#finally he comes back after brutally killing a lot of people and she lifts his chin up and doesn't quite smile

[queenofmalkier]

Now I'm stuck on how unhinged and depraved and AWFUL Tuon/Gawyn could be.

[avocado-writing]

Hi, I really like the way you write BG3 party members! I had a thought for a while and wanted to request the main party with a Revenant!Tav? Imagine all the angst that comes with Tav only seeking vengeance on their killer, knowing that their time is limited (revenants have only 1 year to enact their revenge). Or maybe the companions try to find a way of making them 'alive' again, if you want a happy ending? I just think it has a lot of potential and want to know your thoughts!

this one is a bit angsty, so reader beware

My beautiful boy Astarion understands the need for revenge, and is committed to helping you get it if you help him kill Cazador. The two of you stay up late at night to discuss tactics, how you will enact your brutality upon the people who deserve it… but then Astarion realises that you do not talk about what comes after, like he does when he considers a life without his abuser. He does a little research and finally finds what a revenant is. It breaks his heart to think that you’d die at the end of your quest because… well, he loves you. He begs you to reconsider. That there are other ways. You don’t need to be like him. But you take his cheek in your hand and tell him there is no other path for you, so the two of you must just enjoy the time you have together. If he finds a way to cure you, he’s yours forever - if not, the time you have together is sacred. He wastes not a second.

Gale immediately researching about how to lift your curse, that the two of you may live a happy life together after you get your revenge. You tell him not to bother, it’s too much effort, he needs to move on and find someone better - someone with a life worth giving to him. He deserves proper, warm, and tender love, something your dead heart isn’t capable of giving. He does not listen. He doubles down, desperate to keep you in his arms. Maybe he finds some secret forgotten rite which allows you to live after you’ve killed the person who wronged you… or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he watches you die and pass on peacefully when you’re done, then does everything he can to ascend to godhood and bring your soul back into his arms. Either way, nothing will stop your wizard. 

Wyll listens to your story with a heaviness in his heart, but he knows he wasn’t upfront about his past either… but that does give him an idea. One night, with no way to understand how or why, you feel your curse being lifted, life returning properly to your body. When you seek out your Blade he tries to act pleased, but there’s something weighing on him. It does not take long to realise that he has given up his soul in its entirety to Mizora in order to restore yours. You cry and wail and beat at his chest pathetically. How could he make such a trade? You are not worth it. He holds you at arm’s length to look you over and tells you you’ve always been worth it, and he’d make his choice a thousand times over again. You love him so utterly that you're brought to silence. You vow to make the best of this gift he’s given you, with him by your side.

She knows what it is like to live your last days, does Karlach. The infernal engine in her will kill her sooner rather than later, so she indulges with you. Rich food, fine wine, long evenings of partying and celebrations of life. At Baldur’s Gate you hold her after she kills Gortash, and she begs you not to follow her suit, because revenge isnt worth it. This confession just leaves you empty. There is nothing left after except hollowness. And maybe you listen to her, the two of you find a way out of your curse and go on to Avernus to live out your happiness there (or what you can muster of it) or maybe you ignore her, or your time runs out, and she is left to face the Absolute alone - and lets herself burn on that dock, because a life without you isn’t a life at all.

Lae’zel is excited about your revenge. Enthusiastic, even supportive. She does not understand the nature of your curse. Many a long evening is spent training with her so you may sharpen your abilities, and she gains a great respect for you as both a warrior and a person. Either you find a cure which allows you to be together… or too late does she find out what your revenge brings. She holds you in her arms as you pass, your final words ones of love as your body goes limp and your soul passes into a different plane. She takes a lock of your hair and keeps it on her as a reminder. It is all she has left, after all.

Shadowheart is a great supporter of you… as a Sharran. She pushes for your revenge, evangelising the merits of you killing the person who wronged you, as it’s what Lady Shar would want. But then, as a Selûnite, she begins to think differently. Life is sweeter than she believed. There is more to it than suffering, and she wants to experience the loveliness of it with you by her side. She spends her nights poring over tomes to try and cure you. Maybe she finds a way with her new goddess. If not, when you pass, she keeps you in her heart forever, trying to move on with the guidance of her new goddess, but always feeling just that little bit empty without you.

Taglist:  @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kat @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @useless-contributions @beardedladyqueen @snoozeeebee @hopeful-n-sad

[fallatyourfeet]

Faded Shadows (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Summary: Alfie never could have guessed how things would play out after you virtually forced your way into his office.

Word count: 1205

Warnings: Swearing, lots and lots of it. Alludes to physical abuse. And the reader is a newly widowed woman.

A/N: Okay, so this fic started off with playful intentions, but quickly grew pretty macabre. I take no responsibility for it. It just happened. It's not my fault.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

It was true. The people in Alfie’s neighbourhood were hardly known for their fine King’s English. It's fair to say the Camden Town tongue was a little rough around the edges and not shy of curse word or two. And Alfie’s ears were certainly no stranger to the odd colourful word slipping from the mouths of the women in his life. But never, as a boy, teenager or fully grown man had he heard such brutal language coming from such a sweet-sounding voice. If everyone around him swore like sailors, then the faceless voice causing a ruckus from somewhere outside his office, surely wrote the sailor’s dictionary. 

Partly frustrated but mostly amused, Alfie dropped his pen to the desk and leaned back in his chair, listening to the string of words caught between the all the expletives. “Fucking let go of me you filthy c**ts, I’m gonna get in that fucking room one way or another... That bastard in there, had my bloody husband killed... and I wanna see his goddamn face.”  

Alfie’s amusement dissolved, replaced by an audible sigh of dread as he mumbled under his breath, “Fuck... a bloody widow.” Yelling out to Caleb, he demanded, “Let the woman in would ya, she ain’t gonna let it go.” Standing up he moved to the side of his desk, mumbling to himself again, “Might as well get this over with.” 

Coming through the door between two of his men, you ripped your arms from their grip, giving them the filthiest look as you did so. Your face was one of the sweetest things he had ever seen, but the look was so deadly Alfie had to hold back a chuckle. ‘You were a feisty one, weren’t you?’ 

Taking a deep calming breath, you smoothed over your dress. It was well worn and long out of fashion, but you were immaculate. You obviously didn’t have a penny to scratch together, but you took pride in yourself, making the most of what you had. And Alfie found himself warming to you already. 

Running your fingers through your hair, you tamed all the locks that had escaped during your scuffle with his men, and finally looked at him. Your expression had lost almost all of its venom, nearly matching the sweetness of your beautiful features and he instantly felt a pang of guilt. One, for being the reason you were now a widow, and two, for finding a newly widowed woman so bloody attractive.  

Lifting your chin in a show of defiance; or was it pride? you held his intense gaze, and if you felt a single ounce of fear, you did not show it. Either way, he thought to himself, ‘Hmph, beautiful and brave.’  

Clearing your throat, you spoke, your words suddenly devoid of any of the foul language he heard spilling from your mouth just moments ago, “Alfie Solomons?” 

With a nod, Alfie crossed his arms before him, “Yeah, that’d be me.” 

Taking a step closer, you also nodded your head, your eyes never leaving his, “My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and your men murdered my husband, Peter, three days ago.” Alfie opened his mouth to respond, but you held a single finger in the air, a silent, but very clear gesture to shut him up. The moment he closed his mouth you lowered your hand, and continued, “Did they shoot him on your order?”  

Alfie wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Sure, from time to time he lost a bit of sleep over the number of men that were tossed into shallow graves by his order. But the reality of standing there, looking into your expressive E/C eyes and taking responsibility for killing the man you loved, twisted like a burning hot poker in his stomach. He doubted he would sleep for months.  

A moment of silence passed, and your expression shifted with a touch of impatience while you waited for your answer. Moving his arms from across his chest, he shuffled on his feet, his hands coming to rest at his hips, it was almost defensive, “Yeah, I did... He was becoming too much of a liability.” Alfie almost cringed at his words. Although true, they seemed too harsh as he heard them slip from his lips. His bluntness had never bothered him before but using it on you felt like a crime. Raising his hands in the air, he quickly spoke again, wanting to rephrase a little more tactfully, “I’m sorry, forgive my bluntness... but your husband-” 

Taking him by surprise, you cut him off, “Stop. I don’t need to know the reason.” Alfie stood there, mouth open, completely unprepared for the words you spoke next, “You don’t know how many times I stood beside that drunk, good for nothin’ monster as he lay passed out on the bed, just wishing I was brave enough to push a pillow against his face.” Honestly, Alfie was at a loss for words, but you were not. Taking a step closer, you were almost close enough to touch. Searching your eyes, he tried to understand the gratitude they held, but he quickly understood when you spoke again, “I’m thankful he’s gone... but I’m thankful I didn’t have to do it myself... because I don’t think I could have lived with the guilt.”  

And that was when Alfie saw them, the faded shadows across your arms... around the base of your neck... and along your cheekbone. The ghosts of bruises partially disguised by whatever powder you had covered them with. Suddenly, any worries he had about sleepless nights, dissolved. The only guilt he felt was for not killing the bastard sooner.  

Words finally found their way to his lips, trying to lighten the rather heavy interaction, “Well, ain’t this a fuckin’ turn of events? I thought I was a goner when I heard you out the front of my office... Remind me to never get on your bad side, yeah?” 

For the first time, you looked a little coy, “Ah... yeah sorry about the language. My mouth has a habit of running away with me when I’m worked up... and your men just wouldn’t listen.” 

Alfie chuckled, “With a mouth like that, you fit right in around here.” Speaking the words flicked a switch on inside his head. This feisty little firecracker of a woman really would fit right in, and God knows he was drowning in paperwork. It was high time he could do with some help. If he was being completely honest with himself, the thought of having you close by pleased him in ways he couldn’t explain. And under his protection he could make sure he never had to see those horrible faded shadows across your skin again. He would make sure of it. 

Moving back to his seat behind the desk, he gestured to the chair in front, “Why don’t cha take a seat Mrs Y/L/N, I’d like to make a little proposition... and if ya accept, those men out the front will have no choice but to listen to ya.” Resting his elbows on the desk, he leaned forward and asked, your answering smile, lighting up the edges of his heart. “How well do ya know your way around a typewriter?” 

[sugolara]

𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚

ft. Katsuki Bakugo x Shoto Todoroki x Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn

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Deciding to get out of the road in case someone dangerous spots them, they moved and sat underneath a tree, sitting on a fallen log. Izuku's eyes can't help but stare at her bloody clothes and imagine what horrors she had to go through.

Feeling his eyes on her form she glances to her hands, “It’s not mine. The blood. It doesn’t belong to me.”

Izuku's eyelids casted down as he stared at his muddy shoes, "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare. It's just... how do I know you're not infected or… bitten?"

F/n shrugs, "You don't. You can trust your instinct and kill me right here." 

Not wanting Izuku to not trust her, she removed her jacket and slightly lifted up her shirt. Izuku watches in confusion but looks away when she begins to lift her shirt and turns. “See, no bite marks.”

Convince, and mostly because he feels like it’s wrong for staring at her body, he hands her the jacket and nods. Although Izuku trusts F/n's word, he wants to make sure that she hasn’t hurt anyone to save her life, so he hesitates before speaking, "Can I ask you who's blood you got on?"

Seeing his question coming, F/n didn't really tell him the whole truth and made up a lie as she didn’t want to talk about her family being brutally eaten, "This person I met on the road. We got swarmed by a horde and next thing I knew, blood splattered on me and saw them being ripped apart in pieces."

Izuku doesn't say anything as he looks away from her. Maybe he shouldn't have said that and left it alone. Looking to the side, Izuku smiles as he then stands up and puts his dirty yellow backpack on. Once successfully putting his bag on he looks at F/n, "Where are you heading?"

F/n shrugs and meets his eyes, "Don't know. Wherever my feet take me. Why?"

“Well,” Izuku starts with a warm tiny smile, “I don’t have a camp and I’m all alone. I plan on leaving the city since it’s more dangerous here. It would be nice to have company. Do you want to come with me?”

Shocked but yet relieved, F/n smiles and scoffs. With nothing to do she grabs her bag and places her empty pistol in her back pocket of her jeans, "Sure, why the hell not."

Smiling even more at his now new companions' answer, Izuku takes the lead as he begins to walk the opposite way of his hometown. Izuku isn't really sure if he knows where he's going, but if it's far from the city, then so be it. He feels content that he finally found someone and is no longer alone. And he hopes it's the same for F/n.

While walking to what he hoped for was the next town, Izuku asks her what she was doing lying on the road. F/n nervously chuckles and scratches her neck, "I got tired of walking and needed a break." 

Humming at her answer, a peaceful silence washed over the two as they thought about the last two months when the outbreak had started. 

After a few hours of walking the sun had begun to die down. Izuku and F/n looked towards the yellow-orangey sky. She then heard Izuku sigh, "We need to find shelter before it gets completely dark. I’ve noticed the dead seem to be more active at night.”

“Must be from the cool air.” F/n said as she glanced around and as if the heavens must have heard them, in the distance she spotted a cabin. Getting off the road and onto the side, Izuku followed her, "Look."

Before reaching the cabin, Izuku held her back, “You have a weapon?” 

F/n shook her head and watched as Izuku unzipped his yellow backpack pulling out a crowbar and a hammer. He handed her a crowbar while he kept the hammer to himself. He then cautiously told her to watch her step and keep quiet as they approached the cabin.

Once making it to the front door, F/n stayed back as Izuku turned the doorknob and the door slowly opened. While the door was slightly ajar, Izuku banged his hammer lightly to the wooded walls. When nothing approached and he heard no moaning or growls he took a step in and told his companion to be careful.

Closing the door behind her, F/n noticed a few locks on the door. Locking and securing the door, she turned around to see Izuku rummaging through cabinets and drawers. 

She looked around the room and saw two twin beds sitting in the right corner, a bucket on top of a bed, a kitchen to her left, and in front of the kitchen was a small fireplace. The beds were spaced out as a drawer separated it. 

She walked to the kitchen and checked the cabinets only to see pots and dishes. As Izuku looked in the fridge, she heard a defeated sigh coming from Izuku, “Everything's rotting.” 

Closing the cabinet, she hummed, “Maybe there’s a grocery store or a convenience store up ahead.” 

Izuku nodded and walked to the beds, “We’ll check tomorrow morning.” 

Sending an ‘okay’, F/n walked to the other bed that was near the wall and set her stuff down. She peered to the next bed and saw Izuku already laying down facing the kitchen. She let out a low sigh and layed down facing the ceiling.

Tonight would be the first night she would sleep without her family. The first night where her sister and brother wouldn’t seek her comfort and where she wouldn’t hear her parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles bid her a ‘goodnight’ and ‘I love you’. And her cousin making her stay up with stupid jokes and made up stories.

She could feel her eyes water and let out a low desperate sigh. She turned to her side facing the wall with her back turned to Izuku. In a fetal position, she hugged her legs and let her eyes closed hoping that tomorrow would be better.

Unknowingly, Izuku let his eyes fall as he heard F/n let out a few sighs. Although Izuku doesn’t know what F/n had gone through, he hoped that eventually she would feel better and not let stress get the best of her. 

[zutaras-where-its-at]

Vampire Hunters

he’s never worked with a partner before.

no, he’s much more comfortable going it alone, especially with how quickly he tends to work. after all, he isn’t considered one of the top-paid hunters of their region for no reason.

for the longest time, he didn’t think other hunters would ever be able to catch up to him. not with his extensive experience in the field.

he’s been hunting longer than most people have even known vampires existed, and the older hunters all suffer from archaic methods and bad backs that overrule their decades of knowledge. he’s younger, stronger, more ambitious than the lot of them.

which is why it had come as quite the surprise when he’d finally met his match that fateful midnight of october the 15th.

she’d stolen his kill right out from under him, with a brutal efficiency he never saw coming (neither did the vampire, poor sap). indignant—and more than a little impressed—he’d approached her as she looted the body, accusing her of lurking and taking the shot after he had done most of the work.

katara had only lifted one dark eyebrow, scanned him slowly head-to-toe, and asked if he always accused pretty girls of cheating when he lost.

he’d never felt so belittled (and flustered) in his life.

their partnership bloomed quite rapidly after that, partly because her skills happened to compliment his own perfectly, and partly because there seemed to be a sort of pull between them.

before he even knows it, they’ve surpassed his own personal record for last year’s confirmed kills within just four months, and every diocese in a seventy mile radius begins to backlog their commissions.

all the while, zuko and katara grow ever closer.

he learns her mother was killed by a vampire, which prompted her into an early spree of hunting. he tells her how his own mother was killed after his father turned—how he got his scar from setting fire to their home to drive the bastard out.

they spend the long hours of their day talking and laughing as they travel from town to town. his awe of her grows more and more profound as he studies the way she seems to move like water, smooth and sharp. she scales trees like they’re mere steps to the sky, beats him in sprints when they compete for the hell of it, and once, he swears he saw her snap a vampire’s neck with the same ease it would take for him to break a toothpick.

in hindsight, it really shouldn’t have come as such a shock when he barges into her room (he doesn’t know where his silver-tipped arrows are and he thinks she might have packed them away in her bag yesterday by mistake, has she seen them any—) and sees her crouching over the kitchen maid’s limp body, crimson blood dripping messily from the two sharp fangs he doesn’t remember her having.

and, absurdly, the only thing he can think of is—she is a fucking cheater.

[tommyspeakycap]

I love your work! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something about (toddler) baby Shelby having Alfie help her bake a cake for Tommy

omggggg that’s so so cute!!

A Bakers Help

The burly Camden Town ‘baker’ was nothing short of completely shocked when he heard a soft banging on his office door in the mid afternoon. His eyebrows had furrowed and he had kept his hand readily on his weapon so he was prepared in the event of an enemy being on the other side of the door. He was surprised to say the least when he tugged open the door and had to look down multiple inches to spot she who knocked on the door.

There stood a little girl. One he knew fairly well but who’s appearance outside his office was still a shock. That little girl was notorious around most of England, especially in heavily gang populated territories where the “Shelby” was a household name and everybody who knew that name knew the littlest member of the family was something akin to a jewel in Tommy Shelby’s crown. Alfie had been curious as to whether or not she was actually attached to Thomas Shelby’s hip in consideration to how much time she spent right by his side, teetering along on little legs so he knew she was safe right by his side. It wasn’t often that Tommy entrusted others to watch over his youngest sister, so it would be safe to say that Alfie was incredibly confused.

“Good morning.” The little girl greets, her lips plastered with a bright smile as she lifts a hand to wave at him. Alfie braces himself on either side of his doorway with strong hands so as to lean out of his office to look out into the ‘bakery’ to both the left and right before stepping back in. “Mhm yes it was actually. Where’s your brothers?” He asks, turning his eyes back to the girl in the doorway who fights to pull her wool coat back up from falling off her arms due to the fact it hadn’t been buttoned up. The girl shrugs, “Dunno...Can I come in?” She asks politely, “It’s very cold.”

Alfie Solomons squints his eyes and forms a crease between his brows, but even he can’t deny the chill in the winter breeze through the unheated factory and the shivering of the child, and so he steps to the side and gestures her in the door. Alfie hums, or maybe something more akin to a grumble, in thought as the five year old wanders around his office to take in the whole surroundings. “And where are your pikey brothers then yeah?” His voice rumbles deep and gravelly the same way it always does, not missing the chance or thinking twice about dropping an insult to the Shelby men as he speaks. The youngest of the clan shrugs her little shoulders. “Dunno,” she says again, “I’m with Ada. Told her i was going out to play.”

