#just figured it was easier to use pictures I already had in my files but the temptation to use edits was real oops

[damngoodbabysiitter]

Tagged by: @stevesxyellowxsweater thanks lovely! <3

Four characters that make me say, “my man, my man, my man”

(Steve Harrington, Will Scarlett, Monroe, Merlin)

Tagging: @jennathearcher @einaudis @jammeke @0ubliettes @angel-in-a-big-blue-box @petitlexicon and/or whoever wants to do this?

[strawbeerossi]

Jealousy

18+ Content. Minors DNI

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever the team tracks down the unsub they are looking for, it’s up to reader to lure him out of the bar with nothing but her charm and charisma. Spencer however, just can’t stand watching it. He makes sure to make his feelings known to the reader later on. 

Content Warnings: Post-Prison!Spencer, Jealous!Spencer, BAU!reader, case details, coarse language, Dom!Spencer, kinda mean!Spencer, sub!reader, possessiveness, degradation, praising, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (F receiving), fingering, hair pulling, spitting, aftercare, fluff at the end

Word count: 3k 

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Well, here it is! Can I technically call this ‘Jealousy (Taylor’s Version)(From the Vault)’ ?

Spencer approached Emily, his brow furrowed with concern, as he held a file tightly in his hands. "Emily, we need to talk about Y/N's undercover assignment. I've been analyzing the data, and there are some significant risks involved that we need to address before we even think of sending her out there.” he began, his voice laced with urgency.

Emily, her expression serious yet attentive, met Spencer’s gaze. "I understand your concerns, Reid, but we've already vetted this operation thoroughly. Y/N is well-prepared and capable of handling herself," she responded, her voice steady and reassuring.

It wasn’t matters of him thinking that Y/N wasn’t prepared, it was him being worried because this unsub was taking women who fit her image description and killing them after doing horrible things to them. 

The male nodded, his worry still evident. "I know Y/N is skilled, but the circumstances surrounding this case are unusually complex. I just want to make sure we have contingency plans in place and that we're ready to support her in any way necessary," he explained, his analytical mind racing with potential scenarios. She could have a knife pulled on her and be forced out, this unsub could drug her by sticking her with something, he could kill her right there if he figured out she was a federal agent..

After being released from prison, Spencer became a different man. He used to be more composed, now however, he was more temperamental. It didn’t help that Y/N was his girlfriend, the need to protect her being obvious. Besides, who wants to see their partner talking with a man who was brutally stabbing women and doing horrible things to their corpses? Especially when each of those women could’ve been her twin. That put her in a high risk situation that wasn’t a guaranteed arrest. 

“Reid,” The Unit Chief let one hand come up to rub her face, the woman being tired of the argument. She could understand the worry and frustration, however this was Y/N’s job that she’d been doing for a good six years now. She knew the stakes as well as what she could or couldn’t handle.

“I promise that we will have this covered. We have surveillance all over the bar. Alvez, Simmons, and you are going to be inside, close enough to stop anything if things go too far.” She stressed the details, the woman just being exhausted explaining her decision continuously. “You aren’t changing my mind. I need you to understand that this decision was made with Y/N. You need to let her do her job.” 

   ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Y/N walked into the dimly lit bar, her gaze looking around for Marcus Black, the man’s face still fresh in her mind from the picture that Penelope had sent her while she was on the way over to the location, the woman trying to mentally prepare herself for the mental gymnastics she’d have to go through for this. It was a common misconception that undercover missions were much easier than having to risk it by assuming who the unsub is and building off the profile. 

Y/N would argue this is much harder. You have to stand in front of a person who did unspeakable things to others. You have to get close and personal, be able to hide that overwhelming feeling of being disgusted, nervous, and even terrified. This was a man who was definitely bigger than she was in every aspect, being able to take her down if he truly wanted to. 

That didn’t stop her from flashing a bright smile at the bartender as she’d approached the bar, sitting in a bar stool while ordering a vodka tonic. Across the room, she could get a clear view of Matt Simmons, the man keeping his gaze fixated on her as he gave a nod once the two made direct eye contact.

She had a wire, the team could hear everything from the earpieces they all had in order to communicate with one another as well as communicate with her, even if she couldn’t very well respond in an obvious way. 

Although as Y/N was lost in her thoughts, she could feel a presence beside her, one that oozed darkness. The vibe had dropped tremendously low, however Y/N needed to keep up a façade or all of this will go to shit, something the team definitely doesn’t need right now.

Especially when they could just taste the capture that was going to come. “Hi.” The woman spoke, a charming smile gracing her features while her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, her fingers playing with the straw in her drink. 

Which as she had struck up a conversation, Spencer was quietly watching from the other end of the bar, nursing a full glass of some mixed drink in front of him just to avoid suspicion. He knew that she had to fake interest but that didn’t stop a heat rising in his chest, one associated with jealousy.

Seeing his girlfriend giving another man bedroom eyes, laughing at every word he said, even putting her hand on his upper arm was enough to make him seethe in his spot, hazel eyes focused on his girlfriend. 

She was giggling, he could just hear it from his spot, probably telling him that she just couldn’t bare the thought of going home alone. He was just further pissing himself off thinking of the potential things she could be saying, not even tuning in to the actual dialogue because he knew it would’ve pissed him off much more than his own thoughts.

It was enough to make him clench his hand around the glass in his right hand. It was like his brain was trying to trick him into genuinely believing that Y/N was enjoying herself. He knew better, however the anger over the ‘what if’ had him shaking. 

It reminded him of when he was in prison.

Y/N would come to visit him and it was one of the only things that got him through the hell, however the other inmates always had their comments. Saying explicit things about his angel, what they’d do to her given the chance to ever see her outside of those four cement walls. He wanted to keep his head down at the time but god damn, if this version of him was in prison, he would’ve been throwing fists and starting fights over his girlfriend, adding onto his sentence.

This was absolute fucking torture, Spencer’s leg bouncing in annoyance as he was using his opposite hand to put the earpiece in his ear, just in time to hear something that would have him absolutely livid. “I don’t think you could handle me, sweetheart. However if you’re up for a challenge, I’m always happy to take a precious little dove like yourself home.. However.. I don’t know if you could take what I’m going to give you,”

The male’s voice was the first thing Spencer was greeted with. “Is that so? You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. But I promise, once you've tasted the forbidden fruit, there's no turning back.” Y/N countered, her voice low and in a seductive tone while her fingers were tracing over the rim of her glass. 

“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, honey.” The man continued while looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “Most women can’t handle what I offer. We make a wager..” There it is! Now tell her, you fucking fuck.

“If they can get through my little game, they get to go home. If not?” He began, reaching in his jacket pocket. Which was enough to make Spencer jump up from his spot before he was storming over, catching a glimpse of a knife being pulled from an inner jacket pocket.

It gave him probable cause to shove the man over the counter, making Y/N’s eyes widen at the surprise while she was jumping back. 

“Marcus Black, you are under arrest for the murders of Christine Brailey, Jessica Fredricks, and Emily Knight as well as the attempted murder of Amanda Grey.” Spencer spoke through gritted teeth, the handcuffs locking tightly on his wrists before he was shoving him out of the bar. 

  ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Y/N’s back was hitting the front door of the apartment as soon as she and Spencer made it inside, the woman gasping while she was trapped between her boyfriend’s body and the wooden door.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were enjoying yourself back there. I mean you were really trying to sell it, weren’t you?” Spencer asked, eyebrows raising as his hand was coming under his girlfriends chin to make her look at him. He looked furious, it was enough to make Y/N nearly fall on her knees right then and there. 

The thing about Spencer was that he was much different now, prison changing him in many ways. He was still a good man, there were no doubts about that, but now he had more anger.

Which Y/N was the outlet he needed when he was having a hard time, fucking her deep into their mattress where she was soaking their bedsheets with her cum, getting to the point where she was crying from overstimulation and begging for more. 

