#but then i figured. that still leaves like a couple hundred million phone numbers so i should be fine

[dawsonscreekwasalwaysbad]

bojack: and it ends with a three? talk about an anticlimax! what kind of phone number ends with a three?

me:

[rax-writes]

↬ hellish elysian

Elysian - relating to or characteristic of heaven or paradise.

Pairing: Crowley x afab!Reader Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), choking / breath play, impact play, hair pulling, degradation, mention of blood kink

The original objective of this entire situation had been manipulation. But, at this point, it was impossible to tell who was manipulating whom – or if that was at all part of the dynamic anymore.

Post-human blood debacle, Crowley felt more vulnerable than he had in a few hundred years. Being around demons too often felt risky, lest they sniff out his vulnerability & use it to their advantage. But he craved touch, affection, and closeness – which made him feel like a whiny child, but he couldn't get rid of the craving without satiating it. The best option, in this “between a rock and a hard place” scenario, was none other than one of the people who had a hand in attempting to make him human.

You.

You clearly knew of his involvement in the third trial, and you were a human. Even though you were a hunter – a damn good one, at that – you were still just a human, so he viewed you as less of a threat than any demons he could use for sex.

Or, at least, that's how he justified it. The truth was that Crowley had wanted to fuck you since the day he met you – first just to piss off Moose and Squirrel, then simply because something about you made his trousers tighter.

On your end, the rationale wasn't too different from Crowley's. Given the endless flirtatious comments the King of Hell threw your way, you often contemplated whether you could use sex as a bargaining chip with him. Sure, he was undeniably hot, and something about that gravely accented voice made you flush. But it didn't seem to be a card you truly wanted to play – until you basically got a late night “booty call” text from an unmistakable 666 phone number.

You got some juicy intel out of it, and a couple of ancient relics, both of which helped on the next couple of hunts. The next time, you got a very old, very powerful protection amulet. The third time… well, you came so hard you passed out, so you just called that transaction square. The fourth time was just a lavish dinner, a horse-drawn carriage ride around Paris at night, and a stay in a hotel that was so over-the-top fancy you could scarcely believe your eyes.

You lost track after that, but eventually… there were no transactions, no trades. Just mind-blowing, spine-melting, moral-disintegrating sex.

Crowley still bought you dresses with four-figure price tags to wear to swanky restaurants, followed by stays in five star hotels or rented million-dollar homes, fucking the brains out of one another on every surface. But somewhere along the way, any attempts at personal gain via manipulation were lost, and the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.

Which is what brought you to your current position – naked on silk sheets, barely clinging to consciousness as the King of Hell made you cum on his tongue for the umpteenth time that evening.

Crowley spoke, but you could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. It sounded like he was far away as you gasped for air, eyes closed as you came down from your high.

“You look so pretty like this, pet,” he purred, absentmindedly kissing your inner thighs – each peck of his lips making you twitch. “Fucked within an inch of your life by none other than moi. Oh, I love to see it.”

Agonizingly slow, Crowley made his way up your body, leaving nips and kisses in his wake. Thighs, hips, stomach, breasts, throat, jaw – and, finally, your lips. As he situated himself between your legs, the familiar feeling of his rock hard cock grinding against your soaked pussy invaded your senses, causing you to sigh into the kiss. He continued to glide his shaft through your folds, teasing you until you began to whine.

“Something you want, darling?” Crowley asked lightheartedly, grinding harder against you. When you merely whined and hooked your legs around him, trying to pull him closer, he let out a condescending tsk tsk tsk. “You know what to say to get exactly what you want.”

However, his smirk faded when you rolled your eyes.

“I am not saying that.”

“You will if you want me to finish the job.”

That only made you smile, because god, it was always so fun to call his bluffs.

You shrugged, moving to leave the bed, “Meh, the job is finished enough, I'd say. We can go ahead and call it a day.”

Lightning fast, Crowley let out a quiet growl, grabbed you by the jaw, turned your head to face him, agitation written all over his face. You merely smiled – which only irked him more.

“Fine. You don't have to call me ‘my king.’ Just… just get back over here,” Crowley demanded, his voice becoming marginally more desperate at the end. You complied, falling into his arms on the bed, and he wasted no time in capturing you in a searing kiss.

One of his hands drifted lower to pump himself a few times, before snarling, “Cocky little bitch, aren’t you?” Before you could retort, he plunged into you in one swift thrust.

A loud, debauched moan escaped you, and you mindlessly raked your nails down Crowley’s back, earning a hiss from him – but you knew him well enough by now to know that he liked it.

The demon set a merciless pace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, beard scratching the sensitive flesh there.

“Hit me.”

The words fell from your lips before you’d even fully thought them through, but Crowley was never one to hesitate. Almost instantly, you felt his palm collide with your cheek – somehow with the perfect amount of pain to make it absurdly pleasurable.

You toppled over an edge you didn’t even realize you’d been approaching, coming undone beneath him with a scream. Vaguely, you heard Crowley hum in amusement. Before you’d fully regained your senses, he was flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to meet his, using his grip on you as leverage to resume harshly fucking you. He seemed to be aware that you were practically mindless at this point, as he manhandled you however he pleased.

As a cacophony of wet, lewd sounds and moans filled the room, you momentarily had enough mental clarity to recall why the nature of this arrangement was so hot: it’s wrong. It’s so goddamn wrong – for a skilled hunter to be knocking boots with the literal King of Hell. But fuck, does it feel so right when he’s inside of you – hitting your sweet spot with brutal, precise thrusts, pulling your hair harshly to force you upright and into a messy kiss.

When the kiss broke, you let your head fall back onto Crowley’s shoulder, and his heavy breathing hit your ear as he wrapped a strong hand around your throat, squeezing just the right amount. You clenched around him, and he groaned – low and deep.

“Such a filthy whore you are, darling,” Crowley stated, that damned gravelly, accented voice causing you to clench around him again. Keeping one hand around your throat, the other drifted from your hip to your clit, rubbing steady circles over it. “Mm, you love it when I talk to you, don't you? Whether it’s praise or degradation – as long as I’m talking, it gets you moaning and gripping my cock like a bitch in heat. You’re positively vile, pet. And I love it.”

There were tears streaming down your face from listening to him, and from him toying with your overstimulated clit, and the sight brought a dark chuckle from deep within Crowley’s chest.

“My little succubus,” he mused, then abruptly slapped you again before returning that hand to your throat to give it a firm squeeze.

It was all too much. You came again with a strangled cry of his name. Ever the egomaniac, hearing you finish with his name on your lips was almost always his ending point as well, and Crowley bit down harshly onto your shoulder as he finished inside of you.

The pair of you fell to your sides on the bed, spooning with his cock still inside of you. Crowley draped his arm around your waist, then kissed the bite mark he left on your shoulder. When you turned your head slightly to speak to him, your breath was stolen from your lungs when you noticed the crimson blood on his lips. He opened his mouth to apologize for having bitten you so hard, but then he noticed the way your jaw hung slack, your breathing grew heavier, and your pupils darkened to the point that your irises were fully eclipsed. And he smirked.

“A blood kink, love? Always full of surprises, aren’t we?”

“Go to sleep, Crowley.”

“Another time then,” he replied, not missing the way you smiled as you turned away from him.

[wtchwtch]

TT000_Transcript

TT000: The Tiny Terrors Offline Story Exchange

This is a fanmade transcript, please let me know if you see any errors.

TT000

(Intro music)

(Tape recorder sounds)

Cole: Hello, dear listener. Yes, you, you listening to me now, however you've come to be here. I thank you for joining me and my friends as we aim to terrify you and delight you. But before we dig in, first answer me. Have you ever heard of the tiny terrors scary story exchange? Have you delved into the obscure, obtuse, and obscene world in which it lives?

Have you travelled to the shores of the twisted continent and tasted what dark delights it has to offer?

(D coughs)

D: What?

Cole and Mark: (Simultaneous) D...

D: Jeeze...

(Tape recorder sounds)

Cole: Welcome to the Tiny Terrors Podcast where we showcase some of the most spine drilling stories from the Tiny Terrrors story exchange. Support the Tiny Terrors Showcase podcast today by subscribing and writing the show. By doing so, you'll become part of a long and often, sadly forgotten part of storytelling.

So become a Terrorizer by subscribing and rating the podcast and join the exchange today to get

Mark: When did we start calling members Terrorisers?

Cole: Really what I, I have, I have a whole page left. Oh, you know what? Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut. Everyone out .

D: Why do I need to leave? I didn't even do anything this time.

Mark: Who's gonna be script supervisor if I leave?

Cole: Script supervisor? You're joking, right?

Mark: Come on, man.

(Tape winding sounds)

Cole: Hi, my name's Cole and I've been a member of the Tiny Terrors Story Exchange for, uh, I don't know, about 10 years now. Tiny Terrors is an odd relic of the early days of the computer age back, you know, when it still felt intimate. Before the internet, there were these digital communities called bulletin board systems, or BBSs for short, you would call a phone number with your computer modem, and once you connected, you could access the system. In most bulletin board systems, you could create an account with a username just like you would now. Um, and there would be all these directories and files and chat rooms. And in some of the more elaborate BBSs were games, uh, there was Clover.NET, MindVox, Demon Roach Underground, Monochrome BBS, OSUNY, Legend of the Red Dragon.

At one point there were more than 150,000 bulletin board systems in the United States alone with 17 million users. And then the internet came. And overnight bulletin board systems mostly died out. Now there's only a couple hundred left. Good luck finding them, and if you're lucky enough to find them, good luck connecting and accessing the bulletin board system itself.

Now, no one knows for certain that tiny terrors started on a bbs, but that's the theory, that some users on a bulletin board system got together and started sharing horror stories, kind of like the world's first creepy pastas but then Tiny Terrors outgrew the online community, and more and more people got involved from cross state lines and in different countries.

But since you were calling in on a phone line, long distance charges applied and they figured out moving the exchange offline meant that they could trade stories through the mail. And postage was cheaper than Long distance charges and routers and computers and all the other costs that came with it.

And that's when Tiny Terrors became a bit of an underground phenomenon. It was like making the process even more convoluted, made it more exclusive. The longer you were in the exchange, the more mailing addresses you collected. The longer your list of mailing addresses, the more veteran you were. And if you were new to the exchange, then you only had the mailing address of the person who brought you into the tiny terrors story exchange.

It was like a club and you had to know someone on the inside to get in. Now, once you got in, you could enter the exchange and start sending stories. And once you had sent a story to another member, they had your mailing address, and if your story was popular, it would be sent from that member to another member and so on and so on and so on.

Just like when it started. The only way you can enter a story into the exchange is written or on a cassette tape. Small and light enough to meet the requirements for cheap stamps and postage. It's a bit convoluted, but besides that rule, there are a few others and there's only really one that matters and that's never steal another member's story.

It, it's hard to understand without being in the exchange, but if you're a member of Tiny Terrors, you're a storyteller, you're a librarian, you're a conservationist and researcher all in one. A lot of people involved in the exchange, especially those who were around in the early BBS days, kept notes and records tracking over time what stories came from where, how far they had travelled, who wrote them, who recorded them, who rerecorded them.

And if you stole another member's story, you'd run the risk of sending it to the wrong person who would blank the tape or write a note and stuff it in the envelope. And then that would make the rounds. And eventually, before you knew it, you were out of the club. Like I said, it's hard to imagine, but all these people in different countries and states and provinces all coming together made the exchange, and their coveted list of mailing addresses is what pulled it all together.

That's, that's the sort of weird, you don't get on the internet anymore. The Tiny Terrors story exchange isn't what it used to. There are a couple hundred dedicated members, and every once in a while someone stumbles across it, but old members are leaving quicker than new ones come in, which is why I wanna make this podcast as a way to showcase the stories on the exchange and hopefully keep it from dying out like the bulletin board systems it was born out of.

Not only do I personally hope to preserve the exchange in the event that it finally dies out, but by showcasing these tales, it is my hope that we can actually revive it.

(Knocking)

Cole: Ugh

Mark: you done yet? ...what?

Cole: Uh, I didn't say anything. Mark

Mark: Uhhuh?

Cole: Nothing.

Mark: What did you say?

Cole: I, I said nothing. Nothing.

Mark: Okay. Okay. Sorry. Geez. So how did it go?

Cole: Well, it was going well.

Mark: Did you mention that this podcast is kind of like BBS?

Cole: Huh?

Mark: It's kind of like BBS. Cuz without the listener's support, we wouldn't be able to keep the podcast going. It means the exchange would die.

Cole: Oh God. I'm not saying that.

Mark: Well, why not?

Cole: Because it's shameless, Mark.

Mark: That's why Step aside then I'll say it. Mr. Hotshot.

Cole: Okay! Hey, back away from the mic.

D: Hey, don't tell him to back away. It's not shameless. He's gotta let 'em know that supporting the podcast not only helps us, but means they get more stories and content. I mean, seriously, what's the point of doing all that extra work and recording all of those extra stories if you aren't gonna say anything about it?

Mark: Yeah. At least tell them that they need to share it with their friends and. You know, say really nice things about it on Twitter and Tumblr and all those other online community hubs where people are always looking for new podcasts.

D: Oh, and did you add the part about leaving a five star review on Apple Podcast or Spotify or other places you can leave reviews?

Cuz it actually helps us get the podcast out to more listeners. Which means more members for the exchange. I mean like, come on. It takes like all of a minute to do that. It's completely free.

Mark: Oh right. Yeah, no, that is an important one.

D: Yeah, come on, Cole we gotta tell 'em to leave a five star review, otherwise no one's gonna listen and we're never gonna get new members.

I mean, I read online that ratings and reviews are like a huge part of getting your show out there, you know.

Cole: Guys, I haven't finished yet.

Mark: Well, what are you waiting for? Tell them to review the podcast already, jeeze!

Cole: I will, I will.

D: Don't be polite about it. You're always too polite. You gotta be firm. Like go now, review the podcast Terrorizers or else, and then say like, uh, um, become a Terrorizer by subscribing to the podcast now or else.

Oh, and then say, you know, thank you very much, cuz manner's never hurt. Right?

Mark: Seriously, When did we settle on calling the new members Terrorizers?

(Tape recorder sounds)

Mark: Tiny Terrors is an anthology horror podcast produced by Pulp Audio and licensed under a creative commons attribution, non-commercial share alike 4.0 international license.

D: This episode was directed by Cole Weavers with sound production and editing by Mike LeBeau.

Mark: To find additional information or to join our patreon for additional content and ad free episodes, visit our website www. . tinyterrorspod.com

D: Follow us on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook at Tiny Terrors Pod,

Mark: Or join the pulp audio discord by clicking the link in the description below.

D: Rate and review us on Spotify and Apple.

Mark: And finally, thanks for listening.

[shades-of-stony]

Heavy Angst (And Not-So-Heavy but Still Angsty) Stony Fanfics!

I’m absolutely love a good Tony whump and hurt story so prepare to see a lot of those here! Get your tissues ready!

Push by phoenixreal

Summary: Tony Stark was known for pissing people off, it was a given. Then, after the man everyone thought was nothing more than a selfish prick decided to nearly kill himself saving Manhattan from a nuclear bomb, even the most sure of Tony's bastard status had to rethink it. And then, his team who were sure they had him pegged, they were invited (ordered) to move into Stark Tower with him. To their surprise, they found he had furnished full floors for each of them, somehow knowing their tastes exactly, including a floor dedicated to the resident Asgardian who would only be there some of the time. Surprised, and please, they all wonder at the enigma that is their host. After a couple months, Pepper Potts stops coming around so much, and they realize that something has exchanged between them because they are rather professional to each other. Pepper still frets over Tony, but instead tells the others to keep an eye on him rather than doing it herself. They easily forget that Tony is, and always has been, simply a human civilian. Then things get strange when they find themselves locked down within Stark tower, and after a harrowing viewing of a mysterious video, they find their resident playboy is completely gone.

Note: Prepare to cry and be hurt! This fanfic dabbles with Tony’s insecurity, self-worth, and issues. Please heed the warnings!

The words you choose to say by masterlokisev159

Summary: After the SHRA, the events around Steve’s death and Tony discovering he deleted part of his brain, Tony finally decides he's done enough. With Osborn taken care of, Tony leaves the Avengers and decides to quit being Ironman effective immediately.

He tells himself it doesn't hurt when Steve agrees. Why should it? After everything he's done, the team's better off without him.

However before he can truly move on, there are things he needs to take care of, and it's not long before he realizes he's dangerously close to losing his company. He's desperate and willing to do anything to keep it together.

So when, after months of silence, Steve asks him to drop everything and come work for Shield, Tony finds he doesn't have a choice. He agrees, no matter how much he knows he shouldn't. His reputation isn't exactly the best after the SHRA and he's heard stories of what he'd done as Director. He's knows what he's done. He's knows he's responsible for what happened to Steve.

He just wishes someone had warned him first. He hadn't been prepared to deal with the consequences.

Note: A 1000/10 angst fanfic that made me weep at 3 am in the morning. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. READ IT AND PREPARE TO CRY BUCKETS

Protocol SOTERIA by GoldenFinches

Summary: Friday's primary objective at all times is to protect one Anthony Edward Stark. And she will fulfill that objective no matter what it takes. Even if it means including certain people she thought she would never have to deal with again.

(Basically the Rogue Avengers get some sense knocked into them with the help of Friday and handful of videos.)

Note: A HIGHLY RECOMMENDED ANGSTY FANFIC. I CRIED SO MUCH READING THIS. 

Straight to Voicemail by YouMakeMeDokiDoki

Summary: "I DID!" Tony screamed, cutting Steve off mid-sentence and whirling around to glare at him. 

"I CALLED YOU! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!"

Or

The one where no one answered their phone and things got out of hand. 

Note: this will absolutely break you heart.

Sunshine and Luck by ImportedfromMunich2

Summary: Months after Siberia, Steve and the rest of the defectors are pardoned and allowed back onto the Avengers, with the help of Tony Stark. Now that they're back - nothing is the same as before. Tony is even avoiding Steve at all costs.

Then one night - Tony barges into Steve's bedroom while he sleeps, and they have spontaneous, passionate sex.

Only, the Tony Stark he just fucked isn't from this universe.

Now, Steve has to find a way to explain to Tony that he had sex with his counterpart from another dimension.

Note: A good Steve whump fic! 

When You Mess With Him... by REM_It_Up

Summary: During an event with the Avengers, Tony is kidnapped by an unknown group of men right in front of the team. The group who took Tony taunt the Avengers by leaving small clues to Tony's whereabouts. When the kidnappers finally get in contact with the team, they are forced to watch Tony get tortured on camera.

The Avengers desperately search for their missing friend before they never see him again.

The kidnappers are smart and fast, they have everything figured out in order to get away with their plan...They just forgot one thing--

Colonel James Rhodes

Note: Now this is really heavy! Brace yourselves for a kidnapped and tortured tony! Also, protective honey bear aka Rhodey bonus here!

To Need is Not To Want by Brixon

Summary: All his life Tony has been used as a means to someone's end. Always someone's tool in a game. Carelessly thrown aside, once they had no longer use of him. He keeps it bottled up because, because he's Tony Stark. But he's always had this desire that one day someone would come who would stay because they wanted and needed him. He thought he had that with the Avengers, but after everything with the Accords and everyone leaving after Civil War that hope of having something of his to stay was gone.

Despite being burned constantly, Tony still has this wanting. So when Ryder, an old college friend, comes back into his life and actually seems to want to stay because he wants AND needs Tony, Tony is beyond thrilled. Because Ryder is staying. It doesn't matter if the bruises stay too.

But what happens when the Avengers return and Tony finds himself wondering once again exactly what he wants and what he needs.

Note: I’m sure, from the summary, you can tell that it’s a heartbreak here. 

Hiding Things Is All Too Easy - Until It Isn't by audhds

Summary: Tony hasn't been the same since Bucky arrived at Stark Tower. That much is obvious. But Steve is overjoyed to have his best friend back and is somewhat oblivious to how Tony is withdrawing away from him. Because surely Tony is just overworked as usual. He must be quiet and jumpy because he is sleep deprived. And of course he has a few cuts and bruises on the visible parts of his skin - he fights and works for the Avengers as a living. It's part of the job description. Until it isn't.

Will Steve discover the physical and mental trauma that Tony is going through before it is too late?

Note: This is even heavier! Please read the tags carefully! Also, this has some serious Bucky bashing! If you are a Bucky fan but still interested in this, please prepare yourself. 

No Trait As Much As This by KandiSheek

Summary: Tony gets hit with truth serum. It's a terrible time for everyone.

Note: A bit lighter than the others but still angst nonetheless. The added truth serum element makes this even more interesting!

Good For You by @orbingarrow

Summary: Steve doesn't understand why Tony dates people who abuse him. Tony doesn't understand why Steve cares.

The rest is bad choices, good choices, rehab, milkshakes, paintball, YouTube videos, couples therapy and learning to put the past in the past. Or: How Tony finds his happy ending.

Note: Another Tony-in-abusive-relationships fanfic!!

hold the things you wanna say by SailorChibi

Summary: Tony is still a consultant, and between SI, the team and SHIELD he's overworked and exhausted. That's okay.

He and Steve have been having sex for weeks but that's all it is, just sex, and Tony wants more but he'll never get it and that's okay. Really.

What's not okay is the fact that Howard Stark has somehow appeared in the future and is the same as always.

This is definitely going to fuck up his schedule.

Note: Anyone up for some Howard-travels-to-the-future fanfic?

Childhood is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies by MemoryDragon

Summary: Seven-year-old Tony Stark wakes up on a Hydra base, lost, afraid, and alone. He has to overcome his fears before it's too late for the Avengers and Captain America.

Note: De-aged Tony just screams heavy angst and hurt!

Advanced Protocol by masterlokisev159

Summary: The Incursions are coming. The Illuminati have surrendered and everyone has come together to take one last stand.

Everyone except Tony. And Steve is tired of waiting. He wants answers.

There's something the Illuminati aren't telling him.

Note: If you don’t know what the Avalon is in Marvel, I recommend you search it up, or you could read this fic. You will be heartbroken with what you find. 

Flower Child by itsallAvengers

Summary: The point was this, though:

In a hundred million universes, in a hundred million different lives, there would never be a single one of them in which Tony Stark deserved anyone like Steve Rogers. Ever.

So this? Nonsensical.

Note: Another fanfic that highlights child abuse and Tony’s insecurities! 

What Pays All Debts by KandiSheek

Summary: No one is supposed to survive the date written on their skin. And yet Tony's numbers keep piling up.

Note: Angst + Death dates? You could probably foretell how much of a gut-wrench journey this is.

Falling Into You by sabrecmc

Summary: Tony and Steve end up as fuck buddies after the events of The Winter Soldier until Steve calls it off. When Loki's spell wipes all of Steve's memories since the last time Loki was in town, Tony decides it will be so much easier to just not tell Steve they had something of a relationship. Spoiler: It isn't.

Or, how Steve fell in love with Tony and forgot about it, and how Tony fell in love with Steve and realized it.

Note: There are just something about amnesia fanfics that makes it so goddamn heartbreaking. 

Art Freaks and Comic Geeks by Coil

Summary: Tony Stark had made himself a phenomenally renowned writer. The world had fallen in love with the heroes that appeared in his novels; captivated by his vivid words of life and colour.

His next ambition was to publish a comic book series starring the much-beloved heroes of his novels. There was just one problem. Brilliant as Tony may have been with his words, his skills in the field of drawing were less than great. It didn’t help that he barely knew what his characters ought to look like in the first place.

Enter: Mister Steve Rogers – an up-and-coming artist/illustrator with the potential to be brilliant.

Their paths happen to cross at Comic-Con.

Note: this is a much lighter angsty fanfic but is still angsty. It is a Modern AU mixed with Artist!Steve and Writer!Tony.

Unwritten Endings by XtaticPearl

Summary: Tony takes the bullet meant for Captain America at the end of their war and through his death, brings together the team again. Only, he isn't really dead and when he comes back, the equations between the team-mates begin to alter and reform, writing a new story altogether.

Note: Of course, you can’t have an angst fanfic rec without a fake death fanfic!

WIP

Need Is Just A Word by masterlokisev159

Summary: A month has gone by since the war and Tony has never felt more alone. of course, with the unrest within the government, the disappearance of the Avengers and the obvious lack of Steve Rogers, it was only a matter of time before the UN finally flipped out and decided to act on the last available Avenger. Too bad they didn't realise a promise had been made by Captain America to be there when Iron man needed him.

Note: a gut-wrenching Post CA:CW fanfic where tony is suffering the consequences of the civil war.

Take me out tonight by masterlokisev159

Summary: When Steve gets invited to a formal party with the government, Fury tells him he can bring a plus one of his choosing. While listening quietly in the corner, Tony heaves a sigh of relief because the team could really do with some positive publicity and any of the Avengers are a good choice for Steve. Tony just wants Steve to be happy after all, even if he knows Steve's gonna pick Natasha. He knows Steve doesn't like him and he's aware there's never going to be anything more between them. They're barely even friends really.

So of course he's absolutely shocked when a gold filigree letter rests in his palms two days later. He's the worst person for this.

Why on earth did Steve choose him?

Note: AHHHHHHHH, INSECURE TONY IS JUST A FAVORITE. Also, confident!Steve that knows who he wants is just a whole new mood!

The Soul Stone's Sacrifice by masterlokisev159

The soul stone demands a sacrifice that Tony and Steve are not prepared for, but in the end, one life is sacrificed for the many. Steve lets Tony go for the last time and mourns a future they never had.

That is until Tony comes back.

Note: A scenario where Tony and Steve where the ones to go to Vormir. 

[caitlesshea]

the way you showed me you care

“Shit.”

Booker jumps about a half foot in the air and almost falls off the couch at the sound of his phone ringing. It’s been months since anyone has contacted him, so long that he was beginning to wonder why he even kept it charged. 

In some self sacrificial moments he thought about changing his number so they couldn’t contact him, tricking himself into thinking they would. 

He fumbles forward and goes to answer when it blessedly stops ringing. Just because it takes an insane amount of alcohol for him to get drunk doesn’t mean he hasn’t spent the last couple of months trying. 

Just as he lays back down on the couch it rings again and when he goes to answer it his stomach sinks. 

Copley. 

“What?” Booker growls into the phone and the voice on the other end just sighs.

“How soon can you get to London?”

“Why? Is Andy?” 

“Everyone’s fine.”

Booker releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding and rubs his forehead until he calms down.

“Then why?”

“London. How long?”

Booker holds his phone in front of him, trying to figure out the time and what day it is.

“Give me a couple of hours.”

“Fine. You remember how to get to my place?”

“How could I forget?” Booker responds dryly and he’s only slightly disappointed when Copley doesn’t say anything back. 

“Do you need anything? Money?”

Booker swallows at the softness in Copley’s voice. They’ve always had a friendly enough relationship, one doesn’t get to the point of asking someone to help you end it all without being somewhat close. They always understood each other in that regard.

“That’s the last thing I need. I’ll see you tonight.”

Booker hangs up before Copley can say anything and he smiles as his email pings with a train ticket to London and a rental car reservation. 

He takes one last look at his shitty apartment and grabs the duffel bag he’s had packed since he first got to Paris. 