The words most definitely do worry Alfie Solomons after the girl with Tommy Shelby’s striking blue eyes and his heart in the palm of her tiny hand finishes speaking flippantly. It occurs to him that she’s simply too young to understand both risk and consequence. She knows that Tommy Shelby dotes on her like the little princess he believes her to be. She knows he loves her, he tells her every day. However, Alfie knows the far darker side to that love. He’s heard of people brutally murdered with remains unidentifiable after coming close to her, and although Alfie has no desire to harm a child who probably doesn’t even understand what it is the rest of her family do when she’s not around, that doesn’t reassure him even in the slightest that Tommy, Arthur, Ada and John Shelby along with Polly Gray wouldn’t rip him to shreds if they knew their little princess was stood in his office for whatever reason.

“Right,” Alfie states, “Better get you home then,” He strides easily towards the door to hold it open, but the little girl simply quirks one eyebrow and remains where she stands. “It’s Tommy’s birthday soon.” She declares, looking up at the hardened London gangster as if he poses no threat nor fear to her in the slightest bit. She smiles at him, big and bright. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know if he was violent, didn’t know if he was supposed to be scary. She just knew she had met him before, he was relatively funny as the 5 year old obviously did not pick up on the thinly veiled threats hiding beneath the verbal back and forth between her favourite brother and the man she stood with now, and more importantly than anything; she knew he was a ‘baker’. “You need a cake on your birthday, you know.” She adds very matter of factly, and Alfie Solomons doesn’t fight the little grin he gives. “And you’re a baker, so you can make good cakes. I need you to help me make Tommy’s cake for birthday cake time on Saturday.”

There’s virtually no way this little girl had just come up with this by herself. The way she acts, her generosity, her sweetness and her absolute insistence of cake for her brothers birthday was not something she had adapted by herself. Children don’t just come up with these things. That thought, for Alfie, means that those who have raised her have drilled a certain kindness into her. Thomas Shelby has raised his little sister to be the kind of kid who will find a man she thinks is a baker just because her brother told her he was, so that he can help her make a cake. That makes Alfie want to laugh. Tommy Shelby acts the part, but Solomons now knows he’s the type who taught a little girl about the importance of cake and birthday fun.

“Fine.” Alfie responds, out stretching his arm to gesture the little girl out into the factory. He did actually have a designated area for the ‘bakery’ just in the event that someone came looking or investigating and he needed to show there was actually a bakery there. He was thankful for that now, because he got the feeling that there was little to no chance he would have gotten away from the very very persistent little Shelby trailing behind him. It becomes apparent very quickly that little (y/n) will have no luck when it comes to seeing what was going on up on the counter, considering she wasn’t even nearly the same height as it, never mind tall enough see over it. Alfie has to get creative in that respect, eyes flicking around until they lands on a a stack of crates that he grabs a couple of to pile them next to the counter so that the youngest Shelby can contribute as she pleased to the cake making.

All things considered, Alfie was actually a fairly good baker. He didn’t come up with the idea of a bakery to cover his illegal business work for no reason. He knew he could bake if it was necessary (which it sometimes was to smuggle alcohol), so this ask from the little girl who had a list of ingredients and an exact image of how she wanted this cake to look, wasn’t a huge task for him.

In the process of the bake, Alfie learned a lot. He learned that little Shelby couldn’t quite pronounce her L’s (which Tommy was apparently working on with her), so she called him Afie. He learned that Tommy’s favourite cake was vanilla sponge, which was why it was a four tier vanilla sponge with extra strawberry jam that his sweet little sister had chosen. He learned that the little girl got here by very discretely tripping up her cousin, Karl, so that Ada was preoccupied giving him a plaster for his knee and stopping his tears and (y/n) snuck off from Ada’s London home in the direction she felt like she remembered Tommy going when he had taken her to Alfie’s bakery once, albeit leaving her in the car with Arthur and John. She had to ask for directions from confused strangers a few times, but ultimately she found the place on her own. Alfie learned that little Shelby talks a lot. She’s very clever, can follow instructions a lot better than most children of a similar age. It had become increasingly clear she didn’t see any problem with talking about the fun things she did with her brothers. The way Arthur and John like to throw her about to hear her giggles, how Tommy tucks her in every single night that he can. How he tickles her, how he still carries her around even though her aunt Polly protests it. How good her aunt Polly’s cooking is. How much she loves her family. She sees no problem with divulging these soft family moments, although Tommy would probably be absolutely appalled that people knew these things about him and his brothers. It made the head of the Peaky Blinders seem so incredibly mundane.

Alfie could see now why that sweet girl was so loved and held so dear by the family. He also had to wonder if she truly was one of them. She was funny and bright, she giggled with him and babbled on about sorts of rubbish. Alas, she was bossy as Thomas himself. She was loud like Arthur, sarcastic as John, self assured as Polly, as independent as Finn and opinionated as Ada. She made sure to tell Alfie exactly how to stack the first layer while she mixed ingredients for the next layer and he was kept on a very short leash, reminded every so often that he was not to dip his fingers in any of the mixtures and leaning over as he worked to tell him Tommy liked more jam than what Alfie had put on.

“Wait!” She yelps out, leaping off the makeshift kitchen stool made from those bottle crates to chase after Alfie until she reaches the man who was carrying the cake towards a box. “Finishing touches,” she insists, ever so slightly dusting the cake with powdered icing sugar to give a final decorational appearance. Alfie smiles subconsciously as the small girl stands back with a proud grin, turning her eyes to man holding the cake, “Thank you Afie,” she beams, her cute little way of saying his name never lost on him as his heart flutters. “Welcome, baby Shelby.” He responds as he slips it into the cake box he’d ordered one of his men to go and get without question.

Alfie was certain he would step outside his bakery and London would be burning. He expected to have Shelby’s killing people on the streets searching for their baby, their sweet little princess. He assumed (and rightly so) that Ada hadn’t told Tommy that she had absolutely no idea where his most precious little love was for genuine fear of his reaction and so she had mobilised some friends and acquaintances she had made while in London to try finding her little sister. Albeit they were evidently unsuccessful and absolutely no one expected little (y/n) to be baking with Alfie Solomons for her gangster brothers birthday because she just loves him so.

Ada literally burst out the front door frantically when she saw the car headlights pull up outside her house, wrapping herself tightly in her coat as Alfie Solomons lifts her little sister down out of the car. The 5 year old stands innocent as ever next to the man who Tommy never truly knows if he can trust or not as he reaches back into the car to lift out a white cake box with two strong hands. “Better keep a closer eye on this one yeah?” He gestured his head to (y/n) who runs towards Ada and jumps into her open arms to be squeezed incredibly, almost painfully tightly. “Never run off like that again!” She hisses, her concern and anxiety clear behind her words as she speaks into her sisters soft hair, stroking it with her hand for some form of reassurance.

“Sorry Ada,” she hums cutely in response, “We made Tommy a cake though, for his birthday!” Ada let’s go of (y/n) and turns to the little girl. “Go inside and find Aunt Pol, i’ll be in shortly.” She says as she eyes Alfie Solomons with the stoney faced glare he assumes she learned from Polly Gray and her often stoney resolve. “Bye bye Afie!” The 5 year old chimes, scuttling up to him to wrap her arms around his legs for a moment before turning and running off with a wave at the doorstep with Alfie a little bit to stunned by how kind she was to him despite the bad man he was to do much else than wave after her. “You,” Ada snipped, cutting him out of his thoughts and crossing her arms firmly over her chest, “Baked a cake with my little sister?” Her words leak with confusion, eyebrows furrowed with her head tilted in question as she continues to be unable to think of any reason why Alfie Solomons hadn’t turned the little girl away or even used her as a bargaining chip with threats of harm to the child if Tommy didn’t do as Alfie wanted. Instead he baked with her a cake for Thomas and she was returned without a bump, not even a hair on her head harmed. He had returned the little Shelby who was uncharacteristically clumsy for a Shelby without her falling off of anything, burning herself on any ovens or accidentally eating something she was supposed to.

“Yeah.” Alfie responds, shrugging his shoulders at the same time. Ada steps closer to him to try in some way to read what he’s not saying, her heels clicking with each step. “And you want nothing for it?” She presses, her eyes narrowed as he shrugs. “Birthday gift innit yeah?” He grumbles, handing the cake to Ada. “She’s the best of you lot,” he states firmly as he turns his back to climb back into his car, “Keep her that way yeah?”

Ada’s frown turns to a soft smile as she nods, watching as Alfie Solomons pulls his door shut firmly and turns on his ignition.

“Mr Solomons, Oi!” She calls after him, forcing him to roll down his window to hear what she has to say. “Thank you.” She breathes, “For looking after her and bringing her home. And for the cake.” Alfie nods his head in acknowledgment. Ada isn’t sure what else to say. She still feels fairly nauseous at the fact her little sister was missing for virtually the whole day and littered with further nerves at the fact Tommy would be around to pick her up in a half hour and it wasn’t like little Shelby to keep quiet about anything, especially not when it came to Tommy and especially when it came to her adventures that her favourite brother hadn’t been part of, so assuredly she would let him know all about her baking day with Alfie after the cake was revealed tomorrow afternoon for his birthday. Alfie knew this too and he imagined he’d get a visit from the head of the Peaky Blinders relatively soon after he found out.

Tommy would probably be as confused as Ada as to why Alfie looked after little (y/n) the way he did. Alfie couldn’t even really explain it himself, she just warmed up his heart and the sweet little girl showed Alfie truly why Tommy loves that little girl so much. She brings laughter and happiness and fun. She brings light into a very, very dark life and Alfie appreciates that dedication Tommy had to keeping her safe a lot more now. He himself now had a soft spot for the kid and there was a part of him that knew for a fact he too would be making sure no one in his circle was breathing words of harming that little girl who had promised she would bake with him again, and had his birthday written on her hand so she could bake for his birthday.

Maybe the Shelby’s weren’t so bad after all.

[moonctzeny]

get to you again

pairing: friends to lovers! hendery x fem!reader 

genre: smut, just a tiny teeny bit angsty I guess but with a happy ending, fluff

word count: 3k

warnings: raw sex, creampie, a little corruption kink?

summary:  “You wanted to lurch forward at him, tackle him onto the dusty road, and thank him by kissing every inch of his face. Hold him under the stars until you were covered with his smell, and the necklace wouldn’t be needed anymore; you could cling onto that memory instead. The urge was so strong that it made your heart physically hurt, knowing that you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have. But the heart wants what it wants, right?”

inspiration: get to you again - mac ayres

tagging the lovely: @markresonates

It had been too long since you last saw Hendery.

You two had met so unexpectedly, both trapped in a small coffee shop a couple years ago, drenched to the bone and trying to find cover from the sudden rainfall.

“I was going to ask you if you were willing to share your umbrella, but I’m guessing you forgot it on the wrong day like me”, he joked, so you decided to share a table instead. After the fourth time he had you clench your stomach in laughter, out of the sheer willingness to make a stranger like you cheer up, you decided to exchange phone numbers, thus starting what would become a beautiful friendship.

It wasn’t easy being an idol. Two promotions in Korea, then a reality show in China, then another comeback. You counted the days, one by one until he’d get to you again. Until you’d finally re-watch his favorite movie with him for the millionth time, just to get to watch him laugh over the same stupid lines.

You weren’t sure when you realized you had fallen for him. Maybe it was last winter, almost exactly a year ago when he handed you your Christmas present. He had driven you on a hill on the outskirts of Seoul, the only place he knew with some privacy from prying eyes, and the breathtaking view of the tiny city lights made the freezing cold worth it. You were both sitting against the hood of his car, admiring the big city that seemed to unravel at your feet when you opened the small velvet box.

It revealed a silver necklace of two wings hanging from a dainty chain, with his initials carved on the back of the charm. As you stared at it long enough to make sure you weren’t making things up, you couldn’t decide which one was more beautiful- the pendant or the stars in Hendery’s eyes as he waited for your reaction.

“It’s symbolic”, he started explaining, a little embarrassed with how much effort he had put into the gift, “I know I’m not around a lot to take care of you, but just know that I’m always there if you need me. Like your guardian angel”.

He sounded so wholesome while saying it, long bangs covering his eyes that bashfully avoided yours. You wanted to lurch forward at him, tackle him onto the dusty road, and thank him by kissing every inch of his face. Hold him under the stars until you were covered with his smell, and the necklace wouldn’t be needed anymore; you could cling onto that memory instead. The urge was so strong that it made your heart physically hurt, knowing that you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have. But the heart wants what it wants, right?

Tonight, it was beating as fast as the rhythm of the blinking Christmas lights decorating your living room. How could it not, with Hendery sitting only a few inches away, sharing a blanket with you? He was a few minutes late due to a last-minute photoshoot, but he arrived at your door bare faced and dressed in his favourite flannel shirt. He was just how you liked him, raw and soft and beautiful.

Unlike what you had predicted, he suggested checking out a new romantic comedy on Netflix. It was one of those that come out every Christmas season, all with the same low budget and cheesy acting that ended with some festive spirit that magically solves every plot hole. Two childhood friends, falling in love with each other, yet the girl thinks that the guy is way out of her league so she does nothing about it. The pure irony convinced you that the universe must be surely playing some sick joke on you, forcing you to look at a Hollywood version of yourself getting a happy ending for the next two hours.

“I don’t understand”, Hendery huffs in frustration, midway into the film by now, “why doesn’t the girl just tell him she likes him? What guy doesn’t want to hear that?”

“Maybe she’s scared of the rejection, or ruining everything-“ you start defending the character with a raised voice, realizing that maybe you’re invested in the movie a little too much, “sometimes there is this line between two people, and it’s comfortable to stay behind it because you don’t want to lose them in case something goes wrong”. You draw an invisible line with your index finger between your bodies, and Hendery focuses his stare on it as if it was real. He looks lost in his thoughts, still frozen in place before shaking his head and murmuring: “I guess you’re right”.

Your comment, his response, the sex scene playing on the screen. It all made you so painfully alert with his presence that your whole body tensed up and your mouth dried up like it was filled with cotton. You both chuckle in the midst of all the steaminess, as the actor fails to drag his former best friend at the edge of the bed by tagging on her ankle.

“What a loser”, Hendery scoffs mockingly at the character’s mistake, and you turn around to give him a side eyed glare.

“Relax, muscle man. Like you would do it better”

He mocks offense by opening his mouth dramatically, and you giggle at the distortion of his face that still somehow managed to look pretty. It was so cute, how he always wanted to look ‘strong’ in the eyes of others, reliable and macho. You didn’t care about any of that, you thought his resolutions were stupid. He was perfect in your eyes.

“Of course I would! I’m strong, look-“

The disaster played out in front of you like a filmstrip. His hands on your ankle, then his own ankle tripping over the blanket on the floor, and finally the feeling of his chest weighing down over your own. With him pressed so close against you, you were sure he must feel the way your heart is thumping, filled with so many emotions that it’s ready to jump out of your body.

The room was cold, but with Hendery’s sudden body heat coating you, you felt like you were on fire. The fleeting thought of you taking off your clothes, to relieve yourself of the suffocating feeling made your cheeks burn even more. Hendery’s neck was exposed just inches in front of you in it’s full glory, and you thought about where those veins on the side of it, visible through his pale skin, ended. You’d gladly kiss along the path they drew, let your teeth leave little violet blossoms on the way, while you’d make mental notes of what kisses made him react the loudest.

It’s his bangs tickling your temples that made you realize that he is still on top of you. You look up into his eyes, expecting a frantic look, maybe a string of apologies leaving his mouth. He was strangely serene, staring at your own lips instead, and for a second you thought he’d finally mercy you and give you what you daydream about every time he comes around. You’d kill for the sight of him with puffy red lips and blown out pupils, messy just for you. You’d kill for the feeling of his tongue against your own.

When he plants a kiss on your right cheek, right over the corner of your mouth, you think it tastes bittersweet. You were still high on the intimacy when he finally apologizes and rips his body away from yours, your crash back down to reality brutal. The movie was still playing on a high volume, yet all you heard was a deafening silence after his trip. You don’t object when he tells you he has to go before you get to see what happens to the couple behind the screen. They were eating you away, all the things you wanted to say to him as you sent him off, so much more than just a ‘drive safe, text me when you get home’.

Those thirty minutes after you close your front door felt like a lifetime. You replayed the accident over and over again in your head, the skin burning where he kissed you. The thoughts of calling him, telling him to turn around and finish what he started, were so loud that you felt like a crazy person.

You certainly thought you went insane when you heard a knock against your door. Peeking through the peephole, you’re surprised to see that, as if you’d unlocked the secret of manifestation, Hendery was standing once again in your hallway.

“Guanheng? Did you forget anything?”

He looked restless and fidgety as he walked back inside your apartment, like he couldn’t wait to let out whatever was on the tip of his tongue. His shoulders were coated in a light layer of snow that had managed to flush his face, and dampen his hair and eyelashes as well.

“No- well- yes, I-“. He stopped himself mid sentence and sighed, and you let him collect his thoughts. He looked serious, the expression foreign on his usually bright features, yet the way he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration made butterflies fly in your stomach. “What did you say about that line between two friends again? When we were watching the movie?”

You blinked back at him in confusion, waiting for him to tell you that he’s joking, he just forgot his charger, and he’ll see you again when his company allows him to. But he doesn’t, so you start to roll the pendant he gifted you between your thumb and index, trying to calm yourself down.

“It keeps two people that are meant to be together apart, but there is too much at stake to cross it”.

You start drawing that invisible line again, the one that separates the miserable comfort of denying your feelings for him and everything you wish you were brave enough to pursue.

He would be brave for the both of you.

Hendery grabs your lifted hand, bringing it on the side of his neck before he crashes his lips against yours. You don’t hesitate in kissing him back, hungry for his lips that taste as sweet as you imagined them to. He hasn’t realized how impossibly close to his body he has brought you, not until his embrace gets so tight that your necklace pokes uncomfortably against his chest.

You suck on his bottom lip and he welcomes you with his tongue, the kiss getting so heated now that you can’t help but tug on his hair to keep you grounded. Shivering from your action, his hands are now sliding from your hips to your waist, following the curves of your body until he reaches the underside of your breasts. You mewl against his lips as his thumbs dig into their softness, discreetly trying to cop a feel through your cotton shirt.

A moan leaves your mouth, lewd and desperate as he swallows it with a kiss, and he rips himself off of you when it seems to reach his stomach. He looks disheveled, as if he woke up from an intense, lucid dream; panting, sweating, staring at you with those big puppy eyes.

“We- we shouldn’t. We are going too fast, right?” You nod in agreement at his question but you’re not really listening. You had your fingertips placed on his moving lips, and he identifies the metallic smell as the remnants of you fidgeting with your jewelry earlier. “I should take you to dinner first, to that one place you like so much”. Losing interest in what he is saying, the words being too distant and grey when he stood so deliciously in front of you, you mindlessly start to unbutton his shirt, fascinated with that mole over his collarbone and wanting to see more.

The fire your fingers spread against his skin, in the midst of the chilliness of your living room has him groaning under his breath, with a voice as low and sexy as in his good morning calls. You can practically see him throw all his inhibitions out the window when he kisses you again, pushing you with his body until your back finds the nearest wall. Hendery’s hands are far from gentle now, leaving bruises behind all the soft spots he kneads with his fingers.

“I want you”, you confess with a whisper as you rid him off his flannel for good, and you can’t stop yourself from tracing all the lines of his toned abdomen. You can feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest, its fast rhythm matching yours. You grab his hand to lead him to the carpet next to the Christmas tree that is blinking along with the lights that adorn it- you’re too impatient in your arousal to take him to your bedroom and he doesn’t protest.