“Get your little ass in the bedroom.” Spencer spat, dropping his hand before watching his girlfriend scurry off, making a b-line to their bedroom. It took Spencer an agonising amount of time to lock up and make sure everything was turned off for the night before he was making an appearance.

“You know, I could tell you were truly enjoying yourself. How does it feel to be a fucking whore?” He spat, making Y/N clench her thighs together as she could just feel her arousal soaking her panties from the harsh words. 

“Look at you. Fucking pathetic. You’re really getting wet right now while I’m scolding you for being a whore?” He asked, taking a few steps over before letting his hand tangle in his girlfriend’s hair, tugging her head up to force her to look up at him from the spot where she was sitting on their king sized bed.

“So cock hungry.” He spoke while letting go of her hair while working to loosen his tie, urging his girlfriend to take his belt off for him. However as she was moving to start on his pants, his hand was wrapping around hers. “No.” He began, using the tie he’d loosened and taken off to restrain her hands behind her back.

“You don’t get the pleasure of touching me tonight.” He scolded his girlfriend before pushing her back onto the mattress, his hand grabbing her right ankle before he was pulling her to the end of the bed. 

The black dress she wore had a perfect eyeful for him, her tits threatening to spill over the top as he was running his large hands over her body, fingertips tracing over the straps before he was pulling them down, letting her breasts out of their confinement while he groaned lowly. He had seen her body so much and he could navigate it with ease, but seeing her was always like the first time. Just.. He knows what he’s doing now and he’s not as nervous. “Fucking gorgeous.” His voice was low while he was using no effort at all to tug the dress down her legs, throwing it somewhere on their bedroom floor. 

“The point of panties is to have something to cover you up.” He spoke lowly, chuckling as her needy, swollen cunt was practically swallowing the fabric of the panties that were on her hips. With a soft hum, his fingertips were running across her covered slit, collecting her arousal on his fingers while sighing, his head shaking.

“Look my angel. Who’s got you this wet?” He asked, his hands pushing her thighs apart more, falling to his knees at the edge of the mattress. “Y-you.” Y/N was whispering, shaking with anticipation as she was really desperate for something, anything. She knew the game Spencer was playing though. 

“Damn right,” He gave an arrogant smirk while blowing cool air on her soaked pussy, a chuckle leaving his lips at the pathetic mewl that fell from her lips. “That’s right. Me. Because you’re mine, Y/N. Gonna show you what happens when you get too into flirting when you only had to do the bare minimum.” He murmured, his fingers hooking in the waistband of the black panties, tugging them down her legs while discarding of them somewhere on the floor.

Spencer was delving right in, eating her as if she was his last meal and he was a starved man, the way Y/N’s whines and cries making his cock stand at attention. However it wasn’t long until he was pulling away, tongue paying attention to her throbbing clit while two of his long fingers were being pushed into her without warning. 

Her pussy was clenching around the digits, her back arching off of their sheets as she was blabbing her own praises, even if she wasn’t making too much sense because she was a sobbing mess as she could feel those long fingers curling.

Her hands were still bound, grabbing onto her own wrist, although she’d rather have her fingers in Spencer’s hair and being able to shove his face against her more. However, it was all crashing down when Spencer was pulling away, the male chuckling as his girlfriend was looking up at him with tears in her eyes. She was desperate for relief. 

“Shh.. I know.” The male chuckled, now getting off his shirt, shedding his slacks as well before his boxers were the last to go. He was getting situated, his hands wrapping her shaking legs around his waist while he was spitting onto her already soaked pussy, the tip of his cock teasing her desperate cunt by spreading the sit around as if she needed to be lubed up.

“Alright, angel. Are you ready for my cock or do you need my fingers a little longer?” He asked, an eyebrow raising. Even in his state, he’d always ask before going too crazy. Last thing he needed was to hurt her. 

“Cock!” Y/N blabbed immediately, eyes glossed over while her hips were rolling in an attempt to get some sort of friction, clenching around nothing as she was left to lay there helpless.

“Answer any faster, why don’t you? Someone is eager..” Spencer chuckled, however he was getting quite desperate himself. So, he wasn’t wasting time before his cock was pushing into her cunt, his head falling on her shoulder while he let out a low groan. 

Y/N was letting out a drawn out moan, a few whimpers following after. There was always a delicious stretch, the pleasurable pain having her squirming and trying to push herself against his cock for more, the only thing stopping her was a strong hand on her hip.

“Patience. I’ll pull out right now and cum on your stomach and leave you here to squirm. You know better than this.” He warned, his voice low as he kissed the spot under her ear. 

Feeling his rock hard cock stretching and stuffing her felt beyond amazing and she loved it. Once he was bottoming out, Spencer wasted no time in beginning to ram his cock into his girlfriend.

The feeling of her velvety, plushy walls was always enough to drive him insane. It was like she was made for him, not even just her body but her as a person. She complimented him so well and he did the same with her. It was safe to say that she was his person. Emphasis on his. 

The sinful sounds of skin slapping against each other and the moans, whimpers and cries from Y/N were filling the once quiet bedroom. Their neighbors hated them enough, Spencer could already hear the complaints from the woman next door. She’d already made several noise complaints in the past, which Y/N would joke with Spencer that it was because she hadn’t been touched in a good thirty years. What a life that would be. 

Spencer kept up his steady, relentless thrusts. His goal was always to have Y/N cum first, mainly because the mere sight of her creaming around his cock was enough to make him explode. “Sp-Sp.. I-I… C-Cu-“ That was all he got out of her before he knew exactly what she was trying to convey judging by the way her cunt squeeze tightly around him, a cry leaving her lips as she was doing hitting her orgasm, her back arching off the mattress as her nails were digging into her wrists.

“Fuck!” She cried, Spencer giving a few more sloppy thrusts before long ropes of his sticky cum were beautifully decorating her inner walls, his thrusts fucking it deeper into her while he was slowly coming down from his own high. 

Y/N was in full orgasmic bliss, her face flushed, her eyes glossed over, her once neatly done makeup running down her face as well as her face being all over the place. She was fully fucked out, making Spencer lean down and press a few loving kisses against her lips before he was pulling out and pushing himself to stand.

He disappeared off to the bathroom for a few moments, getting a warm bath ready for his girlfriend before heading back to the bedroom, a soft hum leaving his lips as he was carefully picking up his tired, fucked out partner.

“There we go. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He breathed, the woman letting her arms loosely wrap around his shoulders. She was still in the stage where she was crashing down from her high, so he was placing her gently in the warm tub before grabbing a washcloth. 

As he was washing his girlfriend, he was looking up at her face once he could see the content smile on her face. “Hi,” He whispered, the two sharing a little giggle amongst each other. “Hi.” Y/N responded, leaning over to press a kiss against her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I hope you know, I might be flirting with more people more often if this is the outcome.” She joked, making Spencer laugh. 

“Like hell you are.”

[queenquinzel715]

Jethro Gibbs An undercover job turns to romance

Wrd count: 4,313

Warning: adult content, knife cutting (no self harm)

Jethro Gibbs (I know nothing about the military protocols so just believe it lol)

(Y/n) P.O.V

My morning was going just like all the others. I'd wake up, eat breakfast, fill my travel mug with coffee, and go to work. However halfway through my eggs, bacon, and toast when my cell phone rings. I sigh as I place my book down, and answer.

"(L/n)." I answer.

"(Y/n) we need you to come in. We have a… well the best type hinky." I hear Abby's cheery voice.

"Okay I'll be right there." I hung up with her.

I quickly get dressed into my scrubs, pull my hair into a high ponytail. Once on the road I make a quick stop for gas, and a couple drinks for my fellow colleagues. As I walk into the NCIS building I greet security and others as I get into the elevator. I hear heavy metal music as the doors open, and it brings a smile to my face.

"Good morning, Abby." I smile at her as I place her big gulp next to her quick fingers.

"Y/n you doll." Abby gives me a big smile before she takes a sip.

