I am.”

“That’s not a bad thing. She did leave a card, we could contact them in the morning.”

“Looks like it was fate.”

I smirked.“If we’re going to be having a baby soon, we should probably make the most of our last nights together.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were a bad influence on me.”

“We might be responsible parents soon, let’s live a little before that happens.” 

[noctisfishing]

That’s All He Wrote

Rating: T

Pairing: Sorato

Summary:  An admirer makes himself known to Sora when she finds a note in her locker one day. As she takes her two best friends along to help solve this mystery, she hopes for one of them to notice that she has already solved it.

Prompts: 

- music to my ears -  something that is pleasant or gratifying to hear or discover. In today’s prompt, incorporate the phrase. (200 words) [ Write Your Melody Prompts by me! ]

&

- “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.” - You've Got Mail [ Famous Movie & TV Romantic Quotes Prompts by @renchan7 ]

Notes: Those quotes made me crave something fluffy and sappy, AND I wanted to combine a prompt from my own list. Both of these prompts were chosen randomly, and I got a combo to send my heart a-flutter.

Also this one-shot ended up being more than 10x my suggested wordcount (basically, not 200 words but upwards of 2.8K lol) so hope you enjoy. :D

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Sora opened her locker at the end of school one day, she noticed from the corner of her eye that something fell out of it.

"Oh - Sora, you dropped something," said Taichi, who bent down to pick it up just as she turned to do it herself.

She observed it with him as he held it between his fingers. A small piece of lined paper, folded a few times.

"Huh," she said. Seeing the quizzical stare in his eyes told her that Taichi was just as curious as she was. She took the piece of paper from his hand and unfolded it.

As she read the words on the note, she felt as though her heart stopped.

"Ah, well, look what we have here!" Taichi began. "You've got a secret admi-"

"Shh!" she hissed at him. "Don't talk so loud!" She looked around the locker room, paranoid that other students caught Taichi's words, but saw that no one else was paying attention. That didn't stop the heat flushing on her cheeks. "Do you know who did this?!" was her next adamant question.

Taichi leaned back a little, as though he was intimidated. "N-no, I don't! I'm just as clueless as you are!"

And Sora believed him.

But not completely. She shut her locker and walked away, processing what she had just witnessed. Taichi followed right behind her.

"Wait up, Sora!"

Sora walked hurriedly through the hallway, hearing a few students greet her but she was too focused on her own thoughts to answer. It wasn't until she heard her name once more when she realized that she was fast approaching someone and she was just about to collide.

"Whoa!" he said with his palms up.

Sora gasped as she halted, merely inches away from crashing into Yamato.

"Hey, Yamato!" she said with her voice unnaturally higher. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Deep thinking and power walking are not a good mix," Yamato replied, looking as though he hid his laughter behind his smile.

"Sora! Geez." Taichi appeared in a huff. "That note really got you, didn't it?"

"A note?" Yamato asked.

If her cheeks were pink, Sora wondered if the burn made them redder. She was suddenly hesitant to scold Taichi for mentioning it so freely.

"I found a note in my locker just now."

"Oh…" Yamato kept his eyes on Sora. "Should we be concerned?"

"What do you mean?" Taichi asked.

"Was it a good note, or a bad one?"

"I think that depends on how Sora feels about it."

Sora's voice seemed to be caught in her throat just as the two boys turned to face her.

"It's… none of your business." Sora turned away from them.

Taichi let out a sigh. "We're not going to get an answer from her."

"Maybe it's something she wants to figure out on her own," said Yamato. "If we need to be concerned, she'll probably tell us somehow."

The three of them walked to the front gate together, where they all would go their separate ways. Taichi was the first to walk ahead.

"Are you going to be okay?" Yamato asked.

"I think I will be," Sora replied. She smiled at him as she noticed his concern, then she remembered his question from earlier about the note. "You don't have to worry about it, Yamato. If anything, I thought it was a good note."

When they said their goodbyes and headed in different directions, Sora turned around to look back at Yamato. The way he stared at her and smiled at her comment made her wonder how much of a concern it all truly was to him.

With the note still in her hand, Sora set off towards her way home, smiling to herself.

~*~*~*~*~*~

On the next day, Sora had invited Taichi to help her find the mystery admirer after school. With eagerness, he said yes without another thought.

"Does this mean you've counted me out as your secret admirer?" he asked.

"I think you'd rather show up to my locker with flowers," she replied. "Besides, I could actually read the handwriting compared to your squiggles."

"Huh. Fair points. Want me to ask around? I could get the soccer club to investigate."

Sora shot Taichi a look. "I really don't want this to be broadcasted to the whole school, Taichi. I'm thinking we should ask our friends first."

Sora had also invited Yamato later in the school day, despite the fact that it was a day in the week that he usually spent time with his band. Somehow, she knew he would still come along with her and Taichi.

"I'm sure Yamato would've written out song lyrics if it was him," Taichi wondered aloud as the three of them walked out of school together.

"I'm sure that I wouldn't," Yamato retorted.

Sora agreed. "I'm sure you would make Yamato write out song lyrics for your note if you did it, Taichi," she added.

"You're probably right." Yamato laughed as Taichi frowned.

Sora had considered herself lucky that both Taichi and Yamato followed her pursuit without any objections. Their first stop was a visit to Takeru, whose eyes lit up the moment he saw Yamato.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked Mimi first," said Takeru after Sora filled him in.

"Well," Sora said, holding her hands together. "I texted her, and she said she'd ask around. She hasn't gotten back to me yet."

"Hmm, well, I could totally make a wild guess! ...But it might be completely wrong." Takeru added, and Sora took notice of the shift in tone between his two sentences before he smiled cheerfully. "I'll make some tea and bring out the snacks!"

Takeru headed for the kitchen and Yamato followed behind him.

"It's been a while since we've seen Takeru, huh?" Taichi asked Sora.

"Yeah, it has," she replied.

Sora looked toward the kitchen where she caught Yamato's grimace towards Takeru, who must have been teasing him from the look of his cheeky smile. When they both returned to Taichi and Sora at the table, they brought some cookies and a tray with cups and a pot of white orange blossom tea, which Sora knew to be Yamato's favorite.

After making a quick stop to the convenience store, their next visit was to Jou's apartment, and Jou quirked his brow in confusion at the three of them when he answered his door.

"Brought you some pick-me-ups for studying!" Sora said with a smile and raising the bag of goodies in front of her.

"Oh…" said Jou with a tinge of exasperation. "Well, come in. You can drop the snacks on the table."

"Got an exam coming up, Jou?" Yamato asked.

"There's always an exam coming up. I don't know how long I've been studying..."

Sora watched Jou sigh and run his hand through his hair that had been longer than when she saw him last. His eyes had dark circles underneath. In normal cases, he would be fretting about tomorrow's deadline and scolding one of them as a result of his anxiety.

She turned to the other two and exchanged looks of worry.

"Hey, Jou, why don't I make you some tea?" Sora asked.

"I'm good. I've had so much already but I can't seem to stay awake."

"Then, why don't we walk this way." Sora took Jou by his shoulders and led him to his room. "When's your next exam?"

"It's in a few days, but I need all the study time I can get."

They reached his room, and Sora saw his desk cluttered with loose papers and an open textbook.

"You've studied enough for now." Sora sat him on his bed.

"I need… to study…"

At the touch of her shoulder, Sora turned and saw Yamato holding the textbook in front of her. Sharing a look with him, she understood and took the book to give to Jou, just as she got him to lay down in his bed.

"You can study while laying down, right?" Sora asked. "It's more relaxing that way."

Jou didn't protest. He lay against his pillow with the open book next to him, and it only took a few moments before he drifted off to sleep.

Their final visit was to Koushiro, whom they also brought snacks and his favorite bottled tea. His greeting was chipper but he had a distant look in his eyes, and when he let the three of them into his apartment, he led them to his room, where he returned to his computer chair, grabbed his mouse and began to click.

"What are you working on, Kou?" Yamato asked, hovering over Koushiro's shoulder.

Sora and Taichi hovered at his other side, but Sora couldn't make sense of what Koushiro was telling Yamato, who seemed to catch on to every word. She still watched and listened out of politeness, but caught wind of Koushiro's stomach growling which caused him to stop talking.

"Well, we brought snacks!" Sora said with a grin.

"Ooh, I needed a break, anyway," Koushiro replied. He thanked Sora for the food and tea, and he swiveled his chair away from the computer to continue chatting with the three of them. The longer their conversations went on, the more Sora noticed Koushiro's eyes gradually appearing less distant.

The sky was darkening as they left Koushiro's apartment and headed home.

"Well, we didn't find out who your secret admirer was after all that," Taichi quipped. "Has Mimi gotten back to you, Sora?"

"Not yet."

"We didn't even get to ask Jou or Koushiro about it."

Sora didn't respond, and turned to glance at Yamato, who was looking ahead. She knew that Taichi was following along and wouldn't press any further for questions, but she wondered what Yamato had been thinking. When she looked ahead, she could tell that Yamato was looking back.

After they said goodnight to Taichi at his building, Yamato turned to her.

"I can walk you home, if you want," he said.

"Aren't you already late for your band's rehearsal?" she asked.

"They can start practice without me."

Sora broke her gaze from his eyes to keep him from seeing her blush. She started walking a few steps ahead of him, and she went over the whole day in her head, including the plan she devised and knowing exactly how it would go. How surprising it was for everything to fall into place, even until that moment.

And at that moment, she couldn't help but feel nervous.

"It's a shame we didn't solve the mystery, isn't it?" Sora asked Yamato behind her.

"You don't seem too sad about it," he said.

"You'd think I would be. We spent a whole afternoon with three guys who didn't give us any clues."

"That's because they're the last three you would expect to have the answers to something like this."

Sora stopped walking, and her lips curled into a smile. Maybe he caught on to her plan, after all.

"I'm guessing you want to know why?" she asked.

"That would be my first question," he replied.

She continued to walk, knowing that he would continue following behind her. "Taichi's been complaining to us about how Koushiro never wants to hang out, and you've always mentioned whatever it was he likes to work on. I'm sure we'd all agree he needed a reminder of what other humans looked like."

Yamato chuckled. "Yeah. And what about Jou?"

"The other day, when Teacher mentioned exams, you told me you wondered how Jou was doing, and we all know how intense he can get when he studies."

Sora slowed to a stop and turned to face Yamato this time.

"And you always talk about how you never get to see Takeru, since you've been so busy with school work and your band."

A flash in his eyes told Sora that the dots were connecting.

"Are you saying that you planned all of this out for me?"

"I've been wanting to check in on them anyway, but I knew you've been wanting to see them, too. Especially Takeru."

Yamato stared at her with surprise. Then, he let out a soft laugh, walking a few steps closer to her. "I shouldn't be surprised. This was supposed to be for you. But you made it all about our friends. And, about me…"

Sora noticed Yamato look to the side as his face turned a tinge of pink, which forced a giggle out of her.

"...I shouldn't be surprised that Taichi didn't pick up on anything, either," Yamato added with a mutter. ""But, that brings me to my second question. Did any of this relate to solving your mystery at all?"

"I think we both know the answer to that, Yamato. I've already solved it."

Yamato's eyes returned to Sora's gaze, and her heart seemed to skip a beat.

"Tell me what you know," he said.

"Okay." Sora took a deep breath and exhaled. It was now or never. "Do you remember when Taichi seemed to think that song lyrics would give it away? Well… I think I know better."

Sora reached into her pocket and took out the folded note, held between her thumb and forefinger.

"This note was only three words," she continued, walking closer to Yamato. "There's a lot that goes into a note like this. It's hard to convey how someone feels when there are a lot of emotions. A few lines of a song might capture those emotions and reach another's heart, but why write a verse when three short words express more than enough?"

She lowered her hand, fixing her eyes on his as he watched and listened to her intently. She didn't expect him to respond; still, her heartbeat was quickening.

"I lied about waiting to hear from Mimi, by the way. You really can't get past her. And, I'm pretty sure Takeru would have been right on the money if someone didn't give him a look of death…"

Yamato's furtive glance to the side made Sora hopeful, and she kept going. "Mimi said his name, and Takeru was about to say it - the one person I've been meaning to ask, but I already know it's him. At least… 50% sure."

That was when Yamato scrunched his brows. "Why are you only half sure?"

"There's half of me that feels like I've known him for a long time. I know that when he wants something, he'll go for it. But he's going to have his doubts so he won't face it straight on. He won't be too melodramatic by hinting at it in a song, so he'll settle for sneaking a message into her locker."

"And what about the other half?"

Sora lowered her head, her eyes toward the ground.

"I have my own doubts. It almost seems too good to be true. How his note to me tells me exactly how I feel for him. I'd feel like a fool if I asked him about the words on the note and found out that it wasn't him, after all."

"So... why don't you ask me, Sora?"

A touch of his finger lifted her chin to meet his eyes. His blue eyes that glistened as he searched hers while he waited for her to ask him.

"What did you write to me, Yamato?" she asked in a whisper, her heart pounding in her chest.

And there, after a moment's pause, his gaze transfixed, he uttered the words that she had been wanting to hear:

"I love you."

Watching his lips move, hearing him say those words was music to her ears. She stared back at him with wonder.

"So it was you, after all." Sora suddenly stopped caring about the heat on her cheeks as her words cemented her realization. The light sting of tears crept onto her lids as she felt his hands hold her cheeks gently. "I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly."

She laughed, overjoyed and relieved that it was him. When he laughed along with her, she could tell felt the exact same way, knowing that his secret was out.

"Does this take away the 50%?" Yamato asked, looking back in adoration and brushing his thumb on her cheek.

"It does," she said as she placed her hand on his.

"I know you mentioned it… but I wanna hear you say it, too, Sora."

The note was gone from Sora's hands. She must have let it slip for the light evening breeze to carry it away. Just three words - that's all he wrote, but those words were all she wanted to hear, and at that moment, they were all she wanted to say.

"I love you, too," she said, her hand reaching Yamato's cheek. Then, in that moment, she caught the glint of tears on his eyes and the warm smile on his lips before he leaned forward, pulling her closer until their lips finally met for a kiss.

[pen-of-roses]

WHG Prompt 4 cont.-Reine

(Truthfully this just the collaboration piece with @thoughts-of-nora!)

Avery’s response had been about what they expected, disbelief and hope, tinged with that earlier fire. And anger. It was deserved after all, they had manipulated her, but still, that was going to make trust more difficult going forward.

Still, a step in the right direction was still a step. Now to take a few more steps by scoping out everyone else in person.

She looked over her shoulder as she slipped into the next compartment. Avoiding the Peacekeepers had been easier than expected, but she would still have to watch the clock for their next rounds. A few compartments later and she hadn’t found any of the tributes alone, but that was expected for the moment. “Is anyone in here?”

“Yeah, I am. Who’re you?” The speaker was standing seemingly alone, dressed well in a brown suit, but the most interesting detail was a little fish sewn into it. Nothing as extravagant as any of the Capitol outfits she’d encountered so far. If anything, the curly reddish hair was more eye catching than the actual clothes.

A tribute then.  

Or a mentor but...no, he seemed too young. And his eyes lacked the haunted expression most of them seemed to carry. Plus, he certainly looked familiar. Still, didn’t hurt to be careful.

“That was faster than I expected. Which District are you? You don’t look like one of the escorts.”

“District Four, I’m Scorpio. What’s your name?” His head tilted slightly, studying her perhaps?

“Reine, guess I’m District Nine. District Four...that was the...jobs? Workers...Careers! Trained for all of this right?” One of the ones meant to win and already favored, most tributes looking for glory and volunteer. Scorpio Ilim’s name had been called, and no scene have been made of volunteering or professing he’d win. So there was a chance.

“Yeah, I think we’re Careers. District Nine, what was it? Grain?”

“Something like that, yeah.” The words blended together a lot of the time for all of these, and how exactly her supposed district was different then say agriculture which was different than livestock...no that didn’t matter. “So, this must be a big deal for you huh? Getting the win and all that, or is it more a survival thing? No offense, but you don’t really look like a cold-hearted killer.”

“I’d prefer to win, as y’know, I don’t really wanna die yet.” Fair enough. “Besides, I have someone at home to get back to.”

That she could work with.

“And I suppose you’re right, I don’t really look like a killer, do I?” He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. Hopefully he could keep that humor through all this. “But I wouldn’t underestimate anyone in the Games. What about you? You got family back home you have to return to?”

Family.

They’re all dead wasn’t the best response, and wasn’t exactly true, but who was left alive, well, she wasn’t really family was she? Nor where the rest of them. “I...no not really.” But that wasn’t true either was it? She had Aleksis after all. “One person I guess, he’s the closest thing I’ve got.” Were they though? Family?  

Pushing the thoughts down she turned back to him and sat down, needing something stable. Should she take the risk? Avery hadn’t been happy with the roundabout way, so going for it might be better. Yet, what if he really was in the Capitol’s pocket as a Career? “Would you take it if there was another way? To live I mean, not die to the Games without having to win?” Without having to become the cold-hearted killer was unsaid.

“Who wouldn’t?” He sat across from her. “Just because I can kill doesn’t mean I want to.”

Good.

“I’d be more concerned if you did want to kill. The option to escape all this should be far more appealing.” Internally she winced, really that was the best she could do? Subtly was not her thing. People were not her thing. “Would you know if anyone else was around, say your escort or mentors?”  

“My escort wandered off and I haven’t seen my mentor yet...I think I saw him, but he just walked straight through.”

“But most likely wouldn't be able to hear our purely hypothetical conversation about other options to winning the Games? And the possibilities of escaping all of this?” Direct it was.

“I don’t know, let me check.” He took a minute to check the compartment door before settling back down. “I don’t see anyone. So, this is like a mini rebellion? Escaping the Games instead of fighting?” His grin settled her nerves ever so slightly. But rebellion...? How often had those gone wrong and ended in more suffering?  

Still...“If you’d like to think of it that way, yes. But that is the general idea yeah. Sadly, I can't give exact details until we're in the Games themselves and no what and who we're dealing with. But we--I think we could get out. Past that would be up to everyone else."

“So, are there going to be more than just the two of us? I think I could talk to my district partner, but they ignored me and sat down in a different compartment when I said hello.” That could prove problematic.

"That is the goal, to get as many people as possible. I can't guarantee anything of course, it'll depend on the individuals, but there's at least myself and my district mate. And you?" She raised an eyebrow with her question, leaning forward slightly.

His grin widened. “I’m in. I’ll help any way I can.”

“Perfect.” And it was. Two more steps in the right direction. But—she checked the clock—have to be quick before any are in the wrong direction. “Peacekeepers will be making the rounds this way soon, so I have to continue moving. But we’ll keep in touch, every little thing could help.”

“Alright,” nodding in understanding, he continued, “I’ll see if I can talk to any other tributes.”

She’s to the door she’d come in through when Aleksis comes back to mind, "Oh, and if another person comes by the same way and they are overly polite, he's with me and is on it and can give better information on the plan.” A flash of yellow catches her attention as the door opens, so she adds, “If they're in a gaudy outfit and seem they're here to cause problems...he's decidedly not with me and you're free to treat him however you like."

In the other compartment, she takes a moment to breath. That had gone...a lot better than expected. If the Careers could be swayed as well, then maybe they had a shot. They were human as well after all, forced to participate in this, why shouldn’t they be allowed to prepare?

The little sewn fish and curls linger in her head. It made him seem a lot younger than he probably was. A cold reminder that there were still kids being forced to participate in this. Maybe a rebellion wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The flash of yellow appeared again, in a very person shape. A very Conor shape that was quickly leaving the compartment back towards their own. But not before a smirk and a wink.

He was following her.

Worse, he knew what they were planning.

That son of the Abysses.

He was going to force their hand to work with him again, wasn’t he?

What’s worse, he was forcing her to chase after him to do it.

“He really does want to die again, doesn’t he?”

.

WHG tag list: @concealeddarkness13 @maple-writes @ratracechronicler @thoughts-of-nora @knmartinshouldbewriting @sparkles-and-hens @madammuffins

Does anyone else want to be tagged in these?

[thepancakeboi]

53. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Divergence AU Part V

Previous | Next (coming...soon) | AU list | Prompt source

Fanfic under cut

12/10

“Do you really think the others will be okay on their own?”

My question, although probably unnecessary, is a valid one. Queen, Noir, Panther, and Fox are going to deal with the IT president, while Mona, Skull, Joker, and I are going to find the third Will Seed that Mona sensed was nearby. I know that we only have a week left to secure the infiltration route, but the idea of us splitting into two different groups is a little concerning.

“Don’t worry, Crow,” Skull replies. “They got this.”

“They aren’t weak,” Mona adds. “That letter is as good as ours!”

“My apologies,” I say, adjusting my white gloves out of habit. Even if they know who I am and what I’ve done, Joker is the only one who has seen my other outfit. I shouldn’t care what they think of me, but I’ve kept it a well-guarded secret for so long. Force of habit, I suppose. “Shall we continue?”

Joker nods, taking my hand in his as he leads the way. He’s been doing this ever since that night in Leblanc. I’ve stopped questioning it after the first fifty times. It’s...nice. The rest of the thieves haven’t commented on it yet, nor do they seem confused. Maybe they already knew of Joker’s feelings.

The fight to get into the room is all too simple, largely in part due to Joker’s damn Shiki-Ouji, a Persona that I have come to despise. It, alongside Ars��ne and Jack Frost, is one of his main Personas. Shiki-Ouji, though, nullifies nearly all of Robin Hood’s attacks...as I found out the hard way during our duel last month. Not even Loki would have been much more help against it. That thing has become the bane of my existence.

I’m just glad Joker doesn’t see me as an enemy.

He leads the way back to the large double doors, slashing the rose vines with unerring grace before pushing the doors open. With this task done, the four of us enter the room. We’re greeted by harsh, indeterminate whispers. Their content means nothing to me-

“I trust no one but myself.”

I recognize that voice. Shido. I grit my teeth as his voice rings and echoes off the walls. The others don’t seem to notice, but it’s as clear as day to me. I tune the others’ voices out as Joker takes the Will Seed from its pedestal, straining to hear the inner thoughts of that bastard. For a few seconds, it remains incoherent whispers, until...

“The enemy is coming...in more ways than one.”

It takes nearly all of my willpower to not react to this. These are his inner thoughts, aren’t they? If that’s the case...could he know? Is Shido starting to realize the suicide-murder shtick was faked, that Ren is still alive and currently traversing his Palace? And...oh no.

In more ways than one.

That can only mean one thing...

Shido knows.

He knows I’m not on his side.

Or maybe it’s his normal paranoia? I can’t be certain. It isn’t like I can ask Shido himself. He’d lie and say he trusts me, the action almost as natural to him as breathing. If he does know, what am I supposed to do...?

“Hey, you okay?”

Mona’s query snaps me out of my thoughts. “I’m fine,” I easily lie. “Just a little nervous, I suppose.”

Skull, the dense idiot that he is sometimes, buys it. “Man, you looked like you’d just seen a ghost! Warn us next time, will ya?”

“I will,” I respond, looking at the others to gauge their reactions. Mona doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but it doesn’t seem like he’s going to probe further. And Joker...I can’t read him. All I get is the feeling that he sees through my lie. “Anyway, we have the Will Seed. What’s our next move, Joker?”