Hendery lays you on your back, finding his place between your legs as you wrap them around his waist to bring him closer. You remove your hoodie and the sports bra you had on, his lips immediately latching onto one of your nipples. He circles his tongue around the bud, licking and sucking on it interchangeably until you’re a begging mess underneath him.

Tugging on the elastic band of his sweats, you urge him to get naked for you completely, and he removes the extra garments with a strong pull. His sex bouces out of its cotton constraint, red and throbbing and aching for you. It makes the heat that’s pooling on your lower stomach spread even further, and you wiggle your hips to remove your sweatpants as well.

There’s something about the frilly pink panties you’re wearing- the innocent design on your shapely body that ignites a carnal instinct in him. He wants to ruin you, mark you, make you his. The sound of fabric getting ripped has your eyes bulge out in shock. You’ve never seen Hendery so determined.

He falls on top of you again, leaving urgent kisses on your jawline as he rubs his hard member against your heat. It’s driving you insane, how he’s so close to where you want him but not quite there yet, and you tug his hair again to make him look at you.

“I wanna feel you raw”

And raw was how he’d give it to you. You feel his warm hand over your stomach, keeping you in place as he aligns himself with your entrance, and the pressure his tip’s already feeling has him cursing out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this”

He dips himself slowly into your pussy, careful not to stretch you uncomfortably much. His worried eyes are glued to your wide ones, reading your expressions to ensure they’re those of pleasure. And indeed they are, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he bottoms out fully, a symphony of both your moans filling the room.

He starts out with a steady rhythm, your pussy adjusting to his size with every calculated thrust. You’re getting drunk with the intimacy, with his smell that sticks to your skin and the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear. You feel addicted to it already, to the feeling of having him be a part of you, and as his growing desperation has him picking up his pace, yours makes you wish you could live in that moment forever.

“I don’t think I’ll last much longer”

”Neither do I”

He can tell how close you are, your heaving chest and guttural sounds giving you away. His cold fingers find your clit then, rubbing your sensitivity in messy circles and pumping more blood to the area.

“Yes, baby. Let go for me”

Little stars of various colors dance around in your vision, framing the sight of Hendery fucking into you so beautifully. You enjoy the hypersensitivity that the continuing motion of his hips gives you, locking your legs around his waist as his thrusts turn sloppy.

“Come inside me”

Just those simple words, slipping out of your pretty mouth are enough to send him over the edge, grunting as he paints your walls in ropes of white. You feel him twitching inside you for a good while, your belly bulging in fullness. It drips out of you slowly when he finally gets off of you, his hands spreading your thighs apart so that he can admire his creation.

He chuckles in disbelief of what you two just did, removing a piece of fake snow that somehow landed on your hair. You can only admire the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down, all the little curves and shadows on his neck, his smile that gives you tunnel vision.

“All this time…”, he whispers softly, “you liked me too?”

You silently winced at the naiveness of his words, knowing damn well your feelings ran way deeper than a simple attraction. Nodding affirmatively, you avoid looking at his eyes by pretending to play with his fingers. You can’t let him see the way they have glossed up, yet the numbing feeling of disappointment is getting hard to ignore.

He doesn’t let you distance yourself from him further, lifting your chin up so you can make eye contact with him again. To your surprise, he looks way more nervous than you, subconsciously nibbling on his lower lip. He takes a deep breath, mustering up some courage before verbally letting his thoughts out of his chest.

“What if I told you I am in love with you?”

You were shocked at the confession, so much so that this reality seemed like a figment of your subconscious mind. You expected to wake up at any moment, to find yourself asleep on your couch, two feet away from him and still stuck in the sucky friendzone. But that moment never came, no matter how long you held your breath to trigger your awakening, and you let it go with a sigh and a blurb of your own thoughts.

“I’d ask you to be mine”

[castiellesbian]

i feel like i need a glossary of terms or a contact list for all these people involved with the show. i have shit memory and dont pay attention to the credits who is sera (sara??) and why does everyone hate her!! why is he Bobo!!!!!! please... has anyone posted about this im desperate

lol well including everyone involved with the show would be difficult, but I’ll give you some highlights

Eric Kripke: creator of Supernatural, showrunner for seasons 1-5. People have differing opinions about him but general people enjoyed his run and he’s considered the best showrunner in the series overall. Not much to say because there’s a lot to say lmao (notable episodes: “Pilot,” “Lazarus Rising,” and “Swan Song”)

Sera Gamble: writer who was involved from the beginning of the show, became showrunner after Kripke left. Her seasons, 6 and 7, are typically regarded as the weakest seasons. She was a huge brothers-only supporter, and was responsible for Misha being written out of the show (as well as Jim Beaver, Bobby) in order to get the show to just be about the brothers again. There’s a lot of drama regarding her treatment of Misha/Cas, but more recently she’s known for the Magicians debacle, a horrendous example of the Bury Your Gays trope. She’s also involved with (the showrunner of?) You on Netflix. She was a pretty good writer, but overall fans dislike her because of her showrunning tenure (notable episodes: “Faith” with Raelle Tucker, “Death’s Door,” “The Born-Again Identity”)

Jeremy Carver: writer from season 3 that was promoted to showrunner from seasons 8 through.... some time in 12, the timeline has been a little murky to me. He was the one who brought Cas back into the main plot, as well as allowing the deancas storyline to become genuine subtext (we can argue whether it was queerbaiting or what he was intending to do if he had been running the series finale, but yeah). Unfortunately, he was also the showrunner when Charlie was killed off brutally, which dampens his legacy. People are conflicted about his seasons, but generally he’s looked upon favorably (not related, but the picture that comes up when you search him on google is NOT him, he’s really like a typical white nerdy looking dude lol) (notable episodes: “The Rapture,” “Sacrifice,” “Do You Believe in Miracles?”)

Andrew Dabb: writer from season 4, promoted to showrunner during season 12 and is the last showrunner of Supernatural (he wrote the finale). He was well-liked by deancas fans for awhile because of how much screentime they were allowed to give, and because of the focus on extended/found family. Sam and Dean only fans didn’t like him for the same reasons. Unfortunately, HIS legacy has been marred by the awful series finale, though it’s debated whether that was his fault or because of network meddling. (notable episodes: “Dark Side of the Moon” with Daniel Loflin, “The Prisoner,” “Moriah”)

Robert Singer: executive producer since the beginning of the show (he’s also co-showrunner throughout Supernatural, but I don’t think he typically was involved with the plotlines too often). He’s directed quite a few episodes, including the infamous wire fight episode (s13 finale) as well as the series finale. Married to Eugenie Ross-Leming, writer of the show

Eugenie Ross-Leming/Brad Buckner: writing partners TECHNICALLY from season 1, but they only wrote one episode until they were brought back in season 7. They are regarded as the worst writers in all of Supernatural, responsible for tactless death scenes of fan-favorites (and typically minorities) like Kevin, Charlie, and Eileen. They also feature a gross amount of dubcon/noncon, racism, weird unnecessary sex stuff, and are SUPER into Lucifer for some unknown reason (they have a crush on Mark Pellegrino I guess). They’re also just kind of bad writers in general, their pacing is weird and their plots convoluted. To be fair, though, they have written some good moments, like Dean trying to reach Cas in Hell’s Angel and Dean’s confessional scene in Paint It Black. But overall, they suck. Why are they still on the show even though BOTH sides of the fandom (who never agree on ANYTHING) dislike them? Well, because Eugenie is married to Singer. Nepotism. (notable episodes, the ones I can stand to watch lmao: “Holy Terror,” “Hell’s Angel,” “Our Father Who Aren’t in Heaven”)

Ben Edlund: writer from season 2 who left after season 8, but people STILL talk about him simply because he is arguably the strongest writer of the series. Cas fans particularly like him because he did most of the heavy-lifting regarding Cas’ characterization. He also wrote the famous bi!Dean scene with Aaron in season 8, where Dean is flustered after being flirted with. (notable episodes: “On the Head of a Pin,” “The French Mistake,” and my all-time favorite “The Man Who Would Be King”)

Robert “Bobo” Berens: writer from season 9, his first episode was “Heaven Can’t Wait,” which is all you really need to know about his influence on the deancas storyline. He’s also gay, so people particularly enjoy seeing how he approaches destiel in his episodes since it’s not just another straight guy potentially just catering to fans. He was also the one who was meant to go off and run Wayward Sisters, and is responsible for a lot of their development in recent seasons. I believe he also created Rowena? He wrote the episode this season where Cas confesses his love to Dean (along with other heavy deancas episodes like “The Trap”). Sam fans typically don’t like him because he doesn’t give him much focus. (notable episodes: “Heaven Can’t Wait,” “Who We Are,” “Wayward Sisters” with Andrew Dabb)

Steve Yockey: writer from season 12 through the beginning of season 15. Also gay, and also responsible for deancas moments in recent years. Generally loved for his deancas subtext but ALSO because he is an amazing writer who came out with iconic episodes. (notable episodes: “Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox,” “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets,” “Peace of Mind” with Meghan Fitzmartin)

Robbie Thompson: writer from seasons 7 through 11, and wrote some fan favorite episodes in the meantime. He is also the creator of fan favorite characters like Charlie and Eileen. He was also one of the few writers who was vocally supportive of destiel during his tenure rather than just later. I’m not implying anything about his intentions, but it was validating for him to encourage fans during a time where most of the cast/crew ignored or actively dismissed it. Plus his episodes are just fun! (notable episodes: “LARP and the Real Girl,” “Fan Fiction,” “Baby”)

Meredith Glynn: writer since season 12, has worked closely with Bobo during their seasons together. She and Bobo cowrote “The Future,” which is the mixtape episode, so she has been taken in by deancas fans haha. She also wrote the episode where Cas makes the deal with the Empty, so it’s pretty safe to say she and Bobo had worked on the deancas plotline together :) She’s also liked some deancas-related tweets on twitter, so she’s being subtly supportive (notable episodes: “Regarding Dean,” “The Future” with Robert Berens, “Byzantium”)

Davy Perez: writer since season 12 (a lot of the ones I’ve mentioned are, since this is when Dabb became showrunner and made changes in the writers room). His episodes tend to either be horror or bizarre. I mention him because he’s responsible for episodes like “Stuck in the Middle (With You)” (Cas’ first “I love you”) and “Tombstone” (aka Brokebacknatural lmao). I don’t know much about him otherwise, but that’s why he’s brought up usually (notable episodes: “Stuck in the Middle (With You),” “Tombstone,” “Atomic Monsters”)

hopefully this helps, and hopefully I didn’t forget about anyone major. There have been a LOT of people behind the scenes so it’s hard to say who to include. Like, I didn’t mention Jerry Wanek, Jim Michaels, Kim Manners, Thomas J. Wright, or others who might be mentioned from time to time.

[ladyartemesia]

The Terms

◐ PART III of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Series Masterlist ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Mature (for this installment)

Warnings: ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming. Violence and discussion of violence relating to ritual combat. Jin’s pheromones need their own warning. Yoonji and Yunli are not the same person.

Word Count: 2300

Author’s Note: As promised, this chapter is twice as long as the previous two and a lot of what people have been speculating about in the asks is discussed in this chapter... along with a few surprises...

“Luna rex provocatione means ‘the moon king’s challenge.’ It is never invoked lightly as its consequences are grave indeed... If an alpha believes that he is the true Alpha and the goddess has placed another in his path as a test of worthiness and dedication to the pack, then he will acknowledge his acceptance of this test by declaring luna rex provocatione. Once the challenge has been set forth only the death of the Luna’s first mate or the total surrender of the challenger can satisfy it...”

Text of the traditional speech given by a chief elder to begin a luna rex provocatione ritual [7th century]

“I know you won’t understand, but this isn’t personal-”

Jimin offered his rival an overtly feigned smile.

“You plan to kill me and claim my mate. Which part of that could I possibly take personally?”

Tae snorted somewhere in the background and Yoongi elbowed him hard.

Tradition dictated that both alphas meet with their second-in-commands in the chief elder’s chambers to discuss the terms of combat.

Namjoon brought Min Yoongi and Jimin had somehow ended up with Taehyung.

He didn’t remember actually agreeing to make Tae his second...

It just sort of happened somewhere between calming his hysterical mother and quickly reading up on archaic pack law.

The chief elder coughed uncomfortably. Goddess, this ascension was supposed to be easy. He never in a million moons thought he’d be in this position.

The last chief elder who oversaw a luna rex provocatione ritual had immortalized it in his journal as “the single most horrific moment of my life,” describing in detail the Luna howling in torment at the loss of her mate and the victor collapsing over the corpse of his foe in misery and guilt.

As in the past, the outcome of this conflict was already decided by fate...

Pain and regret weighed heavily on the older man as he considered the younger of the two alphas.

Park Jimin was going to die violently and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Because Kim Namjoon issued the challenge, his opponent will decide combat form. Your choices are human form, half-shifted, and wolf-form. After your choice is declared, Namjoon may add a minor alteration if he so desires. Park Jimin, please declare form.”

“Human,” he answered softly - and every single occupant of the room recoiled in response.

It was bad enough to witness a fight in wolf form or half-shifted... but to engage in ritual combat as a human-

It would be brutal - even psychologically disturbing - without the benefit of a wolf’s hide to mask the savagery.

Namjoon’s eyes widened in shock, but he recovered quickly.

“I request teeth and claws.”

Not quite a half-shift. Teeth and claws allowed for attacks using lengthened canines and claws.

It could make a kill slightly more... humane.

Jimin nodded and the elder pressed his seal over the first of the terms.

The were no windows in the small, stuffy chamber and between the heavy ceremonial garb and the nearly twenty braided praesidium bracelets wrapped around his wrists, Jimin felt as if the blood in his veins was literally coming to a boil.

Though he dared not remove them to relieve his discomfort.

Each bracelet represented a prayer to the goddess. They were given as protection to a loved one before a great trial.

His mother had not stopped making them since the ascension. She’d torn apart her most expensive dress and spent hours twisting the fabric strips into intricate traditional braids while she prayed...

Jimin’s fingers sought them out for comfort as the miserable parade of ritual legalities marched past the two hour mark.

Many agreements (like Jimin’s insistence that his mother not be allowed to attend the fight and Namjoon’s pledge to financially support the Park family in the event of their alpha’s death) were settled quickly, however the sheer number of details to be solidified was overwhelming.

“I think it best if we adjourn for a short recess,” the chief elder sighed wearily and Taehyung nearly ran Yoongi over in his desperate scramble to finally use a restroom.

Jimin turned to leave, but a hand on his elbow drew him back.

“I want you to know, I did this for you as much as for the rest of them.”

His tone was low and carefully respectful, but Jimin’s wolf snapped irritably at the elder alpha’s presumption.

“What an... interesting statement to make.”

He pointedly removed Namjoon’s hand from his arm with calculated nonchalance.

“No one expected you to be chosen... Jungkook, or even Hoseok, would have been an understandable alternative, but you’ve never taken being an alpha seriously-”

“According to you,” Jimin fired back, finally allowing his voice to harden in cold fury. “I have always known and valued what I am. I simply never felt called to your version of it.”

Namjoon tilted his head in acknowledgement.

Park Jimin might not look particularly dangerous ... but for the first time, the Kim alpha considered that he may have underestimated his opponent.

“Either way - the pack does not trust you. They are not confident in your ability to lead them,”his hands fisted reflexively at his side as he considered the weight of his next words, “...but if you beat me, they will never question your strength.”

Jimin’s hands tightened into fists.

Namjoon might be an overconfident windbag, but he had a point.

He faced an uphill battle to subdue a restless pack as well as increased threats from rival clans looking to expand their own power and territory.

The challenge was a chance to establish his claim.

Or die trying.

“You think rather highly of yourself,” he chuckled and Namjoon bristled indignantly.

“I have devoted my life to the pack. I have never questioned my duty to them.” He leaned forward a bit, holding the younger alpha’s gaze with purpose. “That is why I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“And what of the Luna?” Jimin wondered in mock contemplation. “Do you think she will take kindly to the loss of her mate if you win?”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched. The Luna was clearly a sore subject.

“If I win, then you were never really her mate were you? Your entire existence boils down to nothing more than a sacred test in my destined path.”

Silence stretched heavily as the two alphas regarded one another with open hostility.

“I will fight you till the last shred of life is ripped from my body,” Jimin snarled.

A shiver ran down Namjoon’s spine, though he was far from intimidated.

“At least now you sound like an alpha,” he scoffed.

Then he was gone.

Jimin waited till the sound of the older man’s footsteps faded before slamming his fist into the table.

He needed air and to be alone with his thoughts for moment before he could civilly resume the endless negotiations.

Unfortunately, the only place offering both of those things was a cluttered balcony near the back of the building.

The room traditionally designated for luna rex provocatione proceedings had been used as a storage closet for at least the last hundred years (and therefore needed to be hastily cleared after Namjoon’s inconvenient declaration). Consequently, the room’s former contents (piles of toys from this season’s charity drive) were now strewn haphazardly across the narrow outdoor space like debris from a brightly colored bomb.

Jimin carefully navigated his way to the balcony’s wooden rail and lifted his eyes to the moon.

“Please,” he begged softly “... send me a sign.”

“If he did not hate me before, he surely does now,” you sighed, staring morosely at the lights flickering in the old chamber building. Somewhere within the bowels of that archaic fire hazard, your mate of less than twenty-four hours was negotiating a nightmare.

“This is not your fault, Luna-“

“Isn’t it?” you snapped. “That’s who I am. I’m the Luna, if I could just accept another mate without someone getting their throat ripped out, then none of this would be necessary.”

Jin sqeezed your hand sympathetically.

The council placed you under guard in a small cottage across from the elder’s chambers in order to prevent the alphas from having any contact with you. Since then you kept a constant vigil from its rickety porch, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young man whose life you had ruined.

“Would you do it then - if you could?... Would you accept another mate to spare the Park alpha?”

Bitter tears burned at the corner of your eyes.

“Yes,” you whispered, “...I think I’d do almost anything to save him.”

Comfortable silence settled between you for several minutes - until a small flutter of movement drew your gaze to the chamber balcony.

Then he walked out.

And just the sight of him was enough to slam your heart up into your throat.

Jimin...

Jin quickly turned to your guard and unleashed a wave of pheromones that would have knocked out a grizzly bear. The guard whined and abandoned her post to follow him inside without a second thought, leaving you conveniently alone.

Male omegas are a rare and dangerous breed, you observed wryly, before retuning your attention to the man across the path.

A painful ache twisted hungrily in your gut as you watched him tilt his face to the sky. Somehow the relentless beauty of his features was even more captivating in the moonlight...

Suddenly a strong breeze braided though the air around you, playing with the loose strands of your hair and carrying your scent away from the small cottage and up to the balcony where the young alpha sought solace.

Jimin’s eyes shot open as the rich, unforgettable essence of you exploded over his senses. His gaze immediately locked with yours, cutting through the distance and darkness with an intensity that left you reeling.

You could not see his face at the ascension - instead the blindfold left you burning with curiosity as your mind conjured a thousand variations of how he might have looked on you in that moment...

Yet every last one of them fell short.

You could never have imagined the naked longing - the fierce desire - that burned boldly in his regard.

A strange, desperate frustration overtook you.

He was too far away - and Namjoon was going to take him from you before you could touch him again - before you could breathe him in again-

The cruel wind continued to pull your fragrance toward Jimin like an erotic incense, yet it offered you no such gift in return. You could not discern his scent and you wanted to - needed to - with a voracity that was almost blinding.

Please...