At the last minute he picks up the copy of Don Quixote that Andy gave him and shoves it into his bag before grabbing his keys and his current passport, a French one, for once. 

Something about being exiled for a hundred years makes him want to be sentimental. And drunk. But he figures he can drink on the train. 

In what feels like no time at all he’s pulling up to Copley’s weirdly modern house in the outskirts of London. Booker tries not to think about what Copley could possibly want, especially considering he dragged Booker to London for it. Before he even turns off the engine Copley is outside waiting for him. 

“You made it.”

“Very astute of you.”

Copley rolls his eyes and Booker follows Copley into his house, setting his bag down on the couch. 

“Gonna tell me why I’m here?”

“I need your help.”

“My help?” Booker asks as Copley hands him a glass of scotch. 

Booker looks around Copley’s office, weird detective board still firmly in place, and waits for Copley to answer. 

When it seems like Copley isn’t going to say anything anytime soon, Booker walks over to the board, heart clenching at seeing Andy’s, Nicky’s, and Joe’s faces reflected back at him.

“None of me?”

“You told me you were immortal. I didn’t really need to do any research on you.”

“Mmm.” Booker swirls the drink in his glass and smirks.

“Couldn’t figure out my real name could you?”

Copley smiles and Booker shakes his head as he laughs.

“You’re very good.”

“Oh, I know.”

Copley smirks at him and Booker feels himself relax for the first time in months.

“So, my help?”

“There’s a job.” Copley hands him an iPad and Booker looks it over. “Andy agreed, but I need supplies and I don’t want to put them on the radar of any of my contacts.”

Booker raises an eyebrow at that and he swears he can see regret in Copley’s eyes.

“Joe and Nicky can get them. They know who we used.”

“Joe and Nicky?”

“Just because they’re super old doesn’t mean they can’t use a computer.”

“But Andy?”

“Oh, yeah, Andy’s terrible.” Booker walks over to sit in one of the chairs as Copley takes the other. “But Joe and Nicky aren’t half bad and I’m sure Nile is even better.”

“Nile. A millennial she is.”

Booker laughs and hands back the iPad. “She giving you trouble?”

“She just wants to have social media, wants to see her family, the usual.”

“Well, Nicky and Joe have an Instagram.”

“They what?” Copley looks like his eyes are going to bug out of his head and Booker rolls his eyes as he opens his phone.

“Not in their names or anything. It’s one of those couple’s accounts. They never show their faces and Nicky thinks he’s funny, posting old photos of them, making people think it’s a filter instead of a yellowed Polaroid.”

“Jesus.”

“Just give Nile some ground rules.”

“And the family part?”

“Ah, yeah, I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask.”

“Why?”

Booker looks up at Copley and realizes he’s genuinely curious. Booker takes a moment to spin his wedding ring that he stills wears and notices Copley still wears his as well. It makes something clench in his chest that he can’t really describe.

“Nothing good will come from her seeing them.” Booker ends up saying quietly and Copley nods. 

Booker doesn’t know what to do with the look on Copley’s face. It’s not pity, or even understanding, but it’s something close, and that makes his heart hurt. 

“Here.” Booker emails Copley the contacts and supplies he’d use for this mission and he waits for Copley to read it before getting up to leave.

“Stay.” Copley says as Booker walks past him. “For dinner I mean, and you can go back to Paris tomorrow.”

“Dinner.” Booker says, even though he packed for at least a week, and doesn’t want to look too closely at why he doesn’t want to leave.

“You cook?” Copley jokes. “You’ve had what, two hundred years to learn?”

“Nice try.” Booker walks into the kitchen with Copley behind him and takes a seat at the bar as Copley pulls out some food.

“Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?” Copley asks as he cuts up some veggies for what looks like a stir fry. “None of you have, actually.”

Booker swallows roughly at the mention of everyone else and he wishes he refilled his scotch before coming out here. One appears in front of his view and Copley gives him a wry smile.

“We don’t really talk about these things.”

“What things?”

“You know.” Booker waves in the general direction of Copley’s office. “Immortality, with anyone who’s not…”

“Ah.” Copley nods and throws the veggies and chicken he pulled out of the fridge into a wok. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Copley turns to look at Booker and Booker can’t explain it but he feels seen like he never has before. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”

“I think you know the answer to that already, James.”

Copley nods and they sit in companionable silence while the food cooks. Booker wishes he had more to say, but the sting of losing his friends, his family, sits heavy in his throat. 

There’s no Nicky to bet if Andy will guess all the flavors in the latest baklava. There’s no Joe to watch football with and cheer for any team who’s wearing the color green because ‘Nicolò’s eyes.’ There’s no Andy to…

He’s brought out of his musings by Copley’s shout. 

“They have almost a million followers!” 

Booker can’t help it, he throws his head back and laughs, really laughs, for the first time in months. 

~~~ 

Booker was supposed to go home the next day. But it’s been almost three weeks and he hasn’t left. 

It’s not that he wants to stay, that’s a lie, but Copley keeps asking for help on jobs or how to deal with the team and Booker, the martyr, can’t stop himself from asking for more information. 

It’s not like he can’t figure out where they are. He helped them disappear in the world for almost two hundred years, he knows how they operate, but that feels a little too invasive, even for him. 

“They want to take a break for a little while.” Copley sits down next to him with coffee and passes one to Booker.

That’s another thing. Booker isn’t drinking as much and his flask is in his bag. Copley brings him coffee, tea, water. Almost anytime Booker sees the man drinking something, he brings something for Booker, as well. Booker knows it’s a tactic to get him to stop drinking as much, but he finds that he doesn’t care. 

“They do that.”

Copley just looks at him and Booker is reminded of the CIA Agent he met nearly nine years prior. 

“When you’re as old…” Booker smiles at Copley’s look of interest. “Nice try. But breaks are good. And Nile is still new.”

“When will she stop being new?”

“When Andy thinks she’s ready.”

“For?”

“Honestly? Probably never now that Andy’s…”

“Mortal?”

Booker swallows and looks up at Copley. The storm brewing in his own eyes is met with a compassion he doesn’t deserve. He looks away before he does something ridiculous like cry but not soon enough for Copley to notice.

“Booker.”  Copley breathes deeply, almost like it pains him that Booker is hurting. “How long is your exile?”

“A hundred years.”

“A hundred years?”

“Yeah.” Booker doesn’t even realize he’s saying the next part until Copley’s gasp. “A third of my life.”

“A third? So you’re two hundred?”

Booker sighs and figures if the man is letting him live in his house then he might as well be honest with him. 

“I turned two hundred and fifty this past May.”

“Two hundred fifty…” Copley trails off with a look of concentration. “Seventeen seventy?”

“Got it in one.”

“Well, shit.”

Booker laughs at the look on Copley’s face. “You have a board of over a hundred and fifty years of photos of us and my actual age surprises you?”

“Well yeah, especially considering you’re the baby.”

“I am not the baby.” Booker glares at Copley without heat.

“Right. Right, it’s Nile. You’ve definitely got middle kid syndrome.”

“I resent that.”

Copley shrugs and it’s such an odd thing for him to do that Booker smiles. 

“Forty two.” Booker says unprompted. 

“Huh?”

“I’m forty two, give or take a few years.” 

Copley turns his head to the side like he’s studying Booker and likes what he finds. “I’m forty three.”

“I know.” 

Copley rolls his eyes. “So how did you die?”

“The first time?”

Copley nods and Booker thinks about telling him the glorified version of the truth or the actual truth and finds that he actually wants to tell him.

“Army deserter, fighting with Napoleon.”

“Huh?”

“What?” 

“Nothing, just don’t see you as an army guy.”

“It was the thing to do.”

Copley raises an eyebrow at him and Booker sighs. 

“Alright fine, I was a forger, got caught, sent to war…”

“Booker.”

Booker shakes his head. “It wasn’t the last time I saw my family, although...”

“Family?”

“Wife, three sons.” Booker spins his wedding ring, watching as Copley’s eyes follow the movement. 

“I never…”

“My youngest son died at forty two, cancer. I can still remember everything he said to me, screaming that I wouldn’t share my gift with him to help him.”

Booker startles as Copley’s hand comes down on top of his own, squeezing tightly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Booker turns his hand over in a moment of bravery and squeezes back.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Copley sits back for a moment, seemingly contemplating something, then shakes his head as he gets up to grab a binder on his desk.

“What are you?” 

“Here.”

Copley places the binder down on the table and Booker looks at it like it might bite him.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Booker opens it and sees pages of photos of himself. The photos that should be on the wall with the others.

“So you did have photos of me?”

“Just those and the few that are already on the wall. You’ve been with them a long time.”

“Not that long.”

“Longer than most people will ever get.”

Booker nods at that, thinking back to the time he had with his family, the time Copley had with his wife. It makes his heart hurt, when he thinks about everything he’s done.

“If I had your names I could find more.”

“Sébastien.”

“What?”

“My name, it’s Sébastien Le Livre.”

Copley smiles and the way it lights up his whole face is beautiful. The thought stops Booker’s heart for a moment, but then he lets it wash over him. For once, his attraction to someone else doesn’t feel like a betrayal.

“Booker makes sense now.” Copley smirks. “Although I think I like Sébastien better.”

Yeah, this man is going to be the death of him.

~~~

Booker should really admit that he’s not leaving Copley’s house. They’ve traveled to a few places and Booker’s taken a couple of solo jobs and gone to some of his safe houses to get some of his things but it’s been three months of him living with Copley and helping him with the team's jobs and he can feel himself slipping into a dangerous normalcy. 

You can also cut the tension between them with a knife. Booker doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone as badly as he wants James Copley, but here he is three months into the first solid home he’s had in over two hundred years, and all he wants is Copley. 

Which is to say, he’s a little miserable. He can’t mess this up. He can’t mess up the one friendship that’s become as vital to him as breathing, he can’t mess up the chance to help his family, even if they don’t know it, and he can’t mess up the chance to spend at least some of his hundred year exile with this man. 

Booker’s trying to figure out how to at least see if Copley’s interested in maybe making their relationship something more when he hears a loud crash from the kitchen. 

“Shit.”

“You okay?” Booker looks around at the mess in the kitchen, a little shocked to see any part of the house in such disarray. 

“Yeah, sorry. I was looking for something.”

“What?”

“A cookbook. My wife’s.”

Booker’s heart seizes at the mention of Copley’s wife. It’s not that they haven’t talked about her, hell Booker’s seen more pictures of her than he’s ever seen of another person, but something twists in his gut, burning hot like jealousy, and he hates it. 

“What were you trying to cook?”

“Huh?” Copley’s looking around frantically and not really paying attention and Booker puts his hand on his arm to stop him.

“James.”

Copley looks at him and visibly relaxes as Booker bends down to look in the cabinet Copley was cleaning out. 

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Booker finds what he thinks Copley is looking for and stands up to hand him a small book that has pretty cursive writing on the front.

“Here.”

Booker looks into Copley’s eyes as he takes the book. Their hands brush and Booker swears the butterflies he feels make him feel like a teenager again, which is honestly impressive. 

“Sébastien.” Copley says in his infuriatingly elegant accent and Booker feels himself moving closer, so close that he can feel Copley’s breath against his own lips. 

It only takes a second, and then Booker is surging forward and kissing Copley, who drops the book and wraps his hands around Booker’s waist. 

Booker reluctantly breaks the kiss when the need to breathe becomes too much. He looks into Copley’s eyes and is pleased to see a similar look of want reflected back at him. 

“What are we doing?” Copley whispers as Booker presses up against him and pushes them into the counter. 

“Whatever you want.” 

Copley takes that as an invitation and he surges forward, Booker grabbing onto his hips to stop the momentum as he feels Copley’s tongue seek entrance into his mouth.

Booker gets so lost in the kiss, so lost in pulling Copley’s shirt from his pants and undoing the buttons to his shirt that he’s pretty sure he’s never been kissed like this before, and that’s saying something. 

Before Booker gets what he really wants, which is Copley somewhere horizontal, Copley breaks the kiss with a shout.

“Shit.”

“What happened?” Booker’s looking frantically at Copley. “James!” 

“Cut myself.” Copley looks at him as he pulls his hand in front of him to show the bleeding the knife that was on the counter behind Booker caused. 

Booker helps him bring his hand under the water as he grabs a towel. As soon as the blood washes away Booker turns his hand over looking for the cut and doesn’t see any.

“Where’d you cut your hand?”

“I, I don’t know.” Copley’s looking at his hand like he’s never seen it before and Booker doesn’t think, he just grabs the knife and slices Copley’s hand again and then his own.

“Sébastien!”

“Just look.” Booker wipes the blood away from his own hand and Copley’s and places them next to each other as they watch both wounds heal. 

“Holy shit.”

“Does this mean?”

“I don’t know what it means. Usually a person has to die for us to figure it out.”

“Uhh, about that.”

“We can deal with this later?”

Booker leans in closer to Copley and kisses him again, magically healing immortal hands long forgotten.

~~~

Except, not so forgotten, when Copley shoots awake in the middle of the night, grabbing his head and nearly throwing Booker out of bed.

“James?” 

“Sorry, nightmare.” Copley looks over at him and then turns on the light and Booker can see the worry lines on his face.

“Tell me.” Booker says as he reaches up to cup Copley’s cheek as Copley leans into him. 

“It was nothing.” Copley shakes his head as he scoots closer to Booker. “The team.”

“What about the team?” 

“Nothing, probably just nerves for the next job.”

“James. Tell me what you saw.” 

Copley sighs as he lays back down and Booker hooks his leg over Copley’s as he waits for him to speak.

“I don’t want…”

“I’ll be fine.” Booker says as he leans in to kiss Copley. “Tell me.”

“Andy and Nile were training, Joe was sketching something and Nicky was cooking.” 

“Shit.” Booker lays back down and rubs his hands over his eyes. “We dream each other.”

“We?”

“When there’s a new immortal.”

“So you think?”

“I don’t know what to think. This hasn’t happened before.”

Booker looks over at Copley and sees that his eyes have gone wide and he has a panicked expression in his face. 

“Hey.” Booker turns on his side so he can pull Copley closer. “We’ll figure this out.”

Copley nods just as his phone starts ringing. They both jump at the noise as Copley shows him the caller is Andy. 

Booker tries not to listen but it’s kinda hard when he’s hugging Copley and he misses the sound of Andy’s voice.

“They’ll be here tomorrow.” Copley says as he drops his phone on the nightstand.

“Alright. I can get out of your hair.”

“What? Sébastien, no.”

“I’m not supposed to see them. Hell, I’m probably not supposed to even be speaking to you.”

“Sébastien.” Copley runs his fingers through Booker’s hair. “This is your home. I want you to be here.” 

Booker can’t help it, he kisses Copley like he’s never going to be able to again, as he reaches over and turns off the light. 

~~~ 

Morning comes all too soon and Booker hates it. This sanctuary he’s built, his home, according to James, is about to be overcome with people who hate him.

“I can meet them somewhere else.” Copley says as if he can read Booker’s mind. Wouldn’t that be something. 

“No. They’re probably almost here anyways.” Booker would know, as he broke his own vow and tracked them, just so he knew how much time he’d need to prepare.

“Do I even want to know?”

“No.” Booker smiles and Copley leans down to kiss him just as the doorbell rings. 

Booker holds tighter to his coffee cup as Copley lets them in and for the first time in almost a year he’s looking directly at Nile, Andy, Joe, and Nicky.

“Booker!” Nile says delightedly as she practically skips over to hug him. He sinks into the hug, grateful to at least not have burned this bridge.

“Hey, Nile.”

Nile pulls back and Booker looks over to Andy, who looks the same, if not well rested, and he hugs her, too.

“Book.” 

Book squeezes her again as he steps back. Booker looks at Joe and Nicky, who stand formidable and together but with their heads tilted to the side like they’re trying to figure something out. 

“Did you dream of Copley, too?” Nile asks him and before Booker or Copley can answer Andy gasps as she looks across the living room.

Everyone turns toward her and Booker instantly realizes what she’s looking at and so does Copley. It’s Booker’s copy of Don Quixote that Andy gifted him last year. 

But that’s not all, no, she’s going to notice Booker’s boots by the door, his laptop on the table, his sunglasses and motorcycle helmet on the shelf. It looks like he lives here, because he does. 

“You didn’t just get here today, did you?” Joe asks him as Andy looks at him smiling. 

“No.” Copley answers as he comes up to Booker and places a hand on the small of his back. 

Booker can’t help it, he leans into the touch and turns towards Copley to give him a small smile. 

Booker chances a look back at the others and feels warm at the sight of Nile, Andy, Joe, and Nicky all smiling at him. 

Nicky walks over to him and pulls both Booker and Copley into a quick hug. 

“It’s destiny.”

[wiener-soldiers]

how to (not) be internet famous - peter parker

summary: peter parker becomes internet famous overnight and doesn’t exactly know how to deal with it, which causes him to end up in a precarious situation.

words: 4k

warnings: rien, mes amis!

a/n: part of the unsolved mini-series! just wanted to write a lil blurb w some world building before i go into more ghost/ghoul hunting. also goes without saying that this is minimally edited, sorry lol

unsolved masterlist | masterlist | add yourself to the taglist! | faq

Peter Parker did not intend on becoming famous.

It was quite literally an accident—a byproduct of being in the right place in the right time. But, completely out of his control, Peter Parker helped solved an Unsolved mystery.

It was one of Buzzfeed Unsolved’s most viewed episodes; the story of Peter Quill, a little boy who went missing right after his mother died. Of course, one theory was that he was abducted by aliens. That was the joke theory.

Until Peter Parker and Y/N Stark proved that theory to be correct.

Being fans of the show, the duo was vaguely aware of the existence of Peter Quill, the mysterious boy who went missing. It wasn’t until Thor traveled back to Earth with the rest of the Guardians did Peter and Y/N recognize Peter Quill.

Of course, their first instinct was to interview him about how he got abducted and ask about some space stories. Their next instinct was to invite Ryan and Shane of the Unsolved Network to interview him as well.

This subsequently made the internet blow up. And Peter Parker became famous because of it.

The video titled “We Solved A Buzzfeed Unsolved Case” garnered millions of views overnight, with thousands of comments flooding the video. Peter’s Twitter went from less than a hundred followers to more than a hundred thousand overnight, and his Instagram blew up in a similar fashion.

He was used to Spider-Man being famous, but Peter Parker had never gotten that much attention before. It was surreal.

He found himself sitting on the brown leather couch at the Avengers Tower (where the Stark family alose happened to reside) the morning after the video was released, staring at his texts blow up in front of him.

Ned: Dude you’re famous?? You’re on the YT trending page!!

MJ: can i meet ryan and shane? also warning: flash and brad don’t know you’re dating y/n so their texts may be a little hostile…

Flash: Damn Parker, how do you know Y/N Stark???

Brad: Why haven’t you brought Y/N around?

Betty: Peter you HAVE to let me interview you for the school news! When are you free??

“What the hell is going on…” Peter whispers, jaw unhinged as notification after notification caused his phone to ‘ding’ out of control.

“Hey Pete,” he hears a voice flow into the living room. His girlfriend walks past him, not before pressing her lips to his cheek. His cheek warms at the contact and his eyes follow her pajama-clad body into the large kitchen.

“Did you see the video you posted?” Peter calls after her. Y/N shakes her head as she throws a banana along with other frozen fruit into the blender.

“No…why?” she calls back. “Do you want a smoothie?”

“No, but thank you,” Peter replies quickly. He turns his body to face her and raises his voice at the sound of the blender turning on, “It’s trending. Like, everywhere.”

“I figured it would,” Y/N calls back, the hum of the blender drowning her voice out.

“How are you so chill?” Peter asks her, slightly bewildered.

“There was paparazzi in the hospital waiting room when I was bored. You get used to stuff like that,” she answers, before making her way back to Peter, smoothie in hand. She positions herself on the couch, placing her legs overtop Peter’s lap.

He places his arms over her shins instinctively. “I’m definitely not used to stuff like that,” he mumbles, still scrolling through his notifications.

Y/N scoffs, “You’re Spider-Man, honey. That comes with press.”

“Spider-Man is famous, not me,” he counters.

The sound of the elevator opening and deep voices conversing cut the couple off as they turn towards the door. Tony, followed by Steve, Bucky, and Natasha file into the common floor, all deep in conversation. They don’t seem to notice the young couple, so Y/N decides to make them known.

“Morning!” Y/N calls out.

Tony’s head snaps up towards his daughter, before shifting and narrowing his eyes at Peter. “We were just talking about you,” he says, walking towards the two.

“Oh?” the younger Stark challenges.

Natasha lets out a soft laugh before patting Peter on the shoulder. “You need a public relations lesson,” she says to Peter.

“A what?”

Y/N lets out a fit of giggles. “It’s to make sure you don’t say something stupid to a large audience,” she tells him, and Peter scrunches his nose.

“Why would I need a…oh.”

Tony smirks at him before showing him his ever-rising Twitter followers. “Yeah, oh. That video you posted basically broke the internet. Even old man Steve is talking about it.”

Steve rolls his eyes but smiles sympathetically at him before handing him a grey folder. “Protecting Spider-Man’s identity is still your number one priority, right?” Steve asks and Peter nods. “So, we need to make sure you don’t say anything stupid or post something that gives away who your alias is.”

“So, what’s in the folder?” Peter asks the adults in the room.

“Homework,” Natasha answers. “I’ll help make sure that your identity stays a secret, but I need you to make sure you read that document very carefully. They’re full of general best-practices and protocol for if your identity is exposed.”

“Got it,” Peter whispers, mostly to himself.

“Great,” Tony says with a pat to his shoulder. “It was a funny video, by the way. Can’t wait to see what you kids come up with.”

Over the weekend, even though Natasha, Tony, and Y/N prepared him as best they could for the storm that would most likely ensue on Monday at school, Peter still didn’t feel prepared.

He stood in the middle of his room, gnawing at his lip and choosing between the dark blue sweater and the maroon sweater. Granted, the sweater wouldn’t make that much of a difference and hide the fact that Peter was still a big nerd, but he had a feeling he needed to make a good impression today.

“Babe, you are overthinking it,” Y/N mumbles from Peter’s bed. Like most weekends, she spent the night at Peter’s place. Although things do tend to get a little heated, most nights the couple just watch movies, play video games, or take a walk around the block.

“You’re not the one going to a public school,” Peter mumbles back. It was true; Tony had tried sending Y/N to Midtown, but the paparazzi was getting unbearable, so she took online classes instead. Y/N didn’t mind missing out on the high school experience—her life was so surreal that nothing could make her feel normal, except Peter or Morgan.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Y/N groans and rolls out of bed. She shivers at the cool breeze caused by the AC being blasted on high as she wraps Peter’s flannel around her body even tighter. “I meant that you’ll look really good in whatever you wear, honey.”

Peter rolls his eyes but turns to face his girlfriend, dark blue and maroon sweater still in hand. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” he admits.

“Afraid everyone will look at you differently?”

“Afraid everyone will think I don’t deserve someone like you…”

Y/N gives him a soft smile before closing the gap between them. She peppers kisses along his shoulder, his neck, then finally his lips. Peter ducks down to look at her, wrapping his arms underneath the flannel she’s wearing and around her waist.

“I love you, ya know that right?” she whispers into his collarbone.

Peter hums in response.

“And the world doesn’t get to decide who or what you deserve. Because you deserve a hell of a lot more than what I can give you.”

Peter groans, “Don’t say that. You give me everything I need.”

“And that’s what matters,” Y/N replies. “Not what anyone else thinks. Okay?”

Peter pulls away and gives his girlfriend a sincere smile, “Okay.”

“Good,” she muses before pressing a final kiss to Peter’s lips. She then takes the maroon sweater from his hands. “Wear the dark blue sweater, I want to wear the maroon one.”

---

Despite Y/N’s encouraging words, Peter’s still nervous.

He’s nerves kick in as soon as Y/N has to leave his place while he packs his school bag. He’s nervous on the subway on the way to school. He’s nervous as he crosses the street towards campus. He’s nervous when he’s walking toward the school entrance, so much so that he can hear his heartbeat over the podcast he’s listening to. And he’s especially nervous when people openly gawk and stare at him as he makes his way to his locker.

Luckily, MJ and Ned are there to save him.

“They’re all staring,” MJ comments as Peter yanks his locker open and reaches for his calculus textbook.

Peter laughs nervously, “I’m aware.”

“You know that clique of really hot sophomores who won’t shut up at lunch?” Ned adds on as he stares at his phone, “They’re all thirsting over you on Instagram.”

Peter slams his locker shut in surprise, “Wh-what?”

Sure enough, Ned’s phone is filled with screenshots of the video on Allison’s Instagram story with the caption ‘hmu peter ;) or i may have to fake needing a tutor to talk to you.’

Peter gags. MJ snickers.

“Oh my god, this is awful,” Peter shudders as he turns around and makes his way to first-period calculus. Ned and MJ follow suite. “Don’t they know I’m dating someone?”

“Peter, if we barely knew you were dating someone until we met her and started handing out with her,” MJ deadpans.

“Speaking of your girlfriend,” Ned butts in, “are you going to tell her about Allison?”

“No, she’d probably laugh. And it’s not a big deal, right?” Peter answer honestly, smiling slightly at the thought of Y/N laughing her ass off at the thought of sophomores at his own school acting thirsty on main.

Ned stops dead in his tracks, “What if she was actually talking to you?”

“Ned, what—”

“Hi, Peter!” a high-pitched voice attempting to sound sultry cuts him off.

MJ laughs in amusement before walking away as Peter squeaks out, “H-hi, Allison.”

Ned pats his shoulder encouragingly before walking away, giving Peter a ‘you’re on your own’ look.

She bats her eyelashes at him, giving him a shy smile. Peter’s distracted by her bright pink outfit—she looked straight out of an early-2000s movie. It suited her, but it wasn’t really Peter’s preference.

“I watched your video, it was really funny,” Allison says, inching closer to Peter.

“Thanks, um look, I gotta go—”

“You doing anything tonight?” she immediately asks.

No, Peter thinks, but he racks his brain for an excuse. May is working so he can’t use her, Tony is at the Avengers’ Compound, MJ has art class, Ned is working on a group project, maybe Y/N…

It’s too late. “Great!” Allison quips, “I’m having a party tonight and you’re invited, hottie. I’ll AirDrop you the details.”

“Uh, thanks,” he mutters pathetically as she practically skips away.

It wasn’t just Allison’s invitation that stuck out to him; it seemed like everybody more popular than Peter was giving him some sort of attention. If Peter didn’t know better, we would’ve been flattered. Instead, he was suspicious.

By lunch, Peter had been invited to three parties, a football game, a boat ride, and more invitations to hangout than he could count. Even Mr. Harrington made a jab at Peter’s internet fame.

As soon as the bell rang, Peter bolted out of his English class and ran out the front gates to take a breath. Even as Spider-Man, public events often felt overwhelming. Now, with no excuse to leave and no disguise to hide his flustered expression, the few minutes of silence he had at beginning of lunch was the only break he got all day.

“You don’t look too hot, babe,” he hears a voice say. From his spot leaning against the railing of the school entrance, he lifts his gaze and finds Y/N Stark staring up at him from the bottom of the stairs.

He stands up immediately and meets Y/N halfway down the stairs. He smiles widens as he gets close to her, “What are you doing here?”