"What's the big hinky?" I laugh at her excited smile.

"Well this morning Gibbs and his gang had a call to this military housing neighborhood, and found a newlywed couple completely torn apart." She informs me.

"And?" I push because I know there's more by here turning to the computer screen.

"I've already found a handful of murders that were just swept under the rug, because they didn't have any sort of evidence." She walks over to a table. "Until I figured out the weapon is both a hunter's knife, and a scalpel." She then smiles in triumph.

"It's like you're a psychic, and you just give us pieces to throw us off." I laugh with her, but it's short lived by Special Agent Gibbs walking in with a box full of evidence.

"Abby, this is for you. (Y/n) I need you upstairs." He walks back toward the door. "Thanks for getting her here, Abbs." He says just as he walks out.

I give Abby a quick look before quickly walking to the elevator. Gibbs and I stay in silence the whole way until we get to the group looking at multiple people's pictures on a screen.

"(Y/n) great." McGee says. "We need you to go on an undercover operation. I just need you to pick a male that will pass for a Marine." He runs off like I knew what he was talking about.

"Gibbs?" I look at him with a pointed look, hoping he'd fill in the spots.

"We know the killer is going after newlyweds, so you are the bride." He smirks once he's finished. "I already have an idea of who it is, but of course we need to prove I'm right. I picked you for this." He ends his speech there.

"Okay." I turn to McGee. "What do I need to do?"

The rest of the day I'm given a crash course on how the undercover business works, and once I was done with my three hours course I found out that Gibbs is going to be my husband. I returned to the gang's area, and saw Gibbs watching the others talk.

"So my dear husband, how will our wedding work, hmm? Quick courthouse, or are you just gonna throw me over your shoulder like a caveman." I joke as I sit on the corner of his desk.

"Well I was thinking the club over the head would be easier." He smirks at me when I gasp. "You asked."

"So seriously, does this start immediately today?" I ask, grabbing the file about the suspect.

"You are a free woman until tomorrow night, and then we will sign the marriage certificate. I will get my uniforms, the address we will set up, and we will begin then." He puts away his belongings, and as he stands he pulls on his coat. "Chinese or pizza?" He asks.

"Chinese." I respond as I follow behind him.

This has been a new norm for me and Gibbs for a couple months now. I was pretty bad when I had to end my engagement, because my fiance was sleeping with our neighbor. An entire five year relationship down the drain. I didn't leave the lab for two weeks before Gibbs and Abby came knocking on my door. Apparently Abby had some concerns for my sanity so she went to Gibbs, and he came straight to the lab. Ever since then he has taken me to dinner every other day, or brings me dinner in the lab.

Tonight, we sit inside a little Chinese restaurant eating in a comfortable silence. With Gibbs I've learned, to much relief, I don't have to speak unless I absolutely want to.

"How's the boat coming along?" I ask as we throw away our trash.

"Pain in the ass." He chuckles.

-next morning-

I walked into the office a little bit early with coffees, and sat at Gibb's desk until I saw DiNozzo walk in with Kate in a heated discussion.

"Oh please DiNozzo all because you think it's him doesn't mean it is." Kate rolls her eyes at him, but lights up when she sees me holding a coffee cup in the air for her.

"(Y/n) you've read the files right?" I give DiNozzo nod in response. "Okay so don't you think it's Corporal Simon. He just fits every creepy fib." He acts like he's shaking.

"All because he's creepy doesn't mean anything, DiNozzo." Gibbs says before I could open my mouth. "And you. Why are you at my desk?" He says in my direction.

I simply hold up the coffee cup.

"Aw lovely wife boss." DiNozzo gets smacked in the back of the head for that.

For the next couple of hours I'm with Abby in the lab testing blood samples, fingerprints, and retesting the little bit of evidence for the past murders. By two in the afternoon Gibbs came to the lab to collect me, and my bags to go to our new home. Once there we five the whole moving in show I'm giving direction to Gibbs and DiNozzo as they carry furniture. Inside I'm dying of laughter, because every time Gibbs gives me a side eye I know he wants to tell me something smart. We had pizza delivered and sent DiNozzo back to the office.

"How do you want the sleeping arrangements to go?" I ask as I clean up the trash.

"Well I usually fall asleep in my boat." He speaks in a voice full of normalcy.

"Gibbs! That's not good." I fuss. "You told me "you can't do things that harm your body, or we won't solve shit" and look at you breaking your body down." I continued to fuss, and didn't realize Gibbs had gotten up from the table.

"Yea. I know." His voice comes right behind me as his hand drops the fork into the sink. "Then tell me where to sleep." He looks into my eyes.

"I put bedding in both rooms, so just pick one." I nervously turn back toward the sink.

"I'll take the room closer to the living room just in case." He grabs our bags by the doors, and goes toward the rooms.

Over the next couple days Gibbs, Kate, DiNozzo, and McGee have ran around the entire Marine Base to find who's actually the murder, but since I'm the stay at home wife I'm doing home things. I've taken broken down boxes to the trash, messed in the garden in the front yard, and went grocery shopping at the grocery store on base to meet other stay at home wives. As I'm taking the groceries into the house I hear a female yell hello through the front door. I secure my gun in the waist of my pants before walking to the door. A brunette woman is standing with a big smile, and a wrap covered plate.

"I didn't mean to intrude. I just wanted to say hello, and welcome you to the neighborhood." She smiles at me. "My name is Christine."

"Well that's so kind. I'd invite you inside, but the place is a complete mess." I give a smile as I take the plate.

"Oh I understand. I just wanted to drop off some sweets, and let you know if you need anything I can help. I work in the main office, so I can pull some strings." She gives me a wink.

"Well that's comforting to know." I laugh. "Thank you again, but I have to get dinner started before my husband Jethro comes home." I give a small wave as I shut the door watching her walk down the driveway.

I place the plate on the counter as I call Gibbs.

"Yes Mrs. Gibbs?" He answers.

"I was wondering when you will be back. I just met the most wonderful person." I vaguely respond.

"Be back in an hour. Everything okay?" He asks quietly.

"Yes, perfectly fine." I reassure him, and he hangs up.

Just like clockwork, an hour later Gibbs, and Kate walk through the door. I'm pulling the chicken out of the oven as Kate walks into the kitchen.

"Smells great (y/n)." She comments.

"Thank you. I love cooking." I hand her a plate, which she takes with a great smile.

"So who was this neighbor you met today?" Gibbs gets to the point as I walk to the table where they have everything set up.

"A woman named Christine. She didn't exactly say she was a neighbor, just that she worked in the main office and could pull some strings in case I needed anything, and handed me the plate of cookies there on the counter." I say pointing to the still wrapped plate. "Told her I had to get dinner ready for my new husband Jethro." As I fill him in on what else happened in my day I'm fixing both of our plates, because I realized he hasn't even looked in the kitchen direction.

"She does have access to high documents, and can cut through a lot of red tape." Gibbs informs me, and gives me a thank you nod when he takes the plate.

"Wait, can I see the witness report again?" I ask, and Kate hands it to me.

I read through the report, and found where a witness saw a brunette white woman, with long legs, short torso, and pointed face. I place the paper down as I point out the passage I read.

"This describes Christine." I inform them.

"I figured." Gibbs sighs. "We'll follow up on this in the morning. Thank you." He holds up the paper as he drinks the rest of his beer.

Once dinner is over Kate leaves. Gibbs goes to the garage, and I to the bath. I can't help but think how this is so simple for us. How we fit into the role perfectly, but I know it has to end. After I clean the rest of the kitchen I come out to find Gibbs glaring at the evidence board from the garage door. I take his empty bottle, replacing it with a new one.

"You already know who's doing this, don't you?" I lean against the table.

He leans next to me with his arms crossed.

"My gut tells me it's Christine. The evidence we have points to her office." He shakes his head.