Joker thinks for a few moments before answering, “There’s nothing else here. Let’s meet up with everyone in the safe room.”

His hand slips back into mine as we leave the room behind us. This close to him, I can finally see that he wasn’t convinced in the slightest. I know he’d try to get me to open up to him if it weren’t for Mona and Skull. Despite this, his eyes plead with me under his mask, trying to get me to tell him what’s wrong. I refuse to look at him as the last statement I hear from that cursed room echoes in my ears:

“The only thing you have to do is follow my order.”

We arrive at the safe room to find the others already there. “How did it go?” Queen asks as Skull and Mona sit down. I choose to stand a little way back from the group, side-eyeing Joker as he rests his head against my shoulder. What does he think he’s doing? Judging by the cheeky smirk on his face, he’s trying to be as distracting as possible.

“Joker got the last Will Seed!” Mona replies, simultaneously answering Queen’s question and taking my attention away from the menace next to me.

“Aw yeah, and we got the fourth letter!” Oracle says. She is beaming as she holds up the envelope for everyone to see, apparently proud of her group’s accomplishments.

“Sweet!” Skull exclaims. “All that’s left is the cleaner dude! Let’s go find him and kick his ass!”

“Wait!” Panther interjects. “We don’t even know where he’d be.”

“Who cares? Can’t we just cause some trouble again?”

“We could, but...”

“Then-”

“As much as I would like to take the cleaner down now, we should wait,” I say before Skull can get another word in edgewise. “He’s stronger than any of the VIP’s we have fought so far.”

“How about tomorrow?” Noir chimes in. “It’s Sunday, so we won’t have school.”

“I agree,” Queen adds before looking at me. “Will you be joining us?”

I wish I had more time to think things through. If only we could wait a few more days. Time, however, is in short supply. “I should be able to, though if anything comes up, I’ll let Joker know,” I say while gently pushing Joker’s face away.

That smirk from before fades away, replaced with a carefully crafted neutral expression. His voice rings with authority as he says, “Sounds like a plan. We’ll meet up tomorrow afternoon.”

Tomorrow afternoon. That’s when the deed will be done. If my revenge plan is going to work, I’m going to have to kill him, for real this time. There’s no going around it. My mind is so preoccupied with planning how to accomplish this that I don’t even notice everyone else has left until I’m startled out of my thoughts by the kiss Joker plants on my cheek. He looks concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“What makes you think it isn’t?” I ask back, dodging his question.

“You seemed tense earlier. And a little scared. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Soon, this will all be over.”

Over in ways neither of us would want, yet it’s the only way this could ever end. This is how it was meant to be from the beginning: with one of us dead.

12/11

I tap my fingers idly against my leg as I wait on one of the catwalks in the engine room. Earlier, I had texted Ren saying that I would be running late and to go on without me. He must have bought it because when I had entered Shido’s Palace, the Phantom Thieves were nowhere to be found. I had told them the cleaner would likely be in the engine room. They must be farther inside.

My suspicions are confirmed a moment later when the group comes walking out, celebrating their recent victory. How delighted they must be now that they have the final letter. That happiness is about to be destroyed. Joker is the one to notice me, of course. He halts, looking up at me. “Crow?” he asks. “What are you doing up there?”

I leap down, doing a flip before landing effortlessly in front of the thieves. Damn Joker’s habits rubbing off on me. I expect to feel some level of anticipation, or maybe regret, but I feel...nothing. I don’t see Ren or Joker in front of me. All I see is another obstacle, blocking my plans from coming to fruition. “Did you really think I would let you leave this place alive?”

“Huh?”

My gun is out, pointed at him in an instant. I won’t give Joker the chance to say another word. Time to pull the trigger.

...except I don’t.

What’s stopping me from firing, from killing this menace? My hesitation wastes valuable time, time that the rest of the thieves use to prepare themselves to fight if necessary. I no longer have the advantage of surprise. Why didn’t I just kill him first? “Keeping you alive was a terrible decision.”

“What’s gotten into you, Akechi?” Queen asks. I don’t miss the dropping of codenames. “You were the one who suggested this plan.”

She’s not wrong. I had been the one to plan most of this heist, due to my knowledge of Shido’s Palace. “Nothing has changed. This camaraderie between us has all been an act.” The lies slip so easily off my tongue, and I find that I’m starting to believe myself. “When Joker started to piece things together, I knew I would have to change my plans, and in order to do that, I had to make him aware of my original plan. I’ve been planning this from the start. You all were simply so foolish as to trust me.”

“All an act...?” Joker asks, hesitant. It’s as if he’s trying to deny the words I’m saying.

I refuse to answer his question, instead deciding to say, “I’ve never shown you my true power, have I? Here, I’ll show you...while you die. Persona!”

I can feel Loki’s presence as two Shadows materialize from thin air. A Cerberus and a Cu Chulainn. Perfect. I direct Loki to use his signature Call of Chaos on the two Shadows. Their complexion turns black and red as their true destructive potential is unleashed. I can hear Cerberus growl as it paws at the ground in anticipation, waiting for my command to kill these wretched thieves.

“What was that?” Oracle asks, voicing everyone’s surprise at Loki’s brief appearance. “That wasn’t Robin Hood.”

“You’re right,” I confirm with a grin, “but that’s the least of your concern. You better not underestimate these two.” I leap back, putting the berserk Shadows between me and the Phantom Thieves. In a mad rush, the two Shadows launch themselves at their foes. I don’t expect the Shadows to win; they’re just meant to wear the enemy down.

Mona’s voice rings over the din of the fight. “Go, Joker! If anyone has a chance of getting through to him, it’s you.”

I see Joker nod, and, before I can even react, he’s using his grappling hook, sailing over the Shadows and landing a few feet away from me. The absolute fool. “You just made a grievous mistake,” I snarl. “You’ll need your teammates if you have any hopes of defeating me.”

He shakes his head. Cocky little shit- “I don’t need to defeat you.”

That catches me off guard. Just what the hell is he planning? “Then what is it? Are you going to abandon your teammates, just like you wanted before when I suggested leaving them to work with me?”

“I’m not abandoning anyone.”

“Oh, is that so? Then maybe we should put an end to our duel, striking and striking again and again until one of us is dead! Unless you’re so spineless that you’ll run away with your tail between your legs. Is that your master plan?”

“No,” he replies, his voice firm. “I love you, and I’m not leaving you.”

I laugh. He’s more foolish than I gave him credit for. “Then tell me, Joker. Will you love me for this?” His eyes widen ever so slightly as I point my gun at his face, aiming right between his eyes. It’s a pale comparison to the terror Sae’s cognition of Ren expressed. He’s too naive to be afraid. “There’s no cognitive double to save you this time.”

Joker, the absolute idiot that he is, doesn’t have the common sense to back down. Why is he just standing there? Move, damnit! It’s as if he’s deaf to my silent pleas. He refuses to move. He even has the gall to smile a little as he replies, “Hey, I’ll always love you no matter what. I’ll take a bullet for you, even if you’re shooting.”

I could do it. I could shoot him right now. But now, in this critical moment, I find myself hesitating once again.

Do it.

But he’s the only good thing in my life-

Do it! Watch as the light leaves his eyes!

I don’t...I don’t know if I can do it again...

What about your revenge? He’s in the way!

I tighten my grip on the gun...but I still can’t pull the trigger. Why...why can’t I kill him!? “How stupid are you? Would you really let your irrational feelings get in the way of your goal?” I have no idea if I’m asking him the questions...or myself.

“It seems you let your ‘irrational’ feelings get in the way of your goal. Aren’t you going to shoot?” he adds, almost sounding a little cocky at the end.

How dare he...

“Don’t lecture me!” I yell, whipping the gun away from his face. It clangs against the floor, the sound echoing in my ears. It’s clear I’m not going to shoot him point-blank anyway. “You think you know me, that you’ve got me pinned down. You don’t know anything about me! All you are is some criminal trash living in an attic who thinks he’s in love with an ace detective, a celebrity! You’ve deluded yourself and refuse to see the truth. How foolish you were to think that you meant anything to me, Joker!”

“You’re wrong!” He grabs my hand, the same hand that a few moments prior had been pointing a gun at his face. “I love you, and I’ll always love you. And...I know you love me too. We don’t have to fight-”

“I will get my revenge,” I interrupt as I pull my hand out of his grasp, refusing to listen to another word of his, “against Masayoshi Shido...my father. And you’re in my way.”

That makes him stop. The shock on his face is undeniable. “Shido’s...your father? Were you ever going to tell me?”

“What would’ve been the point?”

“Goro,” he starts; he must be taking this seriously if he’s using my first name, “we can still change his heart. Just let me hel-”

“I’m warning you. Stand. Down.”

“Please. I love y-”

Something inside me snaps. “NO! Just shut up, and die, Joker!”

There is only one way I can think of that’ll make me able to kill Joker. I welcome it with open arms. Loki’s mad power washes over me, my outfit changing in an instant. The world is tinted red, though I’m not sure whether it’s from the intense desire to murder or the lenses in the black mask. Maybe both.

But that doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters.

The only thing I want is to kill!

Destroy!

Massacre anything that stands in my way!

...starting...with...Joker.

A lopsided grin creeps on my face. Oh, this will be fun! I wonder how far I can go with this...

Let’s find out.

With little abandon, I rush straight at Joker with my serrated blade. It’ll tear him into pieces!

My sword clashes against his signature dagger. Somehow, he stands firm. How? How can he...?

Oh, so what!? He can’t possibly last for long! I go for another slash, but he yet again blocks it with that damn dagger of his. Our blades continue to strike against each other, neither of us able to land a hit on the other.

Again.

And again.

And again!

But then, as I throw all my strength into another frenzied slash, he weaves out of the way, kicking the sword right out of my hand as I start to stumble.

No way. How could this attic trash possibly be stronger than me!?

Joker lunges at me, the dagger no longer in his hand. Somehow, he manages to knock me off balance. He tries to restrain me as I thrash while screaming insults at his face.

One of my hands reaches my mask. Perfect.

I don’t even think.

I just act.

Only one thought rages in my mind.

I will kill Joker!

I command Loki to use Maragion. He won’t be able to block this attack. Screw his Shiki-Ouji!

For a brief moment, the flames surround Joker...but suddenly, they turn on me. I grit my teeth at the searing agony radiating through my body. Damnit...of all the times he wasn’t using that Persona-

My mask reforms, but is quickly pulled away from my face. Joker tosses it to the side, once again trying to hold me down. He flinches as my claws rake across his face, but he doesn’t budge.

He’s saying something to me, but I can’t hear him.

I don’t care what he’s saying! He should be dead!

I almost manage to hit him a second time, but now he’s able to use his hands to pin mine down. I try desperately to claw at his hands, but they’re just out of reach.

Damnit!

Joker’s still talking. Now I can make out his words. “...love y...please...it’ll be...”

What is he thinking!?

Even now...

As the seconds slowly tick by, the psychotic rage that overtook me starts to dissipate. Joker keeps on saying the same thing over and over: “I love you, Goro. Please, calm down. It’ll be okay.”

Over.

And over.

He sounds so distraught as I continue to fight against him. Repeating those same words. It’s no use. Joker’s determined to stop me.

Eventually, I stop struggling, panting as I try to catch my breath. I finally manage to gasp out, “What are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I...I didn’t want this.”

“I know. You didn’t want to shoot me.”

“I-”

Our conversation is interrupted by a pained scream. We both look over as Cu Chulainn falls to the ground. Cerberus must have fallen earlier in the fight, as it’s nowhere to be seen. The rest of the thieves look a little tired but otherwise no worse for wear. I turn my attention back to Joker, frowning as I see blood dripping from the thin slashes marring his beautiful face. “It’s fine,” Joker says, noticing where my attention is. “It doesn’t hurt. But are you okay?”

My laughter is strained, forced. “That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“But you got hurt.” He moves his hand to gently caress my face. “If I had known you were going to use that move, I would’ve used a different Persona.”

“Why would you even care? I just tried to kill you, damnit!”

“Because I love you, Goro. And I always will. You could’ve shot me, and I still would have loved you just the same.” Is it just me, or did his voice crack just a little there? “Goro, no matter what happens, I just want you to know I love you dearly, and-”

“Ugh, can we save the cheesy romance for later?” Oracle butts in.

Oh. That’s right. We’re not alone here. And with how things currently look... “Joker?” I start.

“Yeah?”

“Get off me.”

“Aww, I was enjoying this,” he says with a chuckle. He waits a second before moving so that I can push myself into a sitting position. The sudden movement causes me to hiss in pain. “You didn’t answer me earlier. Are you okay?”

“I have been through worse.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll be alright. Any other questions before we leave this wretched place?”

“Just one. Why did you do this? Did something happen yesterday?”

I almost tell him. My lips part, about to answer, but I realize it might take too much time. “How about we save that question for Leblanc? It...might take some time to answer.”

“Okay. We should head back to the central hall,” he adds, addressing everyone with that. He then turns back to me and, with a smirk, kneels down and puts one arm behind my back and the other under my knees. I realize what he’s doing just as he proceeds to pick me up bridal style with little regard for if he gets jabbed by the pointy parts of my true outfit. The rest of the thieves seem just as surprised and shocked as I am. Meanwhile, Joker grins at me as he says, “Hi, Akeppi.”

“Joker, what are you doing?”

“Showing you how much I love you.”

“You stupid, insufferable-” The rest of what I was going to say is cut off by the soft little kiss Joker gives me. He looks like he would love to kiss me more, but he’s not about to test his luck when I have so many ways to potentially harm him right now. It takes me a few seconds of mulling my response in my head before I begrudgingly finish, “...lovable menace.”

“I know. But I’m your menace.”

That alone gets me to smile. He’s right. It only took me trying to kill him to see it. “Yes, you’re my menace, and nothing is going to ever change that.”

[bitchloveskcbaseball]

Losing Resolve

Pairing: Edward x MC

Tides of Fate Part 1

A/N #1: This is my piece for @wackydrabbles​ prompt #43 - Is this a game to you? 

A/N #2: This is my first attempt at writing for Distant Shores and to be honest I’m not sure I’m entirely happy with how I’ve written Edward, but I’ve decided to stop thinking about it and just go with it.

A/N #3: This is set after Chapter 5

Trigger Warnings: This is going to be at least a 2-part series that will have mentions of violence, torture and death in Part 2. I don’t plan for it to be very detailed - mostly just an explanation after the fact - but still wanted to give everyone a heads up. (I’m really sorry this wasn’t here on initial posting - this wasn’t the direction I had been planning, but as I was working on Part 2 after posting this and it took a unexpected turn and I think I like where it’s going, so I’m adding this now. 

Edward rushed out onto the moonlit deck after having been woken from his slumber by an agonized scream. The sight that greet him – Peyton leaning heavily against the railing at the edge of the deck, beautiful features contorted with pain – had his breath catching in his throat. Another cry slipped from her lips as he approached, causing him to flinch away from her until he realized she didn’t seem to be aware that he had joined her.

Concern filled his voice as he called out to her, “Miss Bellamy?”

Still she didn’t acknowledge his presence, so he reached out to run his hand down her arm before he could think better of it. Something was clearly wrong and he’d be damned if he didn’t do all he could to help her. He laced his fingers with hers, hoping he could break through to her, but pulled away in shock when a sharp, tingling sensation ran through his hand and up his arm at the contact. What was that?

“Edward?” Peyton’s voice, thin as it was, cut through his thoughts and brought his attention back to her.

“Are you alright?” As soon as the words crossed his lips, Edward was cursing himself. Of course, she wasn’t alright – her breathing was quite labored as she was sagging even more against the railing.

“No. I – ahh!” Her legs finally gave out and her eyes slammed shut, her hand clutching at her right side. He tried to catch her before she hit the deck, but she was just out of his reach from where he’d been standing. I should have been closer. I should have been helping her.

“Peyton!” He crouched down beside her, hand coming up to cup her cheek. “What is it?”

She turned her face into his palm and, for a moment, he lost all sense of time and place, his senses overwhelmed by the intimacy of the action. He let himself revel in the feeling of her skin against his own, giving into the undeniable pull between the two of them.

“You… you said… my name…” Her voice was strained, her words interrupted by the gasps each breath tore from her lips, distracting Edward from focusing on his slip-up.

He did, however, realize his thumb was stroking her cheek, so he quickly dropped his hand away from her face. He had to force himself to ignore how her expression morphed into one of disappointment. “Tis not what I meant.”

“I know. S’my side,” she stated as if he couldn’t see her holding her hand to the spot.

Biting back his impatience, he prodded, “What happened? Were you injured earlier on the cargo ship?”

“No. Dunno what happened. Hurts to breathe.”

Edward tried to keep his expression passive, but the sight of Peyton in such discomfort caused his chest to ache. “Can you stand?”

“Not on my own.”

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Edward steeled himself for what he knew needed to be done. “May I…assist you, Miss Bellamy?”

“Ugh. Can you not use my last name right now? My side is all the pain I can take tonight.”

Letting out a deep sigh because he knew he’d never be able to deny her with the current state she was in, he ignored the implication of her words and whispered, “Peyton, may I assist you?”

Despite the pain still etched in her features, a small smile crossed her lips and it warmed Edward’s heart. He’d never admit it to anyone else, but he had found himself going out of his way with great frequency to make her smile.

Shaking his head to bring his attention back to the current situation, he wrapped an arm around her uninjured side and asked, “Are you ready?”

Peyton took a deep breath, wincing with the movement and then muttered, “As I’ll ever be.”

Moving as gently as he could, he lifted her to her feet. Despite his best efforts, however, he could tell from her whimpers and the way her grip tightened on the hand she was holding that it was an excruciating endeavor. Once he got her standing, he let her lean against his side as she attempted to catch her breath.

When her breathing had settled a bit, he asked, “Can you walk?”

“Think so,” she panted.

Keeping his arm securely around her, he slowly started moving them towards his quarters.

“Where are we going?”

“My quarters.”

“No…Edward…”

“Yes, Peyton. Tis not up for debate.”

As they inched their way towards their destination, the pair was quiet, albeit for different reasons - Edward because he was so distracted by having her in his arms and Peyton because each step hurt as fiercely as if someone were bludgeoning her side.

Once he had her settled as comfortably as possible into his bed, he eased himself down next to her. Suddenly he found himself unable to put distance between them, despite knowing he couldn’t allow their relationship to grow. It was much too risky for her. He also couldn’t resist holding her hand in his own, fidgeting with her fingers as he tried not to think about the fact that someone was going to have to examine her injury. Because, of course, it appeared that someone would have to be him.

Taking a deep breath, he tentatively asked, “May I?” and gestured towards her side.

Rather than answering him, she reached across her body to tug at the hem of her shirt with her left hand, pulling it up to expose her midriff. He tried desperately to not react, but couldn’t help the hitch in his breathing at the sight of her creamy white skin. The feeling quickly died, however, when he saw the huge bruise spreading across her side.

“Peyton!” Her eyes narrowed at him, and he realized his tone had come out much more accusatory than he’d intended. He tried to soften it as he asked, “Why did you not tell anyone of your injury?”

“Didn’t have it before I went to bed.”

Eyes narrowed on her, Edward seethed, “Miss Bellamy.”

“Really, Edward? Are we back to that?”

He stood up from his spot next to Peyton, irritation and hurt coursing through him. “If you’ll not be telling me the truth, yes.”

“I am, ahhh…telling…you the…truth!” Peyton tried to reach for him, but her face twisted up and her hand dropped down to clutch at her side again, the movement clearly having increased her discomfort.

Edward raised an eyebrow at her. “How did you get an injury like that, in your sleep?”

Peyton averted her gaze the instant he asked and he felt his temper rising. Here he was, worried out of his mind over her, and she was trying to keep secrets from him. When she remained silent, he gave up and stormed over to the door. He may not have it in his heart to kick her out of his quarters, his bed, but he refused to stand there and be lied to.

Still, he couldn’t resist delivering a parting shot, so he paused with his hand on the door knob and bit out, “Is this a game to you?”

“No! I –“ she broke off with a sharp gasp and Edward’s heart clenched at the sound. Despite the hurt and anger he felt, he couldn’t deny how deeply he cared for her. His desire to comfort her was so overwhelming that he almost rushed back over to her side, but he forced himself to stay in his spot instead, his back still facing her, as he waited for her to elaborate. After taking a few, shallow breaths, she continued, “I don’t…I’m not sure you’ll believe me…”

Part 2: Rifts Apart

Tag List: @burnsoslow​

I wasn’t sure if anybody else wanted on the tag list for this (since it isn’t for my main man Bryce lol) so just lemme know if you’d like to be added for the future 😁

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Innocence Lost || Michael Gray x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “ 2 & 7 from the prompt list. Perhaps for Michael? Don’t worry prompts just are tough since you can’t read anyone’s mind but you’ll come around. Every idea is different. I’ve been writing fan work for about six years and I still suck at prompts.” (Love you so much, thank you for your support, I’m so sorry for being late, hope you don’t hate me) Summary: n.2 & 7 from my prompt list: "He’s driving me crazy” +  “It hurts so bad I can’t breathe”

Warnings: angst, swearing, virgin reader, a little smut

Author’s notes:

First of all, this is awfully long [3967 words], but I really loved writing it, my favourite piece so far, thank you so much for requesting!

Paragraphs written in italics are flashbacks.

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and I spent a whole holiday without Wi-fi, moreover, writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

Let me know what you think and tell me if this is what you expected  ♡

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

“Y/n, please, you can’t keep this up, you need to eat” For the umpteenth time in a row, your best friend’s voice reached your ears from behind the locked door of your room, but, again, you just ignored her and the loud thuds produced by her small fists colliding with the dark wood, your watery eyes remained fixed on the window facing your messy bed, as your attention was totally reduced to the meagre sun rays feebly filtering from the curtains. Your mind somehow managed to isolate itself from the surrounding world, until those deafening screams and noises waned in your numb eardrums and your empty y/e/c irises disappeared behind your heavy eyelids, covered in evident violet veins alarmingly in relief under your deathly pale skin.

Once more, you inexorably drowned in your haunting memories leading your already faint breath to break, while a muffled sigh slightly escaped your bluish lips in desperate need of hydration. In a matter of seconds you fell in a fugue state, still far from sleeping, yet just as far from being awake, and then you saw him again: his piercing green eyes, the sharp features of his wonderful face, his soft lips always contracted in a harsh line; you perfectly remembered every single inch of his glorious figure, to the point that the illusive vision evoked by your exhausted brain looked so real, that you thought to be able to finally touch him, as your hand instinctively lifted from the mattress, agonizingly digging in the stale air, but never coming near to graze the actual object of its fondest desires.

Before you could at least try to avoid it, you found yourself retracing the course of your relationship with Michael for the millionth time, an acute wave of pain spread through your chest, stealing another excruciating moan from your throat.

The familiar ring of the small bell, specifically hung above the door, reverberated in the room, announcing the presence of another person in your mother’s shop.

You raised your head, already smiling at your new customer, and looked in the direction of the entrance, more than ready to help whoever it was find the perfect material for the making of a high-quality suit, still, when you realized who actually walked in your store, your heart skipped a beat and you felt cold drops instantly forming on your forehead.