“MJ texted me—said you were feeling overwhelmed,” she says nonchalantly, but concern laces her features. “You doing okay?”

“Just not used to so many people giving Peter Parker attention. And the feeling that they probably just want to hang out with me because they want to be famous makes me icky.”

Y/N hums and reaches for his torso to give him a hug. Peter is on the step above her, so he wraps his arms around her shoulders and rests his chin on her head. “I know how you feel,” she mumbles.

Peter laughs half-heartedly, “Got invited to a shit ton of parties, though.”

Y/N chuckles into his chest, “Oh really?”

“One of which is tonight. Got any plans?”

“Hmm…maybe,” she tells him. “Dad wants me to be his plus one to a gala thing, but I don’t really want to go.”

“You’d rather go to a shitty high school party?”

“I’d rather do anything, honestly.”

A honk from a car parked on the curb catches their attention. Peter looks up and finds Happy peering his head through the window of a black sedan. “Hate to break you two up, but I really don’t want to be swarmed by high schoolers,” Happy shouts, “so we should get going, Y/N.”

Y/N sighs, “And, that’s my cue.”

“I’ll see you tonight, maybe?” Peter asks hopefully, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

“Maybe. Text me the address, but don’t bail on the party,” Y/N tells him before giving Peter a proper kiss. Another honk from Happy causes them to break away, followed by the school doors opening and more and more people filtering outside. A series of shocked gasps at Y/N Stark and Peter Parker in such a compromising position prompt Y/N to start walking down the stairs.

“See you, Peter,” Y/N shouts as she quickly makes her way down the steps.

Peter waves to Y/N in the passenger seat as her and Happy drive away. His phone the buzzes with a text from Y/N:

Y/N 🥰: hang in there bb, love you!

“Yo, dickwad!” Peter hears Flash shout from behind him, “Why didn’t you introduce me to your Stark friend?”

Peter sighs. This was going to be a long day.

---

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I want to May…it’s just that—”

“It’s just that you want Y/N there?”

Peter sighs and shakes his head. He sits in the passenger seat of May’s car as she’s parked outside Allison’s house where the party is taking place. He’s beyond uncomfortable: the girl who was shamelessly flirting with him was sending him DMs, asking him when he was going to show up to her party. His skinny jeans—the nice ones saved for special occasions—were still a little stiff because he never really wore them, and he’s sure he’s made sweat stains on his white t-shirt.

“I guess, I just want the high school experience, to feel normal. Even if it’s a fake normal,” Peter says honestly, fiddling with his hair in the mirror. “But everything is easier with Y/N around.”

“Did she answer your texts?”

“I sent her the address and she said she would try to find an excuse to leave the gala early, but I don’t know if she’s gonna make it,” Peter says dejectedly.

May nods understandingly, “If you want to leave, just send me an SOS. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Thanks, May,” he says before pressing a kiss to her cheek. He doesn’t feel his body move, but his feet carry him out of the car and towards the front steps of the house. He doesn’t realize he’s reached for the door until he’s already inside, looking around at the darkened house illuminated by colourful lights and blaring with music.

“Peter!” he hears someone call from the top of the stairs. It’s Allison, clad in a sheer top, lacy bralette, and tight leather pants. He tries not to gawk at her, but he gulps in nervousness as she approaches.

“You made it!” she exclaims over the rumbling bass. Without warning she pulls Peter into a hug, pressing her body close to his. His muscles tense in surprise, but he feels Allison shiver.

Fucking great, Peter thinks as Allison eyes him up and down, biting her lip.

“Do you want a drink?” Allison says, latching onto his bicep and guiding him further into the house.

“Um, sure,” Peter says as he tries to remove his arm from her grasp while still remaining subtle. He fails, and Allison proceeds to run her nails up and down his arm.

Someone shoves a solo cup in Peter’s hand, and he takes a few big gulps immediately. His powers can’t get drunk, but he can sure as hell try if he has to handle Allison’s not-so-subtle advances towards him all night.

“I’m glad you came,” Allison suddenly whispers in his ear before biting his ear lobe in an attempt at seduction.

Peter whips his head around to confront her but before he can say anything, she’s left him to chat with her friends who have been watching the whole interaction in jealousy and awe. Great, Peter thinks before wiping his earlobe clean of her spit.

The party isn’t too bad; a few games of beer pong are going on the patio and people are taking turns jumping into the pool in just their underwear. Peter makes small talk with some people he recognizes, but for the most part, he leans against the wall and watches Flash pretend to be good at beer pong. Every few minutes, he checks the time on his phone and hopes for a text.

At 9:15, Peter has been at the party for forty-five minutes and is on his third drink. He still doesn’t feel buzzed.

At 9:24, Allison checks up on him again and tries to get him to strip with her and jump into the pool. He declines.

At 9:32, Flash loses his third game of beer pong in a row and a heard of angry freshmen finally scare him away from the table.

At 9:47, he hears excited commotion inside the house. He doesn’t bother to look inside and instead stares at the amber liquid in his cup.

He feels a hand fall on his shoulder, and he groans, finally fed up with Allison’s antics. “Look Allison, I think you’re sweet and all but—”

“Who’s Allison?”

Peter’s face breaks into a huge smile at the sight of Y/N Stark, still in her formal evening wear. The dark green, straight gown falls to the floor and the simple dress is bedazzled by nothing except the gold necklace Peter got her for her birthday and the million-dollar Stark smile.

“You made it,” he says in relief and excitement.

Y/N smirks back, “I’m overdressed.”

“You look beautiful.”

Y/N examines Peter’s outfit, “You look good too. This shirt makes your arms look huge.”

Peter blushes but takes a hold of her hands, only half-aware that half of the party is probably staring at them right now. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

Y/N laughs, “We were stuck in traffic. Dad wanted to get out of there too, it was pretty boring. We had to drop him off at home, first.”

“You left a boring party to come to another boring party, then. The difference is that you don’t get free dinner over here.”

Her laugh draws more attention to the duo and Peter finally finds the balls to look at the decent-sized crowd accumulating around them. He then notices a familiar face push through the people.

“Oh my god, you’re Y/N Stark!” Allison gushes as she approaches her, “Can I get a picture with you?”

Y/N smiles at her, “Um, sure?”

Allison squeals and shoves her phone into someone’s face, demanding them to take her picture. After a few photos are taken, Allison grabs her arms giddily and says, “You should totally follow me on Insta, these pics turned out really cute.”

Y/N looks amusedly at her, “Yeah, for sure…”

Allison then gasps, “You know Peter, too! We go to school together.” Allison then wraps her arms around Peter’s bicep and Y/N and Peter lock eye contact; Peter looks at Y/N in a state of panic and Y/N looks at Peter with nothing but amusement.

“Yeah, I figured,” she tells her, the amused expression growing.

Allison gasps again, “Peter! We should get a picture together too!”

Before he can really process it, Allison is pulling Peter close and shoving her phone in front of their faces. As Allison makes several different selfie faces, Y/N laughs softly as Peter smiles awkwardly at the camera. Suddenly, the feeling of lip-glossed lips touches his cheek and Peter raises his eyebrows in surprise and watches as Allison presses a kiss to his cheek in front of his girlfriend and what seemed like half the party. Her kisses trail down his neck, jaw, and ear before Peter finally gets over his initial shock and laughs awkwardly.

“Okay, um. That was kinda weird, Allison. You see, I’m ac—”

Allison juts her lip out and pouts, “But these were turning out so cute, Petey!”

Y/N Stark finally breaks out into a fit of hysterical laughter and both Peter and Allison turn to her with a bewildered expression.

“What?” Allison asks accusingly, thinking that she’s being mocked.

“Honey, he’s not interested.”

Allison’s jaw unhinges, “And how would you know?”

“Sweetheart, you’d be embarrassed if I told you.”

She scoffs. “Try me.”

“I’m dating Peter.”

Allison’s eyes bulge. The group of people watching the interaction gasp. Peter chokes on his own spit.

Allison’s face suddenly gets very, very red. “Miss Stark, I’m so, so sorry—"

Y/N holds out a hand to stop her rambling. “Don’t worry about it, love. If I wasn’t already dating him, I would be all over him, too,” she quips before grabbing Peter’s hand and leading him out of the party.

“E-erm, bye! Thanks for inviting me,” Peter calls back as Y/N leads him out of the house and towards the black sedan where the driver was waiting for the two to be done partying.

“All things considered, I would call that a pretty tame first fan interaction,” Y/N tells him as they walk towards the car. Her arm is wrapped around his torso as she leans her cheek on Peter’s shoulder. 

Peter’s arm slings around her shoulders and looks down at her face. Her eyes twinkle in the moonlight and her features are light with amusement. “You’re not mad?” he asks her.

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because another girl was kissing me in front of you. And that you had to out our relationship.”

“Not a valid reason to be mad, to be honest. She didn’t know, and our relationship was bound to get out anyway.”

Peter laughs lightly, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Y/N hums, “Yeah, I know. But so are you. And don’t worry, after a few weeks, the whole school will be a little chiller about your internet fame.”

A week later, Y/N and Peter uploaded a video where they went ghost hunting with Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes and it broke the internet yet again. Needless to say, the whole school was not very chill about it.

[karajaynetoday]

everybody's got their demons, even wide awake or dreaming | part one

Photo credit: Jess Gleeson 

Hello friends! Hope you’re having a lovely day wherever you are in the world. Thank you to everyone who voted in my little Google form thing on what they’d like to see me write next. Here’s Part One of my 5SOS x music journalist story. It’s a little angsty, and as the first chapter this is a lot of introduction to the OC and her story, but I hope you like it! It’s the first time I’ve written an OC into a fic, so I’d love to know your thoughts and if you’re interested in reading more about Lizzie and her adventures interviewing 5SOS.

Shout outs to @wheniminouterspace and @calumrose​ for helping me sense-check this concept, and @spicycal for giving me feedback on it in its draft stages. You’re all gems! 

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Fem!OC, minor swearing

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Lizzie Lawson was having a bit of a day. Her train had been late, she dropped her coffee moments after receiving it from the cute barista downstairs (and broke her favourite keep cup in the process), and her work computer had decided to run updates the moment she sat down at her desk. Maybe she shouldn’t have bothered to get out of bed this morning.

Her colleagues were tapping away at their keyboards, answering phone calls, and discussing upcoming story ideas with each other - the usual tasks, especially for a Monday morning. Lizzie, computerless and caffeine deprived, had to settle for a cup of instant coffee from the kitchenette, and had taken to tidying up her desk while her computer was restarting over and over again but still somehow not ready for use. She was on the floor, sorting through the snacks in her bottom desk drawer (crackers that were two months’ past their expiry date, some gummy worms, and what seemed like hundreds of cans of tuna) when James, the music editor, stuck his head out of his office and called for her.

“Lawson! Where are you?” James sounded confused. He could’ve sworn he’d seen Lizzie at her desk moments ago, and then suddenly she popped her head up like a meerkat.

“Jimbo! Here. What’s crack-a-lackin?” Lizzie responded, standing up and brushing herself off as she headed towards where James was standing in his office doorway.

“Got a pitch for ya. Step into my office, if you’re finished with your spring clean.” James chuckled as he stepped back inside and sat down on the couch opposite his desk. 

A number of journalism awards were displayed on the shelf above the couch, and the floor to ceiling window overlooked Sydney’s CBD and its tall, grey buildings, with a glimpse of the harbour ocean in the distance. Lizzie had to admit she’d imagined herself in James’ desk chair more than a few times; the music editor of one of Australia’s leading youth and pop culture publishing companies, regularly travelling the world to interview award-winning artists, and assigning and guiding well-crafted investigative pieces on the entertainment industry and those within in. 

But, in reality, Lizzie had only recently worked her way up to being in the music department, after a couple of years on the news desk and a series of casual internships at different publications around the place. But music journalism, and the passion she had for live performances and watching artists grow and develop their sounds and aesthetics over their careers, was where Lizzie had always wanted her career to go. She was grateful to James for having her on the team, but she also knew that he didn’t recruit just anyone - so her writing must’ve been strong enough to get her here. James was a good boss, salt of the earth, always had his team’s back, but he was also a little mysterious, and this morning’s meeting was one of those where his face was giving absolutely nothing away as Lizzie joined him on the couch in the office. 

“So, what’s up?” Lizzie said, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice.

“Well, Lawson. You’ve only been on deck for a few months, but turns out my gut instinct about you has paid off. That profile you did on the 1975 last month has gotten some good feedback and traction out and about.” James spoke in a measured tone, pulling his laptop off the coffee table and opening it.

“Oh! Well, that’s… good, right?” Lizzie still couldn’t figure out exactly why she was in James’ office. Or why she was so nervous. 

“Correct, it is good. It’s been great to see you come into your own a little bit, and develop your interview style. I also really appreciated you stepping in to cover the Matt Corby interview for Hannah the other day, when she had that stomach bug.” James continued, seemingly searching for an email or something on his laptop as he spoke. 

“No worries! Hannah’s notes were really thorough, plus I definitely had a Matt Corby phase when he was on Australian Idol back in 2006! Oof, that fringe, you know?” Lizzie cringed internally when she heard herself starting to babble. 

James snorted, before clearing his throat. “I’m sure Matt was glad the 2006 hairstyle didn’t take up too many words in the final profile piece. He was pretty happy with it though, and his management were too, according to the label. So happy, in fact, that they’re requested you to profile another one of their artists.”

James had Lizzie’s full attention now, and she still couldn’t read his expression. “Really? Me? Who’s the artist?” She asked, trying not to get too excited too soon.

“Yes, indeed, you. 5 Seconds of Summer, or 5SOS. They’ve got a new album due out in a month or so, and their publicist is keen to fly you out to LA for a few weeks to follow them around while they wrap things up in the studio, and do a profile piece on their journey to date. Are you familiar with their stuff? They’re offering us an exclusive, something about the album being linked to their homeland or something, so they wanted to go with an Australian media outlet first.” James set his laptop back down on the coffee table and angled it so Lizzie could see an email on the screen that had a few lines of text and a photo of a band onstage.

5SOS. Was Lizzie familiar? Oh yes, she was familiar. Lizzie Lawson hailed from the western suburbs, and 5SOS was the area’s biggest success story. Aussie boys made good, with millions of albums sold, billions of song streams, thousands of concerts played all around the world, that was their career to date. But for Lizzie, 5SOS were always a bit closer to home. She’d attended the same high school as three of the band members, and Michael Clifford was someone she called her best friend, once upon a time. Ashton had also befriended Lizzie’s older brother Lachlan when they’d worked together at KFC. That was years ago now, and they’d all fallen out of touch, because sometimes that’s just the way the universe works. You grow up and you move on and you don’t keep the same friends, because sometimes they move to the other side of the world and get super famous as successful musicians. Or something like that. Even if they know your deepest secrets, or biggest fears, or hopes and dreams, or you trust them more than anything, sometimes they still leave you. 

Lizzie’s previous state of intrigue quickly became panic, because what if she wasn’t actually being chosen based on the merit of her work? What if the 5SOS team knew about her connection to the band, and were going to use it to manipulate her writing in some way? What if it was all a ploy to get her and Michael in the same room so he could finally call her out on what had gone down between them all those years ago? What if - 

“Lawson! You on planet earth still, or wait?” James snapped his fingers in front of Lizzie’s face to get her attention. She shook her head to clear it, and wrung her hands together in her lap.

“Yep, I’m familiar with their work. A little fuzzy on the most recent work, but I have a bit of knowledge on a lot of their early stuff. And Youngblood, of course. Everyone knows Youngblood. ARIA song of the year, a billion streams, etc etc.” Lizzie spoke, meeting James’ gaze as he cocked his head at her curiously. He knew Lizzie had a tendency to get a little nervous when she was put on the spot, but there was something about her right now that was a little more unsettled than usual that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Good. Well, if you’re down, the label will cover three weeks accommodation in Los Angeles. Labels don’t usually do that kind of thing, but their manager is super keen for you to get enough quality time with the band to build up a solid profile piece. We’ll cover your daily expenses, I’ll send you instructions for the claiming app, and then we just need your passport to get the flights booked. Sound okay?” 

“Y-yep. Yes. Okay. Right. When would I be leaving?” Lizzie pinched her thigh through her jeans to double check that she wasn’t dreaming, and that yes, this was actually happening. 

“Friday midday. We’ll put some feelers out in LA, and see if there’s any other interviews you can do while you’re there, but your focus will be on 5SOS because they’re picking up the bill for your stay. But that being said, don’t let that sway what you write. They’ve requested you because they like your deep, detailed, open style of profiling, so don’t be afraid to ask some curly questions to get the answers that will craft the right piece, you know?” James spoke firmly, looking pointedly at Lizzie who quickly nodded in response.

“Right, well, I’ll cc you into this email chain with their publicist and manager, and we’ll go from there. You can hand over your other pieces to Hannah, you’ll need to spend the next few days prepping for LA and doing whatever research you need to feel ready. You’ve got this, Lizzie. I know you can do a great job.” James was trying to be encouraging, as he stood up and opened the door to his office, but Lizzie’s heart was pounding with nerves and she barely hear his words. 

She walked back to her desk in a daze, and Hannah had to literally poke Lizzie in her side to get her attention and ask what James had said in the meeting. A few excited squeals and a bear hug later, Hannah was off and running talking about lists of things Lizzie needed to organise before her international adventure was due to begin in a few days’ time. Lizzie, on the other hand, still couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was happening?

--

The next few days flew by in a haze of emails, life admin, last minute shopping trips and a lot of deep breathing on Lizzie’s part, and before she knew it, she was wrangling her suitcase out of an Uber and into the international terminal at Sydney Airport. Lizzie, as a generally anxious person, had arrived the full three hours early for her flight, but her parents had treated her to a flight lounge guest pass (because they wanted her to know they were proud), so she was able to deal with her nerves by eating far too many complimentary croissants and hash browns. 

Soon enough, the time to board the plane arrived, and Lizzie was grateful that she ended up in an empty row of seats, by some miracle. Praise be to the airline gods, or whichever higher power had decided she’d be able to at least try and get some sleep in the next fourteen hours. She’d set her phone and watch forward to Los Angeles time, so she could try and adjust her body clock accordingly, which meant that she’d have to stay up for a few hours at least.

Lizzie tried to be productive, and tapped away at her research notes on her laptop for a little while, before she found herself opening up the band’s instagram page in her browser. The four men staring back at Lizzie through the screen seemed a million miles away from the gangly, excitable teenagers she’d known all those years ago. There was an interesting intensity about them in the photograph, steely gazes and defined bodies under carefully selected clothing, but there was also a peacefulness in their poses beside one another. Like being together, in this moment captured minutes before heading onstage, was the most natural thing in the world. Lizzie found her eyes drawn towards Michael; his dirty blonde hair swept across his forehead (not dissimilar to the style he’d had in their high school days, to be honest), and it was accompanied by some scruffy facial hair and a dangly cross earring in one ear. His grey-green eyes seemed to peer right into her soul, and Lizzie involuntarily shivered at the thought of seeing him again in person in a day or so. 

She was still anxious about whether or not this entire thing was a scam, but nonetheless, she was going to try her darndest to be a consummate professional, and write the best profile story of her life. In her research, Lizzie had reviewed some previous 5SOS interviews, and she’d cringed her way through their Rolling Stone interview from many years prior. She remembered reading it at the time it was published, unable to believe some of the words attributed to the boys she’d once called her friends, and the intense aftermath that followed. Understandably, they’d avoided in-depth profile interviews since, so Lizzie was incredibly curious as to why they’d changed their mind. Why now? Why her? She closed her laptop and drifted into sleep, curled up across three airplane seats and tucked under a thin blanket. 

Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were stiff when she awoke, an hour or so before her flight was due to land. She used the in-flight wifi to check her emails quickly, and noted a new one from 5SOS’s publicist Danielle, which welcomed Lizzie to Los Angeles and explained that she should catch a taxi to her accommodation at the address listed, and that she should give her a call once she was checked in. Right. That seemed straight forward enough.

LAX customs were intimidating as ever (god, Lizzie was so nervous), but Lizzie made it through without incident and was able to quickly make her way into a cab with a driver who seemed familiar with her accommodation address. They drove her to a boutique-looking hotel, and when Lizzie checked in and made her way up to her room, she was pleasantly surprised at how nice it was. A queen-sized bed, a good desk for working at, a nice view from her balcony of the Hollywood Hills, a small kitchenette with a fridge and microwave, and a glorious bathroom that had a very enticing bath tub in it (Lizzie’s shoulders and neck were already thankful for the idea of being able to soak in some nice hot water for a while). 

After checking the room for serial killers (better to be safe than sorry, right?) Lizzie had a quick shower and changed out of her travel trackies and oversized hoodie into a pair of jeans, a clean shirt and a blazer, before opening up her phone and scrolling down to Danielle’s contact. A few deep breaths were required before Lizzie built up the courage to press “call”.

“This is Danielle!” A cheery American accent answered on the other end of the line.

“H-hi Danielle, this is Lizzie, from Junkee Australia. You said in my email I should give you a call once I was all checked in, and I am, so…” Lizzie found herself giggling nervously and facepalmed.

“Lizzie, of course! How was your flight? Long and boring?”

“Yep, that about sums it up!” Danielle’s enthusiasm made Lizzie feel like she had to perk herself up a bit in conversation.

“Well, I’m sure you’re gagging for a nap, but we’ve got to get you adjusted to the timezone so we can make the most of your time here. I’m just finishing up something in the office, but I can swing by your hotel in about 45 minutes, and we can go over your story pitch and the band schedule for the next few weeks, and figure out your interview time slots and other things you can go along to observe, if that works for you?” Lizzie could hear Danielle’s keyboard clacking as she spoke.

“Sure, well, you have my number now, so just text me when you get here. I’ll try my best not to nap in the meantime.” Lizzie’s somewhat dry response got a laugh out of Danielle, who agreed and bid her farewell, ending the call.

Placing her phone down on the bedside table, Lizzie looked around the hotel room that was set to be her home away from home for the better part of the next month, and spotted a coffee machine on top of the mini fridge. If she was really going to keep her no-nap promise, caffeine was definitely in order. 

True to her word, Danielle arrived at the hotel within the hour, and soon Lizzie found herself sat beside Danielle on a fancy couch tucked in a corner of the hotel lobby. Danielle had opened up her laptop, and also pulled a plastic folder of documents out of her tote bag.

“Okay, so… I’m sure you’ve done your own research, but here’s a few hard copies of the band bio, album press release, and a few other tidbits from the label, along with a hard copy of the band schedule. It’s all confidential and coded, the electronic version I’ve emailed you will have the proper locations for everything, but I thought a print out might be handy anyway. The boys are recording some stuff at the studio Calum has at his house tomorrow, so I figured we could introduce you there and then after that figure out what else you’d like to get done. There’s an industry showcase for some of the new songs at the end of the week, and then they’re doing various promo and album prep things, finalising mixes, photoshoots, etc, so there’s a bit of variety for you. Any initial thoughts on how you want to do the interviews for your profile?” Danielle rattled off, gazing at Lizzie expectantly when she finished speaking.

Lizzie blinked at her a few times before collecting herself. “In my research, I found it really interesting to hear the band and some of the fans talking about how 5SOS has evolved into the collective effort of four individual artists, not just the band as one artistic music entity, so I was hoping, if possible, to interview them individually, as well as observing them as a group. Would.. Would that be okay, do you think?” 

Danielle pursed her lips, before breaking out into a smile. 

“I think that sounds exactly like something the band would be willing to do. Damn, Matt Emsell was right - you do know your stuff.” She chuckled, handing the folder of documents over to Lizzie and pulling out the schedule that was on top.

“So studio at Calum’s tomorrow from 10am, I’ll swing by and collect you so we can do introductions, I’ll stick around for a bit just to make sure you’re all good but otherwise I’m just going to let you do your thing. The band have been doing this for long enough now, they don’t need their publicist hovering.”

The curiosity was killing Lizzie. She couldn’t not ask. 

“Danielle, I’ve got to ask this, sorry. Do the band… know me? Know that I’m the one coming to interview them?” Lizzie managed to get out, avoiding eye contact.

“What do you mean?” Danielle cocked her head to one side, clearly confused at the question. “I sent them the Matt Corby piece you did, and they liked that, so that was one of the reasons we asked you out here. So they’re familiar with your work, if that’s what you’re asking?”

“No, um… oh god, I’ve made this super awkward now.” Lizzie laughed dryly, wringing her hands together. “I mean, I know them. Personally. Or at least I used to. I’m from Sydney, and I went to school with Luke, and Calum, and… Michael. So I was just wondering,  um, if they realised that it was me and that was part of why I was asked to come to LA for this…Not really sure why that would make them choose me, but I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page before tomorrow.” Lizzie finally dared to look up at Danielle, whose expression was unreadable.

“Hmm, well, that is interesting. As far as I know, that wasn’t a factor at all. We all genuinely liked your writing style, so whether or not the boys made the connection, I have no idea. They’re not super keen on any irrelevant personal life stuff making it into this piece though, so if this is going to be a problem for you, we should deal with it now.” Her tone was slightly less warm than before, and Lizzie could sense the protective publicist side of Danielle kicking in.

“Definitely not a problem. I entirely intend to be fully professional, and like you said, my writing will speak for itself. Just wanted to put it all out there. Not a problem for me.” Lizzie spoke up, willing herself to sound more confident than she felt.

“Good. We have no problems here then. I’ve got to run, but text me with any questions, otherwise I’ll see you at 9.30am tomorrow for the drive to Calum’s!” Danielle’s tone was nice and bright again, as she shut her laptop and gathered her belongings, patting Lizzie’s shoulder in what she assumed was some sort of attempt at calming her nerves.

It didn’t work though. Not a problem for Lizzie? Bullshit. Not a problem for 5SOS, and Michael in particular? Seemed unlikely. 

--

Lizzie was worried she’d have a restless night’s sleep because of her overwhelming anxiety about the next day’s reunion, but the exhaustion from her travelling overtook her and she almost slept through her alarm. A quick shower and a shot of espresso later and Lizzie was downstairs waiting for Danielle to pick her up to head over to meet the band.

“Morning! How’d you sleep?” Danielle chirped as she rolled into the car park, her car window down. 

“Very deeply, thank you! The room is really comfortable. Thanks again for organising.” Lizzie mentally urged herself to keep up the small talk as a way of hiding her nerves.

The car ride over was mostly quiet, but when they pulled up outside of what Lizzie assumed was Calum’s house, she definitely felt like she was about to vomit.

“Just so you know, I flagged our conversation last night with the band. About your pitch around the individual interviews, and also about your little… connection to them. Ashton didn’t seem to think it was a problem, so it should all be fine.” Danielle mused, as she opened her car door and hopped out. All Lizzie could do was nod, because her throat was dry and she was starting to panic. She blindly followed Danielle through the front gate and around the side of the house to a building in the backyard, Lizzie strained to hear what sounded like raised, male voices floating towards them as they approached. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it didn’t entirely sound positive.

Danielle knocked loudly on the door and shot Lizzie a reassuring smile, before the shouting subsided and it swung open. Calum Hood stood in the doorway, and Lizzie sucked in a breath. It’d been eight years, maybe more since she’d last seen Calum, and even then, had they spoken? She couldn’t remember. 