A mournful whimper tore from your lips and Jimin’s body reacted instantly to your distress.

Suddenly he was digging through the piles of mismatched trinkets and toys on the balcony, tossing aside all manner of discarded treasures till he finally found what he was searching for.

“Jimin-hyung! Where are you? Chief elder wishes to resume-”

Jimin glanced toward door as his fingers worked frantically over the object his hands.

“I’m on my way!”

His eyes found yours one last time, then he drew back-

A muted thwack echoed a few inches from your shoulder as whatever Jimin threw embedded itself into one of the porch beams.

Your fingers trembled with anticipation as you reached forward to retrieve (what appeared to be) a pointed metal dart - probably from a wall-mounted Darts game someone donated...

A length of braided cloth was tied tightly to the shaft and you recognized it immediately as a praesidium bracelet.

Soothing waves of Jimin’s scent drifted up from the fabric where it had rubbed repeatedly against the glands in his wrist.

Your body calmed instantly. Cold desperation gave way to the soft warmth of tenderness.

He knew.

He knew what you needed and he found a way to send it to you.

Your hand closed tightly over the bracelet as you crumpled to your knees and sobbed.

A gentle knock sounded at Namjoon’s door and a familiar figure slipped inside.

“...Yunli?”

Namjoon blinked for several moments in confusion before closing his evening read to approach her.

“Yunli... why - what are you doing here? It’s late - the ritual set to begin at sunrise.” He glanced at the door behind her, “Is Yoongi with you?”

She shook her head.

“My brother doesn’t know I’m here.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he considered all the ways his best friend’s younger sister sneaking into his house (in the middle of the night no less) could go horribly wrong.

“Ah. Well... that’s ...not good,” he mumbled, running his hand over his face. “Are-um - are you here to wish me luck for tomorrow?”

He reached for a glass of water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

“No. Frankly I hope Park Jimin beats you to a bloody pulp.”

Water sprayed comically out of Namjoon’s mouth as he began to cough violently.

“What?!” *wheeze* “Why?!”

She offered him a sad smile.

“You know why, Kim Namjoon.”

He did know why.

Yunli had loved him (or believed she loved him) since she was a little girl.

He sighed heavily.

“Yunli, we’ve been over this-”

“One week. The change comes to me in one week-”

“You’re Yoongi’s sister-”

“I’ll be twenty years old, and for the last time I’m not your sister-”

“Goddess above, Yunli!” he shouted, “You’re just a child!”

Yunli’s hands gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.

“I am not a child!” she growled.

Then her mouth was on his and every single thought he ever had disappeared.

There was only her.

Heat poured through him like heavy syrup as his senses surrendered one by one. His arms wrapped around her without the slightest hesitation, as if their sole purpose was draw her in.

Sweet... Oh goddess, she’s sweet.

Yunli whined needily and a possessive growl rumbled from his chest in response.

Then she was pulling back - wrenching herself away from him with an anguished sob.

Bitter tears flowed freely down her impossibly beautiful face and Namjoon - who spent the majority of his life barely acknowledging his heart - suddenly felt it shatter.

“You should have waited for me,” she whispered.

“Yunli-I-” he tried calling out to her, but it was no use.

She was already gone.

“Are you sure you have everything you need?”

Jimin offered his second a distracted smile and nodded. His room looked the same as it did the morning of the ascension, yet his entire life was different...

“You were great today, Taehyung. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tae felt his chest swell with pride. He didn’t want to think about what sunrise might bring, but he was determined to serve his old friend well.

For as long as he could.

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, recalling that he fell asleep on his feet for three entire terms before anyone noticed. “You’re a surprisingly ruthless negotiator. I barely contributed.”

“I wasn’t alone though...” Jimin whispered, “and when Namjoon first issued the challenge... I thought I might be.”

Taehyung gulped, pushing back the oppressive sorrow settling in his gut in favor of some levity.

“You - uh - you actually missed the wildest part of the whole day.”

“...I did?”

“Yeah it was bizarre. Did you notice the table was different after our break?”

Jimin shrugged. His thoughts had been... elsewhere at that point.

“We couldn’t find you at first, so you missed the whole ordeal but - when we all came back to the room, that big oak table was split in half.”

Hello my precious readers! If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments.

(If you are already on the taglist, I will automatically tag you in all future chapters, you do not need to ask to be tagged again.)

Please please please PLEASE let me know what you think! This chapter was HARD and I genuinely aganized over it. Your feedback and support are what kept me pushing though. Truly. I would love to hear from you! I treasure every word of feedback like diamonds.

End Note: Yoonji was mentioned earlier in the story. She is Yoongi and Yunli’s cousin. Yunli and Yoonji are separate characters.

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞

____________________________

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A true enemies to lovers ;)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: rapid change of POV, angry makeout, hate sex, smut 18+ (very rough sex btw), smart ass reader, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control)

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst? (i still don’t really know what classifies as angst), confused feelings, age gap (reader of age), hate sex 18+, angry makeout turned soft, smut 18+, vulgar language, brutal insults, it’s just all mean

𝐀/𝐧: sorry if the pov change got too crazy i was imagining it as if it was like a scene from a movie; just tried something new to spice things up :) also thank you guys so much for the love from only the first chapter?! you guys are literally awesome! i do have a taglist so let me know if you wanna be tagged in future parts! there’s only five chapters by the way!!!!

Taglist _____________________________

(𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨)

You were hanging out with Peter after you found out that your fight with Bucky made him cry. You two had taken a walk to grab some coffee from the cafe down the street. 

“Why do you and Bucky hate each other?” Peter asked you as you two were walking home.

“Oh, I don’t- I, uh… I don’t hate him,” you stuttered and hesitated, in truth you couldn’t care less what happened to the ass.

“Y/n, you say mean things to each other all the time, and you fight a lot.”

“I know. Peter, sometimes people just don’t get along. I don’t personally think Buck’s a bad guy.”

“Then why do you always fight?”

“I don’t know.”

You two got to the compound and Peter went straight to Tony and Bruce who were in the lab. You went to look for Natasha who was on a step ladder changing a bulb. 

“Why are you changing a bulb? Doesn’t Vision usually do that?”

“He and Wanda… are on… and date,” she huffed trying to reach the screw.

“Do you need help?” you laughed at her struggling.

“Yeah, you’re taller than me right? You try.”

You stepped on the ladder with the bulb in hand reaching to screw it in. Steve and Bucky walked in coming up to you with concerned looks on their faces. You reached up and could barely fit the bulb in so you opted to stand on your toes. That very quickly went south however.  

You fell forward on Nat making the step ladder fly sideways from under you. She grabbed you and rolled you both so you would land on the floor with minimal injury. Steve and Bucky both widened their eyes rushing to you two lay laughing loudly on the floor.

“You guys ok?” Steve asked, grabbing the step ladder.

“Yeah we’re ok-” you cut off, your laughter immediately dying from Bucky grabbing your arm and pulling you up. He grabbed your face and checked to see if you might’ve scratched yourself. 

You pulled away confused.

“Why are you so fucking careless? Ask us next time,” Bucky growled.

“Careful Barnes, don’t want people to think you actually care for me,” you rolled your eyes.

That pissed off Bucky who lunged at you pushing your shoulders. You used your powers to expand a black ball of mist before thrusting it at Bucky making him stumble back. Nat and Steve dove in to stop what could be another potential disaster between you two.

“Can you two stop fighting for five fucking seconds?” Nat yelled. 

“He started it!” you shouted.

“Enough! Barnes, L/n. Asses in the conference room. Now,” Fury found you guys.

You looked at Buck, who had nostrils flared breathing heavily in anger. He was fuming; and for what? 

“You two have a mission,” Fury said when you two entered the conference room.

“Is that really the smartest thing to do. We don’t work well together,” Bucky said.

“The only thing smart about you is your mouth. Go on this mission, together. Any casualties will come out of your paycheck and field time.”

“What?” you both said in shock.

“I said what I said; wheels are up in 20.” 

You grabbed the files handed to you by Maria and walked to your rooms to pack. Nat came into your room to ask what happened. Same with Steve and Bucky.

“What happened?” Nat asked you.

=

“Fury, sent us on a mission,” Bucky told Steve.

=

“I can’t imagine how quickly shit will the fan. I can’t stand him!” you told Nat, talking about the upcoming mission.

=

“I can’t stand her.”

“Why?” Steve asked Buck.

=

“He’s so infuriating. Like everything pisses him off…”

=

“She’s always angry and wants to fight.”

=

“Do you think maybe you like him and you’re convincing yourself you don’t by being mean?” Nat asked you.

There was a long pause as you two stared at each other before you guys burst in laughter.

“Good one,” you laughed, “Anyways, I don’t know how long this mission is so I’ll see you when I get back.”

=

“I don’t know how long this mission is so I’ll see you when I get back,” Bucky said to Steve patting him on the shoulder. 

You both got to the quinjet, not even thinking about talking to each other. The file you both had basically said there was a fundraiser being held to mask an underground meeting for Hydra agents to meet in secret. 

Not a secret anymore though.

You two arrived at the hotel still haven’t spoken a word each. All that was heard in the elevator on your way up was both your breathing echoing off the metal walls. You got in and set your stuff on the couch. 

“We should set up a game plan,” you huffed.

“Ok,” he said before disappearing into the bathroom.

You rolled your eyes but began setting up what should be the tactic to approach the mission. You didn’t want to be too aggressive but being too stealth might take too long. Bucky came out of the bathroom after what seems to be having taken a shower. 

“Come up with anything yet?”

“No,” you responded.

“Seriously?” 

“What? It’s not like your fucking helping.”

“Watch your fucking attitude. I didn’t do anything so knock it off.”

“Whatever. Are you gonna help me or are you gonna sit there and watch me do all the work just to take credit?”

“Why would I take credit for your shitty plan that’s gonna get compromised.”

“Can you not be a dick for two seconds and be helpful for once?”

“I’m not helpful?” he stood up getting angrier every passing second. 

“God, Bucky get your head out of your ass! Stop taking everything so negatively; this is why I can’t stand you!”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, princess,” Bucky walked up to you, pulling you close by wrapping his metal hand around your throat.

“Am I turning you on?” you mocked.

“Shut up!” 

“Or what? You’ll spank me?” you whispered.

“Fucking bitch,” Bucky said before smashing his lips to yours.

He pushed you down on the couch, kissing you burtally. Your lips were swelling as Bucky trailed rough kisses down your throat. You wanted to moan because Bucky’s rough hands touching your body was overwhelming. 

There was a harsh contrast between his hot flesh hand and his cold metal one. You finally gave in after feeling Bucky’s hard dick brushing against your thigh considering he still had only a towel around his waist from his shower. 

“Does that feel good? God you fucking slut; falling apart under a man you hate,” Bucky whispered roughly in your ear.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “Fuck you, Bucky.”

He lifted your shirt and you lifted your arms so he could take it off. You stood up and Bucky fell to his knees in front of you taking your pants while you unclasped your bra. 

Bucky let his poorly wrapped towel fall to the floor as he pushed you down roughly onto the couch once again. Bruising kisses were exchanged and Bucky’s hand traced your stomach following down to between your thighs.

He rubbed roughly but slowly at your clit making your hips wiggle under him. 

“Fucking stay still,” Bucky said. 

“God Bucky, I already don’t like you so teasing me will just make me fume.”

“Then I guess I’ll enjoy every second I get to tease you and pisssed you off.”

“Bucky,” you grunted bucking your hips into his roughly.

“Knock it off,” Bucky grabbed your throat, squeezing gently; sure he hated you and wanted you be quiet but he wasn’t trying to kill. 

“You want me to fuck this pussy? Want it rough? I’ll give it to you rough then,” Bucky said hoarsely, “I'll make you scream and cry from how good my cock is. I’m gonna ruin you, babygirl.”

You whimpered and nearly screamed when Bucky thrusted into you hard and fast. Your hands  held his forearms not in fear but to steady yourself when his hips started moving faster and faster. His hips dug into yours; you were getting sore already from his manic thrusts. 

You moaned loudly and Bucky kepting thrusting into you ferociously chasing his orgasm. You breached the edge yourself, tears forming in your eyes. You sniffled making Bucky look at you with the slightest bit of concern on his face. 

“Is it too much? I thought this is how you wanted it, you fucking cockwhore.”

“Ugh Bucky,” you moaned.

“Come on, Y/n. Cum. Let it go,” he said.

You nearly screamed in euphoria, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Bucky came inside you then collapsed on you knocking the air out of your system momentarily. You pushed him off then practically ran to the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

Bucky came in you and you could feel the mixtures of both your cum dripping down your thighs. You were on the pill so you just cleaned yourself and quickly showered. When you came up Bucky had dressed himself and was writing stuff on a piece of paper; as if he hadn’t choked the shit out of ou and made you cum so hard you almost passed out. 

“I came up with a plan,” he said, so normally.

“Ok.”

“Look, Y/n-”

“This never happened. We don’t fucking like each other ok? If you tell goddamn soul I will rip you apart limb by limb.”

“Then you can’t tell anyone either,” he pushed.

“As if I’d tell anyone about this.”

“Are you that repulsed by me? Admit it! That the best sex either have had, probably ever.”

“Enough, Bucky. We hate each other.”

“But-”

“James, stop!” you yelled, quieting Bucky.

“Fuck you,” he said walking out.

“The plan’s on the table, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said before going to sleep.

You breathed out heavily before grabbing the paper. There was little room to make mistakes but all in all it was a good plan. You went to your own bed seeing Bucky already asleep in the other. You turned off the light and prepared yourself for what was to come tomorrow.

TAGLIST FOR SERIES:

@hoeforcuteguyswithcharmingsmiles @sweetlikesugar9  @thefifthweasley @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @perfectlymaximumphilosopher @kenopsiababe  @montypythonsholysnail

[talatomaz]

kidnapped | hailey upton x fem!reader

a/n: of course, I have to make everything angsty since hurt-comfort is my fave genre 😁

this is based off 5x16 (chicago med) but instead of nat being kidnapped, it’s the reader.

requested by anon: “a hailey upton x female reader. where the reader works at 51 or med and both hailey and the reader have hidden their relationship from everyone.”

warnings: mentions of blood/guns. kidnapping (past and present). sexual references

word count: 2.4k

masterlist | navigation | request rules

after reader gets kidnapped by a murderer, hailey finds herself losing her mind because, though nobody else knows, her and reader have been in a relationship for almost a year and she is the love of her life

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Okay, I’m at work now. Have a great day, love.”

“You too, baby. Bye.”

You smiled as your girlfriend disconnected the call.

You had been dating Hailey for just under a year and you couldn’t help but be a bit pleased that the two of you had managed to keep it a secret this long.

With you working in Chicago Med and Hailey working in Intelligence, there was a lot of overlap with your work and considering you all spent your free time at Molly’s, it was a surprise that no one knew of your relationship.

You’d met Hailey almost two years ago. She had brought in a young teenager who’d been a victim of a home invasion - her parents had been brutally murdered leaving her as the sole survivor.

Hailey had remained by her side the entire time and you couldn’t help but appreciate that. Many detectives tended to just leave the injured with you or your fellow colleagues and then go off to work their respective cases.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, mind you. But there was something about the way that Hailey cared for this child that had just captivated your heart.

And since that day, you’d found yourself pining, for lack of a better word, over the blonde. But what you hadn’t realised was that she had felt the exact same way about you.

For several months, the two of you found yourself dancing around your feelings, both on the precipice of revealing your feelings before relenting at the last second. It was only until Ruzek had hit on you one night at Molly’s that had Hailey finally revealing how she felt about you.

You remembered how she stood there, cheeks red from the cold, eyes full of jealousy and black with lust. Suffice it to say, you couldn’t help but mentally thank Adam for unwittingly hitting on you because it had allowed you to finally be with the detective. And almost a year down the line, you were stronger than ever.

“Morning, Dr L/N!”

Blinking, you gathered your thoughts and turned to see Dr Marcel walking towards you. Furrowing your brows, you spoke, “Didn’t your shift start an hour ago?”

“Forgot my badge in my car. I should superglue it to my forehead.”

Returning his laugh, you spoke, “Think a stapler might work better.”

As you were about to walk away, your head whipped around to face a man running up the two of you. You immediately noticed the blood staining his hands and before you could speak, his voice came out in a frantic and rapid pants. Partly because he was running but mostly, you assumed, because of fear.

“Help! My wife. She’s in labour. She’s bleeding real bad.”

Glancing over at Crockett, you saw that his expression mirrored yours and, without hesitation, the two of you ran after the man, following him to his car to help his wife.

You were shocked, however, when upon approaching the van, you saw a man lay bleeding on the floor. His hand raised, a gun in his palm. Though it was winter, the sun still beamed and the light glistened off the metal, threatening to blind you.

“Give me your phones and get in.” The man, who’d come running up to you just moments before, said harshly.

“You don’t have to do this.” You said calmly, obeying his orders.

You weren’t sure how your voice came out so steady when it felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you before his gun would surely kill you.

“I’m the surgeon, alright. Let her go.”

Crockett’s attempts to reason with the two men were futile as they shouted for the two of you to get in.

Holding your breath, you willed yourself to calm down, needing to believe that Hailey would soon be looking for you.

God, please let Hailey find you.

                ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“Get up.”

Turning to look behind you, the man, who’d tricked you this morning, opened the van doors and you fought to hide a shiver as the cold Chicago air blasted through you.

You looked over at Marcel who tried to sit up as best he could, “I’m the surgeon. Let me go. I know what to get.”

“Cuff him. Do it.”

Catching the set of handcuffs that had been thrown in your face, you followed the man’s orders and, with a solemn look, you cuffed your friend to the bar above his head.

“Come on.”

You bit your tongue to prevent a curse leaving your lips as the man, what could only be described as, yanked you out of the van and held you tight to his side.

“Make any stupid moves and you and your friend both die.”

After picking up some supplies, you approached the checkout and silently pleaded at the cashier with your eyes, wishing that he could see the panic in your eyes and alarm someone to your predicament.

When it became obvious that that wasn’t going to happen, you began to lose hope before catching a glimpse of a security camera in the corner of your eye. Glancing up at your kidnapper, you saw he was preoccupied with paying, giving you a brief moment of reprieve to remove your hospital badge, letting it fall to the marble ground.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.” The man said, feigning a nurturing tone as he spoke to you through clenched teeth.

You winced at his harsh grip and followed him back to the van where you helped Marcel perform surgery to repair the bullet wound in the man’s leg, whom you assumed to be the brother of the driver.

Hailey frowned as she looked at the text she had sent you a few hours earlier; the one tick indicating that you hadn’t read it yet.

Where were you?

She tried to reason with herself, believing that maybe you were busy in the ER but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad had happened.

And Jay and Voight’s secrecy only seemed to add to her panic.

For the past few hours, her partner had been leaving the district and then coming back with a schooled look on his face that Hailey knew he used to conceal his worry.

And it didn’t help that whenever his phone rang, he left to privately answer it and immediately went to Voight’s office, closing the door which people only did in serious situations.

When Jay left Voight’s office, Hailey got up from her chair and grabbed Jay’s arm, dragging him into the dingy break room.

“What’s going on?”

“What?” Halstead crossed his arms, his attempts to feign confusion failing miserably.

“Never play poker, Jay. What’s going on?” Hailey repeated.

Jay sighed, “Dr L/N and Marcel have been kidnapped.”

The blood drained from Hailey’s face as she grew visibly pale. Trying to keep her voice as steady as she could, she spoke, “What?”

“Maggie found their phones in the car park. There was blood on them and we lifted a partial print and matched it to Tyler Clemons. A convicted murderer.”