I give him a hum in response as I stand on my feet. I can feel his eyes watching me while I walk toward my room. I do turn back at him with a soft smile before going to the door. I throw on my tank top and shorts for bed, and end up just laying there in frustration. I haven't had any sort of touch since my ex, but I can't do anything like that here with Gibbs' falcon hearing. I lay there for three hours until I've had enough, and I throw the blankets off me. I grumble under my breath as I open my bedroom door, but I quietly walk down the hall to the kitchen. I pull pb&j stuff out only for the garage door to open. I grab the large knife from the knife stand, and throw it at the door, only for it to get stuck in the doorframe.

"Whoa! It's me." Gibbs holds his hands up as he comes into the light better.

"Oh my God Jethro I'm so sorry." I run toward him, but he grabs my hand before I could grab his.

"Good throw." He keeps my hands into his one while he pulls the knife out of the wall.

"Good throw?! Gibbs, that's all you can say?" I keep freaking out.

"I thought it was Jethro." He looks into my eyes with a smirk.

He lets go of my hands to go put the knife back. He then starts making a sandwich.

"I…well..it just came out." I stumble over my words, and my face heats up.

"I think you should get used to calling me Jethro." He keeps his back to me while he speaks.

I'm too nervous to say anything, but he soon turns with two sandwiches in his hands. He holds out one to me with a paper towel wrapped around it as he takes a bite of his.

"Thank you Jethro." I smile as I take the sandwich.

We end up sitting on the counter, and Jethro telling me stories. We laugh, I joke about his military days, and he jokes about my technical "support" skills. The sun is starting to rise as my eyes become heavy.

"You should go get some sleep." He softly says.

"You're right, but so should you." I look over at him as he gets down.

"I will." He softly holds my arm as I get off the counter.

We separate into our rooms, and he is gone by the time I wake up. I stay inside for the day, and just watch movies. My phone rings as I'm stepping into the bath, and it's Jethro. I sit on the side of the tubs as I answer.

"Yes Jethro?"

"I have pizza for dinner." He simply tells me.

"That's nice." I sarcastically respond, trying not to laugh.

"I'll get you garlic bread. What is that noise?" He has the most annoying hearing.

"That is the bathtub water running." I run my foot in the hot water.

"I'll be there in an hour." He then hangs up causing me to laugh.

I'm too relaxed to hear the front door opening, but when I hear doors opening I call out for Jethro. When I don't get a response I slowly get out of the bath, wrapping my house robe on. I'm about to reach for the gun I have in my nightstand when the door is burst open. I give a scream of surprise, but I'm quickly shut up by a gun being pointed at me. Christine comes creeping into the room with a hard look in her eyes.

"What are you doing?" I keep up the act, hopefully I can stall until Jethro gets here.

"Living room, now." She demands.

I timidly walk to the living room with my hands raised, and slowly sit on the couch. I watch her look around the living room, and kitchen before she comes in front of me. She points her gun at my head as she sits on the table directly in front of me.

"So tell me how long have you and hubby been together?" She asks, sounding sweet.

"Y..year." I look confused.

"Ahhh newly newlyweds." She stood to go over to the bag she had put on the loveseat. "I was with my husband for six years before we decided to get married." She turns with rope and a knife in her hands. "We then were married for two before he was deployed. He was a Marine that was sent overseas, obviously that's all he could tell me. I was kept in the dark the whole time while my husband was tortured by terrorists." She takes her seat back on the table. "Tell me what do you think Jethro would do if you were taken."

"I…I don't know. I'd hope he'd help me." I shake from her moving the knife closer.

"Sad isn't it? Shouldn't the answer be something on the lines of "he'd burn the whole world apart" or "he'd never stop looking"?" She cuts the arms of my robe open to the elbow. "You want to know what the US military does to help their Marines?" I scream from her cutting a short cut going down my arm. "Quiet!" She shoves pieces of robe into my mouth. "Four men died because the US tried to play into the terrorists computer, instead of simply allowing the terrorists into the Union, and they would let the Marines go." She cuts another line. "They could've said they would allow it, get the Marines, and then grab the terrorists!" Her voice gets louder as she goes.

I see movement from the corner of my eye, but I keep watching Christine move the knife around. She goes to cut my arm again when the front door, garage door, and backdoor open.

"Freeze NCIS!" I hear from my three favorite people.

Jethro comes in through the backdoor, DiNozzo through the garage door, and Kate comes in the front with their guns raised. Christine looks at me in surprise as she drops the knife and gun. Jethro softly grabs my face to make me lock eyes with him.

"I'm here. Come on." He helps me stand, walk to my room while the others handcuff Christine.

I'm quiet as Jethro cleans up my wounds with the first aid kit I keep in my bag. I'm so out of it my robe opens slightly, and I didn't realize until Jethro closed it more. He gives a deep sigh as he cleans up the trash.

"Thank you Jethro." I timidly tell him as he goes to walk out.

He turns back, and kisses me hard with a hand on my cheek, his other on my thigh. I grip his shirt in my hands as I kiss him back. We pull apart after a moment, and rest our heads against each other.

That night my nerves were level, and everythings calmed down. I start packing up, and put the bags in the garage for the guys to load up. Tomorrow the movers will come for the rest.

"Ready." Jethro walks up to me, grabbing my bag.

"Yes. I checked everywhere to make sure nothing was left." I tell him as we walk to his car.

"Tomorrow morning we need to meet at the director's office." He informs me, once we are on the road.

He helps me carry my bags into my apartment, and shuts the door. I softly smile at him as he walks toward me. I rest my hands on his shoulders as his hand rests on my waist. He kisses me deeply as he pulls me to his chest. I melt against him, having my fingers run along his shaved hair. I gasp when we pull back, but his warm hands moving up my back makes me softly moan.

"Room." He orders.

"Yes sir." I give him a sly smile as I walk him toward my room.

I hear him chuckle as he follows me, but once to the door he pulls me in from my waist. I throw my shirt off so I can feel his hands again. While he works on the buttons of my pants he gives me soft kisses to my neck. I lean my head against his shoulder just melting against him. The feeling of being protected feels so much more different, but amazing. He flattens his hands to slide my pants down, and he lets me walk out of them. I turn to him, locking eyes with him as I lay on my bed.

"You sure about this?" He asks me while untucking his shirt.

"I'm more than sure." I give him a straight answer.

Once he gets down to his boxers he crawls over me with a dark look in his eyes. I put my hands on his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss. His skillful hands unhook my bra, making me throw it behind him. I move my hand along his shoulders while he kisses along my neck to my chest.

"Jethro." I moan softly when his lips wrap around my nipple.

He wraps his arm around my lower back pulling me closer, biting lightly on my nipple. His other hand moves my underwear down, but once he got to my thigh, he had pulled back to snatch them off my ankles. My legs open back up for him to lay comfortably in between them. He looks me in the eyes as he slides his boxers off. My knees rest on his hips, relaxing into the bed, feeling him rub against my entrance. Him slowly entering me makes a shiver take over my body, but Jethro deeply groans. His hand grips my thigh in a tight grip, causing it to rise higher.

"(Y/n)." He rests his head on my shoulder.

"Please move Jethro." I whine.

He starts to move back some only to piston back inside. My body arches up to his chest, and my throat closes on the scream that wants to leave. All I could do was grip his bicep, lock my ankles together, and enjoy the feeling of him stretching me. The feeling of his hands, his deep harsh movements, and the tightening feeling in my stomach. I start to lose my mind.

"Let go for me." He groans in my ear before he kisses my neck.

He kisses me as he goes harder making it very difficult to let my moans out, but I just hold onto his back as he just lets go. With a deep groan and final thrust Jethro and I finish together with a loud moan from me. He lays next to me with an arm under my head as we catch our breath.

"Wow." I breathed out.

He chuckles, turning over, and grips my lips with his forefinger and thumb. I giggle as we kiss a lot more softly now. We lay together for a while before finally getting in the shower. I did think Jethro was going to leave, however when I went back to lay down he joined me. I slept amazing with his warmth next to me whenever I would turn.