Calum smiled at Danielle, and then his eyes flickered over to Lizzie, not quite carrying the same happiness, but not entirely losing it either.

“Morning, ladies. Welcome to casa di Calum, come on in.” He spoke with that scratchy, deep voice of his that Lizzie had reacquainted herself with when watching hours of interviews during her research. 

Danielle stepped passed Calum into the room, and she indicated for Lizzie to follow, which she did. Lizzie could feel Calum’s gaze on her as she brushed past him, but the minute she stepped inside, any sense of warmth or welcome she’d felt before vanished. 

Luke and Ashton were standing over by the sound recording panel, turning to look at Lizzie and Danielle as they entered. Lizzie thought she saw a hint of a smile on Luke’s face (they had survived Year 8 Maths together, after all… that had to count for something, right?), but Ashton was unreadable.

Entirely obvious, though, was the look of bitter disdain on Michael Clifford’s face when Lizzie finally spotted him hunched over on the couch along the wall. Those grey-green eyes were staring her down with a harsh glare. It had familiarity about it, Lizzie realised, but not in a good way. 

Danielle cleared her throat in the silence, and turned to Lizzie.

“Well, I believe introductions might not be required, but in the interest of professionalism and courtesy - “ Lizzie didn’t miss Danielle’s pointed glance towards Michael, who was still scowling silently towards everyone - “Lizzie Lawson from Junkee, I would like you to meet Calum Hood, Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings and Michael Clifford, also collectively known as 5 Seconds of Summer or 5SOS.” 

Lizzie waved, and then immediately cursed herself for being so goddamn awkward.  She received a nod of recognition from Ashton, and small smiles from Luke and Calum. From Michael, more scowling. This was going to be a long three weeks. 

“So, Lizzie, why don’t you go through the pitch for the profile that we discussed yesterday? The boys already have a bit of an idea, but I’m sure they’d love to hear it from you.” Danielle was being overly encouraging, but it worked, and Lizzie took a deep breath before speaking.

“Thanks, Danielle. And thank you to you guys, honestly. I know this is a little strange for all of us -”

“Fucking oath it is.” Lizzie heard Michael mutter under his breath, but she continued, undeterred. 

“But, I’m really excited to have the opportunity to interview you and pull together this story. Especially on behalf of the Australian music media. I know they haven’t always given you the recognition you deserve, but I think this piece is a chance to overcome that. Anyway, the specific pitch I’d love to go with is reflective of you as individual artists, as well as the collective band group. If it’s suitable, it’d be great to have the chance to speak to each of you one-on-one as well as a group, to give a holistic view of your journeys as people and as musicians and what you’re trying to achieve with this album. So… yeah…” Lizzie trailed off nervously, clenching her hands at her sides.

“I love it. We’re happy you’re here, Lizzie. I really loved the Matt Corby piece Danielle sent us, and like you said, it was really important for us to have the perspective of an Australian journalist for this story and where we’re at right now.” Ashton’s calm voice broke the silence, as he nodded at Lizzie in agreeance. Luke and Calum nodded too, and Lizzie tried not to look towards Michael because no doubt he was still glaring at her.

“Great! Everyone’s on the same page. I have to dash off to a meeting, but Lizzie has my number if she needs it, otherwise all of you please behave and don’t scare her off, nor say anything that means I’ll have to destroy her tape recorder. Sound good? Good!” Danielle rattled off quickly, moving out the door and shutting it behind her. 

The tension in the air was thick, and it was all seething from Michael’s direction towards Lizzie. She closed her eyes for a moment, before reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone, notebook and pen. She spotted a chair behind her, and turned back towards Luke and Ashton.

“Well, where do you want to start? A group sit down, some general thoughts on the journey so far and what the album experience has been like?” Lizzie offered, trying to make herself sound enthusiastic, but also in control and like she knew what she was doing.

Luke, Calum and Ashton all murmured in agreeance, and moved themselves over to sit by Michael on the couch, while Lizzie dragged the chair she’d spotted over to sit facing them.

“Right. All good if I audio record this?” She asked, hitting record on her voicenotes app after three heads nodded at her.

“So, the album. Where did it begin? Did anyone or anything influence or kick off the sonic direction or the start of the exploratory process?”

The conversation was flowing quite well, Lizzie though. Ashton dominated most of the responses to her questions, but Luke and Calum chipped in their perspectives throughout. Michael didn’t say a word, even when Calum poked him in the side, and instead of glaring at Lizzie he was now staring blankly at the wall over her shoulder. An improvement, sort of, but still not ideal from a journalist and interviewee perspective, let alone when the interviewee was someone who used to be Lizzie’s best friend. 

Before she knew it, an hour had past, and Ashton stood, remembering a meeting they had scheduled with the label and their management team, and bringing the interview to a close. 

As Lizzie was packing up her equipment, she cautiously brought up the topic of the one on one interviews. 

“So, does anyone in particular have free time in the next few days, so I can start on the individual profiling part of the story?” Lizzie asked, her tone hopeful.

Michael’s response was to push straight past her and walk out of the studio, muttering to himself and slamming the door as he went. The loud noise made Lizzie flinch, and she realised her heart was racing and her hands were a little shaky. 

“I’ve got time, LL Cool J. I’ll meet you at Joan’s on Third for lunch, say 1pm?”  Lizzie smiled at the pld nickname Calum slipped into his quiet response to her question. 

“Works for me, C Dizzle Swizzle. Thanks again for your time today, I really appreciate it. Not to sound like a broken record, but I’m really excited for this piece and the chance to tell your story.” Lizzie found herself grinning like an idiot as she met Calum’s warm gaze, and noted that Ashton and Luke were also smiling at her.

“We’re excited too, Lizzie. Even if… some of us might not quite be as enthusiastic as they should be. But, don’t worry. He’ll come round.” It was Luke that spoke this time, his striking blue eyes somehow staring straight into Lizzie’s soul as he looked at her. 

“Here’s hoping.” Lizzie tried not to sound too dull in her response, but it was a challenge. 

Because honestly, how the fuck was she going to do a profile on all four members of 5 Seconds of Summer, if one of them could barely stand being in the same room as her?

Time will tell, Lizzie thought to herself as she walked out of the door to Calum’s studio and into the warm California sunlight. Time will tell. 

Taglist: @suchalonelysunflower​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @loveroflrh​ @spicycal​ @notinthesameguey​ @metalandboybands​

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

[sambergscott]

i'll promise that i'll love you for the rest of my life

one giving the other flowers, as requested by @rosalitadiazz AGES ago, also dedicated to @397bartonstreet for the initial idea of amy sleeping in/just being the best and @nine-niall for helping with the marriage highlight reel.... and for making me listen to heartbreak weather on repeat for the last few days and coming up with this title

happy anniversary to jake and amy!!! (also since the ep aired 2 years ago today i'm not *technically* late thank u very much)

One million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes after marrying Amy Santiago (or, two years), every moment is as wonderful as day one. He still feels the same rush of excitement when he sees her waiting by their car at the end of a shift, the same swell of pride when she introduces him to someone as her husband, the same “oh my god we’re actually married” moment when he catches her rings glinting in the sunlight. It’s been the best one million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes of his life. And while he appreciates every single second they have together, knowing how in their line of work things can change all too easy, their second anniversary presents the perfect opportunity to remind her that everyday he gets to be with someone as amazing as her is crazy to him.

He has flowers, a handmade card, he even hoovered and she’s still asleep.

She never sleeps this late.

Everyone knows she’s the morning person in their relationship and he’s the Get Out Of Bed After Snoozing The Alarm Seventeen Times person. They live together, share a car, and yet most mornings he ends up riding the Subway, squashed between an old woman and a nerdy looking guy who smells like he hasn’t showered in a week, Amy rolling her eyes when he gets to work mid-briefing. The rare days she can get him out of bed early usually involve some kind of bribery using food and/or sex.

The point is, he’s supposed to be the one sleeping in past 11 AM, but ever since their doctor prescribed Clomid to help stimulate ovulation and boost their chances of making a baby, their roles have been totally reversed like Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday.

Pregnant Amy falls asleep anywhere and everywhere. The couch, the car, the cleaning cupboard at work when she was trying to find some Nuclear-strength cleaner to remove the stench of Charles’ lunch from the air before she hurled again.

She could sleep all day if he let her and he quite easily could. She looks so peaceful and cute and free from the stresses of her family asking why they waited so long (well, long for Santiago standards) to start a family. Plus, the messy hair and tiny bit of drool on her chin are impossibly endearing in the way only she can be.

He smiles and wraps his arms around her, resting his head on his shoulder, his hands - like his thoughts - drifting to her growing bump as they inevitably always do.

This time next year they’ll be celebrating with their little boy or girl, telling them all about the insane, magical day that was May 15th 2018. Of course, it might be some time before they can fully grasp the TV-worthy drama of the creepy phone call, the bomb in the vent, the ex-boyfriend proposing - twice! - and the wall of Amy photos, but they will sure as dammit know how beautiful their mom looked in her dress and how happy their dad was when Grandpa Holt finally announced them as husband and wife.

“Can’t breathe,” his wife squeaks, finally awake. “Arms too tight.”

“Oops. Sorry, babe.” He kisses her by way of apology; sometimes when he gets to thinking about that day, about seeing her walk down the shredded paper aisle under the glow of fairy lights, surrounded by the very people who watched them fall in love, he kind of forgets where he is and what he’s doing.

She’s always had that intoxicating effect on him. That’s never gonna change.

“Time is it?” She yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

“Twenty five to,” he pauses to brace himself for her reaction, “...twelve.”

“Twelve?” Horrified, she moves to get out of bed and yeah, he knows her so well. “Let me go,” she huffs in frustration when he forms a barrier to keep her from leaving.

“No can do, Santiago,” he says authoritatively. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone and you’re pregnant. You need to rest. We’ve both got the day off, our dinner reservations aren’t until 8. Just let your husband take care of you for a couple of hours.”

She chews on her lower lip, making her contemplative face that he recognises from sitting opposite her for so many years, preferring watching her piece together the leads in a case rather than work on his own. “Fine,” she eventually concedes. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

“Happy anniversary,” he returns the sentiment, kissing her again because, well, he can, one of the perks of marrying Amy Santiago (alongside a perfectly organised sock drawer and getting to hang out with the best person in the world 24 sevs). “I got you these,” he adds, procuring the daffodil bouquet he found online.

“Jake,” she sighs dreamily, placing the flowers on her nightstand. “They’re beautiful. And my favourites.”

“I know,” he smirks. He may not be Santiago level smart, but he’s smart when it comes to all things Santiago. “Also made you this.” He hands over the card.

She opens it, instantly tearing up at his sweet message inside, the dam bursting when she notices the scrawled message written with his wrong hand from their unborn baby. “Mine sucks in comparison,” she laments, passing him his card before locking her eyes back on the words ‘happy anniversary to the world’s best mama’.

“It does not suck,” he reassures her, clutching it to his chest. “I’m going to savour it for all times. I want to be buried with it.”

She rolls her eyes, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I thought you wanted to be buried with your original copy of Die Hard.”

“OK, Die Hard and your card. Rhymes for a reason, Ames.”

“You’re such a dork,” she responds, stifling her laughter. “Can’t believe I’ve been married to you for two full years.”

“I know.” He grins. “What was your favourite part?”

Her eyes glimmer with excitement and love and memories of their first anniversary before things turned upside down. “Are you suggesting we do a marriage highlight reel à la NBA inside stuff?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I’ll go first. NUMBER FIVE,” he yells in his spot on Ahmad Rashad impression, earning a giggle from his wife. “Number five is that dress you wore on my birthday. Your butt looked the bomb in it.”

“Thanks, babe.” Two years in, she’s used to the constant “your butt is the bomb” comments, often uttered at the most inappropriate of times like when she stands up to brief the squad or play soccer with her brothers, much to her chagrin and their delight.

“Number four,” she quickly moves on. “The time you taught me to play Mario Party and I beat Wario on the first try.”

“That was my worst moment,” he groans.

“And that’s why it’s my best.”

He sighs, considers debating it, engaging in the classic back-and-forth that is the very foundation of their relationship, but it’s moot. She was way better than him. Santiago’s learn fast. It’s in their genes or something. And despite the crushing disappointment when she beat Wario with ease and dork danced her way to the kitchen to grab them both an orange soda, it was still a very fun night and a worthy moment in the highlight reel.

“Number Three. The York murder.”

Immediate understanding spreads across Amy’s face, but he explains anyway.

“I spent three days working that case and you just came in, saw the board and solved it right away.”

“I’m very smart,” she jokes lightheartedly.

“You are,” he agrees, his voice coming out softer and sincerer than even he imagined. “I love that about you. I love your brain. I love how good you are at your job, at figuring out puzzles. I love that you listen to NPR and know so much about the font Helvetica and have read, like, a million books. I love that you do a crossword every night and I love how proud you look when you give me a sports clue and I actually get it right. I love cheering you on at Trivia Nights even when Kylie can’t stop glaring at me. How lucky am I to have the smartest wife in the world?”

Touched, she can barely compile her thoughts to reveal her Number Two.

“The night at Shaw’s, at Hitchcock’s second divorce party, your speech, the way you kissed me, the way you were so gentle when we got home,” she sniffles. “It was special and made me feel so loved and if I say anymore I’m going to cry again, so you go.”

He chuckles knowingly. The pregnancy hormones have been making her extra emotional lately, they can’t even watch commercials anymore without her fully weeping. And while last year Pam and her twisted bowels interrupted before they could get to Number One, this year Number One is obvious. Clear as day. And there’s no one to interrupt.

He pretends to think about it for a minute (because he will always love teasing her, married or not). Only when she grabs his arm and digs her nails into his skin does he put both their hands on her bump and smiles. “Obviously this little guy or gal is Number One.”

She smiles back at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

His own face falls. “Ames?”

“It’s been a hard year, hasn’t it?” She sighs, thinking back to calendars and fertility appointments and the strict no nacho policy.

“Yeah,” he says, “it has. But this next year is gonna be the best one yet.”

“I mean... We’re probably not going to sleep a lot.”

“You might not sleep a lot but I sure will,” he teases, his words falling flat. “Just kidding, babe. Obviously I’m going to get up for all the feeds and diaper changes and whatever else this kid throws at us. Gonna be there for you both. No matter what.”

The pregnancy hormones strike again and she starts crying and, honestly, he can’t wait for this baby to get out, for more reasons than one.

“BRB, I’ll go make your favourite breakfast to make you feel better, don’t grow anymore body parts while I’m gone.”

He returns seven minutes later with pancakes, a ton of fruit, decaf coffee and another kiss. He climbs back into bed, devours his own Nutella pancakes and posts his favourite blurry, drunk on Champagne and love selfie from their makeshift wedding reception at Shaw’s, on Insta with a caption about how he promises he’s gonna love her for the rest of his life.

And he keeps that promise.

[enragedbees]

Thirty Million and One

Pairing: Roceit if you squint

Summary: Deceit desperately wants Thomas to pick the callback over the wedding, and it infuriates him that the others won’t listen to him.

Warnings: Deceit, the sides being mean to Deceit, referenced character death (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Words: 1547

Song rec: Colors by Halsey

A huge thanks to the incredible @thenewlarislynn for being my beta reader!!

This is based on this post by the endlessly talented @lostonehero, thanks for the inspiration!!!

General Taglist: @xionbean @fall-sunflowers @emo-disaster @darkstrange-son

I love reading your comments! Please let me know what you think! :)

——————————————-

Deceit was so close. He could feel it.

        He tried not to let himself get excited. Things could always go wrong. One slip up, one detail gone unaccounted for, and everything might collapse.

        But he was so close. He had almost done it several times before but he had never gotten this far. Deceit could practically reach out and brush his fingers against victory.

        Finally, everything was about to change.

        Thomas sat at the witness stand in front of him, panicked and sweating. Deceit hid a smirk.

        “Stop stalling, and admit it!” he snapped. “What am I doing here right now, Thomas? Am I the snake come to trick you into sinning?”

        Thomas glared at Deceit, and Deceit smiled and shook his head.

        “Or have you had your mind made up since the moment you received the news about the callback? You didn’t even forget about the wedding, did you?! It was all an act!”

        “Fine! I want to go to the callback!”

        Deceit’s heart pounded as the room caught its breath. He couldn’t keep the grin from blooming on his face.

        That was it. Finally. I did it, he kept saying, over and over in his head, barely unable to believe it. I did it.

        “I was planning on playing WordCrush on my phone during the wedding ceremony to keep my mind off the fact that I’m single,” Thomas said helplessly. “I don’t want to go! I’m…afraid…to go.”

        The others all stared at Thomas in disappointment and disbelief. The pain on his face could have broken Deceit’s heart, had he not known from what he was protecting Thomas.

        Thomas continued to incriminate himself, but it didn’t matter to Deceit. He got what he wanted. Everything was going to be okay.

        Deceit let himself laugh as the others still sat stunned. “Yes! Prosecution rests, or whatever. Let’s just call it here and put him out of his misery.”

        Roman furrowed his brow and lifted a page on his notepad. “Does the juror have his decision?”

        Virgil sighed. “Yeah.” He stood up and glared at Deceit. Deceit barely felt the sting.

        “I hate to say it, but…the defendant is…guilty. On all charges.”

        Thomas hung his head.

        “Who knew convincing people to do something they really want to do could be so easy?” Deceit bragged.

        “This is a downer,” Roman sighed.

        Thomas bit his lip. “Well, Your Honor, what’s your sentence?”

        Deceit could barely hear them talking over the pounding in his ears, the elation swelling in his chest. Their disappointment was inconsequential. It would pass, and everything would be okay. Finally. Finally.

        Roman’s head shot up. He gingerly picked up his gavel. “I hereby sentence you…”

        Deceit lifted a hand. “That’s not really necessary. I think now you see that all of this is – ”

        “ – To one day at the St. Clifford’s Chapel on the day of Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding!”

        And with the bang of Roman’s gavel, Thomas’s eyes snapped open, and Deceit’s relief crumbled.

        His heart sank into his stomach. “Wait, what?!”

        This wasn’t supposed to happen. This had never happened before and Deceit had made sure that it wouldn’t.

        Virgil, he expected. Patton had also managed to ruin it before. And there was a reason Logan was deliberately kept away almost every time.

        But how could Roman do this to Deceit? How could he not understand?

        Roman sighed. “It’s my sworn duty to help Thomas achieve his hopes and dreams.”

        He scowled. “But Thomas wouldn’t dream of attaining his hopes through deceitful means.”

        Deceit fought back the frustration ebbing in his head, the nausea in his stomach, and the burning behind his eyes. He saw Virgil smile proudly at Roman and gritted his teeth.

        “But that’s not true!” Deceit cried.

        Virgil scoffed. “And you’re a beacon of truth?”

        “Did I say that?” Deceit snapped. “I missed the part where I said that!”

        Thomas shook his head. “I don’t understand. You got what you wanted.”

        They would never understand. Deceit had been through this more times than he could count and it always ended the same way. Nobody ever listened to him. Nobody ever believed that he wanted what was best for Thomas. It was foolish of him to believe this would have ended any other way.

        Deceit bit his lip hard. He wouldn’t cry, not in front of them.

        “But you’re still missing the point!” Deceit cried, voice dripping with venom. “Didn’t it seem kind of ridiculous taking this matter so seriously to the point of settling it in a legal setting?!”

        The others just shrugged. Deceit tried not to scream.

        “I am trying to teach you a lesson!” He yelled. “But it’s literally impossible!”

        “Falsehood.”

        Deceit just barely sidestepped before Logan rose up right next to him and folded his arms.

        “Why don’t you just leave the teaching to me?” He shot Deceit a look of contempt. Deceit refused to wither under it.

        “Great,” he snarled. “Well I’m sure Thomas’s friends would love to know that he’s forcing himself to attend their wedding.”

        Deceit knew that he had lost. Once again, they had ignored him. He should really have been used to it already. Deceit bottled up his hurt and put on an air of nonchalance.

        “It’s clear you all don’t want to listen to reason,” he sighed. Then his tone hardened. “But know this. I’ll always be a part of you. I’m not going anywhere. And there are smarter ways to get people to do what you want anyway.”

Deceit sank down, ignoring the scared and hateful faces of the people he wished he could still call friends.

        He popped back up in his room, sank to the floor, and covered his face in his hands. Deceit took in a few breaths, unable to keep a few hot tears from slipping out of his eyes.

        He took a moment to compose himself, then sniffed and wiped at his eyes. He stood back up and looked around his bedroom.

        Journal pages, sticky notes, pushpins, and pieces of string connecting it all covered every inch of the walls and ceilings and parts of the floor. Millions of attempts, millions of outcomes, all failed.

        Deceit had stopped counting how many times he had been through this scenario after about two hundred and fifty of them. For how long he had been stuck, it was probably somewhere near thirty million.

        No matter what he tried, Thomas always, always, chose the wedding.

        And every time Thomas went to the wedding, he never came back.

        Deceit pulled some pages down off the wall. He held onto a string by his teeth while he rearranged the papers, trying to create some path he hadn’t tried already.

        When Thomas died, everything reset. His life reverted to where it had been a few years prior, and Deceit was the only one who remembered what happened. He didn’t know why it kept happening, he didn’t know why he was the only one who wasn’t reset.

        It was like something, or someone, expected him to save Thomas, but no matter what he attempted, he always failed. Nobody listened to him.

        He tried getting close to the others, and sometimes, he succeeded. Those were the best of the attempts. Of course his priority was breaking the loop, but during those times, Deceit finally felt like he was a part of the group. He felt loved, he felt appreciated. He believed they would listen to him.

        But the moment he even suggested skipping the wedding, they turned on him. Virgil and Patton accused him of only pretending to be friendly to get what he wanted. Roman believed them and never forgave Deceit. That was the worst.

        He had tried explaining what he knew would happen, but they never believed him. Deceit couldn’t blame them. He wouldn’t believe himself, either. They all only saw him as a liar.

        Deceit pushed a couple pins into the wall. He squinted at the rough plan, trying to work out how every detail would fit with how the others might respond.

        At this point, Deceit barely cared about winning, about proving himself right. He just wanted something different to happen. And it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

        He had spent eons reliving the same few years. He could repeat every conversation he had with all the others, verbatim. He knew their exact reactions and responses to every word or phrase. It was what made him such a good mimic.

        Deceit took a step back and folded his hands behind his head. This new plan was too similar to this attempt and not different enough from the previous attempt. He sighed and flopped back on his bed.

        He draped an arm across his eyes. Deceit had until April to figure out a new plan. He didn’t have to have it all planned immediately.

        Deceit stared up at the ceiling, and wondered, for the thirty billionth time, why the others wouldn’t listen.

        Thomas was a good person. Didn’t that mean, to some extent, that Deceit was, too?

        Deceit closed his eyes. He had gotten very close. He had never gotten this close before. Maybe it would end soon.

        Maybe next time, someone would listen. Maybe attempt number thirty million and one would be the one where everything changed.

[fluffyvillain]

The Bond

Chapter: 7/?

Summary: Henry figures out a way to find out where Mila is.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: Mentions of smut

A/N: Yes, Ruth meddled in again.

@ly–canthrope​ @vikingsbifrost​ @peakygroupie​ @winchwm​ @thethirstyarchive

Henry ran for miles and miles on Orchard Beach in Bronx, he was trying to get rid of Mila's images in his head, like the one of her slightly crooked smile before bidding him goodbye last night. They were driving him crazy. He had to jerk off twice last night because he couldn't stop imagining banging her against the wall on which she was leaning last night, he imagined hiking up her dress, ripping off her panties end entering her so slowly that she would beg him to start moving faster.

He ran until his knees started shaking, but the images of her never went away. Need for her developed in both his body and his soul. He waited until his breath evened out before calling Ruth. There was absolutely no way he could wait for two weeks, the period she said she would be absent. "Good afternoon, Ruth."

"Hello, Cavill."

"How are you?" Ruth was quickly becoming very dear to his heart.

"Still hangover, but good. How can I help you? I guess you didn't call me just to chat. "

"I want to thank you for the last night first." Henry was walking towards his car, he was in a desperate need for a shower. "And second, I'd like to know whether Mila arrived safely."

"She did, but didn't you exchange phone numbers last night, couldn't you ask her?"

"Last night was... I don't know, I forgot to ask for her phone number, I wasn't thinking clear. I have her e-mail, but he doesn't really respond to anything I send her. Can you tell me where she is?"

"Yeah, she is in Italy, why? Do you want to go after her?"

"Italy, huh? I thought she could be somewhere in the Caribbeans. But, yes, I do." He sat in his car, slamming the door behind him.

"You can't be serious." Ruth's voice turned colder and firmer.

"She said I could join her."

"And yet she didn't tell you where she was going?" Ruth became suspicious.

"I asked her if I could join her and she said, and I quote: "Only if you manage to figure out where I am."" He put on a seat belt, but didn't want to start the car before ending the conversation. "I'm really lucky to have you and I'd be really grateful if you told me exactly where she is."

"You and I both know that she said that only to blow you off, but still, she did say it, she can't deny it. You know, I really want to see her happy and I deeply believe that she won't be truly happy unless she is with you, so I will tell you, but under one condition."

"Just name it."

"You wont go there yet, let her rest for like a week. I don't know what her reaction will be and I don't want to ruin her vacation completely if she gets pissed off when she sees you there."

"Okay, I promise."

"She is in a small village, I will send you a message with the exact address, I've stayed there for a couple of times with her. You can try your luck with finding a room there now, but I'm not sure that you will be able to do it. Mila is in a small house on the coast."

"Thank you. I owe you big time."

"You bet you do because Mila will kill me."

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

7 DAYS LATER

 Henry couldn't wait to get out of taxi he took at the airport, he would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, maybe this wasn't such a good idea - that thought crawled inside his mind as soon as he landed. He kept staring at the sea from the moment it appeared before them. The taxi driver tried to chat him up a bit when he figured Henry spoke Italian, but his thoughts were aimed in Mila's direction, so he wasn't really involved in the conversation. Once they reached their destination, he gave the taxi driver a fat tip and ran to the entrance of a hotel he booked. Ruth was right, it was really difficult to find anything in this location, so he was ecstatic when he actually found a room. He was even happier when he figured out that the hotel was really close to the house Mila has rented.

He was grateful that check in process was done pretty fast, so he could drop off his bags and take a quick shower. Just minutes later, Henry was walking over a gravel path on a side of a road, following Google maps direction to the address he typed in. Soon he stood in front of the gates of a house that was his destination, Ruth was kind enough to also include some photos of the house and its surroundings, so he knew he was in the right place. He took a few deep breaths and his index finger hovered over it for a few second before ringing a doorbell on the gate. He expected Mila to show up at the house door, but nothing happened. He rang it once again and still nothing. He contemplated his options, but the most logical one at that moment to him was to try to go down a very steep bushy slope on a side of the house, so he could reach the stairs leading to this villa's private beach. He hoped Mila would be there.