“Good morning, sir, h-how can I help you?” With a courage you never knew you had, you almost stuttered those words, incapable of taking your eyes off the magnetic ones of none other than Michael Gray; your blood froze on the spot, your mother had always begged you to keep yourself out of the way of the infamous Peaky Blinders, she’d always said they were dangerous people and no good would’ve ever come from getting involved with them in any way, and that terrifying awareness had you panic even more under his penetrating stare, while you kept hearing your mum’s apprehensive tone echoing inside your mind.

“Miss? Is everything alright?”

Only when that unbelievably deep voice rocked the air around your body, you understood you must’ve got lost in your thunderous thoughts, probably looking like a complete fool, so with a simple toss of your head you eventually forced yourself to put aside your fear and smile once more, even though you just wanted to run away from that uncomfortable situation. “Yeah, I’m perfectly fine, thank you. Please, tell me what you need and I’ll do my best to make you leave satisfied” Those words frenetically tumbled out of your mouth as your nervous fingers moved a strand of your hair behind your right ear, where you had previously pinned a graceful white and blue orchid, like you used to do every day. You saw an amused grin forming on his face, his vigilant orbs studied your shape, following each movement you made with flaunted audacity. “You want me to leave that bad?” The earlier trickle of concern in his tone was now replaced by pure irony, and you felt your cheeks wildly burn realizing how wrong that choice of words was.

“Oh my God, no! That’s not what I meant, I-i was... I was-” The young man’s crystal laugh interrupted your humiliating rambling, causing your flushed face to turn literally purple with embarrassment, suddenly the tip of your shoes became the most interesting thing in the world for you, until a solid hand gently gripped your chin, guiding you to lift your gaze, before it left your skin and cautiously reached for the flower held amidst your locks. “Hey, it’s okay, I was just joking” a tender smile still decorated his lips while he toyed with the delicate blossom between his fingers, examining it like it was something he had never seen before “Why do you wear this in your hair?”

Your nose automatically scrunched up at that silly question and you glanced at him almost in disbelief. In the space of a moment your wild heartbeat regularized, suddenly he din’t look like a dangerous gangster anymore, in your eyes, for that brief instant, he became just a weird boy in your workshop. 

“I like flowers” Michael chuckled in amusement again because of your disarming naivety, and his attitude seriously started to get on your nerves, he was pissing you off with his impertinence, plus you didn’t understand what he was laughing at. “Explain to me what's so funny, so I can laugh too” When you comprehended how your tone came out a bit grumpier than you expected, your eyes went wide with dread since you immediately remembered who you were speaking to. Still, nothing bad happened; he simply tried to stop giggling in your face as both his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

“No need to get all worked up, honey, I only think you’re cute”

Pure shock contaminated your features due to those words, your cheeks heated again in distress, yet he didn’t move an inch, continuing to look at you from beneath his full lashes; there was something indecipherable in his gaze, something that made your stomach flinch with an unknown feeling. “You what?” Your voice rose of a few octaves, making you sound like a complete psycho, Michael, on the other hand, simply ignored your hysteric question and took up his absurd speech. “Would you have dinner with me tonight, miss?” Your trembling body unconsciously curled up on your left side, while your pupils berserkly moved under your closed eyelids and your mind kept reliving those bittersweet flashbacks. Actually, that day you had gently declined his first invite, under the pretext of not knowing him well enough, “you don’t even know my name, sir”, you had said, hoping to dissuade him from that odd whim; too bad for you, Michael Gray always knew exactly what he desired and rarely changed his mind nor gave up, especially when it came to intriguing challenges like you were. In fact, after your first encounter, he began to come to the store at least three times each week, on the pretence of ordering all sorts of rich fabrics for he needed new suits, and every morning he made sure that a bouquet of fresh white and blue orchids was dropped off your workplace. With the passing of days, no matter how hard you had tried not to, you fatally started to enjoy his company: he made you laugh like no one else did, and he was so kind and caring, that you soon forgot about his bad reputation, on the contrary, you could hardly believe that he was some vile criminal, since around you he just behaved like a normal boy, full of life and hopes. Eventually, he managed to persuade you to go out with him three weeks later, and after your first date, many and many others came, until one night he took you dancing in a lovely place down town. Needless to say, Michael was an absolute disaster on the dance floor, still he was there with you and kept making a fool of himself only to see you have fun; you perceived it in his stunning eyes, how happy he was from just knowing that you wanted to be right there and then, with him and him alone. And when he first kissed you, that same night in the middle of the ballroom, pulling you closer to his chest after a clumsy pirouette, in that exact moment, you knew, beyond any doubt, you had hopelessly fallen for that man. The mere thought of all those cheerful times brought an involuntary smirk on your face consumed by sorrow, but it was quickly overshadowed by your last memory together, which was for you both the most painful and blissful memory of all. The small lights, emanated from the fireflies Michael had caught for you, literally enchanted you, it was unbelievable how the simplest things could be so dazzling. A few days earlier, he had told you about his previous life, when he was nothing more than an ordinary farmboy with a normal family and a special talent for the mathematics, he had told you about how he loved to spend time with his little brother, playing ball among those endless fields or trapping glow-worms in old jam jars. For this reason, he had finally decided to bring you there, because he wanted you to know who he really was, aside from all his money and power, he needed you to love that part of himself too. So you found yourself comfortably sitting on a large towel in the middle of the green English countryside, your back was pressed against his torso and his arms were vigorously wrapped around your waist.

“What’s on your mind?” Your soft voice broke that unearthly silence first, you heard him giggle from above your shoulder before a quick peck was left on your cheek, followed by the tip of his nose tracing an electric path from your jaw to the bottom of your neck. You felt his face sink in your smooth skin as he took a deep breath, inhaling your fruity scent as much as possible, then a long wet kiss at the height of your throat inflamed your flesh with no mercy, until his libidinous mouth paused its work, in order to give you the sincere answer you were waiting for. “I want to make love to you”

In a single sharp movement you rolled onto your other side, desperately grabbing the edges of the sheets with your hands, almost like that was the only chance you had to keep yourself from falling again into the darkest abysses of your brain, but you couldn’t wake up, that noxious slumber seemed to keep you hostage. Grieving wailings filled the room, and your lungs easily run out of air, when the last lethal recall implacably came.

“So beautiful, so fucking beautiful” Michael groaned, while his dilated pupils greedily drank each drop of your naked shape unsteadily laying under his, he watched in rapture your soft chest frantically raise and lower and your plump lips incapable of holding back uncountable whimpers, due to the lustful stroking of his fingertips inside your core. Your misty gaze never left his, as your foreheads eagerly pressed against each other, he kissed you with unbearable urgency once more, your fingers hungrily entangling his short hair so to keep him close. Yet, when you finally felt his tip rub against your centre, a mindless fear took over you, causing your mouth to abruptly depart from his; your eyes, impregnated with pure dismay, started to ravingly seek the spot where your bodies were about to connect, before Michael lifted your chin with tenderness, driving you to catch his preoccupied stare. “Hey, we don’t have to go further if you’re not feeling like doing it, love” He whispered while making your noses lovingly cress one another, you blinked multiple times in attempt to regain a minimum of lucidity and then placed one of your trembling hands on his cheek. A tremendous amount of chaotic thoughts were wildly dancing in your dizzy head: suddenly, the awareness of the fact that he was involved in nasty affairs struck terror into your heart all over again, moreover, it would’ve been a terrible scandal, if it ever got out that a girl from a good family had slept with someone out of wedlock, especially someone like him. But, more than anything else, you kept wondering how that whole thing was going to end; afterall, you had always heard rumors about him being an absolute womanizer, he seduced only to abandon, that was what everybody said in Birmingham, and you were completely petrified by the idea that he could treat you that way as well. Still, you knew your love for him was strong, and you firmly believed that love was nothing without trust. “I want this, I swear, but...” Embarrassment lead you to look away while pronouncing those last syllables and your voice died in your throat, but, despite that, Michael was able to read you like an open book, so he hurried to cup your face and briefly peck your lips, in order to make you restore your confidence. He wanted you to feel safe in his arms, he wanted you to give yourself to him without any change of heart, since only then you would’ve been truly, completely and utterly his. “Just keep looking at me, okay? It’s me and you, y/n, nothing else matter now. Only me and you” You nodded your head yes, definitely allowing him to go on, and, while you were sinking in the mesmerizing green of his irises, he began to gently thrust into you, always paying attention to all your facial cues. A dull ache soon radiated through your lower abdomen and legs, having you tense up under his weight, as your thighs instinctively tried to shut.  “Relax, babygirl” a shower of small kisses covered your face, his warm tone caressing your ears “I need you to tell me if it gets too much, got it? I’ll stop at any moment”

As soon as you gave him your consent afresh, he entirely drowned inside you at a placid pace, irreversibly taking your innocence; a wrenching whine forcefully rolled down your tongue because of that horrible sensation, inducing Michael to tauten his muscles for a second and then start to pull out right away.

Watching you suffer caused him physical pain, he could actually sense a grievous burden achingly worm its way through his ribs; that’s how he realized he loved you dangerously. “Wait, Michael” Your wavering voice, together with your calves still held around his hips, temporary succeeded in keeping him from breaking that intimate connection, your nails digging in his forearms to prevent you from crying. “Stay with me”  You pleaded again, yet he seemed determined to ignore your prayers, as his head vehemently shook in disapproval and his waist fought your legs’ resistance. “I’m hurting you! I can’t-” Michael was not able to end his sentence for your lips impetuously collided with his, you needed him to stop blaming himself for such a natural thing; sweet caresses enveloped his marked cheekbones in a dire effort to calm his nerves, while you knowingly borrowed his former words. “Please, I want you to make love to me” After that night, without a single word, Michael Gray inexplicably disappeared from your life. A moon passed, yet not once he came to your shop, nor he wrote you a letter in order to explain the reason behind his disgusting behaviour, he just continued to avoid you, always staying away from the places where he knew he would meet you, pretending not to spot you among the crowded streets of the city. It was as if the entire world had fallen on your frail shoulders, you couldn’t quantify the cruel grief tearing your soul apart. “Y/n! Y/n, you have to wake up!” Mary’s screams rudely dragged you back to reality, only then you heard the immoderate sobs and weeps uncontrollably erupting from your throat; you looked up at your best friend, who had somehow managed to pick the lock of your chamber, and you noticed raw terror shining in her orbs, her fists squeezing your arms hard enough to leave a mark. “L-leave me alone” You muttered with hot tears still streaming down your face. Even though you were well conscious of your extreme bad attitude towards her, you couldn’t handle any physical contact in those moments, you only craved loneliness. “No, I fucking won’t! Now, tell me what the hell is going on with you” Her aggressive tone brooked no argument as she showed no signs of letting go of you, at least not until you spat it all out. “I can get no peace, I see him! Every time I close my eyes, I see his damn face, I hear his voice. He’s driving me crazy” You snuggled up, burying your head between your flexed knees, finally allowing your cry to explode altogether.                                                          *****

“Mr. Gray, I’m so sorry, I tried to stop her, but she won’t listen!” From his comfortable armchair, Michael abandoned his work only to glimpse at his assistant with one eyebrow raised in a sceptical expression.  Yet, soon he understood what that poor man was talking about, since Mary furiously broke into his office, bravely sending him eloquent death glares. With his usual arrogance pouring out of every hole, the boy brought a cigarette to his mouth, lighting it in a quick move, before he dropped his secretary a hint so to be left alone with the lady. “I have business, no time to talk” Michael tried his best to sound as unemotional as possible, he kept smoking slowly, savouring every rush of grey smoke, and staring at the girl in front of him with a destabilizing sense of superiority. “You don’t need to talk, you screwed bastard! You just have to listen!” In the blink of an eye, Mary reached for him behind his desk, rabidly gripping his naive shirt collar in order to push him closer to her livid face. She knew perfectly well who she was growling at, he could’ve ruined her at any moment and that was a risky choice, but her dearest friend was going to pieces right beyond her eyes and she had to do something about it. “She’s slowly fading away and there’s nothing anyone can do, ‘cause you fucking destroyed her!” Michael forced himself to bear her gaze, despite the devouring guilt growing inside his stomach. “She at least deserves a bloody logical explanation, so she can finally move on. I swear to God, Michael Gray, if you don’t go there and talk to her, I’ll find a way to fuck up your pathetic life, if it’s the last thing I do”                                                              *****

A light knock on the wooden jamb distracted you from your thoughts again, you simply moaned with annoyance in response, laying on your bed with your back to the open door. “I told you to leave me alone, Mary” You murmured at the limit of your strength, but, half a minute later, you heard someone clear their throat in a very familiar way, and you just couldn’t believe your ears. Without a second thought, your back escaped the control of your mind, hastily leaving the mattress; in the space of a moment, you found yourself standing in front of him. The air around you seemed to freeze on the spot, you stopped breathing, he was there, for the first time after more than a month. Your heart was atrociously split into two: part of you only wanted to throw your arms around his neck and hold him tight, still, your other half hated him for the hell he had deliberately put you through. “Go away.” Your stone-cold remark hit him right in the gut, he looked in horror at the state into which you had fallen, conscious of being the one to blame for all the pain he had caused you; before he could notice, he sensed a salt drop fall from his lashes and directly hit the floor, but he didn’t move, unable to regain control of his paralyzed body. “I said, go away!” This time you couldn’t prevent yourself from hysterically shouting in his face, starting to throw several punches at his chest, both of you were now at the mercy of your own rage. Coming out of his momentary trance, Michael promptly grabbed your wrists, partially interrupting your fierce outburst; feeling the touch of his bare skin on yours inexorably had goosebumps cover every inch of your figure, it was like getting sparked a thousand times in a row, you kept wondering how you were staying on your feet without falling to the ground. “I’m here to talk” That mind-blowing sound filled your ears, causing your craw to painfully close up, he kept his watery irises locked with yours, waiting for you to say something, but your only answer ended up being a forceful shove, which allowed you to free yourself from his grasp. “Talk? Really?!” a bitter laugh left your sternum as you incredulously put your hands through your tousled locks “What exactly did you want to discuss with me? How disgusting you are for mercilessly betraying a person whose only mistake was loving you, eh?” Truth was hard to handle for him, he was aware of what a horrible thing he had done to you, still, he wished he could make you understand he had acted that way for a reason. Michael lowered his gaze in discomfort, until your roaring voice echoed through the walls once more. “Look at me! I want you to see what you’ve done” you took a few steps in his direction, getting riskily close to him, while your mad stare never left his features. “I am shot to pieces because of you” Your index finger roughly hit the middle of his pecs for a brief instant, then you distanced yourself of about three feet, overwhelmed by that terrible mess made of a million contrasting feelings bloodily fighting into your head. “It hurts so bad I can’t breathe” That was nothing more than a whisper, cracking under the weight of your excruciating emotions; for the umpteenth time that day, all the air in your lungs somehow vanished for a few, interminable, seconds, leaving you to tremble before his immovable silhouette. That heartbreaking sight stirred something in Michael, something so strong, that he finally reacted to that unbearable situation. “I fucking did it for you! I did it to protect you from a man like me, y/n! What do I really have to offer you, eh?” Shock took over you while you watched him gesticulate, wildly hitting his own torso multiple times in between his yells. “Blood, death, destruction, that’s what I am. And I can’t drag you down with me, y/n, ‘cause I love you too much to be this selfish!” He fell on his knees, fully depleted by his own sorrow, and he wearily leant his forehead onto your womb, heavy sobbing through the veils of your nightgown. A round minute went by without you exhaling a single sigh, you tried and process what he had just said, swiftly repeating it all to yourself. Eventually, your fingers gently began to caress his hair in attempt to put an end to his loud weeps, never before you had seen him cry, never in a thousand years you had thought that moment would ever come. “I love you too, Michael, and that’s why you can’t decide for me”  Your right hand softly cupped his chin in order to make him look up at your eyes. “You just have to let me stay by your side”

tag list: @namelesslosers, @shadow-of-wonder, @spidey-pal

[bechloeislegit]

25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2019

DAY 11 - FEELS LIKE A HALLMARK MOVIE MOMENT

Prompt from FanFiction User Electronis Zappa: [See the end for full prompt.]

Beca Mitchell stood off to the side and watched as Tom Henderson grabbed Chloe Beale and twirled her around. Beca could hear Chloe's giddy laugh as Tom set her down and kissed her. Chloe wrapped her arms around Tom's waist as they stood talking to some of their fellow graduates.

Beca felt a tightness in her chest as she continued to watch Chloe and Tom. She had such a crush on the popular redhead, but Chloe was straight, so Beca had to settle for being her friend. Beca sighed and went to find her mother; she ran into Stacie Conrad first. Stacie hugged Beca, and Beca wrapped her arms around Stacie.

"I'm going to miss your sarcastic ass, Beca," Stacie said as she let Beca go.

"Keep your promise to keep in touch, and you won't," Beca said.

Beca caught a glimpse of red hair and couldn't help but follow where it went. Stacie cleared her throat.

"Are you still pining after Chloe?"

"I can't help it," Beca said, looking down at the ground. "She's the nicest, sweetest person I've ever met. I just wish I had a chance with her. Don't get me wrong, I like being her friend, but I wanted to be so much more."

"And it doesn't hurt that she's hot," Stacie said.

"And straight," Beca added. "Very, very straight."

"But, also very, very hot."

"Better not let Aubrey hear you say that," Beca said with a laugh.

"She knows Chloe's hot," Stacie said. "And she also knows that I am all hers."

"I'm glad for you," Beca said. "I hate to cut this short, but I have to find my mom. I need to get to the airport."

"Airport?" Aubrey Posen asked from behind Beca. "Where are you going?"

"Shit, Posen," Beca said, turning around. "Don't sneak up on people like that."

"Sorry," Aubrey said. "You said you were going to the airport, but I thought you were going to Stacie's graduation bash tonight. Everyone will be there."

"She's leaving for L.A.," Stacie said. "She already told me she wouldn't be at my party."

"L.A.?" Aubrey said. "Wow, you were serious about that?"

"Serious about what?" Chloe asked as she joined the trio.

"Jesus, what is with you people sneaking up on me," Beca said, holding a hand to her chest. "At this rate, I'll have a heart attack before I can go anywhere."

"Where are you going?" Chloe asked frowning.

"L.A.," Beca said. "I'm actually getting ready to head to the airport."

"You're leaving now?" Chloe asked. "I thought you weren't leaving until the end of summer."

"I got a legit job offer and couldn't pass it up," Beca said. "I start next week, so I'm leaving now so I can get settled."

"But what about the graduation parties?" Chloe asked. "And hanging out before we all head off in different directions for college and stuff."

"Beca!" Sarah Mitchell called out, having spotted Beca.

"Looks like I have to go," Beca said. "I guess I'll catch you guys at the first reunion."

"Good luck, Beca," Aubrey said.

"Yeah, you little shit," Stacie said. "And you'd better keep in touch. And let me know about all the hot girls you meet."

Chloe frowned at Stacie. "Ignore her, Beca. Just give it your all, and I know you'll be winning all kinds of music awards."

"Thanks, Chloe," Beca said. "I'll do my best."

"Hi, Mrs. Mitchell," Aubrey said as she reached the girls.

"Hello, girls," Sarah said. "Congratulations on graduating."

"Thank you," the three girls said together.

"Come on, Beca," Sarah said. "Say your goodbyes because we have to leave, so you don't miss your flight."

Stacie pulled Beca into a hug first. "I'll miss you, Beca."

"I'll miss you, too, legs," Beca said with a laugh.

Aubrey gave Beca a quick hug and wished her luck. Beca turned to Chloe.

"Take care of yourself, Chloe," Beca said.

"Um, don't I get a hug?" Chloe asked pouting.

"Sure," Beca said and pulled Chloe into a hug.

"I'll miss you, Beca," Chloe said. "And you'd better keep in touch."

"Like I told Stacie, I'll do my best," Beca said as she pulled out of the hug. "You all take care of yourselves."

Beca walked away with her mom and looked back and waved one last time. The three friends stood watching Beca walk away, hoping this wasn't the last they'd seen of her.

~ Day 11 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

Ten years later, Stacie hurried into the apartment she shared with her wife, Aubrey.

"Did you hear it?" Stacie asked Aubrey as soon as she entered. "Beca's new song came out today."

"I heard it," Aubrey said. "It's really good. I knew Beca was talented, but who knew our snarky little alt girl would become one of the biggest pop sensations and music producers in the world."

"And she keeps getting hotter and hotter, too," Stacie said. "Everyone wants a piece of Beca Mitchell."

Before Aubrey could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. Aubrey went to answer it, and Chloe came rushing in.

"Did you hear?" Chloe asked, her eyes wide with excitement. "It's already on the charts, and they predict it will be another number one."

"We both heard it today," Stacie said.

"I think the predictions are spot on," Aubrey said.

"Do you know if she's planning on coming home for Christmas, Stacie?" Chloe asked. "No one has heard from her or seen her in a while, and I thought this might be the year she comes home. I really miss her."

"I'm sorry, Chloe," Stacie said. "I haven't heard anything from her either."

"I guess she's busy," Chloe said sadly.

"I know she's on an international tour," Aubrey said. "Maybe we'll hear from her once she's back."

"Maybe," Chloe said. "It would be nice if she came to visit once in a while."

~ Day 11 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

Meanwhile, three thousand miles away, Beca was on the phone talking to her mother.

"I'll be there, mom," Beca said. "I promise."

"Thank you, Beca," Sarah said.

"Don't thank me," Beca said. "You're my mother, and you took care of me. It's my turn to take care of you."

"I don't want to be a burden to you, Beca," Sarah huffed.

"You're not a burden," Beca said. "Not ever. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Sarah replied. "It will be nice to have you home for Christmas. I love you."

"I love you, too, mom," Beca said and ended the call.

Beca threw her phone on the bed and did another sweep of the house. The house was sold furnished, and she had packed up her personal belongings to ship to her mother's. Beca let out a sigh and finished packing her suitcases, leaving out clothes for her flight back to Barden, Georgia.

~ Day 11 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

Beca had been home for a few days and felt bad that she hadn't called any of her High School friends, especially Stacie. Stacie had been the one person who always kept in touch, except for the last few months while Beca was on her international tour.

Sarah had been through radiation treatments, but that didn't do much to reduce the cancer. Beca thought it sucked that her mom had to start chemo the day before Christmas Eve. It was nearing four in the afternoon, and they had just returned home. Beca helped Sarah to bed and sat down on the edge.

"Do you want anything?" Beca asked, lightly stroking her mother's forehead.

"No, thanks," Sarah mumbled, exhausted.

"Okay," Beca said quietly. "I left the bell here, and if you need me, ring it. I'll be downstairs, making you some hot tea but should be able to hear it. Okay?"

Sarah nodded with her eyes closed. Beca waited a few minutes until she was sure her mother was asleep before making her way downstairs.

Beca went to the kitchen and put the tea kettle on the burner. She got everything ready and sat at the dining room table to wait for the water to boil.

Beca noticed a lot of unopened mail on the table and that most of them were bills. She sighed.

Beca went through the mail and set aside the overdue bills, planning to take care of them herself. The kettle whistled, and Beca made Sarah's tea. She grabbed some crackers and put them on a plate.