Hailey leaned against the table when she felt her knees buckle beneath her.

Halstead stared at her in concern but before he could question it, his phone rang.

Hailey watched silently as he hummed in response to the other person on the line. When he disconnected, he looked at the blonde, his eyes filled with unbridled relief.

“I think we’ve found them. Gear up. I’ll tell Voight.”

Without hesitation, Hailey immediately rushed out the door and ran downstairs to get ready.

                ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“This is Detective Jay Halstead with the Chicago Police Department.”

Your shoulders slumped in relief as you heard your friend’s voice be projected through, what you assumed was, a megaphone.

The two men had taken you to their mother’s home where you gained clarity on the reasoning for their actions.

The injured man, who you learned was called Tyler, had a young son diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything you or Marcel could do, and instead, you’d been forced to restrain yourself to the wooden chairs you were currently sitting on.

You listened as Halstead announced that the house was surrounded, hoping that Hailey was outside but simultaneously wishing that she wasn’t in fear of it going sideways - you didn’t want her to see your dead body.

“Here. Uncuff her.”

You held your breath as Tyler threw the keys at Crockett, not wanting to say a word in case he ended up changing his mind.

After he freed you, you rubbed your wrists, slightly wincing at the red marks that had risen on your tanned skin. Then you began to protest when Tyler made it obvious that he was only letting you go but after some persuasion from your friend, you reluctantly left Crockett in the house.

Opening the front door to the suburban home, you felt another wave of cold air run through you and you raised your hands in a surrendering gesture.

“Patrol, stand down. Friendly coming out.” Jay had yelled and then you found yourself being hurried behind shields to where Jay stood.

And Hailey.

The moment you laid eyes on the blonde, you fell into her arms as she held you fiercely against her.

Her arms wrapped tightly around you before she pulled you back. Her eyes roamed over you, trying to look for any injuries.

“I’m okay.” You whispered, your hands on hers.

Her eyes filled with tears as she tugged you back towards her and kissed you. The kiss was passionate, laced with the ferocity that often came with almost losing someone you love.

Pulling away once more, you rested your forehead against hers and breathed out, your breath coming out in harsh pants.

“I think the cat’s out of the bag now.”

You laughed dryly as you glanced up, noticing Halstead, Maggie, Natalie and April staring at you both with wide eyes.

“I don’t care.”

And you could tell she truly didn’t when she kissed you again, more tender this time.

“God, I thought I’d lost you. I was so worried.”

“I’m okay, baby. I’m right here.”

You reassured your girlfriend as you embraced her once more, wanting nothing more than to feel her bare skin on yours, devoid of the winter clothing she was currently wearing.

“I love you so much, y/n. I never want to be without you again.” Hailey whispered harshly, gently rocking you in her arms, her hand cradling your head against her chest.

                ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“I’m glad to see you’re okay, y/n.”

“Thanks, Kev.”

Almost everyone had gathered at Molly’s despite it being past midnight. You’d all collectively decided that, after the day you’d had, you needed a drink. Marcel had stayed for a while and you thanked him for looking after you whilst you were taken. Hailey also expressed her gratitude to the surgeon which he accepted graciously before deciding to turn in for the night.

You were currently sitting in a booth, cuddled up against Hailey, her arm wrapped comfortably around your waist.

Since the house, she hadn’t left your side once, not when you were getting checked out by the paramedics nor when you were giving your statement to the police.

And whilst being by your side, she also never let her hands leave you. Whether it be a hand on yours or her arm around your waist, she was never not touching you.

To be truthful, you were grateful because her touch grounded you and made you feel safe in a situation where your sense of security had been shattered.

“That was a smart move, dropping your badge on the gas station’s floor.” Halstead commented, sipping his beer.

“Did what I had to do. Speaking of which, Maggie, I’m gonna need that back so I can go to work tomorrow.”

Just as Maggie was about to hand the badge over to you, she snatched it out of your reach.

“Um, I don’t think so. You are taking a few days off, at the minimum.”

You raised your brows, challenging her when she spoke again.

“L/N, if I see you in my ER tomorrow, I’m gonna cuff you to your bed.” Maggie said, making everyone else around you laugh.

“Hey, if anyone’s cuffing y/n to the bed, it’s gonna be me.”

You blushed profusely at Hailey’s comment, the redness of your cheeks contrasting with your tanned skin.

“Kinky.” Jay commented before abruptly closing his mouth when Hailey stared at him.

“Now, how the hell did you manage to keep this a secret for a year?”

“Yeah, aren’t you supposed to be detectives?” Natalie joked, looking at Burgess, Atwater and Halstead.

“Guess we’re just great at keeping secrets. And it became kinda fun, I guess.” You shrugged, glancing up into Hailey’s eyes and she smiled at you.

“Yeah, it became like a game to us. To see how long we could keep it secret.”

“Probably could have kept it secret much longer if you hadn’t kissed me like that.” You chuckled, planting a soft kiss on Hailey’s lips when she playfully frowned.

“Says the one who got kidnapped.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I got kidnapped again.”

“Again?!”

Everyone except Hailey stilled as they all stared at you.

“It’s a long story.” You stated.

It wasn’t that difficult to talk about now but it still left you uncomfortable and you wished you could will the words back into your mouth.

Sensing your discomfort, Hailey answered for you.

“A story for another day. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Nodding, you stood up and hugged your friends goodbye and then left the bar, your hand clutched tightly in Hailey’s.

“Are you okay?” She leant down slightly to kiss your cheek and then whispered in your ear.

Not wanting to lie but not able to find the right words either, you ended up shrugging instead. At that, Hailey brought your joined hands up to her lips where she gently placed a kiss on yours.

“I’m here for you, baby. Tonight and every other night.” Hailey said, alluding to the bad memories that would surely plague your sleep.

Since being with Hailey, the night terrors you’d once had about your past had become more infrequent.

Though, you were sure you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. The trauma of almost dying coupled with your previous abduction would ensure your lack of sleep.

But you would have Hailey next to you, so it wasn’t that much of a bother.

You may not feel safe in the world but you did feel safe in her arms and that was enough for you.

[wallwriterstuff]

Foundling ||Caius Volturi x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of neglect and absent parent

Words: 4176

Taglist: @thelastemzy​ @kpopgirlbtssvt​ @a-avaunce​ @college-is-coming​ @alecvolturiswifeforever​ @broskibowser​ @volturidoll13​ @raindancer2004​ (hopefully this actually works this time!)

Summary: A request for @like-rain-or-confetti​ 

Caius has done a lot of terrible things over the course of his life, and the one good thing he did do he was never allowed to keep. After centuries of waiting, she finally gets to confront him for all of his deeds, the good and the bad. 

Most who knew Caius knew him for his rage, but not very many understood where that rage came from. It was like a chronic disease that plagued him always, the slightest things setting his volatile mood off. No, the blonde king was a ticking time bomb and whoever came across him knew all the while to tread carefully lest they lose a limb at best, their head at worst. His reputation proceeded him, his brutality well renowned, so the Cullen’s witnesses knew better than to cross Caius when he was busy warmongering, and he most certainly had tried his best to instigate something given that the Denali had had to inhale their sister’s ashes.  

“We cannot know the child will not be dangerous!”

“Regardless they have been consorting with werewolves, our sworn enemies.”

Edward could only hold his family tight and pray for reprieve, watching Caius scrabble for any excuse to end those he held dear because of one mistake. Granted, that mistake had grown rapidly to be the very centre of his world and he would not trade his daughter for anything, but despite her lovable nature Renesmee was very much his creation and the very reason his whole family was now in danger. It was a difficult conundrum to wrap his head around and he still didn’t have all the right answers but he had people on his side to support him, and for Edward that was enough. Caius didn’t relent. Marcus spared him a pitying glance, Aro’s eyes less forgiving but nonetheless understanding, and Edward caught the briefest glimpse then of everything that made Caius what he was. The root of all of his anger and hostility stemmed not from his lack of gift as so many assumed, but from a small, infant girl.

He couldn’t quite contain his surprise. Aro was very good at controlling his thoughts around him but this one had slipped free. Caius looked so much softer in this memory, all of his rough edges filed away. For once, his eyes were not filled with hate and fire but wonder and trepidation, a bit of fear perhaps. Edward recognised those eyes immediately even if he didn’t understand how he had found them in Caius’s face of all people, because those were the eyes he had looked at Renesmee with when he pulled her free of his mate’s womb. It was the doting, adoring expression of a father who held his world in the centre of his palm. Caius was not voting to kill Renesmee out of fear for their species, but out of centuries worth of spite, spite that Edward had what he could not.

He had given up his daughter.

Caius was the first to leave the battlefield, his jaw twitching as he fought the urge to snarl, and even Athenodora didn’t dare follow him for a while. For those who knew him best they were able to feel the hurt radiating beneath all that rage, and for the weeks that followed even their own guard members felt unsafe in his presence. Demetri and Felix had caught one of the lower guard sneaking from the castle, his hand freshly reattached – Aro had let him go when he saw why the younger vampire had wanted to flee. Even Jane had been a little ashen once when she returned from the dungeons with him, Caius looking no more satisfied than he had when he went in while she all but collapsed in her brother’s embrace. As the weeks dragged to months, Aro couldn’t help but think it was time to do something. Caius had spent more time locked in the tower the week previous than he had with them, seeking comfort from his mate. It gave them plenty of time to talk.

“It has been centuries Aro, the man deserves peace.”

“I had thought time would heal this wound, that for the sake of Athenodora he might have moved on.”

“The love of a father is far stronger than the forces of time.”

So Demetri became the first of the guard to know of this well-kept secret the very next day. His shock was quite obvious, his curiosity to, but he knew better than to ask questions as Aro described the girl, thought of the infant she had been when they last saw her, and gave him all the information he might need to grasp her tenor.

“I trust your discretion can be counted on, dear boy?” Aro asked. Demetri had nodded once, then turned and left without so much as a goodbye to the others. The tenor was warm and vibrant, something he could easily get lost in. Demetri only paused in his searching to hunt here and there, rest briefly in a few hotels while he washed and traced the tenor in the forefront of his mind more thoroughly, but his feet carried him swiftly out of Italy and into Germany, through Eastern Europe and into Asia. He was surrounded by the colours and aromas of cultures he had not seen for a few decades. Usually Asia was quiet, the peoples having so many myths, legends and folklore that it was easy for a nomad to blend in, their slip ups often cleaned up by the humans that recognised the demonic nature of the mysterious deaths they left behind and tried to rectify the situation through prayer and ritual. It served as a better warning they were attracting too much attention than any Volturi visit could – they had trained the humans well in this regard.

Demetri finally stopped alongside a high rise building in Yokohama, Japan. The city was the second most populated in Japan, a good place to hunt and hide for a hybrid he was sure. The tenor was brightest here, many floors above him, and Demetri pondered exactly how best to go about engaging with his target for a moment. He could sneak into the building and into her apartment but he didn’t want to startle the poor girl, especially not since he had no clue whether or not she was gifted – he didn’t fancy getting his ass lit on fire to find out. He could always wait to see if she emerged, follow her from a distance, though that was another sure way to startle her if she caught him. Peeling away from the wall, he seamlessly blended into the human traffic on the pathway, pulling his phone from his pocket to search for a hotel as he walked along. He would withdraw for now, ‘bump’ into her on the street as a random passer-by and hope his obvious vampirism was enough to make her approach him.

It took her less than 24 hours to move and, dressed down in some casual clothes, he set out to follow her. Eyes covered by irritating contacts, he made his way through the Sankeien Gardens, following discretely as she took a leisurely stroll across the acres of land dotted with colourful spring blossoms and buildings older than most of the humans wondering the place. She seemed quite content to take her time, lifting her phone to take pictures here and there of flowers and views she liked. Demetri played the part of the awed tourist well, trailing her for an hour and a half before they seemed to have looped the entire expanse of the Gardens and ended up back at the pond they had walked around at the start. She sat herself on a bench, staring out over the water with mystifying blue eyes. She still stood out from the others around her though, her posture a little too straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, a child of her time out of place amongst modern mortals.

“You would look far less suspicious if you took a seat.” He had no doubt that she was talking to him. Lips twitching into a smirk, he did exactly as she asked. Hands in his pockets, he sat beside her on the bench, his eyes fixed on the pond before them. The shock of white-blonde hair on her head was almost proof enough she was Caius’s daughter, but he still had to check.

“The sakura blossoms make for a beautiful view, Carina.” He said. She visibly stiffened, her fast-fluttering heart pounding strongly in his ears. She had that vampiric twinge to her scent, something overly sweet that marked her as vampire and tangled nicely with the deliciously human side of her, much like Rensemee.

“Volturi.” She hissed quietly.

Demetri chuckled wryly. “So, my reputation proceeds me.”

“I have not been known by that name for many centuries. Only one coven would still recall it.” She griped, fists clenching a little in her lap. Demetri glanced at her then, taking in the sharp cheekbones and square jawline that he saw often in his Master’s face. The glare she wore was vicious.

“Do not make me use violence in a place as beautiful as this princess.” He threatened idly, gaze returning to the water as powerful lights threw beams across the surface, making it glimmer darkly. The sun had disappeared long ago or he wouldn’t have been out to follow her, the overcast day turning more quickly into night-time.

“So that is all, is it? I am to be hauled away from my home without negotiation or warning on the whim of a madman?” she sniffed. Demetri looked at her curiously.

“You speak ill of a man whom you barely know.” He mused.

“I know enough.” She retorted sharply, her eyes meeting his. The piercing blue made his curious mind race – because Athenodora could not be her mother so who had given her those eyes? – but he kept his expression cool and collected. Demetri stood to offer her a hand, one she eyed with distaste and distrust. He had no ill-intentions, but a little charm never hurt, especially not when he wanted to get his way with as little effort expended as possible.

“My contacts will not last forever, I will need to go somewhere more private to change them if we are to make the most of this evening before we depart.” He informed her. Her eyebrow arched high, her expression one of disbelief.

“What, pray tell, do you think we would be doing this evening?” she questioned. He smirked.

“It has been quite a while since I visited Japan, even then my last trip was to Tokyo. This is your city princess, show me why I should let you stay.” He invited. She scoffed.

“We both know your orders would not allow for such a thing…does your silver tongue work most other times?” she wondered, slipping her hand in his and letting him pull her up. He blinked in surprise as she dusted off the backs of her jeans. Most women took to his charm easily, but apparently Carina was as stubborn as her father.

“I…” he paused, wondering how to make her change her mind. She smirked, head shaking and sending silken sheets of straight blonde hair over her shoulder.

“It appears to be broken entirely now, I would get that checked this evening while I pack a few essentials, if I were you.” She was already moving away by the time his brain caught up, and despite her obvious disdain for the idea, she was packed and ready to acquiesce his escort to Volterra. For all her stubbornness however not even she could fight off the physical needs her mortality demanded, and Demetri found himself standing watch over the would-be Princess as she slept in a hotel in Florence. The even rise and fall of her chest gave him a pattern for his thoughts to echo, an endless ebbing and flowing of questions he couldn’t find answers to. Carina had not been forthcoming in giving any and he somehow doubted that the Masters’ would be either. She was clearly displeased to be here, her sleep interrupted several times and a small frown creasing her brow for most of the night. It was an expression he only saw when she was unconscious and let her guard down.

She woke to an unconscious man in their penthouse living space, the corpse of his wife already lay atop the glass coffee table while Demetri sat with an ankle resting on the opposite knee, newspaper in hand. With an ungracious snort, she dragged her prey back into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her for good measure, only opening it to toss the body out once it was drained for him to deal with. Demetri’s eyes rolled a little. He wondered if Caius knew his hybrid daughter was an eternally dramatic, angsty teenager, and questioned if putting them in the same room together was a good idea. It was bound to be like watching two fireballs collide. Trusting her not to run while he was away, he left via the balcony to dispose of their meals while she got ready for the day.

He returned to find her with her bag by the door, looking smarter than he had seen her during their travels back to Italy.

“How unusually refined.” He commented, stooping to swing her bag onto his shoulder. She scoffed.

“You are planning on offering me up like a pig on a platter like a good little toy soldier are you not?” she retorted icily, “I best look the part lest your silver tongue not be the only thing about you broken.” Demetri frowned slightly, watching her carefully as they played the part of happy couple departing their hotel suite. Gianna had sent a car, something with air conditioning and plush leather so they wouldn’t have to exhaust themselves with another run. For most of the drive the radio played quietly between them, her eyes concealed behind sunglasses and staring out over the luxurious rolling hills and fields of vibrant green. When he was certain there was not too long of the journey left, and therefore not enough time for her to throw him out of the car and turn it around, he finally broke his silence.

“You seem to believe the worst of your father.”

She heaved a weary sigh. “His reputation proceeds him.”

Demetri kept his eyes on the road, weighing his words carefully. He had been a member of the guard long enough to know Caius’s behaviour was not unusual, and he had been in the higher guard long enough to hear snippets of conversation amongst the wives, amongst the Masters’. Seeing the confrontation with the Cullen’s and sitting in a car with her now it was quite obvious to him the source of his Master’s vexation.

“And if his words and actions were fuelled not by anger, but grief?” he questioned, voice quiet. She showed no outward sign of having heard him but the most minute clenching of her jaw was enough to prove to him he had given her food for thought, and with that they lapsed back into silence. It was not entirely pleasant, and the air between them stagnated long after they entered Volterra. She kept her head held high, her expression aloof. It was obvious to Demetri how alike they were now – they both were grieving and wore their pain like armour. He paused only briefly at the doors, just enough time for her to steel herself with a sharp inhale, and then he opened the doors. She lingered behind him as he strode forward, bowing slightly and glancing among his Masters’. Aro waved him away without fanfare, his eyes fixed on the young girl behind him. She stood just a little taller than Jane, petite and lithe much like her father.

Caius seemed absolutely rooted to the spot, his nostrils flaring as he took in deep lungful’s of air that was rapidly becoming saturated with her scent, the scent he had inhaled like an addict off a baby blanket till it ran dry. Aro drifted down the steps to meet her, Caius’s fingernail’s scraping the wooden armrests of his throne as he struggled to keep a myriad of emotions off of his face.

“Dear Carina, how good it is to see you home.” He sighed, extending a hand toward her. She stared at it in disgust.

“If I recall you were the one who ordered me sent away in the first place. I did not return for you, so let us be done with this charade father.” She stepped around Aro gracefully, leaving him quite obviously dumbfounded and irritated, his hand slowly falling back to his side. Caius shot to his feet like he was ready to flee, but he remained stock still as Alec warily drifted closer to him, palms turned out and ready to defend his Master at all costs. The sight of him and Jane drifting to his side seemed to enrage her.

“Carina…”

“Do not dare call me that name!” she snarled, “How long did it take you to replace me?” she cast a filthy look in Jane’s direction and the young girl growled quietly in response. Demetri almost flinched.

“They were Aro’s acquisition, not mine.” He retorted. There was absolutely no bite in his tone, all his bluster gone despite his rigid stance. Caius looked more powerless than ever as she folded her arms, staring at him expectantly. She had worn a short-sleeved dress for the occasion and her skin shimmered faintly in the light drizzling in through high windows. The tension was palpable.

“Leave us, dear ones.” Aro ordered. Demetri hesitated, frowning slightly, and he could see Alec and Jane’s obvious reluctance to leave to. Another firm order got them moving however, and Carina glanced back at him with agonised eyes. Demetri paused, searching her face and finding nothing more than a terrified young girl who didn’t want to face a father she knew nothing about by herself. He gave her the slightest of nods, a small and encouraging smile twitching up his lips. They were barely out of the throne room when the shouting began, and it lasted for hours. Nowhere in the castle was exempt from the noise and it quickly spread like wildfire that Caius’s daughter had returned, and she had quite the mouth on her.