He immediately cursed himself for wearing flip flops and a swimming shorts after making the first step. He almost slipped and those were some thorny bushes. The next few steps weren't easier at all. Have I gone insane? I could be charged for breaking and entering. He took a few more steps and his heart swelled, he saw Mila in the distance and he no longer cared whether he was committing a felony or making the wrong decision by coming to Italy. After taking a couple more steps, he was able to jump over a wall and then jump down to the stairs leading to the beach. He went down the first set of stairs, focusing solely on Mila. Soon her voice became audible to him, she was humming at first and then she started singing, she felt and looked so carefree in a one piece white and indigo blue horizontal stripes swimsuit with her long wavy hair falling on her back. He knew he would have this image engraved in his memory for good.

She was singing her heart out, being completely oblivious to Henry's presence. There were only a few steps left before he reached Mila when felt a huge mood change and a pang in his heart and he knew exactly why when she started singing the next song and he knew right away which song it was and why she felt the way she did. The pain in her voice sliced his soul in half.

 Thought I found a way

Thought I found a way, yeah

But you never go away

So I guess I gotta stay now

 Oh, I hope some day I'll make it out of here

Even if it takes all night or a hundred years

 Henry kneeled next to her and gently tugged one of her earphones until it fell out of her ear, she tuned to him and flinched, but didn't say a word. He continued where she left off, not taking his eyes of hers.

 Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near

Wanna feel alive, outside I can fight my fear

 Isn't it lovely, all alone?

Heart made of glass, my mind of stone

Tear me to pieces, skin to bone

Hello, welcome home*

 He kissed her shoulder softly before placing her forehead on it. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

If somebody had asked Mila at that exact moment what she was feeling, she'd ramble a whole list - happiness, sadness, love, anger, relief, anguish, fear, hope... "Five years. For five years the first thing I had to every morning, every single one, was to find a way to block you before I could even start thinking about continuing my day. You were so happy most of the time while I was falling apart. I don't blame you for that, I really don't. But, the way you treated me..." Mila looked at the horizon line where sky met the sea. "You broke me into million pieces and I spent every day sticking piece by piece together, but I could never feel whole, not to this day."

Henry cupped her cheeks and turned her face to his, still on his knees, soothing thumb movement wiped away her tears. "Don't cry, please." He wiped away her tears until they stopped falling and her breath evened out. He pressed his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes closed. "I will spend the rest of my life redeeming for this, let me do so, please."

Mila didn't say anything, but she started opening up for his feelings again, feeling genuine sadness and worry. She backed away, leaving his hands in the air. She had moved to the edge of her made-for-two beach towel  before lowering herself on it, lying on her hip. She tapped a sun lit part of the towel which was soon to be in a shade and Henry took off his shirt, lowering himself, following her order, not saying a word.

Lying on his back, he turned his head towards Mila. Her stared into depths of her blue eyes an he was sure that no river, lake, sea or ocean had such a beautiful colour. It didn't take long before his eyelids became too heavy to keep them up.

Mila watched Henry's chest rise and fall in even intervals. He must've been really tired because of his flight. Mila was convinced that he belonged at Mt. Olympus in myths, but somehow he was real and he bonded with her out of billions of people. Every muscle of his was hard and well defined, his biceps was bigger than her thigh, she was sure. He still kept his scruff and he grew his mustaches slightly longer, but most of his hair was gone, his sides were pretty short and the middle part was slightly longer and slicked back.

Mila wanted to let him rest, so she took her phone first, sending Ruth a threatening message to stop meddling in her life, but that she was also grateful that she did it this time, then she got back to a book she started reading that morning. She glanced at Henry after reading every couple of paragraphs and he was sound asleep every time. When she lost concentration, she went for a swim, enjoying coldness of the water. She didn't know how much time she spent swimming, but when she got out Henry was in the same position as when she left him.

She kneeled down next to his sleeping body, he was indeed perfect. She bit the tip of her index finger before she decided to trace a knuckle over his eyebrow, barely touching it, when he didn't flinch, she used the tip of her finger to trace the other one too, when she went back to the valley between his eyebrows, she continued her exploring by moving her finger down his nose. She scooched over and reached to the other side of his body, flattening her palm on the ground, keeping her balance. She got braver, so she used tips of all of her fingers to roam over his cheeks and forehead, she scratched his scruff with her nails and he leaned into her touch.

Water dripping from Mila's hair on Henry's chest woke him up, his lips curved in a smile before opening his eyes, Mila's hand remained on his cheek.

"Hey." Mila smiled back at him.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep, I was really tired." Henry started caressing the forearm of the hand on which Mila was leaning. "What time is it?"

Mila moved away to check the time on her phone and he immediately regretted asking. "Almost six."

"Shit. I've been asleep for almost two hours." He set up, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes. I'm sorry, but you have to go now." Mila got up and grabbed her book and phone. "I have a date and I don't want to be late."

"Huh?" Henry also stood up, completely confused, he did not expect this.

Mila felt a hit of jealousy and sadness wash over Henry. "Yes, with you. I'll pick you up at 8. You just need to tell me where you are staying."

Relief washed over Henry as hew as folding the towel. "That little hotel just up the street."

"Okay." She took the towel from Henry and waited for him to put on his shirt. "How did you even get down here?"

He pointed at the top of the hill. "And then I pretty much jumped over the wall right about here," he moved his finger to that point.

"You could've gotten yourself hurt, don't do that ever again."

"It was worth it. I rang the bell, but you obviously couldn't hear me. That's why I need your phone number, you know, to call you in this kind of situations."

"Your phone, please" Grace gestured for him to hand her the phone so she could put in her number.

[okay-j-hannah]

The Adrenaline of Panic

Criminal Minds : Fic

Spencer x Reader

Word Count: 2220

Warnings: I used the plot line from season 6 episode 10 - reader has a similar situation to Ashley Seaver... being new and all 😁 {mild struggle, shots fired, unsub down, agent choked... the whole nine yards} 

Inspiration and dialogue came from this episode: 6x10 What Happens At Home

Request: This is just from my own head 😊

A/N: In a moment of pure terror, the team realizes that you’re visiting the killer in his home - Reid, unable to contain the panic, races against the clock to save you from a gruesome end

“Okay, let’s hope the occupancy listings show pets.” Emily led the way into the back room, carrying a stack of files, “This is the pile of suspects we need to weed the 18 from.”

(Y/N) followed closely behind, meeting at the table, “What are these?” She gestured to the smaller stack that Spencer was carrying in.

“Victim information, the families of the 3 women who were killed,” he responded, moving to stand beside her, his eyes trained on her face.

“Families,” (Y/N) muttered.

Emily sighed, opening a case file, “Yeah, families are the hardest part about this job.”

Though it had only been a few weeks since her initial field training, (Y/N) was finding it hard not to feel attached to the victims. She was involuntarily connecting herself to them on an empathetic and personal level. That could be dangerous for someone on a case, she knew.

Spencer knew it too, watching her movements closely as she gazed at the victim boards behind them. He had known (Y/N) for a few years, running into her at a lecture they were commonly interested in. He was one of the first people to recommend her for the BAU trainings – obviously secretly wishing he could work alongside her and get to know her more.

Throughout her training process, Reid became accustomed to her kind nature and positive thinking. He had made a mental note then to introduce her to Garcia.

But he had also decided then that he was going to have to look out for her when it came to being too involved in cases. It can damage an agent’s whole career by getting too involved, becoming irrational during a case.

“Drew Jacobs. We talked to him this afternoon. His wife, Aubrey, was victim number 3.”

(Y/N) listened to Prentiss, gazing at the file before her. Beautiful pictures of a blonde woman were paperclipped within, similar snapshots of her daughter – a daughter that held much of her likeness.

It made her insides clench, noticing the poor girl, “She’s never going to have a mother around.”

Spencer licked his lips, fumbling his fingers through other case files as he tried to observe her, “No. It’s unfortunate.”

(Y/N) flickered her eyes to him, seeing the immediate concern behind his gaze. “And that’s her laptop?”

“Yes, we did a data sweep over it and we’ll have to take it back to the house,” Emily responded, also noticing the slight uneasiness in (Y/N)’s demeanor.

But they continued the work on the files, Prentiss being taken away by the local sheriff for records of pet ownership amongst the possible unsubs. It left Spencer and (Y/N) quietly shuffling through other paperwork, muttering theories as they went.

Reid couldn’t help but stare, his eyes seeming to x-ray her – him trying to figure out what he could do to comfort her. She simply droned on, moving her gaze to the laptop multiple times before snapping up at Spencer’s voice.

“You okay?”

She met his light eyes, his brows knitted into concern at her blank expression, “Yeah, it’s just… you know – the families. They’ve lost so much… in such a horrendous way. It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

He found the urge to console her but had no idea how to shift past the awkward tension, “You know there’s an average of 5.3 murders per capita per day in America? That’s about 53 murders per 100 thousand people per day, meaning that there’s a lot of families being affected each day. And… and because of such a statistical average we shouldn’t feel obligated or at fault for each death because there’s no possible way we could prevent such a vast number over a land mass such as America. That’s like saying we could imprison every serial killer in the 3.8 million square miles of the United States…” he attempted at a smile, quickly realizing that (Y/N)’s frown was getting deeper and deeper.

“Which is incomprehensible with that sizeable area and such a small team, not to mention that it’s estimated that there are around 2,000 serial killers at large in the US at this given moment. Essentially, we shouldn’t blame ourselves for…”

“I get it, Reid. There are hundreds of deaths happening each week that we have no control over,” she clenched her jaw, staring at the laptop, “And the only comfort we have for the families are statistics, false hope, and bad news.”

Spencer found his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. Of course he resorted to rambling in a split second decision to do something nerve wracking. But the way she stood there without an ounce of feeling in her face really hit him hard. He had to do something.

“Do you want a coffee?”

She sighed, swallowing hard, “Are you trying to get me addicted?”

He opened his mouth, confused again, “Why would I want…?”

“Yes, I’ll take a coffee,” she hinted at a smile, “Gesh, Spence… you’d think my humor would rub off on you at some point.”

There was a pause as he caught onto the sarcasm, “I’ll be right back.”

And he skid out of the room quickly, extremely proud of himself that he was able to get (Y/N) to almost smile.

Little did he know that (Y/N) was now eyeing the laptop with a hard expression. She knew it was against protocol to leave without informing Hotch – especially with her being so new to the game. But if there’s one thing she’s learned from the last five minutes, it’s that no family should be treated as a statistic.

And they deserved to have their possessions returned to them in person by an agent familiar with the case.

~~~

Rossi moved the phone to speaker as other BAU members gathered around the table, “Garcia, we need you to run a few more names. Phillip Long.”

Within seconds the tech guru spit back an answer with precision, “Long has no suspicions on his record, no arrests, and no technology either.”

Reid stood among the men – a coffee clutched in his hand; another full cup was left on a desk behind him. He wasn’t able to find (Y/N) after his initial visit to the breakroom for the drinks. And it wasn’t sitting well with him that she just disappeared.

You could visibly see the mental battle bombarding his psyche as he attempted to listen to the others. He knew she was showing signs of being too involved, he knew she was struggling not to do something more for the case.

Should he say something to Hotch and possibly get her career flagged by a broken rule?

“Drew Jacobs,” Rossi continued.

Reid found his mind being triggered to a memory by the said name. The name of one of the victim’s husbands.

“Drew Jacobs has a couple of arrests for assault when he was younger,” Garcia typed away from the speaker phone, “I’ll give you more details on that in a sec. Is this the husband of the woman whose computer I went through?”

Reid became very still, halting his fidgeting. The laptop.

“Yeah,” Morgan responded, noting the change of demeanor from Spencer.

“She was really unhappy with him,” Garcia continued. “She said he was distant, he left her alone at night. He would wander outside – in fact, he was at the top of the suspect pool until his wife was killed.”

Rossi shared looks with the rest of the men, speculating before Reid dropped his cup of coffee and ran for the door. His satchel hit the frame hastily as he dove for keys to any sort of government vehicle outside, running for the black SUVs parked on the street.

He knew he should’ve said something – he knew he should’ve called her as soon as he realized she was gone – he knew he shouldn’t have left her alone.

And now she was going to pay for his ignorance.

Practically slamming into a car, Reid pulled out his phone to dial, already knowing his destination from the case files he memorized. He was finding adrenaline coursing through him like nothing he had ever experienced. His eyes were dilated, breathing abnormal, and palms unusually sweaty. He was panicking.

“Agent (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/N)!” Reid yelled, quickly catching his fault in volume and reducing to an acceptable rate, “Where are you?”

There was a hint of something off in her tone, “Without a doubt, sir.”

His heart skipped a beat, a bubbling entering his stomach, “Are you at Drew Jacobs?”

There was a breath, “Yes, sir.”  

Reid turned a corner, finding a third-party line attempting to patch through. He quickly tapped the accept button, finding Hotch on the other end.

It was strange for Spencer – to experience a moment where his brain wasn’t working.

“She… she’s at the unsubs house,” he tried to explain, blinking hard to focus on the road – to get to (Y/N). “She’s not alone.”

“Can you get out of there?” Hotch asked calmly, only concern in his voice. “(Y/N).”

The amount of time it took her to answer caused Reid’s stomach to flip into knots, his fingers itching to move as she responded, “I’m sorry, sir. I, uh… I can’t do that.” And she hung up.

“(Y/N)?” Reid panicked more, hitting his hand against the steering wheel, just minutes away from the designated house. “(Y/N)!”

Hotch spoke quickly over the phone, “Jacobs has her. She has no gun – we need to go.”

“Son of a bitch,” Morgan muttered, leaning into the phone, “Stay calm, Reid. We’ll be there soon.”

In return, Spencer threw his phone into the next seat, swerving to get to the driveway – wasting no more time. The team was on their way and would only be minutes behind him, though that was only a mere thought in the back of his mind. He was too concerned about getting into the actual house.

He extracted his gun, checking for any signs of movement in the windows. His breath was coming out in rapid, short bursts.

He was having flashes strike his mind… moments that he had shared with (Y/N) in the past. Lectures – coffee shops – libraries – hallows eve festivals – science projects – poetry slams – dinners with the team – driving her home – the urge to hold her hand – her beautiful smile.

He was not about to let her die like this.

Within a burst of high energy, Reid was already through the door, vaguely hearing a rustling coming from upstairs. Attempting to keep some sort of composure, he raised his gun, aiming it at the staircase.

The sound of struggling grew more violent, an awful choking noise becoming evident to his ears. Another surge of adrenaline forced him up the stairs quickly, almost fumbling near the top. The adjacent bedroom had its door open wide, figures flailing on the ground. A little girl was crying.

Jacobs had (Y/N) pinned to the floor, his hands hungrily squeezing her throat. Her legs were trying to buck him off, slowly losing vigor as she suffocated.

Reid found his voice hoarse, “Drew Jacobs, release the agent and back away. You have three seconds.”

(Y/N) moved her eyes to him; they were growing red and full of unshed tears. She gaped her mouth, moving her lips with silent pleas. And her fingers were losing the energy needed to claw at her attacker’s hands.

“Mr. Jacobs!” Reid yelled again, unable to see an alternative to the heat in the man’s eyes. And in a second he fired his weapon, two shots directly in the unsubs back.

It took only a second longer for Jacobs to release her, slumping to the side in a quick death.

Reid ran for her, putting his gun swiftly away in its holster to free his hands. (Y/N) gave a wracking cough, trying to fill her lungs with air once more. Her eyes were watering, a harsh mark quickly developing around her neck and chest.

With a closer look, Reid could see what a beforehand struggle inflicted on her: a few good gashes from a pocketknife the unsub had on him.

“(Y/N), thank God,” he sloppily brushed away pieces of her hair to free her face. He placed a hand on her shoulder, another behind her head, “You’ll be okay… you’ll be okay.”

She coughed more, sucking in painful breaths, “I… I’m sorry.”

He swallowed hard, finding his adrenaline invoking more spur of the moment actions – he pulled her into his chest, hugging her tightly.

“Don’t… we’ll talk about that later. We’ve got to get you to a hospital.”

She leaned into him, exhausted from the struggle, and he was finding it difficult to want to move from the spot. She was so fragile in that moment, real tears mixing in from the ones forced out of her.

“I just… I just wanted o-one family to feel seen. To not be considered a st-statistic.”

Reid bit the inside of his cheek, “Your heart is just too big for your own good.” He couldn’t help but smile, holding her there, “The team will be here any second and we can get you the help you need.”

“Please don’t leave me, Spence.” She struggled with breath, her throat bruising, “I don’t want you to go.”

And he wrapped his arms around her tighter, shock slowly numbing away, “Anything you need, (Y/N). You can always count on me to be there.”

~~~

Buy Me a Coffee?

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @reid-187​

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[stateofloveandnegan]

A Funeral - Richard Madden

I love angst and this honestly broke my heart while writing it. The ending really annoys me, but I couldn’t get anything better out, so I hope this’ll do.

Requested by: no one

Warning(s): angst, loss of a parent

Masterlist

“I can’t get a hold of him either.” The sound of my brother’s voice echoes through the room. The two of us are totally and utterly wrecked.

Only yesterday, we got the news of our mother’s passing. It was something everyone was waiting for; she’d been sick for so long. It still came as an immense shock. Toby, my brother, doesn’t show how hurt he is, but I know him better than anyone else, and I can see right through that mask he’s putting on.

Still, I appreciate it more than anything how strong he’s being. Because I am the exact opposite; all I can do is cry. My mother was the one who raised the two of us, our dad has never been in the picture. She’s always been there for us. Frankly, my mother was my best friend.

When she got sick, it broke my heart. I started looking after her even more than I already did as she got older. She appreciated it with her whole being and to suddenly not have her with us anymore, I can’t even explain how much that hurts.

“He hasn’t replied to any of my messages or calls… Allison tried to contact him, too. But nothing…” I say in a shaky voice. Richard, my boyfriend of two years, is away for a new project he’s working on. He would return home in a couple weeks, and we’ve been in contact as much as we could. But ever since I messaged him about my mother’s passing, the contact was suddenly cut off. I have no idea why, but he hasn’t said anything to me.

Now, with my mum’s passing, I need him with me more than anything. But nobody, not me, not my best friend, not my brother, can get a hold of him.

Toby frowns and walks up to me, wrapping his arms around me to comfort me. “I’m sure there’s a reason for this, (Y/N). He loves you.”

I let out a shaky sigh, my arms loosely around Toby’s waist and my face pressed against his chest. “I know he does, I just hope he’s alright… I need him here with me, especially at the funeral.”

“Who knows, maybe he’ll be back by then.” Toby speaks softly and presses a kiss onto my head. “I’ve got to go now. Marlene and the kids need me. Are you gonna be alright?”

I nod my head and wipe my tears. “Yeah, don’t worry.” A small smile enters my face and I try my best to make it seem real. Toby sighs out an apologetic smile before gathering his things and leaving me alone at my house.

The next few days, there’s still no sign of Richard. I’ve tried calling him at least a hundred times and I’ve sent him at least a thousand messages; nothing.

Most people would be worried to the bone, but the worry inside me is mostly covered by anger. I can’t believe him. He knew my mother wasn’t doing well, for heaven’s sake, he used to ask how she was doing almost every single day. And ever since that message, he’s gone. It’s like his existence stopped. Or if I stopped existing to him. Maybe he found another while he was away for work. Maybe he figured that if he’d just pretend I wasn’t alive, he could start a new live with her.

No, I don’t believe that. I can’t believe it. Rich and I have been talking about marriage, about kids! Surely, he would never do such a thing. He’s the sweetest guy I know, he wouldn’t hurt a fly…

The day of my mother’s funeral is around the corner and my brother and I are finally done with all the official work. The crying has become less bad, but the ache is still there, I’ve just learned how to cope with it better than I did at first.

I still haven’t heard anything from Richard, I don’t even expect him to be there tomorrow. Even though I secretly hope he will be there, of course I hope that he’ll be there… but honestly, I wouldn’t know if I’d be happy or pissed if he’d show.

“You holding up a little?” Allison asks me as she walks up to me. It’s the day of my mother’s funeral, I’m currently standing by her coffin. There are only a few people here: me, my brother and his family, my mother’s sister, and Allison. And of course, the people the arranged the funeral.

I sigh shakily and shrug, “I’m managing. I just can’t believe he’s not here.” I say, feeling my blood beginning to boil. My knuckles turning white as I fist my hands. Allison takes notice in this and takes my hands in hers, “I know that you feel like you need him here with you, (Y/N/N), but you’ve got me, you’ve got Toby; you’ve got yourself. Try not to think about him too much today, try not to let him ruin today. I know today is awful, we’re saying goodbye to a beautiful soul that is your mother. But today is also a beautiful day, so don’t let him ruin it.”

Alli gives me a soft look and she can see that I’m on the verge of breaking, but I stand strong, pulling her gently into my embrace and hugging her. “Thank you, you’re right. I don’t need him. Today sure as hell isn’t about him, it’s about mum.”

“Exactly. Now, c’mon. let’s take our seats before everyone comes in.”

We sit down beside my brother and his family, all slightly teared up.

A little while later, everyone is standing outside, gathered around the coffin that is about to go down into the ground. I hiccup, tears streaming down my face as most people leave us, the family, behind to say our last goodbye.

I feel like my heart breaks into a million more pieces as the coffin hits the ground. Shaking, I throw the rose in my hand down at the coffin before collapsing into Allison’s side. She, too, is crying, but not as hard as me. After a moment of letting it really sink in, we turn to walk back, but I stop dead in my tracks when I spot him.

There he is, standing in a black suit as if he’s been here the whole time. But something tells me he hasn’t, because his hair is extremely dishevelled. “(Y/N)…” his voice is hoarse and his eyes look extremely guilty and sad.

I shake my head, unable to believe he’s there. After a week of ignoring my existence, he’s standing there. At my mother’s funeral, he dares to show up.

But this is what I wanted, right? I wanted him here with me so badly.

Not anymore.

Right now, I can’t stand the sight of him. He left me to deal with all of this on my own.

“Go.” Is all I manage to get out, my voice extremely broken and hoarse. Toby, Susan, their kids, and Allison are awkwardly standing beside and behind me, not knowing what to do in this situation.

Richard takes a step closer to us, but is still a couple of metres away, “Please, I can explain…”

“No, Richard, don’t start.” I say, my voice breaking even more, “I don’t want you here, go!”

Allison grabs my hand, as if to tell me to back down. Richard has tears in his eyes, I can see that very clearly, but after the trick he pulled, I just really don’t want to see him. I gently, but firmly pull my hand out of Allison’s grasp and send Richard another warning look, “Go.”

Richard looks at my mother’s grave, tears rolling down his face. He and my mum were amazing together. Richard would do anything to cheer her up if she was down, or in pain, and he always managed to succeed. My mother loved him like it was her own son.

When he looks back at me, he can see my broken face, but he can also see that I’m serious. He runs a hand through his wild hair and sniffs before turning around and leaving.

I break down as soon as he’s out of sight, both Allison and Toby catching me up. Toby tells Susan to go with the kids. “I can’t believe him.” I whimper, my breathing uneven. “Calm down, (Y/N).” Toby says softly, rubbing my back. “Easy…”

The rest of the day, I’m pretty much the same. Every tiny little thing that happens, is a reason for me to break down and I just can’t anymore.

Allison decided to stay over, so we’re both in our pyjamas. I looked horrible, so Alli made me shower and now I look somewhat decent, but it’s very clear that I’ve been crying pretty much all day.

“I’m gonna make some tea, can I get you something to snack?” Alli asks sweetly and I shake my head, “Tea is enough, thanks.”

The tv is playing quietly, a rather funny movie playing. I’m glad it’s on, because it’s keeping my mind occupied for the time being and for the first time today, I don’t feel like crying.

The bell ringing snaps me out of my daze, but Allison is quick to tell me she’ll get it. I don’t focus entirely back on the tv, curious as to who is at the door. When I don’t hear anything, I turn to look at the hall and when I see Richard standing there, my blood immediately begins to boil.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” I ask through gritted teeth, my voice beginning to shake again. Allison quickly moves before him, “He’s here to pick up some stuff, (Y/N/N). I told him that he could stay at my place, since I’m here with you.”

Richard’s face looks exactly the same as it did before; he’s hurt and he feels guilty. “Go get it and leave.” I say and turn away from him, my heart breaking. “I don’t want to see you.”

“(Y/N), please… I swear I wasn’t ignoring you, my phone-” he starts, but I cut him off, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Richard forms another word, wanting to continue, but he decides against it, not wanting to start a fight. He lets out a choked sob before running up the stairs to grab the stuff he needs. I let out a deep, shaky sigh.

“Maybe you should give him a chance to explain, (Y/N/N).” Allison tries quietly, walking over to me. I shake my head, “He had a week, Alli. I can’t stand looking at him, right now. Let alone listen to him explain why he’d abandoned me for a week and left me to deal with my mum’s death alone.”

Allison sighs, knowing it’s a lost battle. She drops it, and when Richard comes downstairs, seemingly crying from what I can hear, she lets him out before going back to the kitchen to make tea.

As the days go by, I try to get my life back on track. Which is really fucking hard with Richard trying to contact me every damn hour of the day. The first time he called, I answered the phone, because I had no clue it was him, it was an unknown number; he seems to have a new phone.

After hearing it was him, I hung up and declined every other incoming call from that number. When he realised I wouldn’t pick up, he started sending me messages. But, his messages, too, have I been ignoring.

I just bought a fresh bouquet of all sorts of beautiful flowers, and I’m now on my way to my mum’s grave so I can replace the old flowers with the new ones.

It’s rather chilly as I’m making my way towards the grave, nodding at some people I pass as a greeting.

I can’t help the tear that escapes my eyes as I’m working on the flowers, gently removing the old ones before placing the new ones. I’m kneeled before the grave, my voice a whisper. “Hey mum,” I start quietly, “It’s only been a week or two and I can’t tell you how much I miss you. It’s so empty without you. Well, there’s another reason for the emptiness, but if I could only have you back, that would make up for all of it.” Another tear silently streams down my cheek.

“(Y/N)?” a very quiet and hoarse voice speaks up behind me. I look up and when I’m met with Richard’s eyes, I let out a deep, shaky sigh as I quickly look back to the flowers on the grave. “What are you doing here?”

Richard swallows as he, very slowly, makes his way closer to me, “I wanted to bring your mum some flowers.”

I look back at him and notice a very nice and beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hands. I stand up and back away a little, giving Richard space to put them down. He does so, very delicately, saying a couple words before standing up and facing me.

“I feel awful, (Y/N). I feel so fucking awful…”

I swallow thickly, a big lump in my throat. I want to speak, but for a moment it seems like I can’t, and Richard continues. “I know you don’t want to hear any of it, but please give me a chance to explain.”

A moment passes before I regain myself and look him in the eyes, “Okay. But not here.”

Something in Richard’s eyes lights up, and he nods. “Shall we go for a walk?”

Not much later, Richard and I are walking through the park. “Okay,” he starts, his voice a mixture of things. “Last week, I lost my phone, I searched everywhere for it, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. It’s probably been stolen…”

I roll my eyes at his words and shake my head a little, “Let me continue, please.” Richard pleads, noticing my actions. “I used someone’s phone to block all accounts on my phone, in case someone would try and do stuff under my name. Thing is, I couldn’t remember your phone number… I couldn’t contact you. You don’t have any social media either, so I was a little lost…”

Richard lets out a breathy, insecure and unamused chuckle. “I managed to remember your email, so I immediately sent one from my laptop, but you must not have gotten them…”

We come to a halt at a little lake, Richard looking at me and searching for my eyes, “I tried, (Y/N), I swear. I tried to contact you, I tried everything, but I couldn’t do any more than what I did. I could only hope you’d get my mails, so you’d know that I’d come home on Saturday.”