Beca placed everything on a tray and carried the tray to her mother's room. Beca placed the tray on a small table next to the bed so her mother could reach it if she woke up and wanted it.

Beca watched her mom for a minute before quietly going back downstairs to find something to fix for dinner. After looking through the pantry and her mother's refrigerator, Beca knew she needed to get some groceries. She compiled a list and picked up her phone.

"Beca!" Stacie's voice squealed through her phone, causing Beca to laugh.

"Hey, Stacie," Beca said. "How's everything?"

"Everything's good," Stacie said. "How about you? How was the tour? We heard your new song and loved it."

"Slow down," Beca chuckled. "I'm good, the tour was good, and I'm glad you like the song. I called because I was wondering if you could do me a favor?"

"You know I'd do anything for you, Beca," Stacie said. "What do you need?"

"Can you and Aubrey come over to my mom's house?"

"Sure, Beca," Stacie said. "We can-. Wait! ARE YOU HERE?"

Beca pulled the phone away from her ear as Stacie started yelling. She put the phone back to her ear when Stacie quieted down.

"Yeah, I'm here." Beca laughed. "Can you guys come over?"

"We'll be there in ten," Stacie said.

Before Beca could say anything, Stacie ended the call. Beca laughed again and put her phone in her pocket.

True to her word, ten minutes later, Stacie and Aubrey were at the door. Beca opened it to be smothered by Stacie grabbing her and swinging her around.

"I've missed you so much!" Stacie squealed.

"Whoa, can you keep it down?" Beca said as Stacie set her on her feet. "My mom's asleep."

"It's kind of early," Aubrey said. "Is she okay?"

"That's why I asked you guys to come over," Beca said. "Let's sit in the living room."

The three sat down, and Beca explained about her mom's cancer diagnosis and how she had her first chemo session earlier that day. Aubrey and Stacie offered their sympathies.

"What can we do to help?" Stacie asked.

"I need some things from the grocery store," Beca said. "And I need to go to the pharmacy to pick up her prescription. I can't leave her alone, so I was hoping you could stay with her until I got back. I don't have anyone else to ask."

"Do you have a list for the grocery store?" Aubrey asked.

"Yeah," Beca said.

"Give it to me," Aubrey said, holding out her hand. "I'll get the groceries and run by the pharmacy. You stay and visit with Stacie, that way if your mom needs anything, you'll be here for her. I'll pick up some take out on the way back."

"That's a great idea, Brey," Stacie said. "What do you say, Beca?"

"Thank you, Aubrey," Beca said as she handed Aubrey the list. "That's a better plan. Wait here, and I'll get you some cash."

Beca got up and ran upstairs. She did a quick check on her mom before running to her room and grabbing some cash. She went downstairs.

"Here's two hundred dollars," Beca said. "I don't know how much the prescription will cost. And I'll call the pharmacy to let them know you'll be picking it up. If that and the groceries cost more, I'll pay you back. And call me if you have any questions. Oh, and can you pick up a pizza for dinner?"

"Pizza it is," Aubrey said. "I'll be back as soon as I can." She kissed Stacie and left.

Beca immediately called the pharmacy and was told there would be no problem as long as Aubrey showed proper ID. Beca texted Aubrey the info to let her know.

"So," Stacie said when Beca finally sat down. "When did you get back, and how long are you staying?"

"I got here a few days ago," Beca said. "I've moved back permanently. My mom needs me. I can do my job from anywhere and fly to L.A. when I need to. "

"Oh, my God, Beca," Stacie said. "That's great news. Everyone's been asking if you would be home for Christmas this year."

"It is nice to be home, especially for Christmas," Beca said. "So, tell me about everyone. Who's still in town? Who's married, has kids? I want to know it all."

~ Day 11 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

"Brey, what are you doing shopping on a weeknight?" Chloe asked when she spotted her blonde best friend. "And two days before Christmas?"

"Oh, um, you know," Aubrey said. "Just picking up a few things for a friend. What about you?"

"I'd been so busy with my class's Christmas program that I forgot to do my grocery shopping," Chloe said with a laugh.

"Oh, right. The program was wonderful as always," Aubrey said as she grabbed a bunch of bananas and placed them in her cart. "Oh, shoot, I forgot the eggs. I'll talk to you later, Chloe."

"Okay, see you, Brey," Chloe said as she continued to look around the produce section.

Aubrey hurried away as she pulled out her phone to call Stacie. She started talking as soon as Stacie answered the phone.

"Ask Beca if she wants Chloe to know she's in Barden?"

"What?" Stacie asked.

"I ran into Chloe at the grocery store," Aubrey said. "She asked what I was doing here, and I made up some lame reason because I didn't know if Beca wanted her to know she was here."

"Oh," Stacie said.

Aubrey heard muffled voices coming through the phone. Stacie came back and said, "Beca doesn't mind if Chloe knows. She figures she'll find out soon enough anyway."

"I just realized something," Aubrey said. "Beca doesn't know about Chloe, does she?"

"I don't think so," Stacie said.

"I have an idea," Aubrey said with a smile. "I'll see you in a little bit."

"Okay," Stacie said. "Bring some ice cream with you."

"I will if you call in the pizza order," Aubrey said. "I can pick it up when I go to the pharmacy."

"Deal," Stacie said, adding, "Love you" before she ended the call.

Aubrey had finished shopping and looked around for Chloe. She smiled when she saw her moving to the checkout.

"Hey, Chlo," Aubrey said as she approached Chloe. "Are you busy after this?"

"Nope," Chloe said. "What did you have in mind?"

"I have to pick up pizza that Stacie ordered for us," Aubrey said. "Would you like to join us for dinner?"

"I'd love to," Chloe said. "Let's pay for our stuff, and we can go."

The two got in line and paid. Chloe was carrying her bags while Aubrey pushed the cart out to her car.

"Why don't you take your stuff home?" Aubrey said. "I'll get the pizza and pick you up in about twenty minutes?"

"Sounds good," Chloe said as she got in her car.

Aubrey went by the pharmacy and then the pizza shop. She was outside Chloe's place and texted Chloe.

Chloe came out and got into the car. Aubrey drove off and made her way to Beca's.

~ Day 11 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

After a few minutes, Chloe started looking around.

"Brey?" Chloe asked. "Where are we going? I thought we were going to your place."

"I never said we were going to my place," Aubrey said, pulling onto Beca's street.

Chloe looked around again and then looked at Aubrey. "Are we going to Beca's house? Oh, my gosh! Is she in town?"

Aubrey smiled and nodded as she stopped the car in front of the Mitchells' house. Chloe squealed and opened the door and was running up to the door before Aubrey had time to shut off the engine. She laughed and smiled as she got out of the car.

Beca and Stacie were talking when there was loud knocking at the door. Beca got up to answer and was thrown back and onto the floor with the force of Chloe rushing into her. Beca barely had time to wrap her arms around the person before falling to the floor.

"Ow. Shit!" Beca cried out as her head hit the floor. She then noticed red hair and chuckled. "Hello to you, too, Chloe."

"Oh, my God, Beca!" Chloe said, leaning back to look at the girl. "I can't believe you're here. I've missed you."

"I'm here," Beca said. "And I'll be here for a while."

"Really?" Chloe said and hugged Beca again.

"Thanks for the help, Chloe," Aubrey said as she stepped over Beca and Chloe. "Here's the pizza. When you two are done with whatever it is you're doing down there on the floor, I can use some help with the groceries.

Chloe pulled back enough to see Aubrey. Smiling, she said, "This may take a while."

Beca laughed and gently pushed Chloe to stand. She stood as well, rubbing the back of her head.

"I'll get the groceries," Beca said.

"I'll help," Chloe immediately responded and followed Beca out to the car.

"Do you think Chloe will tell her?" Stacie asked as she took the pizzas from Aubrey.

"I hope so," Aubrey said. "That's why I brought her here. They belong together."

"I agree," Stacie said.

Once they reached the card, Beca opened the back door. She let out a big sigh before leaning in to grab the groceries.

Chloe stood back to check Beca out, and she liked what she saw. With a soft sigh, she stepped closer to Beca.

"Hey," Chloe said, placing a hand on Beca's lower back.

"Yeah?" Beca said, standing up to look at Chloe.

"Is everything okay?" Chloe asked. "I mean, that was quite the heavy sigh. Did something happen? Is that why you're here?"

Beca sighed and leaned back against the side of the car. "My mom has cancer. I moved back so I can help her."

Tears came to Chloe's eyes as she pulled Beca into a hug. "I'm so sorry. If I can do anything, just let me know."

Beca hugged Chloe to her. "Thanks."

Chloe went to pull out of the hug, but Beca held her tighter. They stood like that for a few minutes before Beca sniffled and let Chloe go.

"Sorry," Beca said.

"Don't be," Chloe said, smiling softly at Beca. Her smile dropped as she blurted out, "I need to tell you something."

"What?" Beca asked, suddenly concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Chloe said. "But, I owe you an apology and an explanation."

"I don't know what you could possibly have to apologize for, but I'm listening," Beca said.

"Okay," Chloe said nervously. "Um, you know how I dated Tom Henderson in High School?"

"Yeah," Beca said.

"Well, he, um," Chloe stammered, looking around while fiddling with her fingers.

Beca grabbed Chloe's hands, causing Chloe to look up at her with tears in her eyes.

"Did he get you pregnant and then dump you?" Beca asked, dropping Chloe's hands and clenching her fists. "I'll kill him."

"No, it's not that," Chloe said. "Tom's a really good guy and wouldn't do that."

"Are you guys married?" Beca asked. "It's not surprising. I am surprised that no one told me, but what's done is done."

"No," Chloe said, getting frustrated. "Why is this so hard?"

"I'm sorry," Beca said. "I'll stay quiet, and you tell me what it is when you're ready."

Chloe stood, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. She looked at Beca and then back at Beca's house. Her eyes widened when she saw that Aubrey and Stacie were watching them from the window.

"I can't do this," Chloe said, turning toward Beca.

Chloe turned and started walking away down the sidewalk.

"Chloe! What are you doing?" Beca called after her.

"I'm going home," Chloe yelled back.

Beca shook her head and ran to catch up with Chloe, grabbing her arm to stop her.

"You can't walk home," Beca said. "Look, I don't know what's got you all flustered and upset, but it can't be that bad. You know you can tell-"

"I'm gay," Chloe blurted out.

"What?"

"I'm gay," Chloe repeated softly.

"I heard you," Beca said. "I'm just confused. Are you apologizing to me for being gay? I'm gay, and I don't apologize for it, and neither should you."

"That's not why I said I needed to apologize to you," Chloe said. "Can we go back to your house and talk?"

"Sure," Beca said.

Beca and Chloe turned back to walk to Beca's house when they saw Stacie and Aubrey getting the groceries out of the car.

"Thanks," Beca said as she took a bag.

The four friends walked into Beca's house and followed Beca to the kitchen. Beca set the bag down on the counter and looked at Chloe.

"Um, Stacie, would you and Aubrey excuse us for a few minutes?" Beca said. "Chloe and I need to talk."

"Sure, Beca," Stacie said. "I'll keep the pizza warm, and we can eat when you're done."

"Thanks," Beca said, taking Chloe by the hand and leading her upstairs to Beca's room. "Sit."

Chloe sat on the bed as Beca indicated, and Beca sat next to her. "So, what do you need to apologize to me for?"

Chloe wouldn't look at Beca while she spoke.

"I've known I was gay since I was fifteen," Chloe said.

"What?" Beca asked, confused. "But all through High School, you dated guys and never once said anything about being gay or bi."

"I was afraid," Chloe said. "I couldn't tell anyone because I was afraid my parents would find out. You know how conservative they are. I couldn't bear having them be disappointed in their gay daughter."

"You could have told me," Beca said. "I would have understood."

"I know," Chloe said. "But, I had such a crush on you back then, and I knew you had a crush on me. I also knew if I said anything, you'd want us to be together. You were so open and unapologetic about being gay, and I wasn't. If we had gotten together, I would have asked you to keep it a secret, and I couldn't do that to you."

Beca sat quietly for a moment, thinking over what Chloe said and what to say to Chloe.

"I get it," Beca finally said. "Coming out is hard." Beca looked at Chloe and asked, "Did anyone else know back then?"

"Just my cousin, Holly," Chloe said.

"When did you come out to everyone else?"

"Five years ago."

"Five years?" Beca said, her voice rising. "You've been out for five years, and you couldn't tell me until now? Why?"

"I don't know," Chloe said as the tears she'd been holding back fell. "I was afraid of how you'd react. You're the one person I don't want to hurt or disappoint."

Beca pulled Chloe into a hug. Chloe buried her face in Beca's shoulder and continued to cry.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled," Beca whispered, kissing the side of Chloe's head. "I'm glad you told me. And you could never disappoint me."

Chloe sat up and settled against Beca. "Hold that thought," Chloe said. "I haven't told you everything."

"Okay," Beca said.

"Um, Tom also knew. I told him after our first date," Chloe said. "He was such a great guy and agreed to pretend to date me so no one would find out I was gay. It was great because we had fun together without all the relationship drama that went with dating for real."

"I may have to apologize to Tom when I see him," Beca said. "I always thought he was a douche, but that was only because he was dating you and I wasn't."

"Here's where the disappointment comes in," Chloe said. She took a deep breath. "I went a little crazy when I got to college. I was away from home, and no one knew me there so I could be gay without any judgment or repercussions."

"What did you do?" Beca asked.

"I slept with a lot of girls," Chloe said, blushing. "I think it was Robin Williams who once said, I wasn't experimenting, I was into full-scale research."

Beca chuckled, and Chloe smiled. "Anyway, I met a girl my Senior Year, and we started dating. I, uh, was only with her because she reminded me of you."

Beca's eyes widened at this. "Really?" she asked and chuckled. "Most of the girls I dated in L.A. reminded me of you. But, I must say, none of them could match your blue eyes."

Chloe blushed again. "Do you, um, still have a crush on me?"

"Yes," Beca said. "Ten years later and my heart started beating fast as soon as I saw you."

"What would you say if I told you that all I want for Christmas is a date with you?"

"I'd say," Beca said, moving to face Chloe. "There really is a Santa Claus because that's what I asked for, too."

Chloe smiled, and Beca smiled back. Beca leaned in and kissed Chloe. It was gentle and only lasted a few seconds because Beca started laughing.

"This feels like a Hallmark movie moment."

"As long as I get the girl," Chloe said.

"You already had her," Beca said and leaned in to kiss Chloe again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Full prompt from Electronis Zappa: Basically, it's something I'd do for a Hallmark Movie if I had the ability to, but obviously I don't. So, Beca and Chloe went to high school together, and Beca moves away. She, of course, never really hid the fact that she was gay in high school, but she always had the biggest crush on Chloe, but Chloe was in the closet. For some reason, 10 years later (when they're 28) Beca moves back to town around Christmas, and now Chloe has finally come out. And of course, Staubrey and Jashley are together. [Sorry I didn't have Jashley in this.]

[ofstoriesandstardust]

The 5 Times He Almost Said I Love You (and the 1 time he did)-Ron Weasley

The 5 Times He Almost Said I Love You (and the 1 time he did)- Ron Weasley

A/N: Yes, I have requests in my inbox. Yes, I really should be spending my last two weeks of summer doing other things. But a couple of days ago, I couldn’t sleep, and thus, this was born. When I was originally thinking about doing this imagine, it was never going to be this angsty. And, then I decided to absolutely rip everybody’s hearts into shreds (including mine), so enjoy. This is my first five-time fic so I really do hope you guys like it because I’ve been dying to write for Ron. 

Warnings: Angstttttt,

Word Count: 3,758

Prompt List Masterlist

1. When the Order moved Harry

He knew the risks, just as well as you did. When you had initially volunteered to take the Polyjuice Potion and go in place of Fleur to move Harry, he had protested. He fought you tooth and nail on the situation, but there was no denying that you were of age and more than capable of taking care of yourself if something were to go wrong. Ron had made Bill promise to do his best to protect you from harm, and Bill wholeheartedly agreed, not wanting to see you get hurt either. You had grown up alongside Ron as your dads had been friends through their jobs at the Ministry.  The Weasley family had taken you in after your parents had been killed by Death Eaters the year prior. Ron knew that you’d be willing to throw yourself in the midst of any dangerous situation to avenge your parents. But watching your disgusted face as you took a gulp of the Polyjuice Potion, he knew he was not ready to face the undeniable truth that he may very well lose you, the girl he loved, in this coming war. As you two had grown up together and gotten into your late teens, you had passed the line of best friends into some middle ground of not best friends but not quite lovers. He wanted to tell you just how much he cared for you, but he was so terrified to lose you, to ruin your friendship, that telling you how he felt wasn’t an option. But as he stood outside, looking up at the ominous sky, he thought about what came after. After the war, after Voldemort was defeated, he wondered if he told you if you’d feel the same. He didn't get much time to ponder his thoughts as you pulled him into a hug. It didn’t feel final, but he knew what you were trying to communicate with him. He could feel the fear and adrenaline seeping off of you. He squeezed your hands as you pulled away. “See you in a bit.” He mumbled, pulling your heads together, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. 

“See you on the other side, Weasley.” You graced him with a smile and climbed on the threstal behind Bill. Ron nodded to Bill, before climbing on to his broom and facing Mad-Eye. As soon as you all got into the sky, the chaos began. It was clear that someone had told the Death Eaters Harry would be moved that night. As Ron focused on defending himself, he lost sight of you in the sky. It was utter chaos until he reached the ground of his home. Hermione ran and attacked him in a hug and Harry wasn’t far behind. As he pulled away from them, he couldn't help but wonder where you were. You should be here by now. As Arthur and Fred returned behind him, Ron knew something was wrong.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Ron looked between Harry and Hermione and when he received no answer, he looked to Remus, Tonks, and Kingsley’s grim faces. He felt his father and Fred pause beside him, but he didn’t waste another second as he took off into the house. There you were, lying still on his couch, as Molly cleaned your wound and George held your hand. He felt the others follow him but he didn’t wait for them, rushing to your side. George had tear streaks on his face and Ron had to choke back several sobs. From behind him, he heard Remus explain that Snape had missed George and ended up hitting you, meaning you also narrowly missed the Killing Curse that had been sent your way. He ran his fingers through your hair as he prayed that you would wake up. He rested his forehead on yours, just like he did earlier. “Please wake up (Y/N/N), please, please. There’s so much I still have left to tell you, so much left to do. I can’t lose you. Please.” He whispered that last word, vowing that if you woke up, he would tell you how he felt. He heard you groan and try to turn your head, hissing at the pain. He moved back, giving you some space. 

“How’re you feeling?” George asked. 

“Terrible, really. But maybe this means I’ll have to hear your nonsense less. You know seeing as I’m missing an ear now and everything.” Fred laughed softly. 

“That’s our girl.” Fred said with a smile on his face. As the mood lightened and everyone began to talk amongst themselves again, Ron stayed by your side. You played with his fingers as he ran his thumb over your forehead. 

“So, uh, hey, what is it that you needed to tell me?” Your voice was soft, your attention still on seeing the different way your fingers could intertwine. 

“Huh?” Ron was caught off guard, he was so happy you were, for the most part, okay, he had forgotten there was something he needed to tell you. 

“When I was waking up, it sounded like you were saying that you needed to tell me something.” You explained, looking up into his eyes. 

“Oh.. yeah.. that..” He cleared his throat and steeled his nerves. He could do this. “I just- I just wanted to say- you know before it’s too late- (Y/N)- I-”

“Mad-Eye’s dead.”

2. Bill and Fleur’s wedding

It had been a few days since you had gotten hurt and there had not been a down moment since. As much as Ron wanted to, he hadn’t had a good opportunity to sit down and tell you the true extent of his feelings. As he helped seat different wedding guests, he hadn’t noticed you walk through the tent. He heard the twins laughter and turned to look for the source, spotting you standing next to the twins as they told a joke. He made his way to you and stopped short next to Fred, breath caught in his throat. The twins cleared their throats, excusing themselves, sharing a knowing look. He disregarded them, stunned by your beauty. You were gorgeous. You moved a piece of hair behind your only ear, a nervous tendency of yours. “Cat got your tongue, Ron?” You asked giving him a teasing smile. He cleared his throat. 

“You... you look amazing. Really, (Y/N).” 

“You too Ron.” He stood there unable to take his eyes off of you until you spoke again. “So, uh, do you want to dance later? I want to see if your dancing skills are still as bad as they were when you danced with McGonagall.”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down are you?” He asked, chuckling. 

“Absolutely not.” You stated firmly, shaking your head as a smile graced your features. At that moment, Ginny appeared, trying to push you towards your seat as the ceremony was starting soon. “I’ll see you on the dancefloor, Weasley.” you said as you waved, following Ginny in the other direction.  As Bill and Fleur exchanged their vows, he caught your gaze, sending you a smile. You sent one back. As the ceremony ended, Ron got caught up talking to one of the party guests, that it was at least an hour before he was able to pull himself away, and that was only because Bill had come by and asked if he could borrow him. 

“So, Ronald, why aren’t you with your girl?” Bill asked and Ron shot him a  confused glace until Bill pointed to you. “I see the way you look at her. And I see the way she looks at you.” As he looked back at Bill, Bill nodded. Ron made his way over to where you were standing with Hermione and Harry. 

“I believe you owe me a dance.” He said, grabbing your attention. You excused yourself from the conversation, missing the look Hermione and Harry shared with each other. You both made your way to the dancefloor, and as you did, the music slowed. Ron put his hands on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You absent-mindedly rubbed your thumbs at the nape of his neck, head resting on his chest. “(Y/N), I- I need to tell you something.” You looked up at him, giving him the push to continue. “(Y/N), I lo-” At that moment, a burst of light flooded the center of the room, and your attention was diverted to the speaking Patronus, It was Kingsley’s voice, saying that the ministry had fallen. He unknowingly pulled you closer to him, wanting to protect you from the coming danger. 

“They’re coming.” The voice said and instantly, the chaos began. You got pulled away from him as Hermione pulled him towards Harry and it wasn’t until they were running down a busy Muggle street, trying to get out of sight, that he realized he hadn’t gotten to tell you he loved you.  

3. Reuniting at Hogwarts

As he followed Neville through the portrait and towards Hogwarts, his mind couldn’t help but wander to you. It had been months since he had seen your face, seen your smile, held you in his arms. It had been a long year and he wanted to ask Neville about any news of you but was afraid of the answer. He hadn’t heard your name on the radio, not on the missing person list nor the death count. He was unsure if you had gone back to school but you had been friends with Neville for a long time, so he knew you must’ve rejoined the DA when Neville reformed it. Hell, you had probably been the driving force in standing up to Snape and his bullies. As he, Harry, and Hermione emerged into the Room of Requirement, his eyes searched desperately for you or Ginny. And then-

There you were. Clutching on to Dean and Seamus for support as they headed for Neville. Your clothes were torn and covered with a layer of dirt. “What happened?” Neville asked, concern laced in his voice. 

“Incident with the Carrows. Fell. Fine.” You answered in between short breaths, pain evident on your face. Neville raised an eyebrow. 

“Really. You’re fine?” He questioned. “Then walk without the support of Dean and Seamus.” They exchanged a look and stepped back. You tried to step forward but fell into Ron’s arms. You clutched onto him like a lifeline, looking up at him. 