When I wake up I see a hand placing a coffee mug on my nightstand, and a hand rubbing along my side.

"You got to wake up. We still have to work." He talks quietly in my ear.

"Thank you." I smile as I reach for the mug.

"You are quite welcome." He chuckles as he grabs his clothes.

"Jethro!" I giggle at his joke, placing my hand over my eye.

"I'll see you at the office. I have to change." He says as he throws his clothes on.

Once he leaves I finish my coffee, get dressed, and try to keep the smile off my face as I walk into the office.

"Well what made you so smiley this morning?" Abby asks as I walk into the lab, and pull on my lab coat.

"I'm just glad to have my bed back." Is all I tell her.

"Is that so?" I hear behind me.

I turned to a smirking Jethro holding a cardboard cup holder with two coffees, and in his hand was a big gulp for Abby.

"Jet…Gibbs." I exclaim almost messing up.

"Morning Abs." He hands her the drink, and walks back to me.

"(Y/n)." He hands me a coffee. "Director needs us." He leans me with a hand on my lower back to the elevator.

"I'm sorry I didn't know if you were okay with me saying anything, or if…" I'm stopped by him stepping closer to me.

He kisses me softly like he's been doing so for his whole life. I'm just about to relax into him when the elevator opens, and there stands Kate and McGee. They are shocked when they finally realize what they just saw. I step out of the elevator, quickly getting to the director's office. I stop at his door, and wait for Jethro. Jethro walks up the hall with purpose, and goes right into the office.

"Alright let's get you two divorced." Director Morrow places the papers in front of Jethro.

"What if we don't sign?" Jethro asks so nonchalantly.

Director Morrow looks lost as he turns his attention to me, then back to Jethro. I'm just frozen from shock.

"I'll let you two talk." Vance leaves quickly, and once he's gone Jethro turns to me.

"What are you doing Jethro?" I timidly ask.

"Well I was thinking how easy it was for us to be together this week." He starts. "We don't have to sign just yet. Let's give it some time, and then if you want we can sign these papers." He lifts them as he speaks.

"So you're making me number three?" I sass.

He shrugs as he throws the papers back on the director's desk. The rest of the day DiNozzo gave Jethro so much crap about how he didn't get to throw a bachelor party. I also got an ear full from Abby about how I should get a big dress. Kate was like an older sister asking me if being married is what I wanted. Her being Catholic marriage is a big thing, but after telling her how I felt, she understood.

[idontlikeem]

i'd like to talk about grieving, a little bit. as in the past, discussions of death and cancer below the cut, don't read if this will hurt you, etc....i'm having a bad day and i just need to stream of consciousness for a little bit. sorry.

so my mom died. if you've read my personal posts before or whatever, you probably figured that out. it happened on thursday february 15th around noon. luckily we had a bit of notice that it was coming, so i was able to drive down the saturday prior and spend time with her—three full days where she was pretty much still herself, and part of a fourth.

it's been a really hard month. like, obviously. but i think a part of me still wasn't quite ready for it. i don't know how.

my mom was first diagnosed with breast cancer in fall 2011. she had a mastectomy and went through chemo, and that was hard and scary, but it was i think technically considered stage one—a tumor that was definitely growing fast, but it hadn't spread out of the area, like not to her lymph nodes or anything, and with the treatment she went almost ten years totally symptom-free. right at the start of the pandemic, the cancer came back, but this time it was already stage four, and it was in her abdomen and uterus and intestines.

there was a time when we weren't sure she'd live more than a year. endometrial and other reproductive cancers aren't 'sexy' like breast cancer is, they're not widely studied and there aren't a lot of treatment options. when she had breast cancer i hated 'save the boobies' campaigns (and please never donate to susan komen), but now that my family has lived with another type of cancer that doesn't have tits as a draw, i hate them even more.

my mom made it four years, pretty much, since the first diagnosis. she did chemo, and radiation, and went on medication trials, and put her body through hell to try and fight it. she lived longer than i think any of us thought she would.

the problem with that is how long i've been existing in a state of grief.

i've had years to prepare for this. i've thought about it literally thousands of times—how i'd feel, how i'd tell people, what i'd do after. i pictured it, because i was trying to plan. i was trying to get myself ready.

turns out pre-grieving isn't real. turns out you can't get this pain out of the way by experiencing it in advance. much to my chagrin. i'm not sure there was a way to avoid it, though. so here i am, with four years of grief behind me, and not one second of it has made what's going on now any easier.

some days i forget. every time i'm on twitter or instagram, there are posts i want to send her, and then i don't know what to do with myself. for all that my relationship with her had its hard times, she was my mom, she was my best friend. i love her more than anything and i don't know what to do with myself now that she's gone.

i've been sort of just surviving for the last four weeks. my apartment is a mess, i'm barely leaving, i haven't been good at responding to people. so today i thought i'd at least clean up a little. i'd gone to target a day or two before i drove down to my parents', and i figured i would start with those bags, because they were just sitting there.

i'd forgotten that i bought valentine's day cards for my whole family that i wanted to send. one for each of my brothers, one for my dad, one for my mom. i never sent them, obviously, i didn't even bring them with me. i burst into tears when i pulled them out of the bag, and i've been crying pretty much all day since then. i'm never going to pick out a card for my mom ever again.

i also have a notes app file sitting on my phone. she wrote each of us letters, and my dad sent them out to us, but i haven't been able to open mine yet. it's the last new thing she'll ever say to me. how could i possibly be ready for that? how do i know when the right time to read that will be?

one thing my mom wanted was to die at home. she didn't want it to be in a hospital, and i get it. she spent a month in the hospital after christmas, and god knows how much time cumulatively over the last four years. the fact that she was able to push to get home is something i don't understand, because she was so sick—but she did it somehow. she was able to die in her bed.

and i was with her. like. i wasn't just at home, i was with her.

something they don't tell you about having someone die is you have to start arranging stuff before it actually happens. when we woke up on the 15th, we knew it was only a matter of time—her eyes weren't all the way open and her breath was labored, and she couldn't talk, although at first she still tried to say stuff. we sat there with her and kept her company and talked to her. hospice came by around 11 or 11:30, i don't even remember, and said that based on whatever measurements or readings they take (pupils? breathing? i don't know), it would be between 4-8 hours, and he recommended that my dad call the funeral home. because you have to do that first.

so my youngest brother was driving down from where he lives, my middle brother was in his room, my dad was in his room on the phone, and i stayed with her, because....well, of course, right? and i was just kind of talking, and crying, but trying not to...i don't know, beg her to stay? ask for more time? the nurse said she could still hear, they're pretty sure that hearing and understanding what's being said is the last thing to go, and i didn't want her to feel bad or guilty, or to hurt herself in an effort to stay longer even though there's nothing more that i've ever wanted in my life.

so i told her, you know, we'll be okay. it's going to be unbearably sad, and it's going to suck, but all the stuff we did as a family with her—we'll still do it. and we'll be okay. and there's nothing more important to us than her not hurting anymore, not being miserable and stuck and just...not herself. all that matters to us right now is her, and she didn't have to worry about us, because we'd be okay.

and she took in a breath. there was a pause. she took in another one. and she stopped. that was it.

i didn't even realize at first, not right the second it happened. the hospice booklet had talked about a 'death rattle', about how it happens almost all the time, but that it's more distressing for the people with the person dying than them, that they're not in pain. how the fuck would they know that, i'm not sure i believe it, but...it's what i was expecting. that didn't happen, though. she just stopped breathing.

the amount of guilt i felt for my dad being out of the room...i don't know if that will ever leave me. he said it was ok, because he was having to deal with stuff, and he'd spent a lot of time with her and it was fine, but jesus. how do i not feel like i stole that from him?

i've felt like a shell ever since. i'm back where i live, and i'm getting up and going to work and taking care of my dog and trying to stay connected to life, but...i don't know.

how is it that she's gone? how is this possible? how am i supposed to go the rest of my life without her?

i had four years to get ready for this, and i wasn't. i don't think there's any way i really could have been, but still. it doesn't seem fair that it was so hard for so long, and for NOTHING. nothing is easier now.

i'm sick of feeling sad, and hurt. i feel like i should be over it or something? i don't know, maybe just less actively affected? it's been a month. people's parents die all the time, right?

what am i supposed to do?