It takes some effort, but I turn my face a little and my eyes finally meet his, “When I got home, I saw all the papers on the table and I immediately knew something was wrong. When I read whose funeral you’d be attending, my world fell apart. I felt awful for not being here when you needed me, (Y/N). Please believe that.”

As if on cue, tears form in both our eyes and Richard is quick to blink them away. “I got dressed in no time and got to the graveyard as quick as I could, but it was too late… I hate myself for what happened. I cannot believe I wasn’t here when all of this happened. I wish I was here when she passed, so I could catch your fall, so I could try to numb your pain a little… So I could hold the love of my life while she needed me most.”

“That’s exactly what I needed.” I speak, my voice breaking. “I needed you, Rich. I needed your comfort.”

Richard finally allows the tears to show and as he speaks, his voice breaks. “I know you did. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened. But please, don’t shut me out any longer. I need you just as much as you needed me. Tell me you still need me, (Y/N). Please.”

Never have I seen Richard like this; begging me to not end things with him. Hell, never have I seen anyone do this. Beg for me to forgive him, that’s what he’s doing. I swallow the big lump in my throat, silent tears unconsciously making their way down my face. “Is it really true? You never ignored me or anyone else on purpose?”

Richard furiously shakes his head, tears dropping to the ground, “I would never do that, I promise!” Richard sobs out, “I love you more than anything, (Y/N). I would do anything for you, you know that. This was out of my hands, I couldn’t do anything about it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel horrible about it. I feel like it’s all my fault.”

“No,” I shake my head, taking a step closer to him, “It’s not. It’s not your fault.”

Hope enters Richard’s eyes and I take another step closer to him, my hands reaching for his, “I’m sorry for not letting you explain sooner, I just couldn’t do it. I need you, Rich. I’ll always need you.”

Another choked sob leaves Richard’s mouth as he throws his arms around me and hugs me tighter than ever; as if I’d vanish if he’d let go of me. “I’m so… so sorry.”

I wrap my arms around his firm torso, my face pressed against him. I’m overwhelmed by the comfort of his body, by the comfort of Richard himself. His scent is all I can smell and it’s honestly the best thing that’s happened in a while. “It’s alright. I’m sorry, too.”

Richard leans back and uses his thumb to wipe the tears from my face. My eyes are still watery, but the tears have stopped rolling down my cheeks. Richard, too, has stopped crying and a very tiny smile enters his face, so does mine. “Let’s go home. We can order some take out and snuggle up on the couch, I wanna hold you.”

I let out a soft chuckle, nodding at his proposal. “Come on, then.”

[scriptedangel]

The one where Y/n loves photography and Harry. 

warning: none?? ;))

14.06.2019

Y/n loves photography. Her love started at her very young age. Whenever Y/n and her family would go on a vacation, she would be in charge for documenting. It continued to her school life, she started joining clubs in school, which led her in using her camera more often. 

Y/n has always been shy, hardly spoken to anyone. She’s just scared that her words would be hurtful, always second guessing about everything. That’s why she likes the idea of photography. A picture is worth a thousand words, everyone could always have his or her own interpretation about it. 

She also adores the idea that time stays stilled in a framed picture. How could a single tiny click capture a moment forever?  

Call it luck or destiny, but when you earn loads money from doing something that you enjoy. I’d like to call it luck and Y/n is definitely one of the luckiest people here.

She took one picture, the iconic beautiful sunset. She posted it on her Instagram and it went viral. People are commenting about how the angel and colours are perfect. They kept on sharing and sharing every minutes. Then her following grew from tens to hundreds to thousands and to millions. 

She was young and her pictures are special. Her portraits show beauty within its flaw. Her pictures would reflect something poetic that people would have heated debates. She became the internet sensation. 

At first, the increase in her followings motivated her. She was so determined in beating her latest highest number of likes. She works so hard everyday and it blinded her for a second. In a way she forgot why she started taking pictures at the first place.

Soon she realised that the numbers on her socials are giving her more and more burden. She was more and more pressured to put out better quality content. Thus she felt worn out, her passion was slowly dimming away.

Then it happened. She was slowly becoming less and less active. She rarely posted anymore. She started by taking a break for month, then it extended.

She promised her supporters or “fans” to come back soon but it was later than expected. That is one of the reasons why Y/n ended up disappointing more people. But most importantly herself.

Her management was in riot but they couldn't do anything else, looking at the once cheerful and bright girl turned lethargic and tired just by taking about something she used to be passionate about.

It took her awhile before she realised that she needed a real break. A real one. Y/n begged her management and family to give her space. At first both parties were happy, knowing that Y/n is trying to come back.

But when they realised that Y/n wanted to go to Japan, they freaked out. Yet Y/n didn't back down either. She promised that it would do her good. It took a quite the of back and forth before they agreed upon allowing Y/n to go.

Y/n was delighted but she was even more determined. Knowing that her family and management have her back and they trust her. She wanted to use this as a chance to grow and heal.

She deleted all her applications on her phone. It was back to default. She could only be contacted by her direct family and manager. That’s it.

Y/n decided to go to Japan. She has always wanted to go there ever since she was young. She adores their culture, cuisine and overall Japan itself. She’s off with a small suitcase, a passport and her empty phone on her left hand and last but not the least her camera bag.

Truly, Japan did not disappoint her.

//

She’s here, with a phone on her pocket and enough money on her other pockets. She's walking around with her oversized pink hoodie and black leggings while wearing a mask. Apparently it’s quite casual for people to bet wearing a mask after all, so she's quite grateful for not being the odds one out.

However, there would be one thing that stood out from her outfit. It would the black camera hanging against her chest by the strap around her neck. It took a few day before Y/n was able to put the strap around her neck.

It really did. I mean she used to hate the stiff feeling that the strap would leave but now she missed it. Every time she would turn her head around, it gave her the satisfaction sound and feel. Or how she missed the weight of her camera against her palm.

She's excited. It feels her plan is working pretty well after all.

In Japan, it’s like every corner, she could snap a shot. The way the Sun glistens in the morning. The sound of the waves hitting the shore. The laughter of those children running around. The way old couples would sit in front of their humble house and smile whenever she walked passed them. She reminds herself to ask for their permission if she could photograph them one day. 

Even when the Sun set down, the road is very likely to stay alive. The way banners with neon lights littering across the road. The way the building were built and just the feel was amazing. 

She brought her camera up in front of her when she was about to capture an old building with a modern neon light when someone stumbled upon her. She stumbled forward and the person was quick to gasped. “M’sorry.” His familiar voice was deep and loud enough. 

Y/n heard the voice and slightly froze for a second. His voice was so familiar that she couldn't help but shake her head and hummed. “That’s okay.”

She turned around and she was greeted by someone with broad shoulder and worried eyes while wearing a yellow hoodie and a beanie and a similar mask like her. Even hidden behind the mask she's certain who the person actually is. Her lips behind the mask parted while she muttered, “You're Harry Styles.”

She was muttering to herself but Harry heard her. He pulled out his own mask and smiled. His posture relaxed for a second and he grinned while nodding his head. He squinted his eyes with his head slightly tilted, as if he was figuring out who she is. 

On the other hand, Y/n was legit fangirling. How could she not? The man of her dreams during her teenage years is standing right in front of her with his soft curls an dimple and all. 

At that moment, the fanfics that she read on tumbler went passed her mind. She couldn't help but blush underneath the mask.

Her heart was beating wildly and her brain stopped functioning. She remembered back days when she would prepare an imaginary speech or prepare a conversation when this day would happen. However, she couldn't recall at all. Just like in all fanfictions, her mind went absolutely blank. 

She took her mask off as she felt like her lungs were cut short. Her lips were still parted and held her hands up, silently asking him to wait and not leave her. 

She wanted to talk like a normal human being but she couldn't. She really wanted to ask for a picture but she doesn’t really want to because she wanted to treat Harry as normal person would be treated. 

But here she is having a hard time breathing just like a fish out of water.

This did not fluster Harry at all, maybe after years and years under the spotlight, he’s used to these kind of reactions. That is why, Harry smiled patiently while inwardly thinking that the girl standing in front of him is extremely cute.

After awhile she breathed out, “Am sorry, I was a huge fan years years ago.” while taking a deep breath and fanning her hot face.

Harry chuckled while shaking his head, “Was?” His hand crept on his chest, mocking as he was hurt. 

Y/n’s eyes widened, “Of course, not.” She put her hands shaped like an ‘X’ while shaking her head. “I’m still am.” She continued rambling. 

“Just messing around, Love.” He chuckled while shoving his hand deep on to his pocket while looking at her with a fond smile. Harry was fluttered, really, his heart was full. Knowing exactly who the girl is, and knowing that Y/n adores him makes him smile like crazy. 

Her brain was wrecking for ideas on how to make this moment longer. So she looked down and saw her camera. Then she remembered. A moment could forever stays stilled when captured. 

It was like she was struck by lightning. She looked to him brightly when Harry was already starring back at her. Her cheeks reddened, feeling slightly flustered but she held up her camera. Harry shifted his attention from her face to the camera. 

“I’m a photographer.” Y/n offered and she hated how her voice sound strained and she wanted to slap herself for saying that out loud. She felt incompetent but she couldn’t help and let it slip through her tongue. It’s been so long since she took a professional picture and here she is offering to the man she adores for years.

“Knew that, Love.” He shook his head while offering a small smile. “You’re Y/n,” He continued with a small smirk and his eyebrows rose up, as if challenging her to deny him

Y/n couldn't say anything. Her lips parted again for the hundredth of times tonight. If it was years ago and someone told her that Harry recognised her, she would swing a bat right off that person.

She couldn't help but nodded her head with her heart burning even more. This time, Harry smiled. He followed the news and knowing knowing that she disappeared for quite awhile. 

He didn’t expect to meet her especially in Japan. Truth to be told, he adores her. He saw her works and thought that she truly deserves the appreciated she's receiving. Then he continued watching her interviews and he thought  that this girl is far too sweet and genuine for this industry. 

He has always wanted to be photographed by her or work together with her. He remembered asking Jeff that he wanted Y/n to be apart of HS1. Jeff was actually excited but he came back with rather empty handed. Y/n’s schedule was packed throughout the whole year. Thus, Harry and Y/n never met each other. 

“I adore your work.” He admitted and Y/n couldn't help but gasped and Harry grinned knowing that her reaction was genuine. 

She coughed up a bit before pursing her lips shy and mumbled, “Thank you.”

“D’ya want to try the restaurant down the alley?” He asked softly. She smiled while nodded her head excitedly.

//

It took awhile before Y/n has her emotion under control. I mean, who could blame her? She was starstruck just like anybody else. 

Harry was actually very nervous as well but being under the spotlight for years, he has definitely been trained well. 

However, as the night goes deeper their conversation flows easily. They loosened up and laughed here and there. 

“D’ya want’o hear a knock knock joke?” He leaned back with both dimples popping.

Y/n shook her head laughing yet Harry still pressed, “Knock knock.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully but she still asked, “Who’s there?”

“Hatch,” His lips twitched.

“Hatch who?” Y/n shook her head with a lingering smile, knowing what’s the punchline would be.

“God bless you.” He laughed loudly and his laugh triggered hers. 

In between her laughters, “The fanfictions I’ve read actually made better jokes than you do.” She laughed loudly this time with her head thrown back. As soon as she realised what she said, her eyes widened and so did Harry.

While Y/n was embarrassed, Harry was amused. He chuckled softly before shaking his head again, “Maybe you should link me some of these fan fictions?” He teased her lightly.

Y/n scrunched up her nose in response, Harry shrugged, “I could learn to tell better jokes.” This time Y/n burst out laughing again and Harry took pride in making her laughing this carefree. 

When they settled down, Harry offered to walk her back to her hotel. It was nearly 3 am and Y/n was more than glad that he offered. Not only that she wanted to spend more time with him but she felt safer to have a companion on her way back to the hotel. 

They joked around, poked one another and laughed together. Y/n never laughed as loud and as free as she did. Harry never felt much more comfortable and happy and carefree. The both of them felt normal for after such a long time. No cameras following them around. 

It was like a guy and girl out on a date and the guy was sending the girl back home. It was the feeling that these two people missed very badly. 

Although these feelings was cute short when they reached her hotel lobby. “T’night was amazing.” He smiled.

Y/n nodded her head, tucking her hair back, “It was.” She continued, “We should do it again while we’re at Japan.”

Harry tilted his head in surprise and nodded excitedly, “We should.” He put out his phone handed it out to her, “Type in your number.” 

Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise but playing it off by nodding her head. “Did this kind of thing happen in your fan fiction world?” Harry asked with a teasing smirk. 

Y/n titled her head and bit her lip, knowing this is one of the many cliches in fanfictions. After she typed down her number, she handed it back to Harry. 

“Heads up for a message, Love.” He took it back with a faint smile on his face. She smiled and took a deep breath, preparing herself to say good bye. 

“Harry, thank you for tonight.” She sighed contently while looking at him with admiration. Harry’s heart tutted slightly at the sight of her. He smiled, showing off his dimple before saying, “Anytime, Love.” 

//

She's living her fanfic dreams and she couldn't sleep. She's too afraid to wake up from her dream when technically it’s not a dream. She laid on her bed while clutching her phone against her chest. 

She was smiling too herself every now and then, she squealed and giggled and sometimes would even facepalmed herself when she remembered how embarrassing she was. 

She was trying so hard to smile but her phone suddenly dinged, notifying her message and her face beamed brighter. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself before she pulled out her phone.

Unknown number 

There’s a business offer. H.

She smiled, knowing H was Harry’s signature. Quickly saving his number. She smiled giddily. It’s been too long since she's excited for an offer. Too long.

to Harry Styles.

I’m interested, go on. 

from Harry Styles.

Wanna work together with me for HS2?

Y/n threw her phone before she shrieked out loud. Her inner fangirl was creeping out and excitement running through her vein. She loves documentation especially by photographs. She did this during her school years and she enjoyed it very much so. This would be the experience she needed and she’s more than happy to be part of. 

She loved reading about becoming one of Harry's tour crew and all those trope stories and this time her fan fiction dream is coming to life.

Her fingers were shaky and in-between shaky short breaths intake she typed down three letters in all caps lock and an exclamation mark.

to Harry Styles.

YES! 

That night, Y/n did not sleep even for a wink. The excitement and adrenaline was just too much for her. She felt a flicker of light and hope. She felt like she’s coming back to live. Even with the lack of sleep, she felt alive. 

She’s back with her genuine smile and her lights for photography. 

Truly, Y/n did not disappoint herself. 

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

so,, my first time posting fluff kind of thing... i kinda think this would be my reaction meeting harry but of course i’m sure it wouldn’t end this way,, nor i would be a famous photographer xD

feedbacks are always very much appreciated :))

thank you if you’ve read this far. xx

this not edited yet. 

[zigtheeortega]

day 24: loss | liam x mc (au)

title: disruption

pairing: liam x mc

@choicesfebruarychallenge | @bi-cookie ; @cxld-play

warnings: angst, smut, n*sfw, (18+)

word count: 5,764

song inspiration: if i ever feel better - phoenix

author’s note: first off, i’m not good at naming characters like at all, so elliott is just a placeholder bc i knew mc would look weird. second, i haven’t written an au choices fic yet, so i’m a lil nervous to post this! I’ve also never written liam before, much less smut for him, so i’m also nervous bc of that! this will probably be my only trr fic bc there are sooo many trr fics out there. lmao anyways, hope you enjoy this angsty smutty sad fic !

“We’re almost there, Elliott,” Bastien called to the backseat, startling her out of her sleep.

She rubbed her eyes and stretched, slipping her coat she’d been using as a blanket over her shoulders, zipping it up to her chin.

Lythikos had an intense frigidity to it, one that Elliott couldn’t forget. She only visited monthly for short periods of time, but the stinging sensation of the snow on her bare face never left her memory.

She checked her phone, her heart fluttering at the pseudonym that appeared on her phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey. I’m finishing up my last obligation, but I shouldn’t be longer than an hour.” His voice warmed her heart. It was the first time in weeks she’d heard it over the phone, not on television in a rehearsed speech. 

“Okay. I brought some of my work with me if that’s alright with you. I’d love your feedback,” Elliott smiled to herself, treasuring her lover’s genuine interest in her new profession.

“Of course,” she could hear him beam through the phone. “I love you.”

“I love you too. See you soon.”

He hung up, and she sighed. Sneaking around was getting so tiresome, but she’d do anything and everything for Liam.

After Elliott and her friends couldn’t locate Tariq, the wedding went on as scheduled. It took her months of hiding out in Cordonia with her best friends to get herself together. Hana stayed by her side consistently, consoling her until she figured out a game plan.

She thought she’d be able to find a solution and live out her fairytale, but she was too late. She’d never be able to fully have Liam like she wanted, but Madeleine offered her a compromise to keep everyone happy.

She’d brought it up to Elliott before everything went to shit, and Elliott rejected it. She saw being a ‘mistress’ as an insult, because she knew she could find a way out of the mess she was in.

Months later, Madeleine, Liam, and Elliott ran a tight ship with friends to keep the affair under wraps.

Elliott could only meet with Liam once a month, under the guise that he had important monthly meetings to attend at Olivia’s home. They could only meet for a weekend at best, and a few hours at worst.

They rarely contacted each other between their meetings. It was depressing, but necessary to keep them a secret. Liam had a burner phone, and Elliott had to save his number under an undetectable moniker. When they spoke, it was short and sweet, and they couldn’t use each other’s real names.

She flew to Cordonia monthly, usually having to go to great lengths to disguise herself from the paparazzi.

It was emotionally draining and everything leading up to the rendezvous was stressful and tense, but all worth it when she saw Liam’s face light up when he first saw her.

Bastien pulled into the driveway behind the castle, easing up next to a side entrance that Elliott was all too familiar with – she knew Olivia would be waiting behind the large door.

She fixed her wig, pulling her beanie over the top of it, and hid her purple-rimmed eyes behind huge square sunglasses.

“Olivia informed me that you can go to the door. I’ll bring your bags in later. There aren’t any paparazzi in sight, so you’ll be safe,” he smiled at her through the rearview mirror, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Thank you so much, Bastien. I could never repay you for what you’re doing for Liam and I,” she replied gratefully, apology laced through the tone in her voice.

“Anything you need, I’m here. Don’t feel guilty. The only time he’s happy is when he sees you, and I’d never get in the way of that.”

Her heart swelled at the thought. She waved to him, stepping out into the blizzard.

The door cracked open, and Elliott spotted the fiery hair before her expression.

“Come in, come in,” Olivia frowned at her messy disguise. “That wig’s a mess, Elliott. If you’re gonna opt for a cheap, frizzy wig, at least hide a pocket knife in it.”

Elliott shrugged, grinning at Olivia’s annoyance. “Why should I do that when I have my best friend here to protect me?”

Olivia scowled, a hint of a smile on her lips. “You’re lucky I’m your ally.” She turned on her heel and stalked down the hallway, leaving Elliott scurrying to catch up.

Elliott had gotten pretty familiar with the underground tunnels of Lythikos over the past year. Olivia secretly renovated an unused area to make an apartment-like cluster of rooms, so that Elliott could stay safely in the tunnels with everything she needed, and she wouldn’t be bothered by anyone.

It was an ingenious idea, and Elliott had no idea how to pay her back for her generosity. Honestly, Olivia probably did it to avoid controversy, like most every noble was doing. Elliott wasn’t sure if Olivia was doing it for the sake of Cordonia’s image or the sake of her friends’ sanity.

Olivia pulled out a skeleton key and unlocked the door, turning on the lights. “I added a more comfortable bed, some more decorations, and got Bastien to fully stock the fridge, so you can cook pretty much anything you want.”

She walked over to the living room area and pointed at the T.V. “I didn’t have to get a 60 inch flatscreen for you, but I know how much you love binging horror movies that I had to help scare you somehow.” She smirked, and pulled out a few drawers from the T.V. stand. “I ordered a hundred or so movies in case you get bored. I have no idea how long you’re gonna be here.”

Elliott shifted her weight, sighing. It was too painful to stay longer than a couple of days. “I was gonna leave on Sunday like I usually do –”

“How asinine. You’re taking a 9 hour flight on a Thursday night to get here by morning, and you take another 9 hour flight back on Sunday morning? You’re wearing yourself thin for no reason, Elliott,” she shook her head at Elliott, confusion lining her expression.

“Liam usually can’t spend more than 2 days at a time with me.”

“You have other friends in Cordonia, you know that right?” She narrowed her eyes at her, crossing her arms.

“After all that happened, I can’t show my face here. My reputation is tarnished, and even being seen here is a scandal waiting to happen. It gets riskier and riskier every time. I can’t risk any of my friend’s well-being for the sake of my secret relationship,” Elliott plopped onto the couch, defeated.

Remorse flashed through Olivia’s eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “None of this is your fault, Elliott. We know the truth.”

Elliott shook her head, a lump forming at the back of her throat. It didn’t matter that Justin and Adelaide were ousted as terrorists, and that Elliott’s friends were able to stop them from assassinating Liam and Madeleine. 

Tariq was never found, and King Constantine was killed before he could clear her name. No one would believe Bastien, and Penelope was too afraid to publicly admit her wrongdoing, so Elliott didn’t have enough evidence to be exonerated.

“Sometimes… I wish everything were different. Maybe if we’d split up and searched on our own… or if I tried a little harder…” She struggled, her throat burning, a sign of tears to come. She didn’t want to talk about this situation any more than she had to, which was every time she visited.

Her new life was pretty much an escape from the events of the past year, but she was forced to face her past trauma head on every time she stepped foot on Cordonian soil.

“Elliott…” Olivia trailed off, and reached towards her, but dropped her hand. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I guess I’m still seething over the whole ordeal. I’m pretty defensive since I know we’re right but no one else knows that.” She sat down, leaning back onto the couch, crossing her legs. “You shouldn’t feel like you’re risking our social standing or anything. All of us know exactly what we’re risking to help you and Liam, and we’re okay with it. You’re our…” She whispered the last word and Elliott couldn’t quite hear her.

“I’m your what?”

“...friend.” 

Elliott threw her arms around Olivia, relishing in the rare vulnerable moment. Olivia seldom showed her true feelings, but when she did, it was like watching a shooting star. It was beautiful, fleeting – a great memory nonetheless.

“Get off of me, you sap,” Olivia patted Elliott’s back with the tip of her fingers.

“Thank you for everything you’re doing. I seriously can’t thank you enough. If there’s ever anything I can do to repay you all, please tell me. I owe you a lifetime of favors.”

“Well, first, you can actually spend time with Hana, Drake, and Maxwell. They won’t shut up about you.” Olivia rolled her eyes.

“Deal. I never got to see Cordonia on my own time, so maybe you could give me a proper tour of Lythikos next time I’m here. You know, when I’m not banished to the cellar.” Elliott grinned.

Olivia laughed once, a delightful noise. “Sure, but you’ll need better snow gear. And take a self-defense class or two before you do so.”

Elliott quirked a brow at her friend, then shook her head. “I won’t even pretend to know what you have planned for me.”

Olivia stood up, and headed for the door. “You have no idea.” She opened it, and before leaving, she said, “Liam should be here soon. Let me know when he’s in the room so Bastien and I can keep watch.”

“Be careful, Liv.”

“Don’t call me that,” Olivia smirked, and closed the door.

----

Elliott spent the next hour working in her notebook, editing and rewriting paragraph after paragraph. An animated movie she’d seen a million times played in the background, prompting Elliott to hum along to her favorite song.

After another hour, she started to worry. She aimlessly flipped through the collection of DVD’s, not really paying attention to the titles.

Where’s Liam? She thought, an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of her stomach.

After hour three, she read a little from a book she’d brought until her eyes started getting heavy.

She awoke to a sequence of 5 sharp raps on the door, followed by a pause, then 3 more.

Our secret knock, She thought. She shot up from the couch and ran to the door, happy tears already welling up on her bottom lids.

She fumbled with the lock, anticipation causing her to shakily rip open the door.

And there Liam stood, holding a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of champagne, and a neatly wrapped present. His perfectly tailored suit laid perfectly on his arms and torso, his muscles just barely concealed. He beamed, his eyes glistening as his eyes grazed over her face.

She grabbed him by the lapels, pulling him inside hastily. “Whoa,” he said, nearly losing balance.

Elliott blushed, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing his face close to hers. She pressed her lips softly on his, a picture perfect moment she snapshotted and tucked away in her favorite memories.

All of the anxiety she felt traveling in disguise melted away the moment she touched Liam.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her lips.

“I missed you more,” she breathed, snuggling into his neck.

After a sweet moment, she pulled back, and snatched the champagne from his hands. “What’re we celebrating, love?”

He grinned, and locked the door behind him. “It’s a momentous day, Elliott. It’s been a year to the day since we first met.”

Elliott looked at him lovingly, hugging the bottle to her chest. “A whole year?”

He nodded, setting the flowers and present on the table, and gathered Elliott in his arms, hugging her to his chest tightly. “A whole year. I know this situation isn’t ideal, but I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Elliott.”

He used a finger to tilt her chin to him, and he pressed a soft kiss on her bottom lip. “You’re everything to me.”

“I love you so much, Liam.” She giggled, shaking her head. “From waitress to mistress. Same suffix, different job title.”

His smile wavered, and he exhaled a long breath, obviously uncomfortable with the joke she’d told. “I wish you’d stop putting yourself down like that. Marriage is just a title. Madeleine and I are just business partners. You’re my soulmate, Elliott.”

She pulled back, fiddling with the top of the champagne. “I know. I just wish we didn’t have to be so secretive.”

He gently took the bottle from my hands and popped it open. “I’ve still got local historians and lawyers on my payroll, and they’ve been extensively researching Cordonian laws. I don’t know if they’ll find anything, but I’m determined to keep looking. I don’t want to lose hope.”

Elliott pressed her mouth into a line, then quirked it to the side, processing everything he’d said. “I want to be hopeful that we’ll get out of this eventually, but I’d rather just enjoy the time I have with you, baby. Stress free.”

He poured them two glasses of champagne, and handed one to her. “Of course. My apologies.”

They sat at the kitchen table, and Elliott picked up the flowers, taking a deep whiff of the bouquet. “You really outdid yourself this time, Liam.” 

The cluster of sunflowers, lavender, and white roses contrasted beautifully, and smelled even better. “They reminded me of you, so I had to pick them up.”

“Along with a gift?” She lifted a brow, challenging him.

He sipped his champagne, trying to hide a smile. “I think you’ll like it. Open it.”

She ripped off the wrapping paper to reveal a plain white box. She lifted the top off, revealing an assortment of toys on top of a lacy lingerie piece. Her cheeks heated, and she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“I love it,” Elliott said, nibbling at the skin on her lip.

Liam eyed her lips, a playful look in his eye. “I thought we could try something new this weekend.”

The blush on her cheeks stayed, despite her eagerness to get in bed. “I like the sound of that.”

She gulped down the rest of her champagne and snatched the lacy piece, running to the bedroom.

“Hey!” Liam called, about to stand from the table.