“It’s ok, I’ve got you.” He said softly. Ron helped lift you up to a standing position and you faced Neville. 

“Ok so clearly, I’m not fine. But I think my ankle is just broken.” Neville nodded, and Ginny, who had joined the group, offered to fix it for you. You nodded as Ron sat you down on the floor. As Neville and Harry got into it over why Harry was really there, Ginny fixed up your ankle. She did the spell, you grimaced in pain. Looking up at the boys arguing, it was clear Harry was really only entertaining Neville’s conversation until Ron was ready to leave. “Go. Harry needs you right now.” 

“But-” He protested, not ready to leave you so soon after just getting you back. 

“Go. I’ll be fine. Promise.” He nodded, knowing you were right, but yet, he still hesitated. He still needed to tell you. 

“(Y/N), I just need you to know that-” 

“Ron!” Harry called, sounding frustrated. 

“Go.” you urged him. He looked at you, and then back at Harry. He looked at you once more, before nodding his head and following Harry out of the Room of Requirement and away from you.  

4. During the Battle

The Horcruxes had been destroyed and the Battle was raging. Ron made his way toward the heart of the fighting, where he knew you had to be. He dodged a couple of curses and fired back spells. He sharply rounded a corner only to collide with another body. He fell backward, grip on his wand tight, ready to fire another spell. “Ron?” You questioned and he looked up to see your face. He scrambled upwards, clinging on to you as if you were a lifeline. 

“(Y/N), you’re ok.” he breathed, thankful that you were still well and breathing. He looked over your body for the sign of any major wounds, but aside from a couple of new scrapes and a cut bleeding right above your left eyebrow, you were largely unscathed. He felt so overwhelmed with emotion at that moment, all he wanted to do was kiss you. He gently grabbed the sides of your face and gave you a soft smile. He could tell you right here, right now, at this moment, al he had to do was connect his lips to yours. You two had aways communicated through body language and the horrible pit in his stomach created by his fear only further pushed him. And then-

“(Y/N)!” A voice screamed and you both turned to see Neville a few feet away. Blood dripped down the side of his face but you turned your attention back to Ron. You gripped his forearms as your breathing increased. 

“(Y/N)-” He began but was yet again cut off. 

“Ron!” Hermione's voice found it’s way through the chaos and you turned to see her disheveled stance, waiting for him to rejoin her. 

“Go, I’ll be ok.” You whispered, offering him a weak smile, more in attempt to reassure yourself than him. 

“Ron!” It was Ginny’s voice this time and he knew his time was up. 

“Stay safe, ok? I-” love you. The words died on his lips as you took off in Neville’s direction, following him down a hallway where another section of the battle was being fought. He followed Ginny and Hermione out into the courtyard, unable to shake the horrible feeling forming in his stomach that it was too late. 

5. At the end

The sound of Voldemort’s voice sent shivers down Ron’s spine. But the pause in the fighting was much needed and he followed Hermione to the Great Hall. He knew once he saw you, this horrible feeling living in his stomach would subside, at least a little. Or so he hoped. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was gravely wrong. As he made his way through the vast space, his stomach turned over as he saw all the dead. Colin Creevey. Lavender. Tonks. Remus. He spotted Neville sitting a few feet away, eyes glazed over as Luna hugged him. Dean and Seamus sat next to each other clinging on to the other as if it was their last hope. He spotted his family a few feet away from them, surrounding a cot and his stomach dropped. Ginny was hugging his mum as his dad looked down. Fred stood next to Percy, as George cried over the body. Bill and Charlie stood a few feet away, looks downcast. His mum gasped as he came within in the sight of his family. George jumped up and wrapped him in a hug as Ron began to sob with the realization of who was laying there. You. You looked so peaceful, but you were too young to be that peaceful. You were too young. You were supposed to live a long life, a life with him. He sobbed over your body, the world slowing down around him. How? How could this happen to someone so good? The girl who always had a smile on her face, the girl who lit up any room she walked into? It began to feel like he was drowning. How was he supposed to do this without you? He didn’t want to. He couldn’t. As sobs wracked his body, he numbly heard Fred explain that during the battle, there had been an explosion. You had pushed him out of the way just in time, saving Fred but you had been crushed under the wall. As Ron cried, his heart continued to break as he realized he never got the chance to tell you he loved you. He could say it now, but it wasn’t the same. You were gone, you would never know. 

the one time he did-

Life without you had been dark. Without your light, he felt lost. It seemed to him that everyone seemed to be coping well without you. Sure, it had been hard at first but 8 months later, it seemed that everyone had figured out how to navigate life without you, except him. He yet to figure out their secret and instead lived life in a drunken stupor. The feeling of the Firewhiskey coursing through his veins was the only thing that seemed to take the edge off, the only thing that seemed to numb the pain slightly. The week prior, he drunkenly confessed to Hermione that he had never gotten to tell you how he truly felt and she had convinced him to visit your grave. He hadn’t gone to your funeral, he couldn’t bring himself to. Visiting your grave would make it real and he could no longer pretend that you weren’t really gone. Hermione had convinced him that if he sobered up long enough to visit your grave and say those three little words out loud, he could begin to cope and heal and move on. She told him he had to let go and move on with his life. He thought it was a bloody stupid idea, truly. How could he move on without you? There was no life to be lived without you in it. But yet here he was, sober and read to disapparate to your grave. Ginny and Harry had convinced him that it was a good idea, just to try. His parents supported it too, wanting to see him get better. Still, he hesitated. But eventually, he gathered his wits and appeared at your grave. Ginny had taken over the funeral preparations and had even chosen what the headstone would say. It was a sleek black stone in the ground. It had your name and the year you were born and died as all typical headstones do. Below it, the stone wrote “To the brightest star, may you still shine just as bright up there. Rest easy.” The grave was found in a large cemetery dedicated to those who gave their lives in the Battle. A few feet away, he could see Tonk and Remus final resting place as well. As he gathered his surroundings, he noticed a plaque at the entrance of the cemetery, probably explaining what everyone there had died for. He took a deep breath, looking back down at your stone. He rubbed his hands on his pants awkwardly, unsure of himself. He felt pretty stupid talking to a stone, but he couldn't help but admit that the words had been dying to escape him and if saying these feelings out loud hoping someone above heard him would alleviate the pain and make his world that much lighter, he was willing to look like an idiot. Not like there was a lot of people around in the cemetery to look like an idiot in front of. Taking another deep breath, he tried to gather himself and his thoughts. Sitting down, he began with a shaky breath.  “Merlin, (Y/N), this feels so stupid, talking to you and not knowing if you’re listening. Hermione says it’ll help, make things easier, but I don’t know if there is a life to be lived without you. You were my best friend. I remember when we were kids and we used to have a competition to see who could throw the garden gnomes the farthest. We used to laugh so much together and there was never a dull moment with you. You were so strong and talented and so bloody perfect- Merlin, (Y/N), this is so hard. It’s been so hard without you. There’s no one to offer me a smile even when I’m being a dick, knowing to give me a hug without me even having to ask. The world’s not the same without you. Why’d you have to die? Why’d you have to sacrifice yourself? This isn't fair. I can’t do this without you. Especially knowing that I never got to tell you- that I- I love you (Y/N). Always have, ever since we were kids. And not in the hey she’s like my sister love, but I love love you. And I just can’t- I still love you. I probably will never stop. And I never got the chance to tell you or say goodbye. You were just... gone. Why’d you have to leave me? It... it hurts (Y/N). Everybody has seemed to figure out to say goodbye to you and life without but I just can’t- I don’t want to say goodbye. Because like Peter Pan said in that stupid muggle movie you used to make me watch, saying goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting and I don't want to forget you, (Y/N). I can’t. I love you. I loved the way your hair shone in the sunlight while we played Quidditch. I love the way your nose scrunched up when you disagreed with something and the way you were so passionate about everything you did. I loved how you used to sing under your breath when you didn't think anybody was listening. I loved your sass and sarcasm, and all the hugs you gave. You were so kind and so good- I can’t forget you, because forgetting you means forgetting all the things I loved about you. I love you, always have, always will. And I don't want to forget. I can’t forget. But this hurts so much.” His voice gave out at the end and he dissolved into sobs. But as he sat on the ground, his body heaving with sobs, the pain began to subside. Saying all these things out loud, speaking them into existence, he knew he loved you and would never forget you. Moving on did not mean forgetting you, moving on meant he had to learn how to live a life without you, knowing you were watching him from above. And letting go of some of the pain and feelings he had kept within himself, he finally felt ready to began to move on. Maybe he would never love another, maybe he would never truly move on and let go. But this was a start. Wherever you were, you now knew he loved you and for him, that was enough. 

[violetsmoak]

Tabula Rasa [1/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183281/chapters/47822500

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Tim and Jason have known they are soulmates for years, though neither has said anything about it. Tim thinks Jason doesn't know, and is just trying to live with it. Jason thinks Tim knows but doesn't care, which is fine with him, he thinks the soulmate thing is a crock anyway. But one night, a minor mishap forces them to confront the issue head-on, leading to a series of events no one could have predicted.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #a lie #bright vivid colours #danger #enemies to lovers #soulmate aversion #soulmark tattoo

Canon-Compliance: Follows the New Earth continuity, with elements of New 52 (ie the ones that don’t completely contradict everything that happened pre-Flashpoint). Ignores Rebirth completely. So, up to about 2016 in terms of publication dates? Robins War happened, but Red Hood hasn’t met Artemis or Bizarro, and nothing bad has happened to Roy ffs! 

Beta Reader: I'll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

“Three cheers for the happy couple!”

The south wing ballroom of Wayne Manor erupts with the raucous shouts and applause of a hundred and twenty reception attendees. Tim’s congratulations get lost in the din, but he does catch Dick’s eye and flash him a thumbs up.

Seated at the high table, his older brother leans in and kisses his bride, which causes more cheering and catcalls from the guests, and makes the normally unflappable and newly named Barbara Gordon-Grayson blush.

Tim turns away and pastes a smile on his face as the Davenports, a senior couple and two of Wayne Enterprises' most influential shareholders, approach him.

Time to be ‘on’ again…

A generous mix of family friends (most of whom are vigilantes or heroes), and GCPD officers, fill the ballroom. These are interspersed with a few Haly’s Circus performers, and the requisite number of elite guests required by the Society pages of the Gotham Gazette.

Bride and bridegroom sit at the head table with their respective entourages, engaged in animated chatter. Babs and her maid of honor Alysia dissolve into laughter as Dick says something to Damian, who scowls and turns redder by the minute. The Gordon family is there, the Commissioner conversing in stiff politeness with his ex-wife Barbara, and Bruce is in full “Brucie” mode. In the background, Alfred directs the hired staff with his usual decorum and efficiency.

Across the room, Cassandra drags Stephanie over to the dance floor. At a smaller round table near the bride and groom, Duke just misses being speared with a fork by his girlfriend when he tries to sneak a piece of Izzy’s cake. Helena flirts with both Luke and Kate and Tim’s sure Selina is somewhere in the house stealing something to lure Bruce over to her place later.

It’s rare to have so many members of the family together in one room, and so Tim does his best to ignore the lingering dismay at the glaring absence in their numbers.

Dick and Babs look at each other now and again, like they’re the only ones in the world, and he makes an effort to find it adorable. He bolsters the jovial front he’s been wearing all night, reminding himself that his happiness for his brother and new sister-in-law isn’t something that needs faking. It took so long for them to sort everything out between them; it goes to show that being soulmates doesn’t equal an automatic perfect relationship.

I know that better than anyone.

It’s just getting more difficult with every passing hour to maintain the graceful Timothy Drake-Wayne façade.

“It will be your turn next,” Mrs. Davenport informs him, while her husband nods along. “Since Richard and dear Cassandra have found their matches, you’re the only one left.”

Tim’s smile becomes a little more forced. “Well, there is Damian.”

The demon brat looks as if he swallowed a mouthful of peppercorns as Brucie leans over and ruffles his hair, laughing his raucous fake laugh.

Now I’m glad Dick didn’t ask me to be his best man, or I’d be the chump stuck up there.

Not that he was that upset when he heard the news.

Tim’s distanced himself enough from the loss of Robin to accept Damian needs as much help as they can offer if he is ever to be a ‘real boy’. Little gestures like this from Dick are part of a larger plan. And it was endearing, in a way, to see the kid stomping around in the weeks leading up to the wedding, trying to check off a list of best man duties he’d printed off the internet.

And dissolving into teenaged fury when innocent things went wrong or when the groom teased him by flouting what Damian considered ‘according to convention’.

And then there was that bachelor party he organized…

It would seem extreme trampoline parks were a thing; also, getting banned from said parks within an hour for trampolining while drunk was a thing.

“Yes, but he’s still so…young,” Mrs. Davenport says, bringing him back to the present. Tim perceives how she hesitates on the best word to describe the youngest member of the Wayne family.

“It’s fine, you can call him a prepubescent terror. I always do.”

“Oh, Timothy!” Garish laughter as if he told the most hilarious joke of the season. “You are such a character. Why haven’t you found your someone yet?”

Tim catches sight of Steph once again, dancing with Cass and looking carefree and blissful and in love. And this time it’s a bit harder to experience only joy for his siblings, more of a struggle to fight the pang of hurt and jealousy that rears its head.

“You’re almost eighteen,” her husband remarks, interrupting his thoughts. “Most people find their matches much younger. Eleanor and I met when we were fourteen.”

“Oh, it was a beautiful summer in the Hamptons.”

“And it seems like youth today are finding each other earlier every year.”

“My sister and Stephanie didn’t,” Tim points out, only somewhat strained because that one still stings.

He and Steph had been together for most of their teenage years. She hadn’t possessed a soulmark, and Tim’s…would lead nowhere. He truly loved her, and if things were different, he knows they would have had a happy future. Lots of people whose marks don’t match are.

But then the day Spoiler and Black Bat met, they’d shaken hands, and everything fell into place. He’ll never forget either of their eyes—Steph bemused as her mark appeared for the first time and then exploded into color across her forearms; Cass puzzled until she realized what was happening. Then her face became an open book of joy rivaled only by how she looked when Bruce told her he intended to adopt her.

Faced with their happiness, it was only natural that Tim took a step back, much as it hurt to do.

“Perhaps your soulmate lives in another country,” Mr. Davenport suggests; it is clear he is not picking up on Tim’s reluctance.

“Oh!” his wife cries. “You should go on that television show they have now! You know, the one where they try to help you track down your match? I can’t remember the name, but it’s something like The Amazing Race or the Bachelorette.”

“Perhaps yours is younger than you. That happens sometimes.”

“Yes! May-December relationships aren’t that uncommon with your generation, I hear.”

“Or maybe they’re dead,” Tim suggests, and though his tone is light and friendly, his words shut them up in an instant.

Because if very well could be true.

Tim’s never shown off his mark in public, and he told Steph that exact story when she asked all those years ago. At the time, he wasn’t even lying.

Soulmarks develop around puberty and last the duration of the lifespan of the shorter-lived partner. Some people are born with several, the way Dick was, and some only share platonic or familial bonds, like Alfred and Bruce. Others have none at all. When a soulmate dies, the mark associated with them vanishes.

That’s because most don’t come back from the dead.

Still smiling at the now cringing couple, Tim takes his leave, letting them stew in their faux pas as he wanders toward the bride and groom’s table. He’s reached his limit.

Not wanting to crouch down in the middle of their group, he gestures until his brother sees him and makes an excuse to Babs. She’s following his gaze, offering Tim a worried look, but he smiles and shakes his head, trying to telegraph ‘It’s nothing. Go back to your celebration.’

Dick is red-faced and his eyes brighter than usual when he gets to Tim; people been plying him with generous amounts of alcohol all day. “Hey, Timmy, what’s up?”

“I think I‘ll make my way out,” he replies. “Do a bit of patrolling and then turn in.”

“Tim…”

Dick’s expression becomes concerned, and Tim shifts in discomfort.

“Someone has to be on the streets while you guys are slacking,” he jokes. “You know it took an Act of Alfred to get Bruce to take the night off, right?”

(It was also pointed out that if any of big players had planned anything tonight, probability and precedent suggested they would try it at the Gordon-Grayson reception.)

“You don’t have to do that! I’ve already got one brother missing.”

“Consider this my wedding present. You get to stay and enjoy your party with the rest of the family.”

“You’re just trying to worm your way of giving us a real gift,” Dick accuses, but the words lack malice. With a surreptitious glance around to ensure they aren’t being overheard, he lowers his voice and asks, “Are things getting bad again? Do you need to talk? Because Babs won’t mind if I duck out for a bit.”

And he’s always doing this, checking in with Tim, even years after it’s been an issue.

There’s a distinct possibility Dick has noticed how uncomfortable the atmosphere is making him, despite him doing his utmost to hide it, to keep from casting a dark cloud over the festivities.

And Tim should be okay.

Bruce is back from having lost his memories, Damian’s stopped his determined attempts to sabotage or kill him, his relationship with Dick is almost normal again, he has his team and place with the Titans, and there hasn’t been a major crisis in Gotham for about a month which is a record.

Yet he still feels raw and exposed, ill at ease in his skin.

Bruce has been questioning him a lot more, criticizing the way he handles not only cases but projects at WE. Tim worries there’s less time for him to recover between being Tim Wayne, CEO, and Red Robin. And the Titans are getting to the age where many of them want to strike out on their own or pursue more civilian interests—jobs and schools and a normal life. He respects that, even if he doesn’t understand it.

He has never had a normal life, and never will.

But he does have more and more days now where he looks at himself in the mirror and wonders how he’s supposed to keep doing this forever. Can’t figure out how Bruce has managed it for so long. Tim suspects he’s becoming little more than his daytime public persona and his nighttime alter ego.

Who exactly is Tim Drake?

Instead of voicing any of this, though, he musters up a comforting smile for his brother and assures him, “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s like every day. Just one step at a time, right?”

Dick’s expression clears then, and he nods, relieved. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“And Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Congrats.”

“Aw, thanks, Timmy.”

A bone-crushing hug later, and Tim’s car peels out of the estate parking garage, still ignoring the growing pit in his stomach.

He returns to his apartment in the Theater District, shedding his suit and tie in a pile that Alfred would have a coronary over if he were there to see it. Jumping in the shower, he scrubs himself of any traces of his cologne or other identifying scents he might have picked up at the reception and tries to get himself back into a clearer headspace.

He pauses for a moment at the sink, trying to shake off the lingering, bone-deep exhaustion. Several prescription bottles line the mirror—various sleeping aids, most of which don’t help anymore (but the rebound insomnia of stopping them isn’t worth the trouble). These days it’s only the heavy-duty sleep narcotics that work when he needs to turn his brain off for a few hours.

Among the personal pharmacy are several combinations of anti-depressants he tried in the past few months. Most of the time he powers through it, the way he’s done his whole life, but in recent weeks Tim’s noticed things getting hard again. The helpful alerts he sets on his phone don’t always convince him to leave his bed and even video games lack the usual draw. He sometimes gets lost in his head for hours; on bad nights, he hesitates a second longer before shooting a grapple line or dodging a knife. In rare moments, he considers his sleeping pills a little too much consideration, at which point he calls Dick or Connor. Talks to someone so he isn’t so alone.

As he dries off, Tim stares down at his right wrist, examining the complicated knotwork design emblazoned there. Swirls of crimson and gold loop in and out of each other, before cutting off along his forearm.

Everyone has a soulmark, an arrangement of swirling shapes across their skin; each is distinctive to the individuals bonded by them. They first appear when a person is in the general vicinity of their soulmate, manifesting as a colorless pattern of darker and lighter shades of melanin. Those patterns fill with bright, rich colors upon physical touching one’s mate. When pressed together, they interlock in only one way and retreat when contact stops.

Soulmates who have reciprocated bonds sport their marks in full and everlasting display. The sight is both beautiful and frustrating to see, even on his family, as he’ll never experience that himself.

His mark might be a stunning amalgamation of scarlet and gold, twisted into a mandala upon his wrist, but it will never be permanent. While it’s been a while since Jason’s made any energetic attempts to kill him, Tim’s resigned himself to living without a completed bond; tolerance is about the only thing he can hope for from his predecessor.

Finding Steph when they were younger had been a joy and a relief. Her not having a mark meant they both had a chance for a fulfilling connection. Until Cass.

Tim forces himself to stop dwelling on it and shoves the bleak thoughts down behind the wall he puts everything uncomfortable and not cohesive to whatever task he’s given himself. Instead, he busies himself with covering up his mark using the spray-on cover that doesn’t fade with water or perspiration, only coming off when scrubbed with a special soap. One of Bruce’s earliest and more practical inventions, since Brucie Wayne and Batman couldn’t have a soulmark in common.

Bruce covers his pretty much all the time, but Tim’s only been covering his when he suits up. He lives his life in disguise, he doesn’t want to hide such an important part of himself when he’s off the clock.

He heads down to the lower levels of his Nest, gets dressed while having the computer scan for trouble. The program calculates probabilities for where violence will crop up, where he should begin his patrol. He hopes for a busy night, something to distract him from his convoluted thoughts.

As usual, he intends to start his rounds off in Tricorner, and then go through Chinatown—which is when he notices movement on a camera that concerns him.

A familiar gleaming scarlet helmet.

Red Hood.

He debates with himself for several minutes.

On the one hand, it’s his regular patrol territory; on the other, seeing the other vigilante tonight, while his mood is already so low, isn’t something he wishes to contend with.

He clenches his fist.

He knew of Jason Todd for a year before discovering the second Robin was his soulmate. By the time he wanted to do anything about it, the older boy was dead, and Tim consigned to grieving in secret.

Then Jason came back, but it was almost worse than him being gone because he hated him. Without having ever met him.

Even now that he’s mellowed out (sort of), Jason appears to reserve more dislike for his successor than anyone else in the family, not counting Bruce and Dick for obvious reasons. Red Hood and Red Robin have run into each other enough in and out of costume that there have been ample opportunities for Jason’s soulmark to make itself known. That Tim has seen nothing close to resembling it means one of two things: either the other man hasn’t developed his mark yet, which is possible albeit rare, or he has, and like Batman, always keeps it covered.

Which says more than enough about his sentiments on the matter.

Between Jason refusing to acknowledge their connection, or just not being aware of it, Tim prefers to believe the latter, if only to make himself feel better. There’s no point in bringing up the soulmate thing at this juncture. He decided years ago to respect the status quo, for the simple reason it’s less painful than the alternative.

All that being said, he doesn’t enjoy watching Jason get in trouble, even more so when the situation is avoidable and he’s near enough to help. At the moment the big idiot is courting a potential gang war.

Sometimes protecting someone means protecting them from themselves and their bad choices, I guess.

Static crackles through the comm in his ear, and then he hears Batman’s low growl. “What’s going on in Chinatown?”

“Why am I not surprised you’re still listening to the comms at your son’s wedding,” Tim sighs. “Nothing. I’m handling it.”

“Are you sure?”

“B, I’ll help A drug you every day for a week,” he threatens. “And you know we both can and will find new and interesting ways of doing it.”

There’s a huff on the other side of the line. “…Noted. Reach out if you need backup.”

“You’ll be the first.”

“You’re lying.”