“So you refuse to even see me now?” Caius demanded. If his voice had wavered nobody was so idiotic as to comment on it. Fists clenched, she trembled with rage.

“Tell me what there is to see but a petrified old man who let centuries pass before he decided to step up as a father!” her words were precise and cut deeply.

“I thought of you daily!”

“Do not attach thoughts of me to the atrocities you have committed!” she spat. Caius had faltered at that. For hours she had done nothing but scream about what a monster he was, about the things she had heard he had done. He sank slowly to the steps leading to his throne, unable to meet her eyes anymore. His grip was so tight the marble crumbled beneath his hands and he was left grasping at air.

“I…I wanted this world to be made safe for you…I…I tried to do right by you…”his upper lip curled back over his teeth, his expression a mask of rage it had taken centuries to perfect, one that concealed an unimaginable amount of agony.

“Do right by me?” she asked incredulously, “You abandoned me! I grew up without you, with no caretaker who ever understood me, shunned from one place to the next because you had seen fit to throw me away! My own father could not bear to raise the freak he had created.” Caius’s head snapped up and for the first time in centuries, he took a deep breath. He tried his best to quell the rage that simmered in his core, to shove aside the guilt and the grief. His daughter matched him like for like. She was his reflection, a carbon copy of his rage, and fighting fire with fire was not going to work. He was finally defeated.

“My war against the Children of the Moon led me to your door. I watched, as the filthy beast stared through the window…stared at you…you slept so peacefully, entirely unaware that the coven I had tasked with protecting you had failed…when I, when I returned to glimpse you one more time you – you were already gone.” The mere memory pained him, shamed him. The Irish had moved on so fast he hadn’t even been able to track them, their scent confused amongst the stink of wolves. Carina swallowed.

“Why? Why not visit me?” she demanded. Caius remained silent. What could he say? “Answer me! You owe me this! I always wandered where you were, why you let me go so easily! You owe me these answers.” Caius could only stare at her. She had grown since he held her last, no longer able to fit in the palm of his hand. She was the size of a sixteen-year old with a mind a millenia older, capable of recalling every wrong doing and forming opinions on the level of injustice each one carried.

“You have your mother’s eyes.” He blurted. It was all he could think to say, but it stopped the conversation dead. The silence rang around them, deafening in the wake of their previous screaming match. What were they doing? Their sweet reunion sullied by such foul words…

“Who…who was my mother?” she asked hesitantly. Caius sucked in a breath.

“A peasant girl,” he confessed quietly, “One Athenodora took a liking to and insist we…play with, for a while.” His voice echoed back to him off of the walls, Carina’s flinch something he didn’t miss. She nodded slowly.

“So, I was not even born of love.” She whispered.

“Perhaps not, but that did not mean I did not love you, the moment I held you in my arms…you were so small, so fragile for this world…how could I keep you when our enemies lingered at our door? You had to be safe, and safe was…was far away from me.” He swallowed, unable to look at her anymore. He was surprised when she shuffled towards the steps, keeping a few feet between them but sitting beside him nonetheless. Even with the distance he could still feel her heat, her temperature radiating from her like he was sat by an open flame. Another prolonged silence prevailed between them once more, and Caius wasn’t sure how to chase it away. How did he own up to centuries of ignorance? Of wrong-doing? How did he make any of this better?

Carina sighed heavily. “We have really made a mess of this.”

He looked to her in surprise, his shoulders sagging slightly in defeat.

“We have,” he agreed quietly, “But I should very much like to fix it, if you will permit me to try.” Carina quietly contemplated what that might look like for them for a moment, trying to imagine a world where her father was in her life. It had been so long and she had grown up without him…it was difficult to imagine where Caius might fit.

“I don’t need a father. I have grown out of the need for one.” Carina said quietly. Caius snapped his gaze away, a stiff nod all the acknowledgment she received. What had he expected really? A happy reunion?

“I see.” He murmured, pushing to his feet. Demetri had left her bag by the door and he was quite sure she would have no trouble picking it up on the way out.

“I do need a friend,” she spoke up, making his head turn, “I am especially in want of one who might know more about where I came from, if you could point me in the right direction.” Caius swallowed, not quite able to believe his ears. A slow smile twitched his lips upwards.

“I believe I may be able to assist you.” He agreed. Carina gave him a weak smile in reply, and Caius silently vowed it would be the first of many she gave him.

“I shall find accommodation then.” She decided. Caius immediately shook his head.

“Not at all. You may have a room here, you are welcome to one.” He said hastily. He would not lose her so soon after he had found her once more. Carina’s eyebrows rose.

“Will Demetri be nearby?” she asked innocently. Caius couldn’t help the scowl that wormed its way onto his face.

“And why does the location of his quarters matter?” he retorted. Carina grinned impishly.

“Because the pretty boy is not as clever as he likes to think he is and I did, admittedly, enjoy tormenting him on the journey here.” She confessed freely. Caius tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. Oh, oh she was his daughter alright.

“Something might be arranged.” He agreed.

“Wonderful.”

“If he is not cursing you within a week of your stay I will class your mission as a failure.”

“I will have him begging you to move him elsewhere I assure you.”

“Excellent.”

[lalainajanes]

For klarosummerbingo, my “mango lassi” square! Did I order Indian food for dinner? Yes, yes I did.

Masks Off

When she notices the goon tailing her – shaved head, seasonally inappropriate leather jacket, neck tattoos – Caroline’s pissed off.

And exhausted.

She’d spent all day cooped up in the boardroom at Forbes Industries, listening to men twice her age complain about dividends and try to suggest that workers didn’t really need a raise subtly.

It had been a tedious and pointless exercise, one she suffers quarterly. Caroline holds 51% of the company’s shares and can easily wrangle another block of shareholders into voting with her. Her parent’s wills, read out fourteen years ago, had bequeathed a stake in FI to several loyal employees. People they’d loved, who’d stepped in to help raise Caroline after they’d passed.

The board knows she has the final say, and it kills them. They think she’s an idiot, that she’d bought her degrees and can’t comprehend the financial statements. They try to ply her with compliments and flattery, attempt unsubtle fibs – Caroline plays dumb and tolerates the bullshit because she knows she can control them. Another board might not be so easy to manipulate.

She’d had a headache by the time the meeting had wrapped, had been so grateful to see Enzo waiting at the curb. She’d practically dived into the backseat of the town car, had rolled the partition down, and enjoyed a satisfying debrief and bitch session on the drive back to her apartment. Enzo had offered to grab her dinner before he went off the clock, but Caroline knew he had a date night planned. She’d shoed him away, told him she’d order in.

Once safely tucked away in her place Caroline had gotten restless.

She’d changed out of her boring suit, pulled out the pins in her hair, and loosely braided it back. After changing into a pale blue cotton dress and pair of oversized sunglasses, then selecting a few Forbes Industries prototypes, Caroline had headed out for sustenance.

She hadn’t bothered to let her security detail know. She’s adept at sneaking away under their noses. The detail is mostly for show, to make sure no one connects Caroline Forbes, wild child heiress, to the vigilante who’s working on tidying up the city streets.

She’ll slip into the leather ensemble she’d commissioned once night falls and load up with weapons. Then she’ll head to the garage where she keeps her armored vehicles and larger toys.

There’s a new villain who’s been popping up more and more frequently on her patrols. She hasn’t caught him doing anything untoward just yet, and he’s yet to make the papers and have a ridiculous name bestowed upon him. She’s scoured papers from England, then the rest of Europe, checking to see if there was a reputation that preceded him. So far, she’s found nothing, but  Caroline knows he must be working on something big.

Why else would he be so determined to attract her attention? He must have some kind of plan cooking up, wants her looking in another direction when he enacts it.

The walk to the restaurant had been uneventful. Caroline had to wait a few minutes for her order to be ready, but passing the time on a bench outside, unnoticed, her people-watching undisturbed, had been a nice change from how she’d spent the rest of the day.

It promised to be a hot evening, even though the sun would be setting shortly. Sweat had begun gathering near her hairline, forcing curls out of her braid. Caroline had added a mango lassi to her order and collected her dinner, inhaled appreciatively at the warm, spicy scent emanating from the paper bag.

She’d begun her walk home, sipping her drink contentedly, weaving through the growing number of pedestrians who were venturing out for the evening.

She’d noted the guy shadowing her about three blocks from her building, had heaved a dramatic sigh that had the guy waiting for the walk light with her edging away.

She’d just wanted to stuff herself with naan, biryani, and saag paneer and become one with her couch for a few hours before she went out to take out her frustrations on some bad guys. Was that too much to ask?

Caroline takes a turn, heading east to where there should be fewer people, reaching into her bag to slide her fingers into the modified brass knuckles (not actually brass but a proprietary FI compound) and grasping the extendable baton.

She takes another turn to check that she’s not paranoid, but the goon mirrors it.

As does another person.

Caroline pretends to adjust the strap of her dress, twisting her head to get a better look at her second pursuer. It’s an impressively muscular woman, her considerable height only enhanced by her spiked hair, dressed in skin-tight shorts and a mesh crop top.

She doesn’t seem to mind that Caroline’s spotted her, wiggling her fingers and offering a challenging smile.

There are two possibilities. Either the people following her are cocky and stupid – really the ideal scenario – or they’re cocky because they’ve got a solid plan and some big guns.

When a hand grabs her upper arm and yanks her into an alley, spilling the mango lassi and staining her dress, Caroline suspects it might be the latter. She’s thrown against a wall, just managing to get her hands up to save her face from being smashed into the brick.

She hears footsteps pounding against concrete, and the two pursuers she’s noticed join the man who’d yanked her into the alley. Regretfully, Caroline drops her takeout and her bag and backs away, hiding her weapons in the folds out of the skirt. She forces a quaver into her voice, “What do you want?”

It’s unlikely that three people who seem to have stepped right out of the goon for hire catalog have just decided to rob her. Caroline doesn’t want to assume there’s a larger plot. She’s hoping this won’t turn into a big thing, and she’s out of luck if people are planning to kidnap Caroline Forbes for ransom.

But it’ll be even messier if a bad guy’s clocked her extracurricular activities.

The spiky-haired woman takes the lead, stalking towards Caroline. She’s got a knife in her hand now, “What do I want? Twenty million dollars, to start with.”

Oh good. It’s just a kidnapping.

Honestly, kind of an insulting one. She won’t even have to liquate any assets to come up with the twenty million. Caroline stops moving, straightens her spine. “Done!” she chirps brightly. “Wire transfer, or cheque? I can do cash too, but that’s like ten briefcases. What are you going to do with them after?”

She’s been hoping to catch her attempted kidnapper off guard, but the woman doesn’t falter. She snorts, “You’re funny. I didn’t expect that.”

“Thanks, I get that a lot. I’m chock full of surprises.”

Spike lunges forward, and Caroline dodges, stepping past her and whipping her arm out, until her weapon lengthens fully. She crouches, extending her leg and spinning while slashing with her baton. Caroline lands a brutal strike on Spike’s kidneys. Spikes grunts, stumbles forward, arm banding over her stomach protectively. Caroline completes her spin and rises, catching Spike with a punch before she pauses, poised on the balls of her feet, back to a wall.

Her would-be kidnappers no longer look as confident. Spikes spits blood, expression enraged. The other two watch Caroline with calculative gazes.

“Girls gotta keep in shape, right? The tabloids are brutal. It turns out the elliptical is super boring, so I had to find something a little more fun.” Caroline leaps forward, tucking into a roll, snagging a brick from the ground and using her momentum to throw it into Leather Jacket’s face.

The brick makes contact with a gross crunch of blood, bone, tissue, and teeth. Leather Jacket howls, his hand coming up to cover his head. She jumps again, thighs locking around his neck, spinning to bring him to the ground. She digs her knee into his spine, gripping his head and slamming it into the ground for good measure until he goes limp underneath her.

Caroline stands, wiping her hand on her already ruined dress. “One down,” she says.

Only to instantly regret the proclamation. Bonnie says she needs to lay off on the monologuing, and maybe she’s got a point.

She senses movement behind her, near the mouth of the alley. Caroline turns warily, head swiveling between her two attackers and the men who are now freaking rappelling from the rooftops. Six of them. In black tactical gear, strapped with weapons and wearing black ski masks.

Well, crap.

If she’d been on patrol, with her protective suit and gadgets, she might have been able to take them. Now, in flats and a sundress, with two flimsy weapons and no backup, she doesn’t like her odds.

Caroline tosses the baton aside, pastes on the smile she uses when she has to ignore paparazzi shouting rude questions about her sex life at her. She lifts her hands slowly, palms open. “So, I’m guessing you don’t only want cash, huh?”

“Funny and smart,” Spikes says spitefully, coming up behind Caroline and yanking her hair. “What a rosy life you must lead.”

She feels a sharp sting in the side of her neck, then a flood of wooziness. Brief pain when she collapses.

She’s vaguely aware of being heaved up and over someone’s shoulder, of being alarmed by how her limbs won’t cooperate when she tries to fight back. She’s tossed in a trunk, encased in blackness.

Caroline fights it, the tiredness, her thoughts growing meandering and disorganized. When the engine rumbles to life underneath her, Caroline loses consciousness.

* * * * *

Caroline realizes she’s tied to a chair as soon as awareness returns.

She can hear voices murmuring, too soft for her to make out any words even when she strains. Caroline’s slumped over, pulling against the ropes. She’s definitely going to have some fun bruises tomorrow. Her head’s resting limply against her chest, and she stays as still as she can, barely opening her eyes while trying to get a good look at her surroundings.

Unfortunately, she seems to be in a pretty generic warehouse—grimy, smelly, cavernous, decorated with random overlapping graffiti.

She spots a tray of shiny, sharp medical instruments to her right.

Which is not ideal.

Caroline tests her bonds slowly, checking for any give or weakness. Any kind of opportunity. One of her captors has eagle eyes and notices her movements. She flinches when his voice booms out, “Sleeping beauty awakes!”

Damn it.

Caroline lifts her head, rolling her neck to work out the cramp that’s developed. “I prefer the modern Disney princesses, thank you.” She’s not the type to wait around for a handsome prince to come to her rescue.

She studies the guy who’d spoken. He’s got steel-grey hair and tanned skin, thick biceps. His face doesn’t show even a hint of emotion, and he doesn’t acknowledge she’d spoken. She’d guess he’s a pro, probably some variety of ex-military, likely expensive. Caroline hears the clomp of heavy boots and twists her head to see some familiar faces joining the party.

Moderately damaged familiar faces, but she’s not sorry about that.

“So about that ransom,” Caroline begins hopefully. “Twenty-five million, was it?”

The guy who’d taken a brick to the face grunts, “Thirty now. For our trouble.”

Caroline can admit that’s fair.

“I get it. Plastic surgery’s not cheap. Not that I’ve had any work done, despite what the tabloids might claim. I’m only twenty-seven. Of course my boobs look fantastic in a bikini.”

No one even cracks a smile.

“Okay, so you’re not interested in jokes. We could discuss the fact that it’s super gross that people follow me around the world and stalk me with long-lens cameras. Am I not entitled to take a vacation?”

No response.

Caroline sighs, shifting in her chair in an attempt to get more comfortable. “Tough crowd.”

Spike drags a second chair over, sitting down and resting a booted foot on her opposite knee. “Thirty million dollars. I have a list of six prisoners that I need to be released from the Super Max. And I want something from the Forbes Industries Vault. The subterranean one that most of your employees don’t know about.”

Caroline tips her head back, considering. Thirty million dollars, no big deal. The prisoners might be hard to arrange, but she’s got connections. She knows exactly who she’d need to bribe. She can always scoop them up later, wrap ‘em in a pretty little bow and leave them on the steps of city hall.

The Vault though? That’s not happening. She’s going to have to figure out how they even know about it, who else might have bought the info, but that’s a problem for later.

“How about fifty million dollars and a couple of extra prisoners? Maybe someone from the asylum?”

Spike leans over, her hand drifting over the tray of instruments. She plucks up one with a serrated edge, twirling it through her fingers. “I know you’re used to snapping your fingers and getting everything your little heart desires, but this isn’t a negotiation.”

She leans forward, resting the blade against the dip between Caroline’s collarbones. She taps it against Caroline’s skin with each carefully enunciated word, “Money. Prisoners. Vault.” She pulls back, gives the instrument another spin. “That’s my only offer. You can say yes, and we’ll give you a phone, so you’re servants can start arranging things. Or, we can do this the hard way.”

She doesn’t insult Caroline’s intelligence by spelling out what the hard way would entail.

Caroline swallows, straightens her spine. “No one gets in my vault.”

Spike sighs in faux disappointment, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “The hard way it is, then.”

Caroline closes her eyes, holds her breath, waits for the first cut to come.

It doesn’t come from where she’d expected.

Glass shatters from high above, showering down, leaving dozens of tiny nicks across her bare shoulders. She feels a rush of air before a body landing in front of her, knees bent.

A familiar man, one who’s been taking up way too much of Caroline’s free time, smirks at her, “Hello, love.”

Caroline gapes at him, and he pivots, backing up until her bent knees brush the back of his calves. She sees few bright flashes, but his back obscures her view of what’s happening. Whatever he’s doing, it’s painfully loud. Popping sounds interrupt shouts and screams of pain, and heavy thuds ring out. Caroline cringes, tucking her ear against her shoulder in an attempt to muffle the cacophony.

Silence, when it comes, scant moments after the chaos began, is jarring. Caroline leans as far to the side as she can, eyes widening when she spots the pile of bodies. She watches as the man, who she doesn’t know if she can call her rescuer since at this point he might also be planning on ransoming her, yanks a handful of zip cuffs from his pocket.

He moves swiftly and with grace, seemingly very at home his body and aware of its capabilities. Caroline’s eyes narrow, mind whirling as he secures her attackers, and she tries to assimilate this new information. He pulls off his leather gloves when he’s done, returning to her side. His expression grows regretful, and his fingertips brush her shoulders, skimming over the cuts and scrapes there. “Sorry about these. The skylight was the best entry point. Make sure you clean them up, hmm?”

He steps passed her, and Caroline feels him make quick work of her handcuffs. She hears the snick of a knife unsheathing and stiffens, but he only uses it on the ropes that bind her legs and torso. Caroline shakes them off, stands hesitantly.

“Okay,” she says, crossing her arms and turning until they’re once more face to face, separated by the metal chair. “What exactly is happening here? Who are you?”

“I’m afraid I’m not yet ready for you to know my identity. In due time, I promise.”

Caroline sucks in a sharp breath, her teeth grinding together. “Um, how about no?”

He blinks, and Caroline steps a little closer. They’ve always met in the dark, and he’d purposely stuck to the shadows as he’d teased and tossed questions at her. She’s never been this close to him. His eyes are blue, his lashes annoyingly long in a way men never appropriately appreciate. He wears a black mask, covering from the top of his forehead to his upper lip. His hair is slicked back, but she thinks it might be on the lighter side, given the shade of his stubble.

He clears his throat and shifts his weight, but he doesn’t step back or shy away. “I… I beg your pardon?”

“I have had a garbage day. It was long, it was boring, I had to argue over things I know I’m right about, with people who think I’m a bimbo and spend way too much time trying to look down my tops. My dinner got tossed aside when goons r us scooped me up. I love this dress, and it’s ruined. I’m bleeding. I don’t know where my shoes are. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and I want to go home!” she’s shouting when she’s done ranting, out of breath.