“I’m trying on the lingerie! Stay where you are! It’s a surprise!” She yelled through the closed door.

Elliott emerged after a few minutes, peeking her head out of the door. “You ready?”

“Beyond ready, my love.”

She stepped out, and Liam’s breath hitched in his throat. She could plainly see him shift his legs, desperately trying to conceal his bulge.

“You look… stunning. Absolutely gorgeous, Elliott,” he said, his mouth agape, eyes hungrily roaming across her body.

The strappy lace piece fit like a bikini. The bottom was closer to a g-string than a thong, and the crotch was cut out, making it for easier access. The lace was sheer, barely covering her nipples and folds. She should’ve felt sexy, but was more out of place than anything.

“This is so corny, Liam. You bought me something that you’re just going to strip off of me, and I look absolutely ridiculous in it,” She said, crossing her legs to cover the lack of cloth around her opening.

He stood from his chair and crossed the room to touch her. He laced his fingers through her hair and draped his other hand across the small of her back. He tilted her head back, kissing her neck and nipping gently at her exposed skin.

“You’re right. I want to rip this off of you, but I can’t even begin to describe to you how arousing this outfit is. You never have to wear something that you’re not comfortable in, but I assure you it’s a pleasurable experience on my end,” he breathed into her ear, tightening his grip around her waist.

“Oh fuck,” She whispered, his bulge rubbing against her, causing her to gasp in repsonse. “Please, let’s talk later, and fuck now. I need you now, Liam.”

“Say no more, beautiful.” He swept her up and brought her to the bedroom, slamming the door behind them with his foot.

He dropped her onto the bed, and shimmied off his coat jacket, hanging it on the back of the wall.

“You’re so adorable, Liam. In the midst of a heated moment, you still have the mind to hang your coat up carefully so that it doesn’t crease before fucking my brains out,” she giggled.

Liam scrunched his nose up in confusion. “I can be reckless.” He threw his coat on the ground, but after a few seconds of eye contact with Elliott, where she could tell how absolutely tormented he was, he snatched it by the lapels.

Elliott howled with laughter as Liam hung it up carefully, brushing off the dirt.

“You always manage to be right, Elliott,” he softly smiled, unbuttoning his top buttons slowly. “But I don’t mind.” His arms flexed as he rolled his sleeves up. “As long as you don’t mind that I’m a little reckless in private, that’s all that matters.”

Her heart raced as he left the room and returned with the box of toys. Although she’d committed Liam’s body and their sexual encounters to memory, she still found herself enthralled with him like it was the first time they met.

He sat on the bed next to Elliott’s lace-clad body, and tucked a hair behind her ear. “Are you okay with me trying some of the toys out on you? I want to make sure you’re completely comfortable with it before trying anything.”

She smiled, nodding. “Yes.”

He pulled a small handheld vibrator out of the box, just small enough to fit on a finger. “First things first, I want to taste you.”

Her lower stomach clenched and ached as he grabbed her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed, parting her legs. Before she could throw out a sexy quip, he had taken advantage of the crotchless design by plunging his tongue into her folds, stroking relentlessly.

She moaned and dug her hands into his hair, tugging at his dark strands. He in turn rumbled against her clit, sending shockwaves through her body.

“Liam, please,” she breathed, feeling his hand on her stomach, holding her bucking hips in place.

He knew exactly what she wanted; he always read her cues perfectly. He slid a finger into her, curling it the way Elliott loved. He moved his hand and tongue in unison, the similar paces bringing her close to the edge.

Just as she was about to release, he pulled away, slipping the vibrator on his fingers. “Is it alright if I try this out on you now?”

She nodded, her body eager for his touch. He massaged her clit slowly with his fingers, keeping in time with the laggard pace of his other fingers pumping in and out of her.

The strong vibration mixed with the pressure of his fingers sent Elliot into another world. Her eyes rolled back, and she focused on the image of Liam’s naked physique, his head between her legs… 

Before she knew it, her legs were shaking. Liam kissed her softly, and reached into the box again, but she placed a hand on his wrist lightly. “We have all weekend to play with them. I need you in me now.”

His pupils dilated even further, and he nodded, standing up to slip off his clothes. Although she’d seen him bare numerous times, it never failed to amaze her that the man whose heart belonged to her was so breathtaking. His body looked as it was crafted by the gods themselves, chiseled to perfection, undoubtedly due to his strict fitness and diet regimen.

He grabbed a condom from the box of toys, but before he could tear it open, she stopped him. “Could we… go without one this time? I’m on birth control.”

She wanted so desperately to tell him the whole truth, but she decided she’d wait until the time was right. It would sound like an irrational decision to him, but she had thought it out nearly every day since she left Cordonia for the first time.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, but… I’ll pull out. Just in case.” He looked unsure, but lowered himself onto the bed next to her anyways.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just thought,” she shook her head. “Nevermind.”

“No, please continue. Don’t ever feel like you can’t be honest with me, Elliott.” He touched her cheek softly.

“The only time we had sex without protection was our first time in the garden, remember?” She smiled softly, reminiscing.

“Of course I remember, my love. It’s one of my favorite times that we’ve been together.”

“Oh, so you’re ranking them now?” She smirked.

“Definitely not. Every time is special, but that one was even more special to me.”

“I was thinking we could kind of recreate the night.”

His eyes twinkled, full of love for the woman he could never fully give himself to. It was depressing, but Elliott pushed those thoughts behind her horniness and flipped on top of him.

“I love when you take charge, El,” he said, his voice verging on a growl.

“You’ve never used that nickname. What gives?” She tried joking, but his bare shaft pressed between her legs was distracting to say the least.

“I don’t know, I thought it was cute,” he shrugged. “I won’t call you that if you don’t like it.”

“No, I love it,” she breathed, and began grinding her hips against his. His grip on her hips tightened, and she leaned forward, kissing him deeply.

He grabbed his dick and rubbed his tip against her opening, teasing her. “You’re a tease.”

He pressed his hips upwards, entering her. Her body shuddered with pleasure as her walls adjusted to his size.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, as her hips moved lazily against his.

“It’s so weird hearing you curse, King Liam,” she whispered in his ear, kissing his neck.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips. “I’ve never been aroused by a title before, but I have to say that ‘King Liam’ sounds delectable coming from your lips.”

He moved his hands to grip underneath her ass, lifting and lowering her the length of his shaft. She mewled in response, her legs tightening their grip around his middle. “I’ll call you whatever you want as long as you speed it up,” she purred.

He picked up the pace, deepening his thrusts. All of her worries of the future were a fading blip, her sole focus on pleasuring and being pleasured by Liam.

Before she knew it, he’d flipped her, raised her hips, and pounded into her from behind. “Oh,” she cried, her guttural moan muffled by the thick down pillow.

He sped up, his skin smacking against hers relentlessly, the sounds of ecstasy filling the room. She turned back to gaze at him through half lidded eyes, and was met with Liam’s sultry concentrating face. She’d seen it many times before, when discussing security issues with Bastien, but never in this context. 

She felt herself getting wetter and wetter at the sight of him getting off inside of her. She was the one pleasuring him behind the scenes. She was the one exploring parts of him the public would never see, much less Madeleine. She got to see a side of Liam that not a single soul would ever experience. It gave Elliott a new sense of security, despite the harrowing situation they were in.

He reached into the box again and grabbed a handheld vibrator she hadn’t seen before. “I’m close, my love, and I want to make sure you’re there with me,” he panted, before switching it on.

He tried handing it to her, but instead, she guided his hand between her legs. “Oh fuck, El,” he cursed, sweat trickling down his clean shaven chest.

He leaned over her, keeping his fast pace, and placed the quivering toy between her folds. She arched her back in response, pushing herself further into the pillow.

The sensation of the vibrator mixed with getting fucked brought her to the edge quickly, and she released, her body convulsing beneath Liam’s. She shrieked his name, clutching the sheets. “Oh, Liam, fuck.”

He quickly followed her, his pace becoming more jerky as he came with her. “Fuck, I love you, Elliott,” he shouted. The deep commanding bass of his voice reverberated off the stone walls.

When they could finally move, Liam plopped next to her, spooning her while peppering soft kisses across her neck and shoulders.

She couldn’t have imagined herself anywhere else in that moment but Liam’s arms.

----

After they cleaned up, Elliott threw on a robe and flopped onto the couch, turning on the TV to browse through channels.

He sat next to her shortly after, clad with sweats and a plain t-shirt. “This might be a terrible time, but we need to discuss something rather difficult.”

“That phrasing definitely scares me, but go ahead,” she joked, turning the TV off.

“We’re being pressured to pursue producing an heir,” Liam shook his head, pain and regret dripping off of his every syllable.

“Wh… What?” She forced out. Her knees wobbled, the air knocked out of her lungs. She knew it was coming, but not this soon after the wedding.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his hands balled into fists at his side.

“Why? You just got married! I thought we’d have a couple years at least!” she said, her voice hiking up an octave.

“With Constantine passing away and the terrorist attacks, there’s still some uneasiness within the people and nobles. They’re not sure that we’re still stable as a country. It’s more for the benefit of our image than anything. Trust me, I’ve held off as long as I could.” He couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Are you going to have to fuck her?” Elliott’s voice quivered, her breath unsteady. She didn’t know if she was ready for the answer.

His eyes widened. “No, Elliott, I would never. We don’t have feelings for each other like that. The public doesn’t need to know that we’re not having intercourse.”

Elliott’s chest loosened a bit, but she was still cautious as she waited for him to continue. “We’re either opting for adoption, or artificial insemination. There’s not a fertility issue with either of us, but we’re both not capable of sex with each other. It just can’t happen.” He held her gaze, pleading with her to understand.

“I–I can’t continue this if you’re going to have a child with her, Liam. I’d be a homewrecker. I can’t let you be that kind of dad to your kid,” Elliott shook her head, tears freely falling.

His jaw dropped, and he staggered back. “Elliott, my love, I–”

“I know you love me, and I know that I love you. I know that life is going to be so fucking hard without each other, but I can’t do this to your future kid,” she sobbed, sinking into the couch. “You and Madeleine may have consented to our relationship, but your child didn’t sign up for this. Imagine if they found out about us? He’d think so little of you. I can’t have that.”

Her shoulders shook, her breath heaving in and out of her lungs shakily. She was experiencing a loss like she’d never felt before. She could stay with the love of her life in order to satiate her desire to be with him, but at the expense of horrendous guilt, knowing she could possibly break a family up and warp Liam’s future child’s perception of him.

If they stayed together, and the public found out about them, he’d be painted as the bad guy, even though Madeleine encouraged the affair. She’d throw him to the wolves, and he’d be absolutely obliterated by the press.

There wasn’t a winning solution to this problem. They were going to have to do what was best for everyone else, instead of what they truly wanted.

“I’m so sorry, Liam, but I can’t do this. I love you, but I can’t do this anymore,” she repeated and the excruciating pain in her chest continued.

“Elliott, we can figure it out, I know we can–”

“We can’t, Liam! This is it! This is the last time you’re going to see me!” She shouted, her voice trembling and unstable.

“We can still be friends,” he said softly, kneeling next to her trembling form on the couch. “I still want you in my life no matter what, Elliott.”

Anger flashed through her disjointed train of thought. Before she could gather them together, she unleashed her momentary rage on him.

“You’re really that selfish, Liam? You’re that fucking selfish that you could want to maintain the picture perfect life and get everything you could ever want, while keeping me on a short leash? To be there for you emotionally, physically, sexually, but I get nothing in return?” She stood up, pushing an accusatory finger into his exposed chest.

“I have to work under a pen name because of everything that happened. You can’t even Google my government name without reading about how much of a whore I am. I risked my whole life and career to be with you, and you didn’t have the decency to publicly defend me. You just sided with everyone else except for the woman you supposedly ‘love’,” Elliott continued, pushing a tormented Liam closer and closer to the door.

“I have to fly back home when you’re done with me and leave all of my closest friends. This is my real home. I have people who love me and care for me here. I fell in love with Cordonia, its people, and you. But I’m pretty much a prisoner in a dungeon every time I come over,” she rolled her eyes, refusing to shut her mouth and let Liam speak. “All for sex. All for a quick fuck and less than 48 hours of your time before I’m shuttled off back to the cold, heartless city of New York.”

Liam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Elliott suddenly cackled, cutting off any attempt of him speaking.

“I forgot to tell you that I landed a book deal with a huge publishing company in the city. They want a few novels out of me. They loved my first rough draft of my book so much that they offered me a multi-book deal,” she smiled, shaking her head.

“That’s incredible, baby–”

“I was excited to tell you and instead all I can think about is how by the time I get my first book printed and released, you’ll have a kid. A family,” Elliott walked away from Liam, and sat at the kitchen table, taking a long swig from the champagne bottle.

After a long moment of silence between them, Liam finally spoke. “I know it seems like the universe is fighting us tooth and nail. I know that this situation is the worst we could be in. But Elliott,” he sat down across from her and lifted her chin up with his finger, “You’re the only woman I’ll ever love, and I won’t give up on this unless you tell me to leave you alone.”

“You know I don’t want to tell you to leave me alone. That’s the last fucking thing I want to do, but that’s how it has to be. You’re being selfish right now, Liam. You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes. This whole situation was selfish, but I guess it was okay since Madeleine okay-ed it,” she took another deep drink from the bottle. “But your child is completely innocent. They don’t deserve to be caught up in your selfish decisions.”

He flinched, and his form deflated. “I think… you might be right, El.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes glistening. “I guess it was absurd to think this affair would last forever.”

She smiled sadly. “It was fun while it lasted.”

“I’ll always love you, El. I’ve always been truthful about that. You’re the only woman I’ll ever love.”

She leaned forward to cup his face in her palm. “I’ll never love anyone the way I love you, Liam.” She took another gulp of the alcohol. “I guess now that you’re confessing, I’ll have to confess, too.”

His brows furrowed as he waited for her to continue.

“I have an appointment with my OBGYN next week. I’ve always wanted one, but I’ve been seriously contemplating a hysterectomy for months now. Since you married Madeleine, really.”

“What? Why?” His eyes widened in surprise.

“I can’t see myself with children, but I can with you. You’re the only man I could ever picture having children with,” her eyes filled with tears. “It’s not a punishment to myself. I just know in my heart I’ll never want children again.”

His eyes brimmed with tears threatening to spill. “I’m so sorry, Elliott.”

Her chin wobbled as the truth of the situation finally set in. She was no longer his, and he was no longer hers. The crown disrupted the fate of the lovers, and there was no amendment.

----

[prolestariwrites]

Time To Go [9] Epilogue: How To Lose A Fortune In 10 Days

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: M   Characters: Nero, Dante, Vergil, Kyrie, Nico, Trish, Morrison   Tags: Mystery, Humor, Missing Person, First Time, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Post-Canon Chapter: 9/9 Chapter [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

Summary: When Kyrie goes missing, Nero goes on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, Dante and Vergil go too. Sparda boys shenanigans, fighting demons, a smattering of family drama, and male bonding (otherwise known as Nero’s worst nightmare). Please check it out below, or you can read on FFNet or AO3.

It’s the last chapter!!! I’m so excited to have this story wrap up, but it being my first DMC fic it’s also a bit bittersweet too. I want to give a huge thanks to @copper-wasp for being such an awesome beta, and to @solynacea for being an amazing friend and cheerleader.

I have some new fics in the works and will be publishing new stuff in the next couple of weeks! Meanwhile please leave me a comment or emoji to let me know how you liked the story. I’m also planning a sequel so if you liked the fic and want more, let me know! Please enjoy and thank you to everyone for reading!

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Nero lounges on the couch, feet up on the ottoman, Kyrie curled up next to him. Her head rests on his shoulder, his hand rubbing her thigh as they watch a movie. It has been a few weeks since he had found her again, and he savors moments like this now, when the kids are in bed and the house is quiet and it can be just them together. Most guys his age are probably at a bar or club, but Nero must admit he likes this domesticity. Even though it was barely a full twenty-four hours, her disappearance had affected him, and only reinforced his determination to protect their family.

He turns and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Kyrie smiles up at him and wraps her arms around his, snuggling closer. "You look thoughtful," she murmurs.

"Just thinking of you," he replies.

Kyrie rests her head back on him, and Nero moves his arm around her waist, holding her tightly. Protect their family. The words had taken on a new meaning since his search. Particularly where Dante and Vergil stand; Nero has found his patience with them both is lasting a bit longer, his willingness to overlook their more ridiculous traits a bit easier. He had even started calling Vergil every few days to check on him or just say hello, even though the conversations are stilted and at times, uncomfortable. Dante is easier, but he always had been, their work allowing them a more natural way to bond and his natural goofiness not allowing any room for awkwardness.

He goes back to watching the movie, thinking about whether or not he should get Vergil a cell phone—a piece of technology the man is strangely against but would make all their lives a hell of a lot easier if he would just give in—when his own rings. Kyrie eases back as he fishes it out of his pocket, sighing when he sees Dante's number on the screen. "Yeah?" he chuckles as he swipes to answer.

"Hey kid, you home?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Cool."

The line goes dead and he frowns. Kyrie is sitting up, having paused the movie, and Nero looks over as she asks, "What was that?"

"Who knows."

Their front door bursts open, making them both jump. Dante and Vergil stroll inside, and it isn't so much the intrusion that has Nero gaping as what they are wearing. Vergi is in what is best described as a tuxedo; but it is purple, possibly velvet, with a tight doublet and a puffed collar, the monocle he wears and cane he carries completing the look of some medieval count. He flicks the tails of his coat behind him as he sits in their recliner, grinning.

Dante has taken the opposite track. His suit is bright orange, the shirt underneath unbuttoned to nearly his navel, several gold chains hanging on his chest. He taps his cowboy hat as he walks through the room, and when he does a turn Nero is startled to see he is wearing snakeskin boots that jingle with each step.

"What the actual fuck?" says Nero.

"Nero," Kyrie chastises with a laugh, her hand pressing to his arm as he continues to stare. Dante places a briefcase on the coffee table, and Nero shakes his head to see his fingers have several large, clearly fake gold rings.

"Wait until we tell you what happened," Dante says.

He and Kyrie exchange a glance. "Oh, I can't wait," he sighs.

Dante holds up his palms. "Get this. We were thinking, right, about what those dinguses said who took Kyrie. How mom's family had money. So we went to look, me and Vergil." He gestures between them. "We found the old house, and let me tell you, it looks like hell. But it's still there. I thought for sure there'd be some kind of, I don't know, strip mall or something there by now. But the land is untouched."

Nero looks between them. "Which means what?"

"Which means it still belongs to the Sparda family," Vergil says. "Not the bank. Which means Father and Mother had already paid it off."

"So we went to city hall in the nearest town," continues Dante. "Found the deed and everything. Sure enough, Eva Sparda, right there."

He pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to Nero. Kyrie peers over his shoulder as he reads, and just as Dante had described, it is a deed for two hundred and fifty acres of land, paid in full. "Wow," he says. "This must be worth a lot by now."

"Yeah! So Vergil and I went to the bank. We figured we could take out a loan, and use the place as collateral."

Nero frowns up at Dante. "You really think that's a good idea? Getting in more debt?"

"We didn't have to," Vergil says.

"What do you mean?"

Dante gestures excitedly as Vergil explains, "Once we gave our names, the banker recognized us. Said we had a safety deposit box there, that could only be opened when we came together."

"It's been there since we were born!" Dante exclaims. "It was opened when we were only a month old."

"So what was in it?" Nero asks, his own excitement starting to spark.

"Tons of stuff," Dante says. "Papers from the house, our birth certificates. Who knew I even had one?"

Nero chuckles. "You're official."

Dante nods. "I existed this whole time and never even knew."

"You've left out the best part," Vergil scolds him. "The deposit box also had the fortune those dinguses were after."

Both Nero and Kyrie give a gasp at the same time. "What do you mean, fortune?" Nero asks tightly.

"Stocks. Bonds. Stakes in all sorts of businesses." Dante grins and puts his hands on his hips. "Worth at least a million dollars."

The blood drains from Nero's face as he takes it all in. Their family, millionaires? This could be a game changer. They could move, get a bigger house, get out of the city like he's been dying to for years. They could afford to formally adopt. Samuel will be going to college in a few years—hell, Kyrie has been talking about taking classes too, and it can happen. A home, school, their futures secure.

His eyes slide to the briefcase on the table. "So what do we do?"

"Well," Dante says, rubbing the back of his neck. "It wasn't as easy as we thought. We called Morrison, and he hooked us up with his lawyer guy. We cashed in the money and paid off the debt we owed."

"You owed," Vergil interjects.

"Well devil hunting isn't easy. And I didn't exactly have a steady stream of income spending three months in hell, you know," Dante argues.

Nero shakes his head. "Wait. So there's nothing left?"

"Well I wouldn't say that," answers Dante. "I paid off the building, so I own it outright now. Then I paid the utilities, and the insurance I owed, and what I owed Lady, and what I had borrowed from Morrison, and paid all the back taxes."

"And I paid off my apartment, and the fines for um… some of my run-ins with the locals," Vergil adds.

"We also used some for these cool business outfits," Dante says. "What do you think?"

Nero blinks, but Kyrie answers, "You both look wonderful."

"We took your advice too, Nero," Vergil says quietly.

He frowns at his father. "My advice? What advice?"

"We hired a private investigator. Paid up front," replies Vergil. "We want to find out what happened to Sparda, once and for all. He is going to find us all the information he can, and then we're going to figure out where he is, and if he is alive."

"You'll come too, right?" Dante asks.

Nero hesitates for a moment before huffing out a laugh. "Sorry, I'm still processing all this." He glances at Kyrie, who is smiling broadly at him.

"It's amazing," she says sincerely.

"Yeah. Find Sparda, huh?" Nero chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'd be down for that. Sparda Family road trip, part two."

Dante cheers as Vergil chuckles, and Nero holds the deed out to return it. But Dante waves him off. "No, you keep it."

"What?"

"Vergil and I talked about it. You deserve something too, and neither one of us can take care of the place. You can sell it, or rebuild, or do whatever you want." Dante shrugs. "The property belongs to you now."

Nero looks between them in shock as Kyrie grips his arm. "Really? You're giving this to me?"

"Of course," Vergil says. "You're Eva's grandson. You should inherit her house."

"I don't know what to say." The money is gone, just like that; but that's okay, isn't it? In the end, they all got what they needed, and Nero smiles. "I'm happy for you guys," he says slowly. "I really am. And this… thank you." He looks over the deed one more time, his chest tightening a bit.

Kyrie kisses his cheek, pulling him out of his thoughts. "So what's with the briefcase?" he asks.

Dante grins and sits on the floor, laying it down to fiddle with the clasp. "Last of the money in here."

"Oh yeah?" Nero slides forward, wondering how much. Maybe a few thousand?

Instead, there are four Big Macs and a twenty-piece McNugget inside. "Celebratory dinner on us," Dante says happily.

He hands Vergil a sandwich before tossing one to Nero, which he looks down at in a mixture of amusement and confusion. "You guys really know how to live well," he laughs.

Dante pretends to "clink" his Big Mac with Kyrie's, and they dig into the meal when Nico appears at the door. "You guys still on your date?" she calls obnoxiously before gawking at them. "Hey! You got McDonald's and didn't tell me?" She plops down next to Dante, leaning over him to scoop up some nuggets. "Halloween was a week ago, you know," Nico jokes, eyeing his outfit.

"Hey, I make this look good," he says.

Nero laughs, listening to them argue and then team up together when Vergil jumps in. Kyrie leans against him and he puts his arm around her, giving her cheek a kiss. His eyes fall on the deed to the Sparda land as he smiles to himself. Protect their family. Yeah, absolutely.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A Place To Call Home (Part 1)

Summary: The reader isn’t thrilled to be going to yet another foster home and is simply looking to get by until she’s an adult. Only her new family isn’t going to let her give up so easy...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 7,100ish

Warnings: language, angst

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow when your case worker started to drive through a grand neighborhood full of million dollar homes.

“Hey, Cole? Are you sure we’re going the right direction?” you asked.

“I’m sure. I’ve been here a few times before. I think you’ll like it. It’s a pretty private home but still in a neighborhood. I know you weren’t a fan of the city place,” he said, turning down a side street.

“Yeah,” you said, staring out the window. It was a beautiful neighborhood, full of pretty trees and large homes with gated drives...but you didn’t plan on being there for long so there wasn’t much point of getting attached.

Cole turned down a driveway to reveal a huge home nestled back behind some trees, your head already shaking while he laughed.

“Okay, it’s big but they’re nice people, Y/N. These are the kind of people you deserve to be with,” he said, parking behind some high end luxury SUV and turning off the engine.

“Are they like stuck up snobs?” you asked, wincing as you glanced out the window. “I don’t think I can deal with that.”

“They are fairly normal from what I’ve seen. A bit sarcastic but then again, so are you. You’re their first foster child so they’re still learning all of this too,” he said.

“Oh, great. If I call you up and want to leave, how long before I can get in a new place?” you asked.

“Kid, I’ve known you for almost seven years. When have I ever not had your back?” he asked. “Even though you haven’t been in great places, we always got you moved somewhere else. These guys are different. We finally got you in a good home.”

“Until they decide to get rid of me again,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m on my own in just over a year anyways, Cole. I should honestly just try to get emancipated.”

“You know you’ll be turned down if you do that. I want you to give these people a chance, Y/N. They have 3 kids of their own, all young, but you’ll be the only foster there. You’ll get the one on one time you’ve never really had,” he said.

“Can we get this over with?” you asked, rolling your eyes again.

“Behave, Y/N,” he said. You slipped out of the car and went to the trunk, grabbing your backpack and duffel bag, Cole waiting as you looked around at the quiet yard. “Ready?”

“Foster home and new school number fourteen? Oh yeah, I’m totally excited,” you deadpanned.

“I think you’ll get along with them just fine,” he said with a smile. You sighed and followed him to a large front door, glancing through a window, spotting a large kitchen and family room. You stood next to Cole, used to the song and dance of awkward introductions by now.

You were surprised how young they were for a split second when the front door opened, the man and woman both wearing big smiles.

“Hi!” said the woman, opening the door wide so you could step inside. “I’m Danneel and this is my husband, Jensen. We’re the Ackles.”

“This is Y/N,” you heard Cole say but you were wide eyed, looking around the living room you were in, staring out the back window to see a pool and big yard and a big stretch of water and- “Y/N.”

“Hm?” you hummed, blinking a few times, turning to face them. “Oh. Hi. I’m Y/N.”

“Here, I can get that for you,” said Jensen, looking at the duffel on your shoulder and holding out a hand.

“I got it,” you said, Jensen nodding and dropping his arm to his side.

“So, Y/N. Why don’t we let these guys show you around and then us four can have some lunch together? Sound good?” asked Cole. You nodded, Jensen and Danneel both losing a little bit of their smiles when you didn’t say anything more. They showed you a thousand rooms it felt like and you were pretty sure you could barely find your bedroom if you needed to. They apologized that it was a bit plain and grownup since it’d been the guest room. There was a bathroom across the hall that’d be just yours to use though. You simply nodded and put down your bags in the new room, the couple showing you upstairs where their kids rooms were located.