[slashhinginghasher]

Into the Cricketverse - Audition Tape

Introduction: Marena POV Introduction: Cricket POV* Aftercare* Bread* Boundaries Movie Night Welcome to my Death Talk* Mess*

*asterisk denotes parts written by @thesightstoshowyou

(This is still part of the Spring Break series, I've just switched from part numbers to titles until Sights and I have worked out where everything fits in the timeline.)

~

Marena's back hit the wall hard enough to rattle the pictures in their frames, the blood in her hair leaving smudges of rust on the white paint. Jesse used the new leverage to thrust even harder, faster, deeper. Every part of his girl was clamped down on him like a vice: bare, blood-spattered legs wrapped around his waist; sharp little nails digging into his scalp and the nape of his neck; pussy gripping his cock like it never wanted him to leave.

About five more minutes, he figured, before the adrenaline rush began to die out and she became cognizant of the fact that he was fucking her out in the open when there were other people in the penthouse. He planned to make full use of that time.

From somewhere in the penthouse, the tinny recorded sounds of screaming and crunching bone looped again and again.

~ One hour earlier ~

Marena was reaching a breaking point much faster than Jesse had anticipated. Only a few days in, and he could already see the strain of Asa's presence taking a toll on her. He'd given Asa a brief overview of her history in the brothel as a way to justify his "hands mostly off" rule, and the clever bastard had quickly deduced that he could circumvent it by using Cricket's pain to torture Marena psychologically instead of physically. If she didn't get a way to work off some of that tension, she'd do something that would push Asa over the edge.

Which was why Jesse slapped down a little plastic baggie of pills in front of her.

Marena glanced at it and went very still. She knew what date rape drugs looked like, and she knew Jesse didn't use them on piggies. When she looked back up at his masked face, it was with the cold, dead eyes of a predator.

"He's in the basement."

Holding his gaze, she slowly rose to her feet, took a few steps backward. Then she took off for the master bedroom at a brisk pace. Jesse smiled behind the mask and fiddled with his camera while he waited for her. It was a digital model, the type he preferred for his personal projects when he didn't have to worry about the cops scraping metadata off a computer file. The sound and picture were crisper, the videos easier to edit after shooting.

And this one had broadcasting capabilities.

Marena emerged in a pair of heavy leather boots with metal plates embedded along the thick soles. With her asymmetric plaid skirt and haphazardly plaited hair, she looked ready to go to some punk show. It was hot. Even hotter was the way she plucked the meat tenderizer Cricket had used the previous night from the drying rack by the kitchen sink, weighing it in her hand and giving it a twirl before nodding at Jesse.

She was silent in the elevator on the way down, absentmindedly tapping the metal mallet against her thigh. Nearly a year ago, she had slaughtered a group of men in a Miami penthouse for drugging and raping girls from the shitty bar she'd worked at. Her subsequent flight from the police had placed her on a path that landed her directly in Jesse's bed - and the rest, as they said, was history.

Jesse mentally sent out a thank you to the four rotting corpses that had inadvertently sent him his Tiny Terror.

The college boy - bermuda shorts, boating shoes, and a button-down shirt that had ripped open in the acquisition scuffle - was tied to a chair, looking a little worse for wear. Various implements of pain were lined up along a metal table behind him and more were locked in a cage off to the side. The setup reminded Jesse of his first encounter with Marena, though she had maintained far more composure than this sniveling wreck. His red eyes and runny nose were shameful in comparison.

Boat Shoes' intended victim had been dosed with a heavier sedative and was snoring away the last peaceful moments of her life in a locked box in the adjoining room. Jesse and Asa would play with the little piggy later; right now her presence would just be a distraction to Marena.

Jesse checked that the camera was linked up to all the TVs in the penthouse, and Asa's phone for good measure. He had a feeling the other man would want to watch this, even if it meant pulling himself away from Cricket's pussy for a time.

Marena looked Boat Shoes up and down dispassionately, like something mildly disgusting viewed from a distance.

"W-what is this?" he whimpered, looking over her shoulder at Jesse. "Hey man! What the fuck is going on?!"

Jesse slowly circled the scene and Boat Shoes tried to follow, straining his neck as Jesse moved out of his line of sight. Marena kicked him in the shin hard enough that the chair scraped several inches across the floor. He yelped.

"OW, fuck!"

She hurled the baggie of pills at his face. He flinched when it smacked his cheek.

"If you're going to rape someone," she said, voice deceptively soft, "at least have the decency to take them down yourself."

"Oh fuck, is that what this is? Some kind of... feminazi intervention?"

Marena frowned slightly.

"I don't know that word."

"You're gonna stand there and act like I'm the bad guy when she's the one who was acting like a tease and giving me mixed signals all night?" His reedy voice rose until he was almost shouting. "If she didn't wanna fuck, then why was she up at my table with her tits out, y'know?"

It was almost comical, the way he tried to square his shoulders when he was still tied to a damn chair.

"It's not like I was gonna hurt her, I just wanted what she owed me without anymore fucking games. But you females gotta make such a huge deal out of everything now with your 'me too' or whatever the fuck."

Boat Shoes craned his head, looking for Jesse.

"How much's she paying you to do this, dude? Or did she just put out like a slut?"

He lost his nerve the second he made eye contact with the mask and quickly looked back to Marena, but his raised voice made it clear he was still trying to address Jesse.

"Fucking typical, females can't even do anything without men to do the dirty work for them, am I right? I wasn't even asking much from her, all she had to do was lie there and take it-"

Whip-quick, Marena backhanded him with the meat tenderizer. The meaty smack was immediately drowned out by his warbling shriek. Melodramatic. She hadn't even hit him hard enough to knock him over. He coughed up a mouthful of bloody spit, and Jesse heard the clink of at least one tooth hitting the ground.

While Boat Shoes whimpered, Marena set the meat tenderizer on the table and picked up a knife. It was a simple thing, less than six inches long with a smooth blade. When she circled back around to face the boy again, he started blubbering and hyperventilating.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck." Blood sprayed off his quivering lips and dribbled down his chin. "Mel? Mel, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it. I didn't mean- Oh, jesus fuck-"

He shut up the instant Marena touched the tip of the knife to his mouth. She trailed it downward, over his scrawny chest, until it hovered over his pubic bone.

"You don't want to be hurt, do you?" she asked in that same quiet, even tone. He shook his head frantically.

Marena cocked her head, eyes wide, unblinking.

"Then why are you so soft?"

She pushed the knife in, slowly.

Boat Shoes' wail echoed off the walls of the basement. When Marena stepped back, the hilt of the knife jutted up from his pelvis like a macabre erection. Probably bigger than anything he'd ever achieved with his limp little dick, too.

Marena slipped behind him to pick at the knots binding his hands. As soon as the ropes fell away, he slid to his knees. The knife handle bobbed up and down comically with each of his pathetic whimpers.

And, surprisingly, he wrapped his quivering hands around it and pulled the knife out a cry and a gush of blood. A stupid move - everyone knew removing the knife would just make you bleed out faster - but Jesse had to admit the kid had some guts. They were just a bit too perforated to do him any good now.

When Marena returned, meat tenderizer once again in hand, Boat Shoes brandished the knife at her, flicking lines of sticky crimson across her scarred calves. She didn't hesitate to bring the mallet down on his face again. More teeth went flying, and his jaw now sat at a horrific angle. Planting a boot on his solar plexus, she shoved him onto his back before stomping hard on the puncture wound in his gut.

Boat Shoes' scream could have shattered glass.