“Wow, you must be a detective or something,” he deadpans. “Red Robin out.”

Jason is the last person he wants to run into right now, but Tim’s also been cultivating a few informants there and he can’t have that jeopardized.

Looks like I’m going to Chinatown. Hope Lynx is in a good mood…

He wonders if tonight he’ll end up getting beaten up, or just insulted. He’s not even sure which would hurt more.

⁂

Jason goes flying out of the upper story of the restaurant, followed closely by a very tiny woman wielding a very big sword. She reminds him of Cheshire, with a shade less lethality.

Actually, if it were Jade, he would end up critically injured when she lands on him, using him as a cushion against the pavement. He manages to turn his body to land in a way that won’t break his back—though his right side will be a giant bruise tomorrow—and scrambles to his feet.

This is one of the reasons I avoid Chinatown.

Things never go well for him here, especially not since that thing with the Su family. It’s just better to avoid the place. But before that, he and the Ghost Dragons at least used to get along—professional courtesy and all that, along with an unspoken agreement not to step on each other’s toes. 

That’s over, apparently.

All he’d wanted to do was ask some questions. One of his stool pigeons passed him some information on a human trafficking ring; according to him, it was based on Chinatown. It would seem sex slavers were luring young women over to the United States with the premise of work and accommodations.  Then, upon arrival, the girls were hauled into a life of sexual servitude.

Jason didn’t even go in guns blazing this time or wearing the helmet. Just a domino and a hankering for some barbecue pork bun.

So, either someone tipped them off what I was coming around for, or this kid in the mask has something to prove.

There’s a slow curl of heat moving up the back of his left wrist and up his arm, and his first thought is he’s been cut. Except while the sensation is familiar, it isn’t the liquid warmth of blood.

The woman moves fast, and a beat later her sword is swinging downward. Jason’s hands fly to his holsters, thinking he’s going to have to break out the guns after all when there’s a clang.

Suddenly there’s a bō staff in front of his face, catching the sword inches before it slams into Jason’s nose.

Ah. And there’s the other reason I avoid Chinatown.

Because in the past year or so, it’s been part of the patrol route for a certain Timothy Drake.

A.k.a. his replacement.

A.k.a. Red Robin.

A.k.a. his soulmate.

No wonder that warmth in his hand was familiar; the soulmark must have reacted to the younger man’s approach.

After a brief tussle, there’s the sound of a grapple line firing, and then Tim flies upward, ridiculous cape fluttering, still holding the struggling woman.

Her sword stays on the ground.

“Oh, hell no,” Jason growls, because this is his business, damn it!

When he reaches the roof where Tim’s carried off Jason’s would-be-murderer, he notes they are standing close together, conversing in rapid Cantonese. Jason’s rustier at that than he’d like, but he gets the gist when the woman stalks right up to him and begins yelling and gesturing.

Then she shoves him and pushes away; a smoke bomb goes off, and then she’s gone.

Tim makes no move to go after her.

Which, seriously?

Jason stalks over, looming over the shorter man and touching his hand to the still holstered gun in his belt in an implicit (and mostly baseless) threat. He’s always amused at just how much of a height difference there is between him and his replacement, and tonight he makes a point of lording it over him.

“You guys looked awfully cozy there, Timbers.” Which shouldn’t bother him, but he can’t fight a twinge of irritation. “Care to share with the class what your little tête-à-tête was about?”

The cowl covers Tim’s face, but Jason can imagine the judgemental stare.

“She said your poking around her territory will jeopardize her investigation into the sex traffickers.”

“Her investigation? She’s the damn head of the Ghost Dragons!”

“Yeah, and she’s also an undercover operative sent by Hong Kong PD, which I’m only telling you, so you don’t decide to go and kill her for apparent crimes.”

And that was not what he was expecting.

“How do you know this?”

“She told me. She’s one of my CIs.”

“And you believed her?”

“Cass looked into her for me. She’s legit, even if she’s a little…unorthodox.” Tim’s head tilts to one side, considering; with the cowl it makes him look like his avian namesake. “You’d think you’d appreciate that.”

“On the list of things I don’t appreciate, you showin’ up while I’m chasin’ a lead is one of them,” Jason growls. “Don’t you have a party to be at?”

“I ducked out early.”

“Well, that’s lame.”

“Not as lame as someone who ignores the fifteen invitations he was sent.”

Ah, and now they’re back on familiar ground.

“Pfft, I’ve seen enough Brucie to last me several lifetimes.”

“Yeah, but it was for Dick. All you had to do was show up—” his mouth twitches here; Jason can’t tell if it’s amusement or irritation, “—in jeans, even.”

“I’ve been dead once; I don’t need Alfie murderin’ me for that big a faux pas. And somehow I doubt Barbie would appreciate if her wedding photos included Dickiebird sporting a swollen eye.”

Tim sighs. “What are you fighting about this time?”

“Other than the usual stuff? We’re not. But I’m sure he’d put his foot in it at some point and need a nice bit of cognitive recalibration.”

“And you, the perfectly innocent party in all this, would happily provide that?”

“Call it a civic duty.”

Tim shakes his head, but Jason thinks it’s done in amusement this time, instead of exasperation.

“I don’t know how she can settle for that birdbrain,” he continues. “How does she stand bein’ around him so often without wantin’ to punch him in the face every time he opens his mouth?”

“Maybe not every time.”

“Point still stands.”

“Well, they’re soulmates,” Tim says vaguely, distant like he’s not paying attention to what he’s saying. He fiddles with his wrist computer, giving no indication that he is aware of anything else.

Jason’s pretty sure that’s not the case.

After all, he’s practiced in the art of pretending not to feel how his soulmark warms the closer he stands to Tim. There’s no question Tim’s learned to do the same.

It might be hypocritical of him, but that makes him angry somehow.

“As if that explains it all,” Jason sneers. “Come on, Replacement, I thought out of all of them, your whole logical-scientific-question-everything-Klingon-mind wouldn’t go for that hokey soulmate crap.”

“Vulcan.”

That brings him up short. “What?”

“It’s Vulcan culture that’s more focussed on logicality and empirical data-gathering. Klingons are more combat-oriented and tend toward more aggressive means of…” He trails off when he realizes Jason staring at him. “What?”

“You complete nerd,” Jason tells him. “No wonder you left the wedding early. I bet socializin’ with normal people probably stressed you right the fuck out, didn’t it?”

Tim gives a noncommittal shrug.

“Havin’ a soulmate doesn’t mean people should be together,” Jason goes on, filled with the sudden need to hammer home this point. “Look at all the examples from history—Cleopatra and Antony, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, Bonnie and Clyde—” He ticks the couples off his finger. “They were all soulmates and they all either made each other miserable or got each other killed.”

“You can’t apply a few historical anomalies to every soulmate pair,” Tim counters. “Life circumstances skew the data.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that fate shouldn’t decide if people will magically work out!”

“That’s not…” Tim appears frustrated, at last, putting down his wrist computer and clenching his jaw. “It’s not supposed to work out magically. It’s about finding the person who completes you. You still need to work at it. It’s not all magically going to fall in place, and you’ll be happy forever right away. Even soulmates don’t get to live perfect lives.”

Ain’t that the truth, Jason muses, considering Tim.

“Sounds like you want a soulmate,” he points out, a little stiffly, and what the hell possessed him to say that?

He wonders what the kid is going to say now, or if this is the day their careful pretense, the lie of not knowing gets shattered.

Luckily, though, Tim avoids opening that can of worms.

He takes a step back from Jason, looks away and mutters, “It’s not relevant to the Mission.” Which is a total cop-out, but Jason will take it. “Anyway, if you’re done causing trouble here and riling up the gangs, I’ll take my leave.”

“Wish you would.”

Tim shoots him an unimpressed glare—or at least, that’s what it seems like to Jason. “Don’t make me come back here. And for god’s sake, at least call and congratulate the happy couple.”

He grapples away rather than allow a witty retort; Jason watches him go with a scowl. Once he’s sure the other vigilante is gone, he tugs the glove off his left hand, frowning at the whorls of crimson and yellow retreating down his forearm and back to his wrist.

His soulmark appeared one night a few evenings before the Garzonas incident. Jason vaguely remembers swinging through an alley to escape yet another argument with Bruce and knocking out a bunch of thugs threatening a kid. He’d been so buzzed on adrenaline and fury he hadn’t noticed the warmth in his wrist. He only caught sight of the mark itself when he returned to the Cave.

And then he spent the night wondering if one of the assholes he knocked around was his soulmate. It wasn’t a comforting idea, and he’d decided then and there to cover up the mark and forget about it. The disappointment about his potential soulmate had been a contributing factor in a long line of shit the universe decided to dump on him that sent him to Ethiopia. If he was linked to scum like that, he wanted to be as far as possible from Gotham.

It never even occurred to him to imagine the kid in the alley was his match. Hell, it didn’t even register when he discovered that Tim Drake had been following Batman and Robin around for years.

Only that day at the Tower, when Jason made his first move against Batman and attacked his replacement, did he finally make the connection.

His mark reacted the minute they were in the same room, spreading across his skin and swirling about seeking its partner. Jason had been so far gone with rage that the sight of it had made him angrier, made him hit harder—because if he didn’t meet Tim before, it meant their bond hadn’t been strong enough to keep him from making the biggest mistake of his life.

It meant he was supposed to meet him after being ripped apart and rebuilt as a weapon.

Luckily, or not, Tim was unconscious before the manifested completed, sneaking out from beneath the long green gauntlets of Jason’s fake Robin suit.

And if he did happen to notice before passing out, the kid hasn’t said anything about it.

Probably hates me and doesn’t want to acknowledge the universe’s idea of a shit joke.

Jason doesn’t blame him. Soulmates are a crock of shit anyway, and Tim’s better off without being tethered to him, and vice versa. They should keep pretending.

Because Jason doesn’t get to be happy.

And Tim deserves better than him because Tim—as much as he’s a pain in the ass—is good.

“And on that note,” Jason murmurs to himself, putting his gauntlet back on, “time to play the villain.”

The tip he received put him in the Ghost Dragons’ crosshairs—which means someone on his payroll is making a move, either against him or against someone else.

Time to find out for sure.

And no more moping over this soulmate crap.

Johnny Lino is the head of an investment company that’s just a front for his money laundering. He’s been passing the Red Hood information about his clients for the better part of a year now, ever since Jason put the fear of Hood in him. Quite a feat, considering the man’s a few inches taller and broader.

Jason finds him in a condo off the Diamond District, watching the Knights game and stuffing his face with pretzels.

Ponzi schemes don’t buy manners, I guess.

“Johnny,” he greets in a clear, would-be friendly manner that has the older man choking up his most recent handful. “Long time no see. Got a bone to pick with you.”

He expects there to be some mumbling and groveling, a few bald-faced lies that require the generous application of foot to face and the reassurance that everything in Jason’s sandbox is back to the way it should be.

So, it surprises him when Johnny scrambles for something that Jason notes too late is a panic button. All of a sudden, half a dozen masked men in combat gear and carrying assault rifles are busting through the door.

“That’s a bit of an overreaction to some conversation, don’t ya think?” Jason asks, throwing himself into action to deal with the interlopers. Bullets fly and knives slice toward him, but in five minutes he’s standing in the ruins of the room with six unconscious men.

And one dead one.

Johnny’s got a neat hole in the side of his head, from one of his hired muscle’s guns, Jason presumes.

“And doesn’t that say a lot about the quality of hired muscle in Gotham these days?” he grumbles, kicking at the body. “Can’t even trust your own people not to shoot you by accident.”

He can hear sirens, knows a neighbor or someone has called in the noise and heads for the fire exit before anyone can link him to the scene. That’s all he needs is the big Bat thinking he pulled the trigger in there.

And damn it, the giant bastard was one of my best sources. Now I’ve got to find someone else.

The encounter bothers him.

He’s had people on his payroll get shifty before, but it’s been his experience that there’s more of a prelude before the attempt to stab him in the back. They try to run or talk their way out of it; it seems Johnny went all out, trying to take out the Red Hood, all because of a bit of questionable information.

If he was so desperate to hire a kill squad rather than answer some well-deserved questions…

Maybe it’s not me that spooked him.

He thinks back to the shot that killed Johnny, remembers the angle it hit the head, and where the exit wound was. The opposite direction from where the thugs entered—from the window.

“There was another shooter,” he realizes.

A quick visit to the building opposite confirms his suspicion: the scrape where someone set up a tripod, bullet casing rolled to one side.

It wasn’t Johnny afraid to talk to the Red Hood—someone else feared he would.

Question is, were they worried he’d talk or worried he’d talk to me?

⁂⁂⁂ 

Next Chapter

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<3 Violet

[cruzrogue]

Fighting Actions

#Fictober19 @fictober-event

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for fanfiction:

Prompt number: 20  “You could talk about it, you know?” 

Xtra prompt:  "So you think u r field ready huh?"  prompt suggestion is a continuation to that one, where Felicity gets her turn to defend herself. I can see L getting angry and raising her hand to hit Felicity. But unbeknownst to the team, Sara trained Felicity in some moves after a handsy guy at verdant and put L on the ground.

Fandom (AU if applicable): #arrow fanfiction #olicity

Rating:PG13

Felicity Smoak vs Laurel Lance

Warnings/Tags:  Mild name calling and a small fighting piece.

Summary:   Continuation to Fighting Words, instead of Diggle its Felicity vs Laurel. After trying to be nice and work with the sister of a fallen friend Felicity has had it with the inconsiderate woman in the lair she calls a part of her home.

Notes: A companion piece to prompt 6  “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?” John Diggle vs Laurel Lance

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​Fighting Actions on A03

Oliver can tell something is up with his girl Wednesday. She’s just doing her best to keep her distance from him. The lair is only so wide in space. It’s hard not to focus on certain spots and one of them is Felicity’s workspace. The one area that everyone seems to intersect on. The brains of any operation goes through that spot. That specific station she uses also progressed since its conception to be the eyes and ears on the field where her voice has on many occasions more than he can count on both hands led them from certain doom. She uses her craft to engage in keeping them safe as filters through intel rapidly and he is always in awe on how the heart of the team keeps a certain flare of positivity. She really is something else and right now he notices that she isn’t herself.

Pulling a chair in a manner that tells her he’s coming over to talk. Like a real sit down tête-à-tête. If she is bothered by this, he can’t tell she hasn’t really moved a muscle as she’s stiff in his presence.

“You could talk about it, you know?” He says this hoping it opens her up just a bit. Something is bothering her and he’s like to know what. Now that he is close he is noticing something she’s doing her best to cover her hand. Why didn’t he notice this earlier? These moments observing her, he not once saw her type her hands under the table away from prying eyes. His focus on her face mostly but he won’t deny that he did a once over from her toes up her legs until the view was constricted by the table hiding a good portion of her body from where he was standing earlier. “Felicity? What is wrong with your hands?”

A long sigh of hers and he’s now is beyond worried. “It’s really just one hand.” Then she is quiet again and Oliver counts slowly to three because there is no way he’d make it to ten.

“Let me see?”

“I just have a swollen hand and I have it wrapped in ice. I’m good.”

In a more direct authoritative voice, “Let me see.” That gets her to finally really look at him as she’s been trying to hide in plain sight. Pulling out her hands from under the table. He can see her right hand is wrapped with a towel. Taking it softly he begins to unwrap the cloth around her hand to see a large ice bag against her knuckles. Their purple. It could be the coldness of the ice which she shouldn’t have directly on her skin for long periods of time. He’s worried even more now.

“I’ve had it wrapped for fifteen minutes, I’ve been trying to look calm so you’d do your thing and I could peek at my hand.”

“Felicity, did you… did you get into a fight?”

She pulls her hand back about to ice it again when Oliver places his hand over hers in a hoover fashion so not to really touch and hurt her.

“Let’s check your hand. You’ve had it on ice for a good amount of time. We don’t want to constrict the blood vessels.” He takes the ice from her. “We can add ice again later. Right now let’s allow the injured area to get the blood flow back. Allow for the healing process to begin.”

“Okay.”

“In the meantime you can tell me how this injury came to be.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Does it happen to include another woman by let’s say the name Laurel?”

“What? Why do you ask?” Felicity eyes are like saucers and that answers his question even though he’ll wait for her answer.

“Felicity?”

“Alright. Yes, it does evolve your perfect ex.”

“Perfect?” He tries not to laugh. Are they talking about the same woman? His ex is far from perfect and he doesn’t like that Felicity even feels inferior to a woman who struts around acting all mighty while pushing people’s buttons. He knows John has told his peace to Laurel. Making sure the woman knows exactly where she stands. In a way he’s noticed since that confrontation two weeks ago that John and Laurel have a more admirable relationship.

“Since Sara died, Laurel… Well I can understand her anger. I’ve tried to not let her spite get to me but tonight…” Felicity stops she doesn’t need Oliver’s sympathy. She’ the odd girl out the one of them that can’t fight.

“I prefer if you don’t ever need to fight.” She moans she said that last part out loud. “From where I am sitting, you must have a great right hook.”

“What?”

“I was upstairs tending to Laurel’s nosebleed she wouldn’t tell me what happened. I thought she got into another over her head situation. Gave her another speech of a few boxing lessons doesn’t equate to a vigilante fighter.”

“Do you think she listened?”

“If she is so perfect like you stated she would. Now we both know she’s like a Chihuahua all bark and maybe she’ll get some moves. I mean she’ll have to if…” He shakes his head. “She doesn’t belong here; her place is in the courtroom when her bark is the strongest.”

“I used her own sister’s teachings to punch her in the face. I am a horrible person.”

“Sara taught you some moves?”

“Don’t get mad.”

Oliver makes a pfft sound.

“No really Oliver.”

“Felicity? When someone says those words it means you know very well what you are about to tell me will make me mad.”

Her eyes shut in realization but now that she opened her mouth she just tells him about the guy who took a liking to her. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and well Sara intervened the first time and showed Felicity some moves. What started as just how to break from a hold became a lot more lessons in self-defense. So much so that when the creep made his move and she politely told him no, she had to knock some sense into him. It’s a secret she shares with Quentin Lance as he hauled the man to jail. She told the man his daughter is the reason she could even protect herself. Seeing the unknown pride show in the man’s eyes was enough for a moment between them.

“Why didn’t you tell John or myself? Even Roy would…”

“Because I’m not a damsel-in-distress. I can’t always rely on others when I’m by myself.”

“Felicity, it’s not that I…”

“Oh please. You’re like a caveman at times.” She waves her good hand at him. “I don’t need every guy who gives me the sideway glance to have an arrow somewhere on their appendage.”

He rolls his tongue to his cheek. She got him there. He’d have no problem tending to anyone who would assume to hurt her. “Okay, your right. I would have done some damage to this creep. Is he still a bother?”

“No. He moved. I have him on a program I created to keep tabs of… You know what? It’s not important.”

Oliver’s jaw tightens. She just told him indirectly that there is a list of suspects that have made enough of a mess in her orbit to be in a program created to keep tabs on them.

“Felicity?”

“You know what? I’m starting to have feeling in my hand again. It’s still throbs. Should I place ice on it again?”

“In a bit. I want to check it before we ice it again. It may not need it. Now about this program.”

“Oliver, it’s no big deal. It just something I created after my first stalker in college.” That wasn’t the right thing to say apparently because she can see the vein in his neck throb. “None of these people are in Starling anyways so…”

“I want to know who they are.”

“Now?” He looks at her hand. He should check it without any distraction.

“Later. I want to know more about these people. I know you’ll think I’m overreacting but it would make me feel better if I just know. Okay?”

“Fine.” She shrugs not worried about her safety.

“For now, you can tell me what happened between you and Laurel.” He can see she’s about to oppose. “And don’t you say nothing!”

Her sigh of defeat makes him give her a small smile.

“Fine!” She begins how she was working on her programs. Some were just updating while others she was adding some crime statistics to calculate a future problem. When Roy left to go hang with his girlfriend as Laurel came in a little more agitated than usual. The woman started nick picking things. Like she ran the place.

“Laurel, what brings you here?” Felicity tries to be pleasant, she wasn’t expecting Laurel to be here on a Friday night. The club upstairs is in full swing. She can hear the bass just above her. The new DJ is rocking the house.

“I don’t need a reason to come by.” Laurel looks at an empty spot near the glass cases. She may just place her things there. “Why is it so drafty in here?”

“It’s not any different than most nights.” Felicity just observes the woman who is walking around where Oliver places his leathers. “I just thought you had that court thing where you were planning to talk to that witness.”

“What? Are you keeping my schedule?”

“No, you just mentioned it the last time you were here.”

Laurel just hums a “hmm” out loud.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Felicity? I don’t need your help. Just go back to typing, you know what you’re good at and let me do my thing.”

“I know the layout of the foundry quite well. I helped design it. If there is anything…”

“Can’t you take a hint. I said I was fine. Why are you here anyways?”

Felicity is stumped. Usually Laurel is just snippy but still reasonable. “Laurel I’m always here. This is my domain.”

“I never understood that? Is your life so empty that you need to hold onto a basement of a club? That’s just so pathetic.”

“I don’t consider it ridiculous not when I helped Oliver save a girl from being taken advantage of or John saving a couple from a mugging.”

“All you did is what? They were probably on their way to do it anyways.”

“You don’t think to highly of me. Do you? Not until you need something.”

“There is nothing really you have I need. You come off as a replacement piece. Easily replaceable. Maybe I should take a few computer classes at the community center and viola be following little dots on screens too.”

“Those dots don’t magically appear. I created the programs that has Oliver, John, and Roy tagged and yes color coded but you think you can just sit in my chair and what? Play a game with their lives because what I have set up is not a video game system. It blood, sweat, and tears of frustration creating programs that will keep my boys alive.”

“Yet you can’t figure out who killed my sister.”

“Why is this on me? You were there at the scene. You didn’t see no one and yet place all this stress on a family she cared for to. Granted you are her sister. You’re not the only one who cared about Sara.”

“You have some nerve.”

“Me? I’m not the one strutting around like a peacock. Someone who keeps being ruffed up because she doesn’t take this lifestyle seriously.” Felicity can’t help it now; this woman has ruffed her feathers to many times. She is no one’s doormat and if this woman wants to play with the big boys she better understand that Felicity Smoak is the keeper of this house.

This journey started with Oliver and John and it works because they have a deep respect for each other’s abilities. She’s all for feminism but there be hell to pay if Laurel thinks all because she’s a woman and is learning to fight in the world of vigilantism that she’ll outrank her. There is a fierce lioness in Felicity and protecting anyone in this family is her priority. When and if Laurel can cut it she’d be included but for now the woman is on a trial basis. It is this outsider who needs to prove herself.

“Says the keyboard warrior.” Laurel has had it with this girl. A person that has wiggled herself into Oliver Queen’s life. “You don’t put your life on the line. You’re just a technician.”

“Is that the only thing about me you don’t like or is there a certain someone that is over you that you need to take out on me?”

“Pfft, that one and only date. Don’t kid yourself.” Felicity stands her ground as it seems Laurel needs to get closer to maybe intimidate what she perceives as a threat. “Ollie will keep you around as long as it benefits him. As I said don’t kid yourself into believing there will ever be a you and him.”

“Finally we get what really irks you. He isn’t a prize to be won. If you think you need to scare off any competition than you really never had him.”