They had a dog which was cool. Most of your homes didn’t have pets and you’d always wanted one, this guy a little older but he was cute and friendly still. You ate a few sandwiches at the kitchen island, Cole talking about a few things with them, going over his check in schedule again. You played with the dog some when you finished, Cole waving a hand in front of your face to get your attention.

“I’m heading out, Y/N. I’ll call in the morning to see how everyone’s first night went, okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said, getting a hug from him.

“Try for me, okay?” he said quietly. You gave him a small smile, Cole giving them both a quick exit rundown before he left. The house felt strangely quiet. All 13 homes you’d been in before, there were always other foster kids there, someone who understood. Now it was just you and two adults that had no clue what to do with you.

“You like dogs?” asked Jensen, walking around from the front door, Danneel hanging by the kitchen, sipping on her glass from lunch.

“Yeah,” you said, the little guy choosing that exact moment to walk away and go up some stairs to another part of the house.

“Some friends of ours are watching the three munchkins for the afternoon. Is there anything you’d like to do or need? You didn’t bring a lot with you,” said Jensen.

“I’m fine. May I go to my room, please?” you asked. He hummed and you stood up, walking for a moment before pausing and looking around.

“It’s just down that hall over there, sweetie,” said Danneel. You forced a smile and left, quickly closing the door behind you once you found it.

Everything was too perfect and nice and these people were so doing this to show off to friends or family or whatever charity crap thing they were involved in. You pulled out your phone, ready to figure out who they really were when a knock came at the door.

“It’s just Jensen. Can I come in for a second?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said back without thinking twice. You hadn’t had your own room since you were ten. You’d gotten so used to sharing and lack of privacy and not being given any in the first place, you were surprised to remember that you had some here.

“Hey,” he said as he stepped in wearing a smile, leaving the door open behind him and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Everything alright? Room okay?”

“Yes. Thank you,” you said. He stared for a moment and pursed his lips, pulling his hands out of his pockets and rubbing them against the back of his neck.

“Cole said this isn’t your first rodeo. It ain’t even your tenth rodeo,” said Jensen, dropping his hands, something sad on his face. “I know we’re strangers and you probably expect to be moved again but De and I, we’re not going to push you out. You turn seventeen next week. We want you to stay, no matter what or how long. We want you to know that.”

“You don’t even know me, Jensen. Only what you read in a file and what Cole told you. Don’t make promises you won’t keep. I’ve heard them all before,” you said calmly. He blinked at you, opening his mouth when you cut him off. “I’m only being honest.”

“Give us a chance to prove you wrong,” he said softly.

“No. You can go ahead and try but I won’t believe you. I won’t trust you either. It’s nothing against you or your wife or family. I’m just waiting this out, Jensen. A year max and I’m gone,” you said.

“I guess I got a year to change that then,” he said.

“You really shouldn’t waste your time,” you said.

“Helping one of my kids? Not wasting my time at all,” he said. His comment took you aback, Jensen nodding before he turned to leave. “This is your house too, Y/N. Feel free to roam around it.”

“Okay,” you said, grabbing your phone.

“Hey, before you go and look me up online, I got to ask one thing,” he said.

“What?” you asked.

“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

“It’s not polite to stare, Y/N,” said Jensen when you’d finally come out of your room. His tone was playful though and there was a small smirk on his face.

“You’re an actor? On a show that’s like five hundred thousand years old?” you asked.

“Hey now, I’m only 40,” he said, quietly chuckling.

“Still like I totally get the fancy house and cars now but why don’t you live in Hollywood? Why Texas?” you asked. Jensen sighed dramatically, resting his chin in his hand on the kitchen counter as he leaned over it.

“Maybe because I wanted to live here, away from that life style, close to where I grew up. Maybe because in the grand scheme of things, we were supposed to live here so you could join our family,” he said with a shrug. “Just a thought.”

“So you don’t live here all the time?” you asked.

“I don’t. De and the kids do. I hop back and forth most of the year. Our winter break started this week which is why we thought now would be a good time for you to come to us, before I have to head out in a month. Otherwise I travel back and forth on the weekends between here and Canada. I’ll have another nice long break in the spring and summer for a few months,” he said.

“You fly that far every weekend?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I like spending time with my family,” he said, giving you a smile before standing upright. “De should be back any sec.”

“Where’d she go?” you asked. You both heard another door in the house open, the sounds of tiny squeals and then bare feet barreling down a hall.

You saw a brown patch of hair followed by another, a slightly older girl with blonde hair on the tail end, all rushing in front of you in the kitchen and coming to a stop.

“Guys, this is Y/N. Let’s take it-“ said Danneel, the little boy and girl both giving your legs a hug. “Easy.”

“Hi!” said the girl, the boy echoing after her.

“They’re twins,” said Jensen.

“Hi! I’m JJ,” said the girl, standing back for a moment before deciding to dive in and give you a hug too.

“Uh, hello,” you said, giving them all a light half hug, glancing to someone for help.

“That’s enough, rugrats. Y/N’s had a long day,” said Jensen. They eventually all peeled off, the boy grabbing your hand though and walking you over to a couch in the family room, climbing up next to you and grabbing a stuffed dog from the corner. He handed it to you and stared at you.

“Thank you?” you said, the boy wrapping his arms around you before hopping onto the floor.

“Zeppelin picked that out of all of his toys to give to you,” said Jensen.

“Me?” asked the little girl, looking at her parents.

“Go ahead Arrow,” said Danneel. Arrow and JJ took off down a hall, popping out of a room with a little bag. You peeled it open when they returned, pulling out a pair of bright pink and obnoxious pajamas. “The girls both have a matching pair. They wanted their big sister to have some too.”

“Thanks,” you said, giving them smiles, carefully putting the items back in the bag.

“You’re kind of funny,” said JJ after a moment.

“JJ,” said Jensen. “That’s rude.”

“She is! She doesn’t get excited for presents,” she said.

“We already told you guys Y/N’s having a long day today. She’s also a lot bigger than you so we don’t expect her to act like you guys do,” said Jensen.

“Oh. Sorry, Y/N,” she said.

“It’s okay,” you said.

“Alright. I say we grab some dinner and get some grub in the tikes pronto,” said Jensen. “Y/N’s not the only one with a long day around here.”

“Hey,” said Jensen, knocking on the door to your room later that night. “You like dinner? You haven’t said much today.”

“It was good. Thank you,” you said.

“I mean, I appreciate this well behaved thing you have going on but you are a person. You can say you don’t like veggie lasagna and not get in trouble for it,” he said, flashing a knowing smirk.

“It’s not really my place to question it when food is given to me,” you said.

“Right...that sounded really weird you realize, right?” he asked, coming in and taking a seat on the bed.

“Old habits,” you said, scooting over on the bed.

“That was the sixth home, wasn’t it? The super shitty one?” he asked. You stared at him, Jensen chuckling. “You’re almost seventeen. I’m not afraid to swear in front of you, kiddo.”

“Yeah. It was the sixth one,” you said, rubbing your arm.

“Here’s the deal. You don’t like something, speak up. Whether it’s dinner or something we say or do...nothing bad is ever going to happen here. I swear,” he said.

“I don’t really like cooked vegetables. Some but not really in lasagna,” you said.

“Makes two of us,” he said. “Want a burger instead? I was going to whip one up on the grill now that the three musketeers are down and out for the count.”

“No thank you. I’m full,” you said.

“Kid...olive branch. Take it,” he said. You rolled your eyes, Jensen humming. “Oh, so you aren’t a robot after all.”

You glared at him, his face dropping.

“I didn’t...it was a joke since…” he said.

“I’m tired. I want to go to bed,” you said.

“Alright. If you get hungry, kitchen is right around the corner,” he said as he stood up. “I’m sorry if I-“

“It’s fine. I’m just tired,” you said.

“You know where our room is if you need us?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said quietly.

“Okay. Sleep tight,” he said. You nodded and he pulled the door shut on his way out.

The sooner this guy left you the hell alone the better.

“Rise and shine!” you heard, a fist pounding on your door. You grumbled and threw it open, Jensen smiling at you. “Wow. Look at that bedhead.”

“What,” you growled.

“Not a morning person, okay,” he said, taking a step back. “Well put on some clothes and get dressed. It’s Sunday so breakfast burritos for breakfast. Let’s go.”

“I’d prefer to stay here,” you said.

“Wasn’t asking. Fifteen minutes,” he said.

About twenty later you were in a back seat, driving out of the neighborhood, JJ sitting next to you, the twins all the way in the back.

“What are you gonna get?” she asked.

“Don’t know. Never been before,” you said.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“16. 17 on Friday,” you said.

“Are you gonna have a party and invite your friends over?” she asked.

“No,” you said, staring out the window.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have friends and I don’t have birthday parties,” you said. She didn’t ask anything else and you realized you’d probably been too blunt with her. “How old are you, JJ?”

“Five,” she said.

“You go to kindergarten?” you asked.

“Uh huh. What grade are you in?” she asked.

“I’m a junior,” you said.

“Y/N’s going to go to your school, JJ. Just in the other building for the bigger kids,” said Danneel. They started to explain the new school to you, Jensen eventually stopping outside a small restaurant. JJ piled out but you stayed to help unbuckle the little ones, Danneel thanking you as you handed them off. She got them sat at a table while Jensen went to order.

“...and kiddo will take a classic, a spicy cheese and a loaded,” said Jensen.

“Um, I can’t eat all that,” you said.

“Well I’ll eat your leftovers. I’m sure you’ll find one of them you like,” he said. You stayed up there for a moment, helping carry the food back to the table, everyone diving in. “Go ahead.”

You cut off a piece of the classic first, not expecting eggs, sausage, peppers, cheese and bacon inside.

The spicy cheese one was amazing as was the loaded, Jensen smirking when you ditched the fork and knife and just started eating it with your hands.

“So Y/N, I was thinking after we stop home, you and me could go shopping, pick up some girl stuff for you,” said Danneel.

“Oh. What’s in the bathroom is perfectly fine,” you said.

“It’ll be fun. I swear.”

“First things first, we are so going shoe shopping,” said Danneel, walking into a mall with you on her tail. “Do you like those sneakers?”

“I guess,” you said.

“There’s a store that always has that brand on sale,” she said, turning right, popping into a huge one filled with row after row of shoes. “Alright. Sneakers, some flip flops, boots. A pair of black flats and heels because every woman needs a pair of those…”

“My shoes are fine, honesty,” you said.

“Those sneakers are literally falling apart. You can save them for doing stuff out in the yard or something. We’ll get you a new pair,” she said.

“I really don’t need those other shoes though,” you said. She paused, smiling to herself.

“Sorry. You must think I’m...I want you to be comfortable is all, sweetie. You shift on your feet a lot. I thought you were nervous but those sneakers just don’t have any support, do they?” she asked.

“These one’s I got for free at a holiday thing once. I don’t think I can afford a pair brand new,” you said

“Y/N. I don’t expect you to pay for a thing today. We get the sneakers, an extra pair or two of jeans for you, maybe a couple shirts and a jacket since I know I didn’t see you bring one. We’ll keep it simple and then grab a late lunch, okay?”

“Okay.”

“How’d you make out today? Survive the shopping trip to hell?” asked Jensen as he leaned against your door, Danneel whacking him on the back of the head as she walked past with a laundry basket. “Hey, I’m still not over the incident of ‘09.”

“Let it go, Jens,” said Danneel with a smirk, setting the basket down in your room. “We can wash up the new stuff once the tags are off.”

“Thanks, De,” you said. She headed out and Jensen walked inside, glancing at the clothes on your bed.

“You like the clothes?” he asked. You nodded, Jensen moving his hand around from his back, holding out a empty black duffel bag. “Your other one looked like the strap was tearing. I’ve only used this one a couple of times. It’s bigger too.”

“Thanks,” you said, holding it in your hands for a moment. “Why are you giving me this?”

“Cole advised we read up on some stuff before we met you. I know you aren’t going anywhere but I know it’s important to you to know that you have the ability to go. All your new and old stuff would definitely fit in there,” said Jensen.

“Is that what it said in the kiddie shrink book?” you asked with a laugh.

“No. It’s what the war vet one did,” said Jensen, watching you stare at him. “Like you said, me and De both read your file. You put up with crap people shouldn’t have to. You’re not just a kid that’s parents passed away. If a duffel bag makes you feel a little better, you can have a duffel bag.”

“Thanks,” you said, setting the bag on the ground. “Is this stuff okay to go to a private school with? The clothes and jacket I mean?”

“Yeah. It is private but it’s not uppity uppity. JJ wore a pajama shirt last week if your worried,” he said.

“JJ is also not in high school,” you said.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he said, ruffling your head. “It’ll be fine.”

“Hi!” said Jensen, standing outside of his car after school Monday. “How’d the first day go?”

“Alright,” you said, JJ running up beside you from her building.

“What about you?” he asked.

“I painted a cat in art class and I learned how to spell Mississippi today,” she said.

“Oh, exciting. Anything like that happen for you, Y/N?” asked Jensen.

“I got assigned a paper on media and my lab partner in chem is an idiot,” you said, pulling your backpack off your shoulders.

“That’s not nice,” said JJ. “Maybe they just aren’t as smart as you.”

“Maybe,” you said. “It was just another new school. I’m used to it.”

“Well De and I want you to get involved in something. Maybe a club or sport,” he said.

“I don’t really do that stuff,” you said, climbing into the passenger seat.

“What do you do then?” he asked once he got in, JJ buckled in the backseat.

“Nothing.”

“Um,” you said, knocking on the door to Jensen and Danneel’s room a few nights later, both of them sitting on a bench in front of window, the dog passed out at their feet. “Sorry, but I had a question.”

“You’re always welcome to come in,” said Danneel, waving you over. “What’s up?”

“Do you guys have a computer? I wrote a paper for school but it needs to be typed,” you said.

“There should be a laptop in your room, kiddo,” said Jensen. “The printer’s in our office.”

“Oh. Okay,” you said, turning to go when he tsked you.

“That’s for you to keep, Y/N. A little early birthday present from us,” he said.

“That’s too much,” you said.

“Take it. You’ll need it for school and maybe college someday,” he said.

“Thanks.”

You made it to Friday, mostly busy with school and getting caught up until Zeppelin wandered into your room close to six.

“Hey little dude,” you said, putting away your computer. “What’s up and what are you doing being all unsupervised?”

“Doggy,” said Zeppelin, glancing at your bed. “Can I have ‘im?”

“You want your doggy back?” you asked, grabbing it off of one of the nightstands, handing it to him. “Here you go.”

“No. Yours,” he pouted. You held up your hands and put it back, the boy scrunching up his face.

“You look a lot like your dad, Zeppelin,” you said, the boy huffing. “What’s wrong?”

“I want doggy,” said Zeppelin. “Icky.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand, sweetheart,” you said, bending down and giving him a smile.

“He’s looking for Icarus,” said Jensen, leaning around the doorframe. Zeppelin nodded. “He’s in the family room, bud.”

“Okay,” said Zeppelin, glancing back at his dad. “Surprise!”

“Uh…” you said, Jensen rolling his eyes and stepping in, scooping up Zeppelin under his arm.

“Never send a boy to do a man’s job,” said Jensen, grabbing your hand. “Come on.”

“Come on where…” you asked, pulling away your hand quickly.

“We’re having a little birthday party for you,” he said, holding out his hand. You stared at it until he dropped it. “It’s just us six, I swear.”

You grumbled but followed down the hall, a cake sitting on the kitchen counter. JJ and Arrow were all smiles and your forced one on your face for the kids. You felt the adults watching you carefully though and you did your best to keep things light and airy, even helping put the kids to bed a few hours later.

“I’m gonna get some sleep,” you said when you’d finished up for the night.

“Alright. Night, sweetie,” said Danneel. You hummed as you left the kitchen, pausing once you rounded the corner. “Why do I feel like that went horrible?”

“Because it did. The kid doesn’t even smile for her own birthday,” said Jensen with a sigh. “Not to mention I grabbed her hand earlier and she about tore my arm off ripping out of it.”

“Jens, Cole said she has an issue with men touching her,” said Danneel. “It’s nothing you did.”

“Yeah but I scared her. She’s not happy. She rations her food, barely talks to us…” he said.

“She spent a lot of time in some bad places, Jensen. We knew that going into this,” said Danneel. “She’s a strong girl but she’s guarded and she’s not letting her walls down because we made her a cake or bought her some new t shirts. She’s used to scraping by and this is overwhelming in a way we can’t understand.”

“This is not the happy family I thought we’d have, De,” he said quietly. You lifted your chin and walked back to your room, packing up your backpack with your old things. You did pull on your jacket but otherwise everything else new stayed behind. You carefully made your way to the garage door and punched in the number on the keypad, slipping outside before anyone saw a thing.

It was getting late and the sun had gone down hours ago. It was raining and you were cold but you could find somewhere to hunker down once you got off the dark road you were on.

Tomorrow you’d call Cole, try to file for your emancipation and go stay somewhere else where you weren’t ruining the Ackles perfect little family anymore. It was obvious you weren’t the only unhappy one there and you weren’t getting attached again. You just weren’t. No matter if they tried to buy you things or throw you the first birthday party you’d had in forever.

“Fucking assholes,” you muttered, wiping your hand against your face. “You don’t even like those people you idiot. Just forget about it. You’re a charity case to them, plain and simple.”

But the longer you walked, the longer you got cold and wet, the longer you had to think. They were kind to you and had given you space you wanted. They’d even asked their children to give you that space. They’d read books and tried to treat you like a normal teenager for the first time and it was the first home you weren’t afraid of since you’d wound up in that shitty system.

That terrified you the most because what if they didn’t get bored or mean like the others had? What if you’d just run away for no reason?

No, you left so they could be happy. They didn’t need you around to screw up their lives anymore than you already had.

You were shivering, walking along a road that hopefully took you to a bus stop or shelter when headlights flashed behind you. The car went past, like all the others had, until it suddenly swerved onto the shoulder. You paused and saw the drivers side open, Jensen in a raincoat jumping out.

“Y/N!” he said. You stared at him, Jensen immediately walking over. You inhaled sharply, not expecting the pair of strong arms to wrap around you and pull you to his chest. “Scared us to death, kiddo.”

He kissed the top of your head and pulled back, giving you a sad smile.

“You hurt?” he asked, touching your cheek. “Shit. You’re like an icicle. Let’s get you home.”

“No,” you said quietly, Jensen scrunching up his face. “I don’t want to.”

“I...Y/N if I scared you earlier or just now, I am so sorry, honey. I am. You don’t have to run away. I will never hurt you, ever. I’ll protect you, that’s my job,” he said. You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. “Yeah. It is. Let’s go home.”

“S’not my home. It’s yours,” you said. Jensen tilted his head, not getting it quite yet. “Most families I went to weren’t good and the few that were, I knew I wasn’t much to them and always got moved real fast. Your family is good though and I’m gonna screw it up. I already screwed it up.”

“No, no, sweetie. You haven’t,” he said.

“I’m not a normal teenager or person. I just want to be by myself. Please,” you said.

“You are normal and very bad things have happened to you, and me and De don’t give a shit about any of them. We’re trying our best and we don’t know how to prove to you that you’re exactly what we want in our family yet. We’re still learning and part of that is going to take time, for all of us. Give us the chance, please,” he said gently.

“Leave,” you said, a mixture of rain and a few tears running down your face, this guy just not getting it.

“Not happening,” he said.

“I said leave,” you said again.

“I said I’m not abandoning you on the side of the road in the middle of the night, frozen half to death, where who knows what or who is going to come along and do god knows what to you,” he said.

“Leave me alone,” you forced out, brushing past him, walking around the car and along the shoulder again. Something bumped against your arm and you glared when you saw him. “I said-”

“You can’t exactly make me not walk next to you so deal with it,” he said. You frowned and kept walking, waiting for him to turn around and go back to his car. Five minutes later he was still right there and were getting so horribly cold.

“Why won’t you just let me go? I haven’t even known you a week,” you said as you came to a stop.

“I don’t care how long I’ve known you,” he said.

“Jensen-”

“You are my child and I don’t give a fuck if it’s been a day or a week or however long. I will give you all the things those three little ones have. De and I both. You can talk to us, about the crap you carry, about your past, about your parents. I know, I know, you have every right to be afraid. I am begging you to trust me, for just a second because I know how hard it is for you, but to trust me that you will never ruin this family. You make it better. We need you to know that, Y/N. We don’t want you to be afraid anymore, to think that even our affection has a price. We want you to come home, honey. Please.”

It was too apparent that you were crying after that, ducking your head down and Jensen pulling you in for a hug, rubbing a hand up and down your back as he shushed you. You barely remembered the walk back to the car, freezing as you got in and he blasted all of the heat on you.

“Hey,” said Jensen, Danneel hopping up from the couch when you both walked in dripping water everywhere a half hour later. “We need to get her warmed up.”

“Take a hot shower and I’ll crank up the heat, get some warm pajamas for her,” she said. Jensen turned you down the hall to your room, putting your wet backpack in the laundry room while you got in the shower. You were cold for most of it but weren’t shaking anymore, Danneel knocking once to bring in warm clothes, asking you come to their room when you finished.

You sighed but eventually got out to face the music. The pajamas were warm, something fleece. You dried your hair as best you could before you slowly walked across the house to their room, knocking on the door. It opened and Danneel was quickly there, wrapping a blanket around you.

“Sit on the bed,” she said. You kept your head down and sat on the end, Danneel nodding for you to move up. You heard Jensen moving around somewhere, walking out of their own bathroom with warm pajamas of his own after a minute. “You too. Warm up.”

You stared at your lap, waiting for the yelling to start.

“Feel better?” asked Jensen as he sat down facing you. You nodded but kept your gaze down, the bed dipping as Danneel sat on your other side doing the same.

“I know it’s very late and we’re all a bit exhausted,” she said. “We’ll talk more in the morning but right now our main concern is that you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“We’re not asking that. We want to know if you’re okay, Y/N,” said Jensen. His foot tapped your leg and you risked a glance up, nothing but a concerned pair of faces staring back.

“I don’t think you guys…” you started, cutting yourself off, taking a shaky breath. “I appreciate everything you both have done for me and given me. I do. I know you’re trying to make me feel like a part of your family. But neither one of you are listening to me. I don’t want a family. I’m done with it. I just want to grow up and go somewhere else and go live a quiet life by myself. I don’t want this thing you’re trying to force on me.”

“Try that again but this time, don��t lie,” said Jensen. You scrunched up your face, his own softening. “On the road you said you didn’t want to ruin our family.”

“I was lying,” you said. They shared a look, Danneel shutting her eyes. “I don’t care what you say. In the morning, I’m going to emancipate myself.”

“Sweetie, you can’t and even if you tried, you’d likely be denied. You don’t have a job or income. You’d have no insurance. You’d need a place to live, food. You aren’t in a bad home at the moment...it’s not something we believe is in your best interest,” she said.

“Cole mentioned that this was something you’ve been bringing up lately. It’s part of why he chose us. He believes we could be your permanent home if you let us,” said Jensen.

“Maybe I’ll just run away again then,” you said with a scoff. “Do a better job this time.”

“We’ll come looking again,” he said.

“Why will you people not listen to me? I. Don’t. Want. You,” you spat out. Danneel looked down, Jensen’s jaw clenching briefly. He hopped off the bed, curling his finger at you.

“Up. Now,” he said. You climbed off the bed slowly, Jensen walking out of the room. You stared down the short hallway, Jensen crossing his arms. “Here.”

You scurried over there, Jensen stepping to the front door, walking out to the covered entrance. You followed, Jensen staring out at the dark yard, rain coming down hard. You didn’t dare speak. You’d seen enough angry people to know when they were about to snap.

“A little bit of grown up advice? Life is fucking hard,” he said, glancing at you. “Most of the time, you don’t realize how hard it is until you get older, become an adult. You’ve dealt with shit I don’t know if I could or not. You’re strong. But if you want to be treated like an adult, fine. Here’s the honest truth. You’ve been very mean to us tonight. Not the kids, just me and De. You hurt her feelings in there and I mean really hurt them. You hurt mine. Adults have feelings too, Y/N. We want you to have love and a family because that out there? That dark, cold place? That’s what being alone is. No one wants that. Anyone who says that is lying because they’re afraid of being hurt. I know you think we’re going to hurt you. I know for split second it crossed your mind that I was going to do something to you out here even. But all I’m doing is saying the crap De doesn’t need to hear right now.

“There’s your home and family,” he said, pointing back at the open front door then turning to the yard. “There’s your independence. There’s your adult life when you have no one to turn to. No family or friends. No one to check on you when you have nightmares. No one to make you a meal when you’re sick. No one to give a shit if you drove home safe. If you want to go, fine. It’s your choice. But I’m following and I promise you I won’t quit until you decide to turn around and come back home. I don’t care how mean you try to act because I know that’s all it is. It’s just an act. So it’s your choice, Y/N. We going for another walk in the rain tonight or we going back inside?”

“You’re mad at me,” you said, shifting on your feet. “Like really mad. But you didn’t do anything.”

“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed. I’m failing you. We’re all failing you. I can’t even get you to trust me that I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said.

You frowned, his hard face you thought was hiding anger before slipping, a broken thing in it’s place. You swallowed thickly and stepped in front of him, grabbing his wrist and holding up his hand, turning it around.

“You’re really strong, aren’t you,” you whispered. He didn’t say anything. You dropped his hand, putting a hand on his bicep. “Really strong.”

You pulled it away and walked around him, Jensen standing still but watching you go. You stopped in front of him, hesitating for a moment before you gave him a very loose hug. He tensed up, body rigid while you got closer.

“Tonight I hurt you, didn’t I. Not physically but…” you trailed off. “I think my parents would be disappointed in me too.”

“I don’t believe that and I never said I was disappointed in you,” he said, carefully raising his arms up to return the hug. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I just...I’ve gotten attached to people too many times. Then they turn out to be monsters or I never hear from them ever again and I realize they never cared about me the way I did them. It starts to hurt and I already hurt. I’ve been in this system almost half my life and no one ever wanted me. I’m 17 now and no one, I mean no one, ever picks out the 17 year old to join the family. No one adopts us and I’m too scared of getting close again so I come off as mean and standoffish and no one wants that.”

“Lucky for you I know this kickass family that does want a 17 year old. She’s not mean or standoffish either. She’s very smart, very protective of herself. I know it’ll take time for those walls to come down. We’re willing to put in the effort,” he said.

“Can we go back inside now?” you asked. He nodded, letting you pull away, on your tail as you both stepped into the house. You heard him lock up as you went to their bedroom, De sitting on the bed, fiddling with one of the blankets. “De?”

She popped her head up, giving you a short smile.

“I’m sorry for tonight and for being rude,” you said, feeling Jensen walk in behind you. “I won’t leave again.”

“Thank you for your apology,” she said, watching Jensen pick up a blanket and hand it to you.

“Get some sleep, honey,” he said once you took it.

“Okay,” you said, tucking it under your arm, running your hand over it. “Thank you for the birthday party.”

“You’re welcome. We’ll talk more in the morning. Go rest,” said Jensen. You nodded and left, climbing under your covers with your blanket on top once you were in your room. You were halfway asleep when the door opened softly, a quiet thud on your nightstand. You rolled over and saw a glass of water, Jensen not seeing you as he pulled the door shut after him.

For the first time since you got there, you slept soundly.

A/N: Read Part 2 here!