Marena knelt down and straddled his chest, heedless of the pooling blood soaking into her skirt. Keening miserably, Boat Shoes flailed at her with the knife, but didn't even land a scratch before she ripped it from his hand. Another swing of the mallet, and sobbing turned to gurgling. Gore spattered and threads of blood arced through the air as she brought the meat tenderizer down again.

And again.

And again.

A very small part of Jesse flinched with every wet crunch of metal against bone and flesh; he remembered all too well the sensation of his skull giving way under a baseball bat. But most of him was focused on capturing the rictus of fury on Marena's face as she reduced Boat Shoes' head to paste. An inhuman growl had bubbled up behind her bared teeth, rising in pitch and volume until it was a vicious banshee shriek. Her eyes were at once zeroed in and a million miles away, and Jesse felt certain she was not seeing an American college boy beneath her fists.

The meat tenderizer was clotted with blood and skin and other squishy bits that were never intended to see the outside of a skull by the time Marena brought it down a final time. It bounced off the concrete floor hard enough to ricochet it out of her hand, and she didn't bother to retrieve it. Chest heaving, she pushed her hair out of her face with bloody hands. She stood, located the baggie of drugs, then searched for the broken teeth scattered across the ground.

Instead of a human head, Boat Shoes' neck now terminated in a pile of chunky red pulp. Having retrieved all of his wayward teeth, Marena gathered them and the pills in her palm and poured them onto the gory mess, approximately where the boy's mouth had been. She cocked her head, considering, and drove her heel into his groin hard enough that something crunched. Then she wiped her hands on her skirt and walked back to the elevator.

Jesse, by this point, was practically vibrating with need. He could have fucked through steel with how hard his cock was. He took one last, lingering shot of the body before ending the broadcast and switching off the camera. He placed it carefully on the table, removed his mask, and bore down on Marena like a tsunami.

She was waiting for him in the elevator car, and he immediately swept her into his arms, her toes dangling a full foot off the ground as he sucked in mouthfuls of her salty skin like a starving man in the desert. Her face was speckled with blood and flecks of bone and brain matter, which turned to ruddy streaks under his tongue.

Marena was grabbing at him with equal fervor, grinding down on his bulge and tossing her head back wantonly. As the elevator door slid shut, Jesse hiked up her skirt, tore her underwear completely free from her body, and slammed home.

Hopefully, Asa had enjoyed the show.

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

i never thought i would have a more unhinged concert experience than this past fall but i think this one actually beat it in that respect

overall: MUCH better than yesterday. vibes just felt massively improved and i felt it in my playing

somewhere in the middle of a piece i straight up got my right elbow HIT by the scroll of the associate concertmaster’s violin. i have no idea how it happened nor do i know why his scroll was there but it hurt and he did not offer so much as an apology afterward. sigh oh well

we should have a system of filing onstage instead of just randomly swanning in whenever we feel like it lmao. i think that contributes to concerts starting late. however ate honorsprofessor and the graduate student insist on following me onstage like baby ducklings so that’s funny to me

boy this program really was just grueling, i operated at maybe 80% for the mendelssohn italian second movement so i could devote more energy to the dvořák 7 third movement but still wound up absolutely SPENT for the haydn 104 finale. i swear i only managed to push through by grace alone. this was probably the most intense program i have played yet

i think the only piece where we had any lengthy rest was the brahms serenade 1 movement 1 with the two 20-ish bar rests. so that was like. two hours of almost straight playing

after the dvořák tita conductor gave us a huge grin which i would have appreciated more if i hadn’t been desperately been trying to rally the troops (my strength) to power through the haydn

i got a handshake from tita conductor at the end of the concert 😭 she did not do this last night or warn the non-concertmaster string principals during the warmup that she was going to go for it so i was taken completely by surprise when she held her hand out to me after shaking the concertmaster’s hand so i probably looked like 😳 when i took it LMAOOOO

okay here’s where things get really unhinged.

i knew i wanted a picture with tita conductor at some point in the school year and reckoned that this would be a good time to ask since this is (i think) our last concert that’s just us and not with other ensembles for the year.

i kind of chickened out but ate honorsprofessor egged me on (no shoving me towards tita conductor this time though)

my parents, some of my coworkers, and one of my friends attended and i waved my dad over before approaching tita conductor on the stage and asked her for a picture

tita conductor brightened and said “yes—my best principal second that i’ve ever had!”

oh god. she is not emotionally prepared for me graduating.

anyways we had the picture (i also asked ate honorsprofessor to be in it too because. its literally the cover of the graphic memoir), and then she said to me “there’s a part in the brahms where you have to count so many rests and then come in with pizzicato. i never get to cue you there but you always come in anyway. by the time i figured out i needed to cue, you had already figured it out yourself and you have never missed that entrance.”

i was like “oh, well, i love the brahms” trying to explain that i have listened to it so much that half the time i wasn’t even counting i was just going with how it sounded in my head and then she said fervently “i do too” like girl i know. you picked the piece. you keep singing it. you made the program 😭😭

there’s also the fact that whoever wrote the part put a brief viola cue in there which makes it easier for me. but i didn’t say that

it should not surprise me that tita conductor likes me this much but it does surprise me that i rank that highly even though she’s only known me for a little over a year. fun times

sad that we may not have rehearsal this thursday but really—after that exercise in endurance i do need some good quality rest

[thepatchycat]

Hi, I’m a real new shiny here (on Tumblr, but also at drawing), and it’s the first time I ask anything, so I hope it’s ok. I must say first that I love the way you draw TCW characters (especially the clones)! 😍 I just came across this sketch you made on canvas (if I remember correctly) https://www.tumblr.com/thepatchycat/729224397978828800 and I was wondering, if you don’t mind sharing, how do you get the perfect white background on non-digital drawings? I currently use a scanner app on my sketches and the results are always inconsistent and far from that white… thanks a lot in advance!! 😊

Welcome to the Tumblr crew, shiny! ;) And thank you kindly!

So my dirty secret for that sketch is... it actually is completely digital! I drew it in a program called Rebelle 5, which is designed to mimic traditional canvas/paper and pencils/paints. I picked it up for super cheap during a huge sale last year, and it's a lot of fun; unfortunately, it's usually pretty expensive, as many art programs are. I highly recommend keeping an eye out for sales though if you ever get into digital drawing--and if you'd like a free program, the one I use most of the time is MediBang. But those programs are really mostly helpful for digital art, not so much for scanning actual pencil sketches.

While I tend to stick to digital drawing nowadays, I definitely feel you on the scan cleanliness issue; phone pictures and even proper printer scans tend to end up either kind of dirty or faded. The short answer is that I don't actually have an easy and effective solution, but there might be some things you can try depending on what you have available. I wouldn't be surprised if you've already explored more methods than I have, and there are definitely people with better ideas and more experience than me, but I'll share what I've tried.

Long(er)-winded rambling under the cut!

So, I currently have an unfinished piece sitting in my files that began as a traditional drawing, one that I want to keep all the pencil details for. Here's the sketchbook page, scanned using a household printer:

Not terrible, but it'd be nice to have clearer contrast between the lines and the background. In MediBang, I can adjust the contrast by going to Filter>Levels (or Ctrl+L), which gives me a little box that looks like this:

I don't technically know the nitty gritty of how it works, but by my understanding, the outer triangles for the input and output indicate the range boundaries. Adjusting the input--particularly the darker boundary--so that the output boundary exceeds it basically tells the program to make the darker parts even darker, resulting in this:

Better! As you can see, though, the darker parts of the background also show up a bit more. Rather than relying only on contrast adjustments, what I actually ended up doing was carefully erasing the background around the drawing after adding a plain white layer underneath, and also going over some of the lines digitally. I did this first in MediBang (the only art program I had when I started working on it), then transferred the file over to Rebelle.