“Right.” Her rescuer, she’s decided on the term now, shoves the chair aside. He steps forward until his feet bracket hers, wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline grips his biceps, too shocked to admonish this rude invasion of her space. “Hold on. Step up onto my feet.”

She throws her hands up in frustration, “Hello? Did anything I just said sink in?”

His lips, which she’s now noticing are very nice, full and soft looking, compress. She’s pretty sure he’s trying to swallow a laugh. “I heard every word. I’m trying to assist in getting you home. In service of that, if you could please step up onto my feet and hold on.”

His right arm rises, and Caroline recognizes the device in his hand. She’s about to ask him if he’s seriously rescuing her with a device he’d stolen from her but thinks better of it.

He’d stolen the grappling hook from a vigilante who rocks a rose pink leather catsuit, not from Caroline Forbes. It would have been a monster slip, a true testament to how rattled she is from the day’s events that she’d almost blurted out her secret identity to a guy with questionable motives and an unknown name.

Instead, she smiles tightly, loops her arms around his neck, and gingerly steps onto his heavy boots. “For future reference,” she says sweetly, “I generally only like following orders in the bedroom.”

The strangled choking noise he makes as they hurtle upward is immensely satisfying.

* * * * *

Two days later, Caroline’s on her couch watching news footage of a gala she’d been supposed to attend. She’d had a great dress, red and scandalous, all ready to go, but trying to cover her scabby shoulders with makeup had made her look like she’d contracted some kind of infectious skin issue.

She’d sent her regrets and a fat check, resigned herself to a solo evening in her comfy sweats. On her TV, a society reporter’s chattering away about the guest she’d just finished talking to, a lech who’s at least smart enough to hire a publicist good enough to hide his dealings with loan sharks. She trails off in the middle of a sentence, fingertips coming up to press at her earpiece.

The reporter looks right at the camera, excitement on her face. “I’ve just been given some breaking news! A surprise guest has arrived, all the way from the UK. Klaus Mikaelson has shied away from public life since his messy exit from his father’s corporation five years ago. He’s built his own tech firm from the ground up. Buzz had been building since they announced their intention to go public. Let’s see if we can get a few words.”

Bored with the fawning, Caroline’s just about to switch channels. She knows all about Klaus’ Mikaelson’s company. Blurbs about it have been showing up in the intelligence reports she has complied since he’d lured a pair of promising engineers from FI’s Paris offices.

She’s planning on investing in his IPO because he might have scummy HR policies, but his business is sound.

There haven’t been many pictures of him available; apparently, he’d hardly been a social butterfly even when he’d been welcome in the family fold. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or so in the ones Caroline’s seen, in which he’d been gangly and angular and sporting a terrible haircut.

The image changes, swinging to the red carpet before Caroline can grab the remote. She pauses, impressed because Klaus Mikaelson has grown up nicely. She might be distracted by the flawless fit of his tux, which Caroline knows can cover a world of sins, so she leans closer as the camera pans up to his face.

And promptly drops her wine class.

The blue eyes. That smile, the dimple it carves into his stubbled cheek. She’d brushed her lips over that cheek barely more than forty-eight hours ago when she’d thanked him for what he’d done for her.

Klaus Mikaelson had accompanied her home the other night, had neatly deflected her probing questions, his amusement never turning to exasperation at Caroline’s dogged persistence.

She’d seriously considered inviting him into her home. She’d told herself it was only in search of more information, but a tiny part of her, the one that was unfailingly honest and sometimes gets her in trouble, had admitted her rescuer intrigued her, even without a name.

Well. Now she has one. A plan forms rapidly, and Caroline scrambles for her phone, digging it out of her couch cushions. She taps the screen, connecting a call to Bonnie. “Bon? Sorry to bug you when you’re off the clock. But I need you to find someone for me.”

She stands, walking into her bedroom as she explains what she needs.

Bonnie’s a genius, well worth the exorbitant salary Caroline pays her. She gets the address within an hour.

* * * * *

Caroline drops a rope onto the terrace of Klaus’ apartment, slips down with barely a whisper of sound, landing lightly. She hugs the side of the building, inching over to the open French doors. She’s fully suited up, hair tightly controlled, and mask on. She eases her foot over the threshold, eyes darting around.

Ugh, of course, he has excellent taste.

Caroline likes light and airy, fun patterns and textures. But she can appreciate the sumptuousness of Klaus’ living room. It’s done up in burgundies and neutrals, hints of gold. There’s a buttery leather sofa facing a fireplace, thick carpets that muffle the sounds of her boots as she walks further in. She can imagine a pleasant night in front of a crackling fire, curled up on the couch when the weather turns cold.

But she’s getting ahead of herself.

Her nose twitches, picking up the smell of curry, cardamom, and turmeric.

She hears a door click shut, whirls to find Klaus, barefoot and still dressed up from The Gala, though he’s ditched the jacket and tie. He leans against the now-closed doors to the terrace. He smiles at her warmly, “Hello, Caroline.”

Which answers one of her most pressing questions.

Caroline yanks her mask off, tossing it aside. “I realize this is going to give you déjà vu, but what exactly is happening here?”

Klaus pushes off from the door, ambles towards her, studying her reaction carefully. Caroline doesn’t flinch away or retreat. “I have a proposition for you. And I have dinner. Takeaway from that place you visited the other day when your evening plans were… interrupted. I even got the mango lassi.”

Caroline narrows her eyes, “I have weapons, you know. Way more than you’d think, given how tight this outfit is.”

He laughs, a low husky sound that Caroline knows would be easy to get addicted to. “I’m sure you do. I’m not worried about you using them on me. I only want you to hear out my proposal. You can leave anytime you wish.”

She wonders if it’s stupid to believe him, but she does. He’d had the upper hand two days ago, had no trouble dispatching the group that had taken her. If he had nefarious intentions, he could have picked up right where they left off with the torture.

Caroline’s learned to trust her instincts. They’re telling her she’s safe.

She tugs her hair out of its elastic, loosens her collar slightly, pulling the zipper down a few inches. “Mind lending me something to wear? This totally isn’t designed for sitting for long periods.”

Klaus directs her to a guestroom, gathers a few things of his for her to wear. When she gets to the dining room, she finds he’s arranged the food on gleaming platters and lit candles. Her mango lassi, in its plastic cup, looks wildly out of place.

Caroline refuses to find it endearing.

At least until she’s confirmed that her instincts are correct.

[sugolara]

𝙎𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜, 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧

ft. K.B x S.T x I.M x fem! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn

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“Are you doing okay? Have you left like you always said you would?” Shoto had a hand on his forehead as he leaned further into his palm. His brows furrowed in concentration, but it was hard due to the rotters being killed behind his room. 

Since Tomura has officially welcomed him, he was no longer in the small cold room. He had been allowed to have privileges and with that came a room that had everything you would want, well, almost everything as he was still missing someone.

A week had gone by since he hasn’t seen his friends. The last sight he ever saw them was when his teachers and a friend had been brutally murdered. He could vividly remember that day, it was hard to make the thoughts disappear. 

He’s tried to get the vision out of his head, playing the radio with outdated cds to escape his mind, but even then that did nothing as he still had to be remembered by Tomura and his goons. He wanted to smash their stupid faces every time they laughed and there were times where he wanted to get rid of them but Dabi had to hold him back, saying the time wasn’t right.

“As much as I want to say I’ve been doing good, I haven’t. I wish I could tell you that I’m happy, that I’m here with my brother having a happy reunion and remembering the days of when we were both children.” Shoto shutted his eyes tightly as the growls got louder. 

He took a deep breath, his fingers clutching on his hair as ignored the laughter coming from behind his bedroom. How could someone have fun playing with someone who used to be humans? He found it absurd and concerning. 

He then opened his eyes where they shifted to the crumbled up dirty paper in front of him. He had to laugh at himself as this would be the fifth time he wrote her letter. None of them seemed perfect and he could feel the one he was writing becoming unworthy. He doubted she would even receive these letters as he has no idea of when he would be allowed to go back to Sorston. 

“My brother keeps telling me to wait for the right moment. I think he knows I’ve been writing to you. We don’t speak as often as Tomura keeps him busy. There are times when we do speak, but it’s not a cherishable moment.”

He leaned in his chair, his eyes looking at the wall in front of where a pegboard was hung. There was still previous stuff that had been left behind from the man who used to reside there. Tomura had mentioned that the man had been decapitated and displayed for his community to see. The reason why? Betraying him.

Shoto lifted his arm where he picked up a drawing, made by a kid. There was a house on a hill, with a father and daughter holding hands and smiling. Butterflies had been drawn and the sun was at the corner, smiling.

He flipped it around to where he saw a note that read, “To my dad, the best daddy I could ask for!” 

He didn’t know why, but the paper had Shoto feeling sad as his head hung low, letting a soft sigh out. The drawing was clutched in his hand as he stared at his dirty shoes. The faint sound of laughing was heard until it finally disappeared.  

“It feels like I have no one here with me.” Hearing a knock on his door, Shoto wiped his eyes and placed a book on top of the letters. He let the drawing fall to the ground as he reached for the door. 

Seeing Dabi on the other side had the younger male return to his desk, with an exasperated expression, “How long?”

The raven-haired male closed the door and leaned on it, his eyes glanced to his desk where he could see a couple crumpled up papers. He shrugged to his question, “Don’t know.”

“I can’t spend another week here.” Shoto annoyingly said as he glared at him. He just wanted to see her.

Dabi again shrugged as his eyes peered at his window, “It doesn't matter what you want. What any of your friends want. He’ll always get his way and your friends dying was just a warmup. So you tell whoever it is you're writing to, to get their shit together.”

The bi-coloered male scoffed, “You’re his right man, can’t you help me see them. Even if it’s just for a short while?”

“You won’t have to wait for long. We’re supposed to receive our supplies sometime this week.” Dabi leaned away from the door and placed his hand on the knob, “Tomura needs us.”

Seeing his brother exit the room, Shoto followed after him with his gun hitting his hip everytime he took a step. He closed his doors and walked down the halls that barely held any lights. “You’ll never get these letters, but I hope you wait for me.”

A bullet flew, lodging itself in a rotter's head just a few steps away. F/n grinned as she placed her sniper rifle down and smuggling looked at Katsuki, “Fourth one down.”

The blonde rolled his eyes and lifted his rifle. He looked through the scope, looking for a rotter and upon finding one, he pressed the trigger, the casing fell to his feet while the bullet flew. Though upon seeing it graze the rotter, Katsuki could hear F/n let out a chuckle and sniped the one he missed. 

He ended up glaring at her, “You’re a fucking cheater.”

“Sucks, to suck.” She shrugged with a smug face.

Before Katsuki could pounce on her, they were both hit with tiny rocks. They looked down below them where they saw Izuku. His arms were crossed as he gave them a scolding look, “You’re supposed to be on watch. Quit playing around.”

The blonde glared down at him, “It’s boring as hell! I’d rather be building the walls than be stuck with her!”

The girl squinted her eyes at him as Izuku shook his head, “Kacchan, you asked to be put up there, remember?”

“Yeah, Kacchan.” F/n quietly said as she placed her fist near her mouth to muffle her laugh as Katsuki turned to her with a scowl. “What did you call me!?”

The male below continued to shake his head as he saw his childhood friend furiously shake his lover all while she let her body go limp, trying to hide her smile. The blonde didn’t know of their relationship, so Izuku needed to let him know that F/n was off limits.

Upon seeing them, he would have felt jealous considering he knew the blonde's feelings for her, but knowing that she chose him outdid his jealousy, though he can admit, there was a twinge of bitterness in him just seeing her smile at someone who was not him. 

It didn’t matter. She was with him, not with his childhood friend. His jealousy would soon evaporate once he informs Katsuki of their situation, “You guys only have five more minutes, so please, pay attention. Otherwise someone will die.”

He quietly added the last comment as he moved towards Ochaco who was on the other watchtower. He climbed up the ladder and stood beside her, letting her get rid of the dead as he watched the people down below build the walls. 

HIs eyes then peered at the girl next to him. A pink hue settled on his freckle cheeks, “Hey…can I tell you something?”

Ochaco let the rifle rest in her hands as she turned to him. Seeing a blush stain on his cheeks had her heart beating, “Sure, what is it?”

Izuku placed a hand on his nape, suddenly feeling embarrassed, “I know this is long overdue, but, I can’t help that a part of me feels…guilty. Guilty for moving on from you so quickly and leading you on the first day we saw each other.. I even talked about the girl I was interested in, to you, knowing how we felt about each other.

We both liked each other, heck, you probably loved me, so seeing me with someone who wasn’t…you, had to hurt.” He then looked at her, feeling bad as he could see her crestfallen face, “And I’m sorry, for making you feel that way.”

She blinked her tears and turned away. She then let out an awkward chuckle, her fingers gripping around the rifle, “Izuku…I was never in love with you. What I had for you was just a silly crush and whatever happened in the past stays there. I’m not mad at you for finding someone, but I’ll admit that it did hurt to see you move on so quickly.

“But the more I watched you both from afar,” She turned to look at him, her eyes peering behind him where she could see F/n sniping the dead and Katsuki looking at her with same look she gave Izuku in high school, “...you were happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that. I think I only liked you, because I admired the way you put yourself.”

She ended lastly with a small smile. The watch around her wrist began to ring and she began to walk towards the ladder, “Our day’s up. You should tell F/n and Katsuki.”

Izuku watched her leave. He felt relieved, yet almost sad to know that he couldn’t reciprocate her feelings. But, perhaps this was for the best as she didn’t need anyone to fill her loneliness and that she can survive just by herself. 

Yeah, Izuku smiled as he climbed off the tower and proceeded to F/n, informing them of their next position. Ochaco would be just fine without him. 

As the two males entered the home, F/n sat on the porch where she opened a book that she left the previous night. She wasn’t reading, she instead looked at the view in front of her which displayed other houses. She had been deep in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the sun had gone down.

She could hear a few people laughing and their shoes scraping against the road. A few birds were chirping as they sat on the roof of the porch above her. She would have been annoyed, but considering what today was, it sounded peaceful.

Hearing the door beside her open caught her attention. She shifted her eyes to the book in her hands. Skimming by a few paragraphs to pretend she was reading. The book was boring and she had to question Izuku’s taste in them.

“Are you ready?” Izuku softly said as he looked at F/n sitting on the front porch with a book in hand. His brows furrowed upon seeing her appearance, “You’re not even dressed.”

“‘Course I am.” She said, smiling as she continued to look at the book, “I’m not going.”

“F/n..” Izuku said as he took a seat next to her. What can he say to convince? Nothing, but letting her know he was there for her should help, even if it's just for a moment. 

He took her hands in his, leaning in to her as he gave her a sympathetic look, one that she hated, “I understand if you don’t want to come, really I do. He wasn’t someone you just met, he was someone you spent your entire life with, someone you shared memories with. Family will always be family, even through death.”

She blinked as she stared at him, letting the male finish, “Saying goodbye to Hanta one last time would help you move on. It's the start of the healing process.”

She glanced to her side as Izuku stood up, giving her a kiss on her forehead before heading off, “Either way, I’m sure he’d understand if you didn’t come.”

She watched his leaving figure, the birds that were chirping were no longer singing as one of them flew away. She could hear the other one walking on the roof. She wished to hear them once again.

The front door opened again and out came Katsuki. He looked at the girl as he crossed his arms, “You’re seriously not going? That’s a bit fucked up, isn’t it?” 

She glanced away from the road and shrugged, going back to her book, “Y’know no one is there, right? We’re basically saying goodbye to dirt and, like, flowers.”

The blonde rolled his eyes as he took a seat of where Izuku last was. He stared ahead where a few people were walking by. He was unsure of what to say as he wasn’t one to be known for comforting people, “At least…it will feel nice. To just…say goodbye.”

The girl glanced at him, seeing his peaceful look was unfamiliar to her. It was then she remembered that she wasn’t the only one who lost someone. He, Izuku and Shoto lost someone as well. She began to feel guilty, a feeling she never thought she'd have again.

“Anyways,” The blonde stood up, his figure was tense as he felt her eyes on him, “we’re heading to Pink Cheeks for a while. They’re making dinner and were supposed to head there after.”

Before he left he gave her a glance, an embarrassment blush on his cheeks, “..I’d like it if you came.”

She watched his retreating figure and when he was no longer in sight, she rose from her chair and entered her home where she then walked up the stairs and headed for her room. She changed out of her work attire, wearing something that could be considered nice.

She brushed her hair before leaving the home and following after the two males. Her feet let her take her to the funeral and a part of her didn’t know why she was even going. 

Maybe it was to be there for Izuku and Katsuki as they also lost someone or maybe…she was doing it for herself. Forgive and move on. 

When she arrived, she could see people placing flowers down. Mostly everyone of Class–3A was there as well as the council team. She couldn’t see Nezu when she moved to be next to Izuku. She figured he was busy or too ashamed to even be here.

Below her feet was Hanta’s grave. She ignored the people who said their goodbyes or mentioned their favorite thing about them. She stared at the bundle of flowers placed on top of the dirt. 

It was beautiful. She had to appreciate the fact they put in the effort to make it mesmerizing. Even by adding a few trinkets so that when the sun hit, it would give off a glowy aura.

Seeing a single flower come to her view, she glanced at Izuku as he gave her a warm smile. Her eye twitched as she took the flower in her hand, the other hand then grabbing his and squeezing it before looking back at the grave. 

So long Hanta.

[headinthestaticsky]

The Dusk Calls for me: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 15 FINALE

AUTHORS NOTES: This is a long one folks... hope you like it.

 ALL THE CHARACTERS IN TWILIGHT DO NOT BELONG TO ME! ALL RIGHTS GO TO STEPHENIE MEYER!

WARNINGS: Violence

“Before you slip into unconsciousness I'd like to have another kiss Another flashing chance at bliss Another kiss, another kiss.” 

Crystal Ship by: The Doors.

POV: BELLA’S

I slowly opened the ballet studio doors, I peaked around each side of the room before entering. It was quiet, and I didn’t see mom anywhere the entire room was void of people. 

“BELLA? BELLA? WHERE ARE YOU!?!”

I knew it, I knew Fleur was wrong... mom was here!

“MOM?”

“BELLA!”

“I’m coming mom!”

I ran to the end of the studio and opened the door, my heart sunk into my stomach... It was a TV, of an old home video mom took of me when I was a kid.

“Oh there you are! What are you doing in here?” My mom said.

“Mommy, I suck.” I said back to her, she gasp.

“You do not suck!”

I heard a laugh, it was deep, my blood had run cold, I knew who that voice was. My breath had started to stutter, but I face him. His body was imprinted on every mirror in the room.

“That’s my favorite part... You were a stubborn child weren’t you? Hmm?” James walked up to me, he petted the side of my head before pushing me against a wall.

“S-she’s not even here.”

“No.” He pushed his face closer to mine, breathing me in.

“I’m sorry... but you really made things too easy for me... so to make it up to you. I’m going to make a little film of our time together. I stole this from your house... I hope you don’t mind. And... action. Oh, this will just break Edward little heart.” 

I glanced up, I thought my mind was deceiving me... I saw Fleur, she was holding a rock in her hands. She brought her finger up to her lips and silently shushed me.

“Ed-Edward has NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS.” I said, I pushed myself up but I was pushed right back against the wall.

“Oh but he does, his rage will make for a much more interesting sport than his feeble attempt to protect you... and let’s continue.

“HEY!” 