“You think you know him from what… The three years of being in his radar. I know Ollie before the Gambit and I know him now. You will never really know him.”

Felicity can’t help but laugh. This woman has some delusional problems. She thinks knowing Oliver pre-Gambit is the man she’d want to know. The boy slept with his girlfriend’s sister and who knows how many others. There be no way she’d even give him a glance back then especially those were the times that her hacktivism played a large roll in who she wanted to be.

“I am supposedly lucky because I’d hate to be stuck calling him a nickname that makes him cringe when you say it.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous? I can be many things but I’m over being jealous of you. I don’t envy you at all. Like I haven’t noticed how sweet you seem to be when you want something and then how flippant you can be when there is nothing in it for you.” Felicity still considers the woman to be perfect in certain ways. She can’t help that there is still lingering feelings of the last few years. All-in-all she truly considers Laurel to be a stubborn mule and maybe if they clean this air between them they could move forward. Becoming a family means there are times for a thrown down. As long as there is a respect built on it. At this moment she can’t see that happening but she lives a strange life so anything is possible.

Her frame just towering slightly over Felicity as an added incentive to try to make Felicity feel powerless. Laurel just gets this smirk on her face as what she’s about to say will triumph anything, “You’re still that nobody that you introduced yourself to me as. That geeky chick working in a basement of a club. One thing about Ollie and you should know this really well you’ve seen him with all these beauties he has no problem using and discarding is that he also is attracted to strong women. Something you are not.”

“Ouch!” Felicity is so over this conversation. Laurel really does underestimate her opponent. “The thing is Laurel. I don’t know who you bullied in school? I don’t know if you even black mailed your way through law. You reek of obstinacy. Thinking you are above everyone else. You may try act like a queen bee but your nothing but an omega.”

That is all it takes to have Laurel try to smack Felicity. Telling her that her character isn’t all that. Felicity side steps easily already anticipating an attack. Even shooting out to protect herself from an incoming punch. It’s after a “Pow” that Felicity just looks at the woman on the floor holding her face now. She can’t help her babbling words that fall from her lips, "So you think you are field ready huh?" Taking a step back. “Taken down by a technician.”

Felicity looks at how Oliver is bobbing his head to her story. His fingers have been slowly petting her hand as he seems to be in awe.

“I never really meant to hurt her physically just wound her pride. Fighting words became fighting actions and I’m not sorry. I drew the line she’s not bossing me around again.”

“I don’t think she’ll dare to.”

“You probably should do some damage control. She could make our lives more difficult.”

He nods in agreement but for now he just wants to show Felicity how proud he is of her. This woman tried diplomacy and after being pushed around really stood her ground. “If you’ll wait here I have a container of chocolate mint upstairs in the cooler.”

“You do?”

He nods as he gets up to get her the ice cream he bought recently. For some reason he thought she’d need it and he is glad he held on to it till this moment. Before he reaches the first step he turns and tells Felicity, “So you know, you are one of the most-strongest individuals I have ever met and for once Laurel is right I do have a thing for strong women.” He is up the steps before she can form a sentence.

Leaving Felicity to smile even if her hand still aches badly, “Shoot note to self: Hitting stubborn people in the head side effect is like punching a brick wall.”

[kdfrqqg]

By the Fire

Dean x Reader

A/N: This was written for Jordan’s 2K Fluff Challenge @queen-of-deans-booty. My prompt was snuggle by the fire. She is wonderful please go follow her.  

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: language, implied smut but pretty much safe for everyone.

The tree line in the distance looked familiar as (Y/N) checked her watch. She huffed, it was 5pm and the bright golden sun was becoming dim orange, pink and purple over the horizon.  Her and Dean were lost but he was too stubborn to admit it.  

“Dee, I saw some cabins back there.” (Y/N) suggested.

“No, no, we’re like only twenty minutes from the car.” He pointed one way then looked around and pointed a different way.

“Really, dude! My feet hurt, it’s getting colder and that damn wendigo really slammed me hard before you lit his ass on fire.” She whined.

He grabbed her gently by her shoulders gazing into her (Y/C/E) eyes. “I know you’re tired, I’m tired but I know we’re close.”

“We really aren’t. I think we are at least three hours from the car,” (Y/N) pointed to a tree that had some couples initials carved into it, she remembered seeing it when they came through the first time, “and I don’t want to sleep on ground when I know there are perfectly good hiker cabins only a fifteen minute walk away.” She argued.

“Fine but you owe me one of your homemade pies if in the morning Baby is just over that hill.” Dean gave in.

“Hell if Baby is just over there I’ll make you two but I’m pretty sure I’m right.” She continued.

With new determination, (Y/N) turned a fifteen minute trek into a ten minute dash.  The cabin was quaint and peaceful as they walked up, when they flung the door open the stench of mildew hit them right in face. She saw dirt and leaves all over the floor, the winterization around the door frame had dry rotted a long time ago. “You sure you don’t want sleep in the ground.” Dean snickered behind her.

“It’s just for one night, we’ll survive.” She walked in grabbing a broom from the very small kitchen.  This little cabin was only meant for the occasional overnight stay not for a long time use but she was thankful that they had some protection from the elements. Dean made himself useful and found a stack of firewood out back while (Y/N) swept up the place and looked for blankets and towels since it was going to be a cold one tonight.

“Did you get some kindling?” She asked Dean as he filled the fireplace with logs.

“Oh we don’t need that.  I have something better in mind.” He smiled like the freaking Joker from Batman.

She lifted her eyebrow, “And what is that, Winchester?”

He rummaged through the bags, “flamethrower!” The very flamethrower he used to kill the monster hours earlier.

She slapped her hand over her eyes, and huffed that turned into a chuckle, how was he that damn cute when he got excited. “Ummm, that would be a no.” She watched as his face dropped, “I don’t want to be responsible for burning the whole place down.”

“Aww come on.” Dean begged.

“No means no, Dean. Just go find some twigs or bark to light.” She was direct as she turned back to what she was doing.

Dean mumbled, “No means no.” He said mocking her, “I never get to have any fun.”

She shook her head snickering to herself as she got back to searching for supplies.  (Y/N) was surprised to find that the place had running water and a the gas stove that actually worked.  The cabinets had a couple packs of ramen, a few cans of soup and a tin of earl gray tea. She thought well that is feast when you’re starving. She moved from the tiny kitchen to the living room when she heard Dean shuffling around in the next room.  He was bent over with a lighter in his hand trying to catch a dry piece of bark on fire, he stood up when he felt that he had started the fire properly.

“See that wasn’t so bad.” She told him with a smirk.

“Yeah but it wasn’t any fun.” He pouted.

She placed two towels at the base of the front door frame in an attempt to keep the draft out. She went back to kitchen not sure why Sam kept on instancing to send her and Dean out on cases by themselves.  Ever since Sam and Jody got together, he had tried to convince her why she should be together with his brother.  Of course Dean was handsome, and caring but he was also childish and stubborn.  The two of you worked pretty well together when he wasn’t showing off.  

The water from the faucet filled the kettle as she started the orange flames on the stove top. She looked out the small kitchen window at the trees and nature just out her door as she waited for the water to boil, and she was thankful she had made it through another day. Her body turned towards the doorway watching Dean sitting on the floor with his knees pressed to his chest, he was peaceful, calm and more beautiful than any man she had ever seen. Two tea bags sat inside a pair of mismatched coffee mugs, and the whistle of the tea kettle pulled (Y/N) from her day dream.  The hot steam poured out of the mugs as she brought them into the living room.

“Here. Hand those to me. You don’t want to spill them everywhere.” Dean took the cups from her hands as she made her way down on the floor with him.  “I’ve been dying for some coffee all day.”

She squinched up her nose, “Well it’s tea.”

“Tea? I’m not Sam.” He chuckled.

“Oh how I know.” She nudged his shoulder with a friendly gesture. “It’s all they had.” The two of them sat quietly in front of the fire sipping tea, Dean winced as he sipped. “What?” She asked.

“It’s just this shit tastes like ass.” He was honest.

“Yeah it really does.” She giggled and Dean took the opportunity to place his arm around her.

“You looked cold.” He mentioned as his bright green eyes shown with hints of amber blaze from the fire.

“Thanks!” Was all she could muttered completely mesmerized by him.

“I could get you a blanket.” He offered.

She slipped a piece of hair behind her ear and looked away, “Ummm, no this is good.”

“Thank you by the way.” He said looking down.

“Why are you thanking me?” She questioned as she moved a little closer to him.

“Because we really are over three hours from Baby. I’d rather be here with you by the fire than running around the woods getting lost in the dark.” He admitted.

“Dean Winchester, I never thought I’d hear you tell me that you were wrong.”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far.” He gave her a shit eating grin.

She snickered taking another sip of her tea, “How about you take the compliment?” She paused as his hand wandered lower down to her waist pulling her as close as he could possibly get her.  “Since I like it when a man admits when he's wrong, how about I make you those pies when we get back home?”

“Really?”

“Yeah really.” She looked at him realizing just how close his lips were to her. She sat the cup on the ground quickly before she chastly pressed her lips to his. “I’m glad to be here with you too.”

Dean didn’t waste any time, he cupped her face, lips crashed against lips as he gently laid her on the bare floor. “Wow, I never took you for the first move type of girl.”

She smiled at him as she pushed him on his back, “I’m full of surprises, Winchester.”

Clothes were quickly thrown into the center of the room as the two hunters made passionate love.  The duo wrapped their still naked bodies with the moth ball smelling blankets as they fell asleep next to the roaring fire.

Dean got up a few times throughout the night to add extra wood and to move the embers around. “It’s cold. Come back to bed, Dean.” (Y/N) groggily groaned.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll be right there.” His firm body looked like a damn god as the light from the flames reflected off his ass. He was right by her side snuggling up and enjoying the tranquility of the evening and not sure if he really wanted to go back home.

The sunshine flooded the tiny cabin waking the hunters, “Morning.” She smiled at Dean.

He rubbed his hair causing him to look like a hedgehog, “Morning Beautiful.” He kissed her with a little tongue. “I guess we have to get movin’, if we want to be on the road by noon.”

“You sound like you don’t want to leave.” She sat up covering herself with the hodgepogde quilt.

“I definitely want to go home to my bed but I don’t want this,” he pointed between him and (Y/N), “to end.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Dean. I’m not some bar chick that you only get one night with.” She touched his hand.

“I know but I suck at relationships and being domestic.” He said as he found his socks and underwear.

“Hey me too. That is why I was probably so opposed to us getting together.” She chuckled putting on her bra.

Dean chuckled with her, “So Sam’s been on your case about us too.”

“Oh not just Sam, I’ve been getting it from Jody, Donna, hell even Cas has been on my ass.” She stood up waving her hands and Dean saw just how sexy she was in the daylight as well.

He moved towards her, snaking his arms around her bare waist, “Well I think we need to take them out to dinner as a thank you.” His hardened member pressed againsit her belly.

“What happened to getting on the road before noon?” She giggled against his lips.

“Maybe we could stay up here for another day.” He suggested unhooking her bra before he moved his hands between her legs.

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[endless-vall]

Prompt 23 & 36, please.

Hi anon! thank you for requesting! I chose Liam x MC, I hope this is fine with you 😘 Thank youFavorite momentsSummery: Liam’s favorite moments are always the moments he and Mc have to themselves, when the eyes of the court and the press doesn’t prick into them.When his brother, Leo, drops off their niece without prior notice, they share another one of those moments.*Written from Liam’s POV*Author’s note:  This was so fun, since I had the creative freedom to choose which pairing I’d like to use those prompts on. Thank you!I loved the possibility to do a (kindof) crossover from my fav couples from roe and trr :D I hope you’ll like that!@thatocladyplayschoices I hope you’ll like this too, this is a light & fluffy piece ^^ Pairings: Liam x Mc, Leo x Kelly (ROE’s mc)-Liam and Mc were still getting used to being a married couple. They were married for six months now, and while MC wasn’t raised at court, or prepared for that her entire life, as some people have, she’d been a natural. Even Bertrand said that, during their wedding, when giving them his regards in person. “She was a delight to sponsor” “Maxwell did an outstanding job” and “She brought hope for the entire court” were just few of the things he’d let slip when talking to them, but Mc wore a proud, slightly teary-eyed smile and pulled him into a hug afterwards.“This, for an example, wasn’t queenly-appropriate behavior” He had to remain his judging, grumpy self, but the smile on his face and the hand around her back - returning her gesture - told them otherwise.She was still her stubborn, cheery, and righteous self, but she’s also been a wonderful queen. All those traits only made her a better, more generous ruler, alongside with Liam.Liam loved it when Mc eyes sparkled after every time they’d pass a law that helped those in need.And they’ve faced harder decisions, together, too. No matter what they’ve had to face, they always pulled through. While the photos scandal shook them at their core and almost broke them apart, it also taught them a lesson. If they managed to overcome that obstacle, they could do anything, as long as they’re together.“Your love makes me stronger.” Liam had told Mc. And each time they’ve faced a new hard decision, she’d squeeze his hand, reminding him and reassuring him they could do it.They both had busy schedules, and were pre-occupied with many things, each had his duties to attend to, and so Mc suggested they’d make a promise; every other weekend was a date night, and they’d have an entire day to themselves. They made it as much as it was possible.Those were still his favorite moments together, when the eyes of the noble families and the press weren’t all directed at them.Liam finished off a busy day at the office, after countless meetings and political discussions, and headed for their bed chambers. He knew it was supposed to be date night, and the exhaustion vanished off him right over, filling him with excitement instead.It was only when he reached their room, only to find it – unfortunately – empty, that he had thought to check his cell phone for any text messages or notifications.There was, one unexpected text message waiting for him there.Sorry, bro. She’ll be in the garden ;) – Leo.That was strange, Liam thought to himself, while changing from his royal attire to something more comfortable, while still keeping it appropriate for outside of the bedroom.He got out into the palace’s garden, searching for Mc and scanning the garden.He finally found her, and started making his way towards her, while Mc didn’t notice his presence. She was too busy playing along with the 4 year-old angel who happened to be their favorite (and only) niece.The sun was starting to set, coloring the sky in a pinkish color, and it made both of them glow in the dim light, making the scene unfolding in front of him to even more lovely.Mc was wearing a simply white sundress, and her hair was tied up in a slightly messy bun, it was obvious a certain 4 year old was tempering with it earlier today, but she still looked just as beautiful as ever.This seemed like it would join the list of his favorite moment, too.“So this is where my two favorite girls have disappeared to.” Liam amusingly commented when he reached them, making Mc jump in her place, and wrap him in her embrace, and the little girl giggle. “Liammm!” their niece jumped up as well, and hugged his leg. Mc broke their hug apart long enough to let her pick her up, and then returned and hugged Roselyn from the other side, planting a big kiss on her cheek. She was named after her grandmother, from her mother’s side.“So, is little Rosie ready to go to bed yet?” Liam wasn’t even bothered his brother leaving them on babysitter duty, not ever. “Nuh-uh!” She protested. “Mc promised I could play a little longer today!” She used those puppy-eyes of hers, and Liam was sold. “I did promise that,” Mc confessed, popping her head behind Rosie, and both of them looked at him with those big, hopeful eyes.“Okay, okay, you know I can’t say no to that face. That’s unfair!” He joked, putting Rosie down. The little girl didn’t waver, running back to her toys and continuing what seemed to be a fight between a knight and a dragon. Liam chuckled at the sight, and felt Mc leaning against him. He instinctively wrapped a hand over her waist, holding her close.“Leo and Kelly dropped her off today afternoon. I finished off early and thought I’d rather spend time with her instead of a assigning her a nanny, though they’re great and she loves them too. She especially loves Bastien, even though he insist he’s not her nanny. They said they had some urgent business, and were in the neighborhood, they should be back tomorrow.” Mc updated him. Liam chuckled when Bastien was mentioned, memories of the last visit of Leo, his wife and Rosie, when Rosie decided to ride his back, and his ‘upset’ reaction, even though everybody knew he loved it.“I also wanted to send you a message, but I knew you were in the middle of meeting, and afterwards I must’ve trailed off.” She blushed.“It’s okay, Leo told me to go looking for you in the garden.” Liam kissed her cheek, thinking that Mc would make a great mother. She absolutely adored Rosie, but then again, Mc always loved kids. Liam got a wave of excitement wash over him, when the thought of having their own kids came to his mind. He couldn’t hind his smile, and Mc sent him a questioning look, still wearing a smile.He sat on the porch, watching Rosie continue her play, and motioned Mc to sit beside him. She sat and instantly lean into his touch, and he hummed happily.“I was just thinking how good you are with Rosie.” Liam started, placing a hand over Mc cheek, and stroking it lightly.“Well, you’re not so bad yourself,” She returned at him, with a satisfied tone.He was glad she thought that, she always seemed to know how to get Rosie’s attention better than him.“And I’ve just thought… about having our own kids one day.” Liam admitted, looking into her eyes. There was some kind of blissfulness in her eyes and the way her lips curled up into a wide smile, with something additional hiding behind it.“Just one day?” Before Liam could ask why she looked at him like that, she replied.“W-What…” He stuttered for a moment, trying to understand what she was meaning.“The reason I finished early today was that I needed to take a test.” She explained. “One day might be closer than you’d think.” She added. Liam’s eyes shot wide open in surprise. “Are you saying?-“ He caressed her face with both hands, waiting for her to say it out loud.“I’m pregnant.” She confirmed it, smiling excitedly at him.Liam almost felt tears of joy forming in his eyes, when he pulled her into a long, passionate kiss.“Ewww!” They pulled apart when they heard Rosie commenting, and burst into laughter with her.“I’m so happy.” He told her, when they both caught their breath.“Me too.” She said, stroking his cheek. He pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly against him. “You have no idea how happy you make me. With you, I always feel like the luckiest man in the world.” He whispered into her ear.It was getting late, Liam helped Rosie gather her toys, and Mc lifted the yawning, sleepy-headed girl in her arms. They accompanied her to her room, which was right next to theirs. A nanny already prepared it earlier today, so they only had to tuck her in.“Did the knight beat the dragon?” Liam questioned Rosie before she made it to her bed.“Nope. But don’t worry, the princess was there and she saved the day!” She excitedly told him about the princess defending the knight, and how it all ended with them being friends. Liam nodded at the delightful story, and Mc stood proudly beside.Rosie fell asleep immediately when she lied on her pillow, and they slipped out of her room before she’d notice.They entered their room afterwards. The moment they closed the door behind them, Liam’s lips were on Mc’s, and his hands were on her waist, holding her close.“Liam,” She breathed out. “I love you so much.” She pulled at his shirt, until he helped her and pulled it off. “Me too.” He rested his forehead against hers. Afterwards, they changed into their sleepwear, and fell asleep curled into each other. Liam drifted away into a blissful sleep, with Mc’s in his arms. This was defiantly getting in his list of favorite moment. Actually, it just shot up to the head of the list.

[thebookjumper]

Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon -  Week 4: At Odds.

You all are phenoms.  Seriously!  We’ve had more amazing submissions for the Week 4 prompt: At Odds.  And I continue to be blown away by your commitment to this Fic-A-Thon.  

I’m sorry that this is so late.  My real life has been ridiculous lately.  But better late than never.

Thank you all for your fantastic submissions, and keep ‘em coming!

The works submitted for this week’s prompt: At Odds are:

(In no particular order)

Blue Eyed Angel - Chapter 3: At Odds. by @tdgal1 - Rating: Mature - Even though QC is in the way, will a romantic dinner help Oliver win Felicity over?

Summer Vacation - Chapter 5: Babymoon by @dmichellewrites - Rating: Explicit - Oliver and Felicity fight about their future while they're on vacation celebrating their almost new addition.

Stop in the Name of Love! by @hope-for-olicity - Rating: General Audiences - Felicity is struggling with the events of Havenrock, and Oliver is keeping his distance while being supportive where he can. A misunderstanding kickstarts these crazy kids back onto the right track.

I Will Always Trust You - Chapter 4: Please Don't Leave Me by @felicityollies - Rating: Explicit - Oliver tries a different method to keep Felicity from running after Helix in 5x19.

We've Got Skin in the Game by @laureningall - Rating: General Audiences - Their newly rekindled relationship can survive some secrets. Will it survive others?

Close Company by @thatmasquedgirl - Rating: Mature - Oliver's brilliant and super observant. Felicity's better.

One Last Time - Chapter 3: At Odds. by @wetsuiton - Rating: Teen and Up - They're arguing over something that doesn't even warrant an argument, but she's convinced she can do it, and Oliver can't tell her otherwise.

some fairytale bliss - Chapter 3: hold that thought by @callistawolf - Rating: Teen and Up - Steps? Who needs steps. Oliver and Felicity don't mind skipping a few on their way to a rebuild, but their surprise visitor has other plans.

The Arrows of War by @obibaldwin - Rating: General Audiences - Oliver and Felicity. Only one can be victorious.

Tastes like pure joy - Chapter 2: Fracking Vigilante by @wherethereissmoak - Rating: Teen and Up - We learn how Felicity found out Oliver's secret. No, not that secret. The other one.

Forever at Odds by @laurabelle2930 - Rating: General Audiences - To be together means putting her life at stake, and it may have dire consequences for everyone.

At odds by @bitchwhwifi - Rating: General Audiences - What might have happened if Felicity and Oliver wouldn't have been called back to Starling in 4x01.

Cabernet Sauvignon Blanc by Izzyface - Rating: Teen and Up - Oliver has his encounter with The Count, but Felicity happens to be there.

The mission by @gypsyfire1066 - Rating: Teen and Up - Felicitiy is more than capable of going on a mission. Oliver disagrees.

I did it all for love by @releaseurinhibitions - Rating: Teen and Up - Two best friends reunite after years apart. That comes with some growing pains.

hold me tight (tell me you miss me) by @bokayjunkie - Rating: General Audiences - Thea knows there's something going on with her brother and her friend. All they need is a gala to steer them in the right direction. Note: this is a follow-up piece to an earlier fic, so you should check that one out first.

News-Report: Flames by @cruzrogue - Rating: Not Rated - Oliver sees problems on the news and it kills him that he can't help. But, there may be something that helps him cope.

Unexpected Roommates by @onceuponanolicity - Rating: Mature - Felicity has a no good, very bad day. It winds up with her having to split a room with Oliver Queen.

Most Secrets Come With a Price - Chapter 4: At Odds by @diggo26 - Rating: Mature - While staying with Oliver Queen for the summer as his tutor, Felicity gets invited to tour QC.

Till Your Last Breath by @walker-oliciter - Rating: Mature - She finally finds him. Her soulmate. Just in time to warn him about the countdown.

A Queen - Chapter 2: The Distraction by @missyriver - Rating: Teen and Up - Oliver finds Felicity badly hurt in Chapter one of this fic. In chapter 2, Felicity's resistant to what must be done. Oliver might have the perfect method of getting her to agree, though.

What Did You Do? by @imusuallyobsessed - Rating: Teen and Up - Oliver makes a change that Felicity's not too happy about.

we are the earth and the sky by @dreamsofolicity - Rating: Mature - Bratva Oliver Queen meets a girl in a pretty, floral dress in a bar.  What happens next no one could have guessed.

Olicity Hiatus 2017 Prompts - Chapter 4: At Odds by @diggo26 - Rating: Explicit - In the future where Starling is lost, Felicity Smoak stands and does the best she can for the people of her city. The powers that be find her existence... problematic. So they send their best after her.

And our fanart submission for the week by @rua1412:

I try to get all of your fantastic stories every week, but inadvertently I may miss one or two. Please let me know if you don't see your fic on here and I'll correct the oversight ASAP. Also, check the olicityhiatusficathon to make sure I've reblogged your submission for the week, every week, to make sure it's not missing from there before I make my summary post. That's the main source I work from when I make this list, and then try to supplement from other areas.

Tags:

@missyriver @almondblossomme @spaztronautwriter @wherethereissmoak @felicityollies @cainc3 @wanhani @dust2dust34 @cruzrogue @hope-for-olicity @babblekween @dmichellewrites @callistawolf @the-queenfamily @angelalafan @bokayjunkie @moonbebesworld @scu11y22 @jamyjan @crankyandbitchy @geniewithwifi @smoakingskye @writewithurheart @some1foundme @xxlisaxxx @nerdyandturdy @aussieforgood @imusuallyobsessed @leonie1988 @miriam1779 @diggo26 @amphoteros @tdgal1 @queensoverwatch @jedichick04 @walker-oliciter @squidbillybritt @green-arrows-of-karamel @uhhmanderrmitch @overwatchqueens @smoakmonster @ourwritinginvein @pls-moi @spacemomnephmoreau @gypsyfire1066 @creativelylisa @sharingmyworld @laurabelle2930 @overwatchandarrow @pennedbyv @dinzbinz @jlr1224 @crazycrystal10 @ccdimples88 @perfectlittlesoul @mariposablue9 @rua1412 @dreamsofolicity @quiveringbunny @thearrowandhisgirlwednesday @mammashof @eilowyn1 @xblondepiratesopheeex @1106angel @onceuponanolicity @fallingmeleth @mel-loves-all @releaseurinhibitions @purselover2 @thatmasquedgirl @babblingblondegenius @bitchwithwifii @faeriefantasy @olicitysmoaky @lover4eternity @a-w-mouse @rynflo @c0bra5nak3 @wetsuiton @charlinert @laureningall @madhaj @arrowfan437 @herskirtsarentthatshort @obibaldwin

[incorrect-pokespe-quotes]

so i guess this is like an intro pv of a longer oneshot i’ve been working on for the better half of the year now. i got the idea from some soulmate prompt, so soulmate au i guess, or college au, or modern, or w/e.

and as usual i suck at titles so this piece doesn’t have one yet :)))))

-

There was a particular event of this world in which a certain order of people don’t exactly get the best results from. 

Of course, some of those that others would view as being cheated by life actually found themselves really fortunate.

Here’s the deal: On each of your wrists you have a name. The names are significantly faded, obscured from view at birth really, so you can’t tell what’s written without being relatively close. One of the names is that of your soulmate’s, the other that of your enemy’s. No one knows which is which. 

Crystal was one of the people who had an easier time with that question. She only had one name, the other wrist unmarred. For a while it was a bit of a wonder as to what the name could either signify, but that all changed in their first year of high school. There, she met an academic scholar -such as herself- named Eusine, the same name on her wrist. 

Eusine was a third year and, to put it short, absolutely infuriating. The two were always competing to see who could get the best marks despite the difference of their classes, and it became a battle most others couldn’t hope to reach. Second term, Crystal declared she was ace, so that was a done deal. She also got the highest scores of the school at the end of term, so Eusine had no choice but to sulk as he went off and graduated, declaring his desire to go off and pursue some magical beast he’d read about in a book previously. 

And that was that. Crystal’s one name was that of her enemy’s, and it was back in high school, and they had never seen the guy since, so it was a done deal. Her magical name quest given to her half-heartedly by life was complete, nothing left to it. Not that she minded, running into Eusine again wasn’t something on her daily lists of things to do.

Gold envied Crystal for that reason. But she was also his best friend, both bonding over their shared one-name-only trifle, so he was never envious for long, and it was never anything but a dull, weak couple of thoughts. 

That morning Gold’s mind decided to envy Crystal’s ease at being done with the whole name-destiny-thing for the sole reason that he was moving into an apartment that day that a scholarship was paying for and was incredibly nervous for some stupid reason because it was a big place with lots of people around and he still hadn’t found his soulmate/slash/enemy. It diminished pretty quickly, though, like always.

Currently, Crystal was helping move stuff into the aforementioned apartment because she lived in a dorm on campus so her stuff got moved in a week prior and Gold may have mentioned more than once how appreciative he would be if she were to help. She saw through it, though -it was rare that Gold actually remember to do anything nice in return. So she made him promise to buy her food that evening as payment, and he was forced to begrudgingly agree.

The apartment was on the fourth floor. The elevator of the apartment building was currently jammed with other residents that had decided to move in that day. Stupidly -according to Crystal- Gold decided to take the stairs. This was their second trek up. Crystal was holding a suspiciously heavy-but-small box and mentally cursing her best friend with every step she took. Finally, as they reached the third floor foyer, she had enough of guessing what the ‘OM’ label signified. “Gold, what the hell is in this box?”

He was already ascending the next staircase, but did flip back his head to look as he replied and she slowly followed. “The  . . Oh, my music. Bunch of tapes, CDs, stuff.”

“T-” She paused, thought, then quickly continued. “Tapes? Do you even have a player?”

“Yeah, somewhere.” He shrugged. “It’s mostly older stuff. Sinatra, Jovi, Frey, stuff like that. Although I did invest in-”

She could see it, a few paces behind him. He had reached the top, was spinning around the corner, and she’d seen enough of his accident-prone self to know, the shadow on the wall ahead only confirming.

“-Some, like, Gaga and-” He broke off with a very high-pitched squeal as he slammed into the person approaching, and Crystal quickly got up the final few steps to catch him before he could fall down the stairs. This mostly involved shoving the heavy box against his mid-back, but it did keep him upright. More than she could say for the other, who was barely picking themselves up into a sitting position.

“What-Oh shit-” Gold sputtered, catching sight. He quickly set the items he was carrying onto Crystal’s box -making her grunt and lean against the railing to keep from falling over from the weight- and reached down to offer a hand to the other. “Sorry about that, miss-”

“God that hurt,” a clearly-not-feminine voice said. The head lifted to reveal a pair of silvery eyes and -yep, it was a guy, way to go Gold, real nice move. They flicked to his outstretched hand for only a moment before ignoring it in favor of the wall beside him. Once he was back on his feet, those silver orbs narrowed and Gold retrieved his hand. 

“Uh. Sorry,” he said, eyes wide.

The other reeled back his lip. “Yeah right. Watch where you’re going next time, asshole.” He pushed away from the wall and walked off in the direction he’d originally been headed, to a door at the end of the hall, which Gold found strange but he would ignore in favor of other things.

“I said I was sor-” He broke off his half-shout as Crystal kneed him from behind, wincing in pain.

“Quit it and grab these from me before I collapse,” she grunted. Gold swiftly complied, adding an apology for good measure. She only huffed and shoved him out of the way, finally standing on the floor.

“Seriously though, what a hick.” He grumbled more as they moved toward his room. Although he was intrigued by the red hair. Not in a curious way, Crystal had dark blue hair for crying out loud, but it just seemed so vibrant.

His thoughts were cut short by Crystal kicking open the door they’d left cracked with a spare uni pamphlet they’d had on hand, figuring it’d be so small no one would notice the door was open. He walked in after her, watched her drop the box onto the counter with only minor flinching, and proceeded to freeze when she spun around to look pointedly at him.

“ . . What? What did I do?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just, watch where you’re going. And play some of this stuff. Music makes this less challenging.”

-

It was late in the evening when Gold found himself venturing out of his apartment, figuring he’d grab something from the vending machine the next floor down for dinner that night -because stupid Crystal and her stupid expensive tastes. He was just swinging the door shut, murmuring the last melodies of a song, when he saw something unbelievable.

“ … heart is a ghost town . .Uh-”

The person in front of him froze, a couple feet away. Silver eyes, red hair, the one from earlier. His hand was outstretched to a door beside Gold’s that led into the compartment beside Gold’s which meant he lived by-

The other stuck the key in and twisted the handle, looking firmly at the cream-colored door in front of him. Gold let his lips loosen before he could stop himself.

“Are you serious.”

The other finally pushed the door open, not bothering to answer and instead walking in. Gold jumped forward and caught his wrist, which was wrenched free pretty quickly as he spun around, pale eyes gleaming. “What,” he spat.

Gold bit down on his lip for a good moment to avoid saying anything unnecessary. “Your name,” he ground out. “I never caught it.”

The two stared each other down for a good five seconds before the other relented. “Silver,” he huffed. As Gold opened his mouth to speak again, Silver beat him to it. “Don’t care. Bye.”

The door was promptly shut in Gold’s face.

He wrenched out his phone and ran to the elevator.

-

“Repeat that again?”

“His name was, get in there you stupid bill, was Silver.”

“And that’s important because . . ?”

“It’s the name on my wrist, Crys, God.”

“Sorry, sorry! It’s been a bit since I’ve seen it.”

“Finally! Now . . mm . . ‘ets do chips . . So we’re the same.”

“Excuse me?”

“The same, like, we both have the names of our enemies.” he popped open the bag, immediately crunching on a couple chips.

“You think he’s your enemy?”

“Um, yeah. You were there. Plus he slammed the door in m’ face minute ago.”

“So that makes him your destined enemy.”

“Pretty much. You know any other Silvers? Plus his place is right beside mine. And he’s off-putting. And scowls a lot.”

On the other end, Crystal sighed and put her face into one hand. “Kay look. So it’s probably not going to work to avoid him. Just don’t stir up much trouble. Grades come first, got it?”

Although he wasn’t up to par with his super-geeky BFF, Gold had had the effort to maintain a good GPA, one of the reasons he was starting at the same school as her tomorrow. Since he was on scholarship, he understood what she meant. “Got it,” he muttered.

“Good. Now it’s, like, nine. So goodnight.”

-

The next time Gold saw Silver, they were both walking out of their rooms. Silver immediately looked away, walking over to the stairs. Gold glared for a moment before turning to the elevator.

This continued for the next few days, every morning, except for a notable trend. Silver grew more weary, dark spots appearing below his eyes, limbs moving just a bit slower. Gold didn’t get it until returning to his place the next day. Silver was coming out of the building, backpack on, books stacked in his arms, a phone between his head and shoulder. So that was it. He was a study freak, he was probably not sleeping very much. He probably . . uh …

“What do you want?”

“Gee thanks, good to hear your voice too.”

“It’s seven, Gold, and I have things to do.”

“Fine fine. Tell me how you take notes.”

“Because . .?”

“Reasons.”

A sigh echoed through the speaker. “I record the lecture and make a color code chart of all the topics mentioned. Then I make the notes in my spare time.”

Yep. That’s probably what he did. Mystery solved. Nothing big.

Except, it did turn out to be sorta big, when the water system clicked on for the first time late at night.

Gold didn’t realize the walls were that thin. Lo and behold, he could hear the pipes moving next door. He let his eyes slide open, move to the clock beside his bed. Oh. Not night anymore, it was nearing past two.

He’d just tell him off in the morning, well, later into the morning.

Except he didn’t. Gold was out the door late and Silver wasn’t there. He didn’t really feel like knocking, either, so he left. And then he forgot. Until, at least, the next night, when it happened again. 

Gold considered moving in with Crys. Then he remembered her saying not to make a big deal out of this, to just deal with it, it was just life. 

So at three-forty in the morning, ten minutes after the water had been shut off, Gold climbed out of bed and knocked on the redhead’s door.

It took a minute, but the door opened, Silver peeking out of it. When he caught sight, his eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

“I-” Gold stopped, considered his words, then lowered his voice to a half-shout. “I want you to stop taking showers at three AM, you nerd! Get your shit together.”

“N-Ner . . ?” Silver paused, thinking through the statement. Finally, he looked back up at Gold. “Okay. Sorry. I’ll . . do that.”

He hadn’t been expecting that. Still left with a bit of spitfire, Gold just fired away. “Good!”

Mistake. Those silver orbs turned cold, turned to look him straight. “I get it, you can stop now,” he spat. Then he turned, shutting the door a little hard but not too much to cause a complaint.

He didn’t go too far. They were enemies after all, right? That was okay. But . . he did still feel kinda bad, as he went back and found he couldn’t fall back asleep.

He got up early and made himself some coffee, machine courtesy of a friend of his. After drinking it he got ready, then made a second cup before heading out the door.

As if on cue, the second his was shut and locked, Silver’s opened and the redhead stepped out. The first thing Gold noticed was that his hair was in a loose bun. He hadn’t known it was long enough for it, but hey, there it was. The second thing was that his eyes were immediately on him.

Or, uh, maybe not him. Gold glanced down at his drink. Then looked back up to Silver’s stricken face. Then he remembered last night, and slowly held the cup out. “Here. You look like you could use it.”

Silver just deadpanned at him. “Thanks, because someone insulting me is the first thing I needed this morning.”

He grimaced. Maybe that was some of the intention, but he was also trying to be nice, for once! Okay, it was most of the attention. But he really didn’t need a second cup, the sugar high would kill him later. “Just take it.”

“Is it poisoned?”

“Only if you don’t like a little cream.”

The other’s shoulders visibly relaxed. Another moment of hesitation, then Silver was slightly gripping the cup. Gold withdrew his hand. 

“Thanks.”

“Sure thing, mister beast.”

“Does everything that comes out of your mouth have to be infuriating,” Silver snapped.

“I could say the same to you!”

“Whatever. This probably tastes like shit, anyways.”

They didn’t interact for a bit after that.

[creativeashproductions]

Opposite Direction [Part One]// Teen Wolf and Riverdale

Summary: Escaping a program similar to the Black Widow program you begin a new life in a town where you’re aware isn’t exactly normal. Working in the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department places you in the eyes of Stiles but when Black Widow finds you with Captain America will you return the favour to her?

Characters: Reader x Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Noah Stilinski, Scott McCall (vaguely mentioned), Lydia Martin (mentioned), Deputy Jordan Parrish (mentioned), Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) and Steve Rogers (Captain America).

Words: 2103

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel. Nor do I own Riverdale when it does appear. This means I do not own the characters from these shows/movies either.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, mention of death, Stydia break-up (mentioned) and fighting.

Requested: fandomnationwhore

Author: Caitsy

A/N: First part in a short series. Had a hard time figuring this out.

Master List

Prompt List

ASK US A QUESTION LIST

You had a nasty history of not working for the good side of the time and that came with a lot of problems being that you were associated with the worst of the worst. You were really young when you had been recruited into Hydra to pay for your father’s debt towards the organization, you were placed in that life when you were seven.

You were known as being part of the Vipers that were given the most sensitive missions that came into the organization while being young adults. You weren’t the best of the group but you weren’t the worst either, the Vipers each had different codenames but you, being the first of the program, got the Viper title. However, you worked as hard as you could to pay that debt but in the process lost sight of the bad you were doing.

“Viper, we need your help.” The commander stated sitting in his chair, “While we are still building back to our powerful state again we need a failure removed.”

“What does the mission entail exactly?” You questioned.

“Brock Rumlow greatly disappointed us after his little sunburn. He fled the organization to take his own way. We need him put down.”

You nodded looking at the recent photograph of the ex-Hydra agent. His features were grotesque compared to his earlier attractive appearance, not that he was fuckable in your opinion but he had had looks. You remember the buzz of when the building came down on him and he had survived but Hydra had hoped his mishap would further unite him to the goals. He instead left. It had greatly angered everyone above you.

“Any information?” You questioned opening the file to read what little information there was in there.

“He goes by the code name ‘Crossbones’ and he’s got his eye on a biological weapon in Lagos. I’m sure you can figure out how to do this, weren’t you a toy he wanted?” The commander said leaning back in his chair yet still not slouching in comfort.

“I’ll read this over a few times and look at some maps before burning this.” You replied.

“Dismissed.”

It appeared you weren’t the only looking to put Rumlow down, the Avengers had managed to get there shortly after you. You had spent your time stalking Rumlow for a full day before planning what you would like to go about doing this. It had to be quiet and fast so you let the Avengers destroy as always before stepping in.

Rumlow was holding his thumb on the button of the bomb with Captain America close by and you took the chance to take your shot. Your bullet was deep already out of the back of Rumlow’s head when the bomb went off under the red dome. You made your way around the scene where the bullet lodged into a cement building before you were out. You got so close before a red mist held you captive.

“Who are you?” Captain America asked standing in front of you.

“That’s something you say a lot don’t you?” You rhetorically asked trying to fight the mist coming from that Scarlet Witch.

“Who are you? Who do you work for?”

“None of your damn business. Brock Rumlow needed to be put down and I did that.”

You could see the emotionally traumatized Scarlet Witch’s power was weakened enough to get lose and start racing off. You could feel the group chasing you before you went around the corner and dropped into the manhole before pulling it over. The group raced past stopping above before continuing in the direction you had originally been in,

“Steve, we’re not going to find her.” Nat said off to the side of the covered hole, “She’s part of the Viper program. She’s the first of them.”

“We’ll find her.”

“Steve, Wanda can’t find her. She’s not okay. We have to get back to the Tower.”

“We’ll continue to look for her. First we go home and regroup. We have to find out who order Rumlow’s death and why.”

The Avengers returned back to the quinjet to get away from the country left in shambles from the fight, this was a reason you were happy to not be part of them. They felt destruction in their wake when a member of their team was hurt and if they believed it wasn’t their fault. It reminded you of the people you were part of so you returned to the your headquarters with a plan in mind.

For the next month you went on missions as per usual will strategically planning your leave from the group. It wouldn’t matter much, you had progressively began to slow down your ability to do your job in order to loosen their hold on you. They wouldn’t want a defective agent on their hands and as long as you didn’t fuck up they would let you go.

On the last mission you did you went up against the person that a year before you would have put down fast but with your acting you knew it was now or never. You knew that your commander was toying with the idea of letting you go instead of killing you but that would mean you were still connected to the group.

“Viper, we have a mission for you.” The commander said as you stood in front of his desk.

“What’s the mission, Sir?” You questioned not bothering to piss him off by sitting down like your young self would have done.

“We need you to kill Black Widow.”

“Why?”

“She’s costed us agents and we need to show the Avengers we are not weak. We are not them.”

You found the reason to be really stupid because they weren’t well known to the heros of the world, only few people that escaped the ‘bad’ life knew. They didn’t tell anyone because of all the things they did were kept from even their closest friends. Some things shouldn’t be spilled to the world and having those against a person kept them shut.

“I’m on it.” You replied climbing to your feet. In your mind you knew exactly what you would do, spinning a story to the Avengers with a fake promise would get to your goal.

With weapons strapped to your body you had flown to where the Black Widow was to take her down while quietly telling her what you needed from her. You had blackmail on her if she decided to not go your way. You first casually bumped into her to plant a fake tracker on her body, knowing she would know in seconds before tracking you down.

“Viper.” Black Widow hissed dropping the tracker on the ground before digging her heel into it. You tossed her to the ground in response.

“Make it look real. I’m trying to escape the system, I need your help. Make it look like you’ve killed me.” You cussed when blood dribbled down your chin.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“In my back pocket there’s directions to a location where I’ve stored every piece of documents on you. The stuff you don’t want your friends and co-workers to know. Help me and I’ll help you.” You replied. You knew she agreed when her hits lessened in strength just slightly you grunted to time your next words, “Stab me somewhere that looks like it would kill me but won’t.��

Every punch was matched perfectly with carefully planted kicks and moves to land blows on the other, you weren’t going to go out fucked up. You did however pretend to slowly tire out by timing your throws off and missing her body until she electrocuted you with her stingers and you felt the very real pain of a knife in your body. While you grew ‘weaker’ you bit the capsule held under your tongue that you had crafted yourself, it would slow your pulse and heart rate to a near stop and your body would turn that ugly color when death rolled in. The best part was the perfected death stare you would take on.

“Sir…” The voice of someone from your job started, “I found Viper. Black Widow got away but she won the fight. Viper’s dead.”

Thomas was one of the agents that shadowed people on missions, he was notoriously placed with you given your capabilities and mutual respect. You stayed in role when he lifted your body into the back of the truck he had before driving off to the drop off location. This new person would take your body to the incinerator where you had managed to stow an already dead body that was a near copy of you.

When the person left for needed supplies you switched places with the dead body before slipping out the widow where a getaway bag was hidden. You watched as the man dumped the body into the machine with the cover and all before closing the door. You slipped away undetected.

You had managed to stay under the radar when shit went down, Hydra had wiped out the people you had worked for. Everyone associated with the Viper program or came into contact with a member was wiped away both physically and throughout history. A doctor that tended a severely injured agent was killed, a spouse unaware of their significant others’ job was found dead in accidental ways and you knew no one would know of the group.

You had moved to a town in California to take a job in the Sheriff Department earning a position of a skilled detective and coroner while commonly called Jordan Parrish’s partner. The town’s population had dropped in the last year leaving the department lacking in officers. You pretended you were older than your real age, only twenty instead of your real 18 year old age, which wasn’t entirely good when your boss’ son was around your age and back for the summer.

“What does a girl like you want in a small town like this?” Stiles questioned, “I mean…you’re a freaking detective!”

“Yes I am. I needed a change from the city I first worked in. The minute I heard of a transfer I was out of there.” You replied easily spinning a lie to the boy. He hummed tilting his head.

“You should tell me more over coffee.”

“I’m fine.” You replied returning to filling out a report. It was a sloppy one made by a new deputy that was shaken from an encounter with a large dog with hair on its face only. Poor guy pissed himself leading you to confirm that he wasn’t capable to know of the supernatural.

“Come on.”

“I think your mutt of a best friend would be jealous. Don’t want him complaining I’m taking over his walking hour.”

Stiles was silent as he eyed you suspiciously, that comment wasn’t the first animal related one towards his friends. Since the Ghost Riders had left Beacon Hills he had lessened on pushing every newcomer in Beacon Hills into the untrustworthy category. It didn’t help that you were crushable and bad ass while being single, with his fling with Lydia during the summer following senior year he was itching to find love.

“You know.”

“That you take your werewolf best friend on walks?” You chuckled, “Yeah, I know. Hard not to when article pop up about this town.”

“Stiles…” Sheriff Stilinski began from his open door, “Leave Detective Y/L/N to her work, you still have work to do yourself.”

“Dad-“

“No. Stiles, you’ve taken a summer job here. You aren’t FBI yet and you need to learn the small town filing system.”

Stiles huffed before removing himself from the chair next to your desk while loudly making his way towards the filing room. You chuckled before sharing a look with your boss as he retreated into his office. You were humming as lunch came by with your food half eaten, you were using your break time to read up about world news when you heard the clearing of a throat.

You swiveled in your chair only to lodge the bite of your sandwhich in your throat. Standing before you was a man wearing a blank navy hat worn low over his eyes and a non-descript jacket over a blank white shirt. You recognized the blue eyes and aura along with the woman with him. Standing in all her glory with only that recognizable smirk was a disguised Black Widow and Captain America.

“Ma’am, I’m Steve Rogers and this is Natasha Romanoff. We need your help.”

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