James turned around, before he could say anything a rock was thrown right at his head. His skin had a slight crack in it... he looked pissed. When he turned back around to me I sprayed him in the eyes with my pepper spray. I took off Fleur waiting for me halfway in the room. She grabbed my hand and made a rush to the door but James jumped right in front of us. He grabbed me and threw me into a glass podium. He then turned toward Fleur, a deadly look was in his eyes.

“BELLA!” She screamed.

POV CHANGE: Fleur

All the fear had left my body as soon as I saw him... it was as if adrenaline had taken over me. I threw that rock with all my might, hoping to damage him in someway. I saw the slightest crack on him, and I got him to divert his attention toward me for a second. Bella and I then ran for the door but James got in our way. He threw Bella into a glass podium and then turned around to face me. The fear still didn’t enter my being, I was beginning to wonder if I had a death wish at this point. Before I could react James grabbed me by the back of my hair and turned me around to face the mirror. He slammed my head into the floor. He lifted my head back up and made my look at my now bloody appearance in the mirror.

“Jasper... he is just as pathetic as Edward... he left you this, fragile, idiotic human... He didn’t have the strength to turn you. You make this hunt much more...fun.” He licked the side of my head, drinking my blood in the process.

“You think your so amazing? I’ve seen the way you hunt and track people... It’s mediocre at best.” I spat back out, I could hear Bella groaning in pain in the background.

“How have you seen me? If I sensed you were there I would’ve eaten you up too.”

“I’ve had dreams, I was in that slut of your’s body Victoria... I saw how you hunted, it’s pathetic.”

“...You’re lying...”

“Oh yeah... does this sound familiar to you?”

“It’s always the same, inane questions. Who are you?” 

“What do you want?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“James... let’s not play with our food.”

“How in the hell could you be able to do that...You’re human, nothing more, nothing less.” James said, his grip tightened on my hair, he teeth were clinched. He was seething in pure anger.

“That doesn’t matter...” I said my dark brown eyes glaring back up at him through the mirror.

“All I know is Jasper is going to kick your ASS!”

James dragged me away from the mirror, bringing me to Bella.  He then set the camera down and grabbed both of our legs. Breaking them instantly Bella had started to scream but I held it.

“It doesn’t hurt...nothing is cracking... nothing has broken.... I will not give him that satisfaction of him knowing he hurt me.” I thought.

“Tell them how much it hurts.... tell them to avenge you!”

“NO EDWARD DON’T”

“That means you too...tell poor ol’ Jasper how much it hurts.”

I didn’t budge, he then let go of Bella’s leg and grabbed both of mine, He hurled me threw me through one of the mirrors. A large piece of glass was impaled into my side he then dragged my through the glass, my back getting cut along the way. He then dropped me  and turned to go back to Bella but before he could someone had knocked him out of the way. I then heard a bang against one of the mirrors.

“You got here first... because your fast than the others... but not stronger.” James said.

“I’m strong enough to kill you!” He then kicked James back, I couldn’t tell where though. The room was starting to spin, It felt like I was floating. I could tell who it was though it was Edward, he looked between Bella and I not knowing who to go to. He turned his head to me before muttering a “I’m sorry Fleur” to me. 

This was it, I was going to die here...Edward was going to take Bella and leave me here. I saw him jump up in the air toward a window but James had grabbed him and drug him and Bella back down to the ground. I was gasping at this point, the pain and loss of blood was starting to take it’s toll on me. I heard Bella scream in extreme pain, I knew James had bitten her right then and there. I couldn’t even say anything, I had blacked out. Muffled screams and voices had come into my sense of hearing. I woke up after being shaken by someone.

“Hey, hey, darlin, look at me. You’re going to be fine.”

“J-jasper?” I said... I didn’t recognize my own voice, it was weak and frail.

“Yeah, it’s me... you need to stay awake for me okay? C’mon let me see those beautiful eyes huh?” 

My eyes opened slightly I could see the blurry image of a fire with Alice, Dean and Emmett fighting for something to go in it. I felt a gigantic pressure on my side and hissed. I began to fade out again.

“Hey, hey... c’mon keep your eyes open... you have to stay awake! You can’t forget about what you told me in your room that night... 

I weakly grabbed his hand, squeezing as tight as I could.

“Jazz, y-you need t-to go... my blood, you can’t be comfortable right now. He ignored me and continued in on his rant

You told me you’d live... that no matter how much you got hurt... you would live, you would still be human. You can’t break you promise on me now... you need to stay awake. Fleur? FLEUR!”

My world faded to black again, the sound I heard was the beeping of a machine, it smelt like I was in a hospital. My eyes twitched and I heard rustling on the side of the room.

“Petal? Are you waking up?” It was my dad’s voice... relief filled my body, he was okay. I finally opened my eyes, they were burned by the bright fluorescent lights in the room.

“Dad?”

“Hey petal, you feeling okay?”

I tried to sit up but, a stinging sensation on my side made me lay back down.

“I’ve been better.”

“When I got the call from Jasper, my heart dropped... I didn’t think I would ever see you again.” Dad said, he grabbed my hand and held it tightly.

“I’m here... just a little beaten up right now.”

“Jasper has been here ever since you came in, he hasn’t eaten or drunken anything... in 3 days. I’ve tried to get him to eat something but he would budge. You picked a good one Petal, I’ve never seen so much dedication for someone before.”

“So, you aren’t mad at him?”

“Not at all, Edward on the other hand... he needs some work.”

“A lot of work you mean.”

He chuckled 

“Yeah, you got that right.”

“Is Bella okay?”

“Yeah she’s fine... she told me what happened. She said you were chasing her down a flight of stairs in the hotel  when she tripped dragging you down with her... and then you both went through a window! Do you remember any of this?” 

“Nope, none at all.”

“They said you lost a lot of blood due to a piece of glass stabbing you on the side, it was close to hitting the side of your lung. You got stitches over there.”

“Oh, that explains the pain then.”

“Yeah...”

“I can’t wait to go home... I miss it there... and I miss my bed too.”

“The rooms ready for you Petal.”

The hospital room door opened, we both looked up and saw Renee looking in on us.

“She wants to see you.” She then closed the door behind her, not even acknowledging me.

“Well I see she hasn’t changed much.”

“Yeah... not at all.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with her dad.” 

He turned and looked at me, and then he smiled.

“It’s worth it for you.”

“I love you dad.”

“I love you too.” He then left, leaving me alone in the hospital room with Jasper.

“Hey Jazz.”

“Hi Darlin.”

I opened my arms, inviting him in for a hug. He accepted the invitation immediately.

“I’m so happy to hear your voice again love.” We pulled apart, now facing each other.

“I’m happy to be alive, to be able to see you again. Did you guys get James?”

“Yeah, we got him, boy you should’ve seen Emmett and Dean... they were brutal.”

“I couldn’t of imagined how you felt... I’m sure my blood made you uncomfortable too.”

“You’re the one in the hospital bed... and you’re worrying about me? You did the same thing in the studio. You told me to leave, that you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable around all your blood. You are something special my love, purely amazing.”

“Of course I worry about you Jazz...I love you.”

“I love you too Darlin.”

TIMESKIP: Two week later.

Getting back to Forks was amazing, I never thought I would be so happy to see that small town again. The first week back was rough, I could hardly move, the pain was unbearable at times. The second week was a lot better but, Bella and I haven’t talked much since our fight. The tension was back... and I knew I couldn’t trust her anymore. She was too selfish, too self absorbed, she would risk me and everyone around her just to save herself and Edward. Rosalie and Alice visited me whenever they could and today, the were helping me get ready for prom. I didn’t think I would be able to go but, the pain in my side was nothing more than a annoying throb.

“You guys really don’t have to do this you know...” 

“Yes we do, besides I picked out the dress and I want to see you wear it.” Rosalie said.

“I’ve always wanted to do your makeup and hair... and since I’m here, you can’t stop me now!” Alice exclaimed.

“Alright, alright, make me beautiful!”

A few moments had passed and my make up and hair were done, I was impressed. They really knew what they were doing. I quickly changed into my dress, this was the most beautiful I had felt in the past 2 weeks.

“You look beautiful.” Rosalie said, she looked at me through the mirror, a smile was on her face.”

“You better go, Jasper’s waiting downstairs with Charlie...”

“Okay, okay, thank you guys.”

We all three hooked arms with each other and made our way downstairs. Jasper and Dad sat up walking toward the stairs, they both smiled at me.

“You look gorgeous.” Jasper said.

“Thank you, you look great. Just ignore the cast... it’s a lot...”

Jasper wrapped his arm gingerly around my waist and kissed my cheek.

“You two have have fun, stay safe.” Dad said.

“We will dad.” 

Rosalie, Alice, Jasper and I all made our way outside, Emmett and Dean were waiting for us. 

The drive was nice, it gave me a sense f peace after everything that had happened to me. I wish I could keep this feeling this forever, I felt safe, loved. Jasper had helped me out of the car and guided me through the front of the building. We got our pictures taken and made our way inside... it was a bit chaotic. I looked around and saw Angela and Eric, she looked at me and waved happily. I of course, returned the gesture. I then saw Jessica with Mike, she was posing and taking pictures. When she saw me I gave her a thumbs and mouthed,”You look incredible.” She mouthed back, “you do too!” 

“Come with me, love.” I heard Jasper say, he pulled my attention back to him.

I he pulled me towards the outside of the building, it was secluded. The lights from the inside and the gazebo gave it and warming glow. He turned to face me and grabbed my hands. He pulled my on top of his feet and then began to dance.

“This isn’t how I exactly envisioned this moment but, the one part I knew would happen is still here.” I said.

“And what would that be?”

“That I’d be dancing with you.”

“Looking you over, and you don’t know my name yet.

By the time you looked away I already knew I couldn’t fake it.

I got this need for you, forming in my beating heart.

I knew the meaning right away, when only yesterday were worlds apart.”

“I’m glad I got to be apart of it with you.” Jasper said

“I do too, the happiness you’ve made me feel, is always the best I’ve ever felt.”

“You brought me back to life, love.”

“And you brought even more life to me.”

“I think I may love you, 

If you give my sometime,

Maybe you’ll love me too.”

“I got this need for you, if you come closer I can whisper in your ear.

And if you wanna walk away 

I’ll tell you all the things I know you’d wanna hear.”

“You know... I was talking with Edward he told me some things about Bella.” Jasper said.

“What would that be?”

“Bella is in desperate need to become a vampire now.”

“Wow...”

“So I wanted to ask you... are you in desperate need to become one too?”

“ I mean... I would love to spend eternity with you but... it’s way too soon for me to change. I’m not ready to leave dad yet...”

“That’s a relief to here love.”

“If I were to get changed so soon... It would have to be because I’m about to die... I won’t do it any other way.”

“I promise I won’t change you unless I absolutely have too.”

“I’ll come closer,

To you if you

Come over

I know we’ll go farther

Farther with you

With you I’m in warm water swimming down.”

“I love you Jasper Hale.”

“I love you Fleur Swan.”

“With you I’m in warm water swimming down.”

Warm Water by, BANKS.

END OF BOOK 1

[fuckingthefictional]

Red Stained Dress

Request: “I hope you’re having a wonderful day/evening/afternoon/night! May I request Reader being a cousin to the Shelby’s (mother’s side) and being very very like lady-like, clean, expensive clothes. And one of the boys gets blood on her dress? If that’s alright? Thanks in advance.”

A/N: I made this entirely too angsty for my own good, either way hope you enjoy!

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence, swearing, blood.

“Mummy what is falling in love like?”

“My darling, it is one of the best things in life. It is special and sacred. It makes life worth living, it makes the world that little bit brighter.”

“When will that happen to me?”

“Time will tell my sweet girl, but be patient- love is always lurking around corner, where you least expect it.”

Your mother was right. It did lurk around the corner and it caught your heart in its grasp and lead you to love. To your husband.

At the age of 20 you went from Y/N Strong to Y/N Massey. Wife of James Massey. You were happy, at peace.

But your mother had failed to explain the complexities of love. That it didn’t come easy. There was darkness and rockiness. And love didn’t always last.

For you it broke in front of you. When your husband was taken on the battlefield- somewhere in France.

And suddenly you were a widow, you were alone.

Your mother and husband had passed. The only person left was your father (if you could even call him that)- Charlie Strong.

On her deathbed your mother had begged you to go and make amends with him. Even going as far to write down his address on a piece of paper for you to keep.

But you hadn’t plucked the courage to do that yet. To you your father was just a man who ran from his wife and child at the first moment he could.

There was only one trait that you shared with that man. And that was your love of horses. You had always had a connection with animals. Horses and dogs in particular would just flock to you- who knew maybe it was in your blood.

“Ms Massey?” A quiet voice interrupted your heavy stream of thought, looking up you saw one of the many maids that worked at the house standing in the entry way to the library.

“Is everything alright Mary?” You asked.

“Ms Carleton has just arrived for you ma’am, she’s waiting for you by the car.”

You nodded, rising from your armchair and taking one last glance at his armchair before you left for the day.

May and yourself were going to a horse auction, you’d been looking forward to it for weeks.

You were both looking for some new horses to take on and train, as well as some new potential clients.

“Stop dallying Y/N!” Your friend’s familiar voice rang out, “The auction starts soon, we’ll miss out at this rate!”

You rolled your eyes towards May, silently dismissing her joking jabs at you.

“We won’t be late May,” You reprimanded, “stop fretting.”

“The clock says otherwise.”

“Ladies like us are never late,” You waves your hands to prove your point, “everyone else is simply early.”

May giggles in response, “if you say so Y/N/N.”

You swatted at your close friend jokingly, you were hoping for a successful, calm day- but trouble always did seem to follow you every place you went.

-

“Ladies and Gents we will start our bidding at 50 pounds.”

The horse auction was surprisingly crowded, it seemed that quite a few people had come to see what breeds could be found at the auction house that afternoon.

It was dwindling down to the last few stallions and the occasional mare. All in all you had been successful in purchasing two stallions and a mare of your own.

The last horse on auction in question was beautiful, it was a stallion- dark and shiny in colour, its legs were long but muscled. A perfect contender for you to train for the races.

You raised your hand in interest.

“50 pounds here,” the auctioneer spoke, looking around at everyone else, “Going once, twice-“

“150 pounds.”

Your head whipped round, looking for the man who was trying to outbid you.

“300” you spoke again.

“500” A murmur rippled through the crowd.

You weighed up your options, it was a lot of money for a single horse- you didn’t want to blow through every single penny you had to your name.

“Going once, going twice-“

“1500 pounds.” A new voice had cut out, there were shocked murmurs erupting throughout the stands of people.

The gavel banged on the table, signifying the final action of the day, as people began to disperse from the auction house- you could finally see the man that had snatched the last horse up.

You knew who it in an instant- it was Thomas Shelby. Your cousin Thomas.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you began to make your way down the stairs with May. Silently you found yourself praying that he hadn’t taken any notice of your presence.

God didn’t listen of course.

“Y/N?”

You took a deep inhale, as you rushed down the stairs to try and escape.

“Y/N!”

Fuck, there was no chance of outrunning them.

You quickly murmered that you would catch up to your friend, before you slipped through the doors arena like stage.

The doors itself open and closed behind you, before it was repeated again.

Here goes nothing I suppose.

You breathed in a shuddering breath as you turned to face your estranged family members.

They were all there. Thomas, John, Arthur, as well as another two men that you didn’t recognise. Not to mention the man that you had long since called your father.

You put on a polite smile, which probably looked far too forced, “Good Afternoon Thomas.”

“What are you-“

“What are you doing ‘ere ‘ey?” Your father cut Tommy off, questioning your motives as his piercing eyes stared into your similar ones.

The action only caused a swell of anger to swirl in her belly.

“I assume the same reason that you are- business.” You spoke simply, biting down on your tongue to keep any more words at bay.

“And what ‘business’ do you have here Hmm?” Tommy’s gruff voice asked.

“Jesus I’m just here to purchase any horses that look good enough to ride professionally- what is your probl-“

“Mr Shelby.”

Everything that happened next, happened all too quickly. Because before you could even register what was happening there was a yell coming from one of your cousins.

“Get down!” John’s voice had cut of your own with a loud yell, as you were suddenly tackled to the floor.

A loud crack rippled through the air as the wooden banister above you splintered into two, a bullet lodging itself in the wall behind it.

You peeled up behind the curtain of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes, “What the fuck?” You screamed in fear, shock melting into every nerve and muscle in your body.

Another gunshot pierced out, as it shattered the large window close by into thousands of shards.

A part of you didn’t want to believe that this was happening- surely it was just a dream? A terrible, horrific nightmare?

Another crack of a bullet being launched sounded close to you, peeping up from behind your quivering hands you saw that it was Thomas who had fired it.

Thomas who had fired a fatal shot into another man’s head. Thomas who had caused the death of a man, who may have had a wife, or a child or a family.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight that was to come next. The sight of your eldest cousin brutally throwing punch after punch after punch at another man’s face.

The sickening sounds of flesh hitting flesh and bones shifting and cracking under the weight of Arthur’s meaty fists continued to echo around the room.

The man’s face slowly becoming mangled into mush, the sand below him becoming stained with crimson blood - you knew you couldn’t take it for a moment longer.

Swallowing your fear, you jumped off of the ground, screaming desperately for Arthur to stop.

You tried to pull him off, only to be knocked backwards onto your back. You felt the air leave your body as you collided with the ground.

You shifted back onto your feet, ignoring the pain surging through your spine. Watching as your father, Tommy and another man ripped Arthur away from the scene.

Crawling over you to the motionless body, you lifted two fingers to his neck. Frantically searching for a pulse. After a few seconds you found one, “He’s still alive- but his pulse is weak, he needs-“

Once again you were cut off by your father, “John take Y/N to the car.”

“What? No!” You protested, “did you not hear me- that man is dying he needs a doctor now.”

Within seconds you felt your body lift off the ground and over someone’s shoulder.

“Stop! You can’t do this!” You were screaming desperately, you voice becoming hoarse “What is wrong with you?”

The feeling of tears running down your face, alerted you to just how upset you felt. You just watched your family kill- like they were predators.

A few short minutes later, you felt your feet finally hit the floor. Looking around you grasped onto the nearest solid object that you could find.

The car was cool to touch and it calmed your raging thoughts for a second before a swell of nausea hit. You wanted to be sick, to cleanse the memories of what you had just witnessed away.

“Y/N...” John’s voice held care, like he was tiptoeing around what had just happened, “About what you just saw.”

“You didn’t see anything.”

You’re head shot up angrily, Tommy stood in front of you, with the rest of the group of men behind him.

“Really because the blood on my fucking dress says otherwise,” you fined, lYou’re fucking insane- you just killed two men, two men who may have had families that will never see them again.” Tears welled up in your eyes, “You should feel ashamed.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “If we didn’t kill them, they would have killed us.”

“We all have a part to play in this world Tommy- you don’t get to decide who lives, who dies and who tells the story. You’re just a selfish coward who shoots first and asks questions later.”

“Y/N you can’t say that- he’s your family.”

Your head whipped around, quick enough that you swore you could’ve gotten whiplash. It was your father who had spoken those words.

“You don’t get to say anything to me- you do not have that right anymore, you lost that a long time ago,” You jabbed a finger into his scrawny chest, “Family Hm? You lot stopped being my family years ago. None of you came to my wedding, none of your cared when my husband was killed, and you ‘dad’ disowned me before I could walk- so don’t you dare lecture me about family.”

“You’re still apart of this family Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, “Well if that,” you pointed back over to the auction center, “is what being apart of this family is then I have no fucking interest in being apart of it.”

Family isn’t always to do with fucking blood- it is what you make it.