MediBang (left) has the pure white background, while the Rebelle (right) canvas settings I chose are a little off-white and more textured, which I think blends a bit better with the texture and shading of the image. It's possible to add textures and the like in MediBang, too, but Rebelle has it built into its design, so it's a little easier to figure out there; I'll likely finish this piece in Rebelle (whenever I get back to doing so, haha), since the canvas and brush settings will be easier to match to the texture of everything that came directly from the drawing.

Most of this is much easier to do with a drawing tablet/pen, unless you're a wizard with a mouse. As for traditional means... the best suggestion I can come up with is to try inking sketches, or at least darkening them further with a pencil. The more contrast you can get between your lines and the background, the more easily you can digitally tease that contrast out even further. I think most photo editors have at least some contrast, color, and brightness adjusters, and probably more useful functions I don't even know about--it never hurts to mess around with any program's filters and settings to see what happens!

Good luck, and happy drawing! :D

[thekenikaridevblog]

uhh kenikari dev fun facts because why not

Under spoilers bc this thing is long with tons of images and text, but it doesn’t spoil any future game events dont worry

this was the first ever sprite I did for the game! I ended up discarding it bc it was more like a joke to see how the style would work and all. I hadn’t settled on a color for the tongue yet and I already had half of what would become the hair shading style

Originally I wanted to made the sprites more simplistic so to speak by adding next to no shading, because I wanted to draw them in far more different poses n stuff. In the end i realised that you would literally be looking at these for 90% of the game so they should probably be nicer and have actual shading

I made an alteration lol

Here’s the first ever shaded sprite, with Chuyo. The shaded hair had settled in, though I would end up giving him a different symbol thingie. I still followed the rule of somewhat minimal shading, but as my style developed I put it more details in the sahding and cloth folds. A fun fact about him is that I made him and the sprite and I put a name to the sprite and then i put it in my pc folders

And then I couldn’t find this sprite but it was okay bc his wheelchair design had changed and my style had too so I redid him completely. and gave him a nose lol. and then when it was time to present him in the game i DEADASS FORGOT I GAVE HIM A NAME. SO I MADE ANOTHER ONE.

his og name was Misuke and that’s the name of this file lol

A forgotten sprite for Lare’s presentation that i didnt end up using bc it kinda looked like an ahegao. if we push that aside you can compare it to the sprites that do appear in the game and see how I altered them later down the line to give her slightly more complex and accurate shading to the game’s current style. I’d say the biggest difference is the whole collar thingie. Originally the dress and shirt were meant to end like. the same way. but then i dont know how i came up with it but i started making the dress more square-y and it differentiated itself more from the shirt, so i changed the sprites to reflect that specifically

a lil drawing I made in 2019 with a laptop trackpad of Mako. I made another one before that and it was the first ever drawing of her, but I can’t find it so I can’t put it here

Originally Mako was meant to have more bruises and bandages but i ended up simplifying it so it could be easier to animate her and draw her from afar. She was the most complex design I’d made back then and I still kinda think she is, topped with other characters like Mero (he doesnt appear in the game its a sepparate mf)

the og Lare sprites that i made before i figured out how RPGmaker XP worked. she hasnt changed much, just removed the background and moved them around so that the walking cycle worked properly

in one of the incredibly early builds of the game that I only showed to my parents to test, I made some quick sprites of myself to announce that the demo had come to an end. These were rushed as hell and have a lot of imperfections and color spills, and I only made like 4. They have been removed from the files bc i wouldn’t use them again

the ending screen actually started as a quick doodle in my notebook. I liked it so much that I took a picture of it and digitalised it, and then I decided to use it in the actual game. I would show the original drawing, since i do actually have it, but it’s spoilers. idk maybe ill show it when the part it spoils comes out

This actually got me thinking that it wouldnt be fair if only alex were the one to say goodbye, since he’s not even the damn protag, so I’ve started to form ideas of end screens with the rest of the cast. Maybe the full chapter will have a different end screen, maybe it won’t. It depends if I do actually feel like doing it mid development bc i got bored with other stuff

That’s all, goodbye! :3

[koshekdev]

Storing images in mySql DB - explanation + Uploadthing example/tutorial

(Scroll down for an uploadthing with custom components tutorial)

My latest project is a photo editing web application (Next.js) so I needed to figure out how to best store images to my database. MySql databases cannot store files directly, though they can store them as blobs (binary large objects). Another way is to store images on a filesystem (e.g. Amazon S3) separate from your database, and then just store the URL path in your db.

Why didn't I choose to store images with blobs?

Well, I've seen a lot of discussions on the internet whether it is better to store images as blobs in your database, or to have them on a filesystem. In short, storing images as blobs is a good choice if you are storing small images and a smaller amount of images. It is safer than storing them in a separate filesystem since databases can be backed up more easily and since everything is in the same database, the integrity of the data is secured by the database itself (for example if you delete an image from a filesystem, your database will not know since it only holds a path of the image). But I ultimately chose uploading images on a filesystem because I wanted to store high quality images without worrying about performance or database constraints. MySql has a variety of constraints for data sizes which I would have to override and operations with blobs are harder/more costly for the database.

Was it hard to set up?

Apparently, hosting images on a separate filesystem is kinda complicated? Like with S3? Or so I've heard, never tried to do it myself XD BECAUSE RECENTLY ANOTHER EASIER SOLUTION FOR IT WAS PUBLISHED LOL. It's called uploadthing!!!

What is uploadthing and how to use it?

Uploadthing has it's own server API on which you (client) post your file. The file is then sent to S3 to get stored, and after it is stored S3 returns file's URL, which then goes trough uploadthing servers back to the client. After that you can store that URL to your own database.

Here is the graph I vividly remember taking from uploadthing github about a month ago, but can't find on there now XD It's just a graphic version of my basic explanation above.

The setup is very easy, you can just follow the docs which are very straightforward and easy to follow, except for one detail. They show you how to set up uploadthing with uploadthing's own frontend components like <UploadButton>. Since I already made my own custom components, I needed to add a few more lines of code to implement it.

Uploadthing for custom components tutorial

1. Imports

You will need to add an additional import generateReactHelpers (so you can use uploadthing functions without uploadthing components) and call it as shown below

2. For this example I wanted to save an edited image after clicking on the save button.

In this case, before calling the uploadthing API, I had to create a file and a blob (not to be confused with mySql blob) because it is actually an edited picture taken from canvas, not just an uploaded picture, therefore it's missing some info an uploaded image would usually have (name, format etc.). If you are storing an uploaded/already existing picture, this step is unnecessary. After uploading the file to uploadthing's API, I get it's returned URL and send it to my database.

You can find the entire project here. It also has an example of uploading multiple files in pages/create.tsx

I'm still learning about backend so any advice would be appreciated. Writing about this actually reminded me of how much I'm interested in learning about backend optimization c: Also I hope the post is not too hard to follow, it was really hard to condense all of this information into one post ;_;

[drabsyo]

Drabs, I know that you usually draw Fleur with slightly darker blonde hair than Narcissa. Was it a choice so that it’s easier to distinguish them from each other or was your Fleur maybe slightly influenced by the actress from the movie who had darker hair?

In the books Fleur didn’t seem to have much description other than having long silvery hair (waist length?) and having this glow around her. So like with Narcissa, what works have influenced your design of Fleur?

It’s fascinating sometimes to read the artist’s perspective and your previous reply to the anon about Narcissa has been very interesting.

Thank you!!! 🥺

I was actually pretty embarrassed over how enthusiastic I got over the whole hair thing, but I'm glad it made some sense at least 😂 And now that I've been given even more reason to talk about it... (Let's face it, I shouldn't even be allowed on this website to begin with, ya'll have been way too nice to me.)

Only click on keep reading if you want to read Some Nonsense.

I did consider Fleur's actress when I thought about her hair color. Though I pictured it to be something of a mix between movie Fleur and Elsa’s (from Frozen) hair. But the way I drew Fleur's hair, the way it falls across her shoulders, that was more of... well, I imagined Fleur to have effortlessly perfect hair, like she doesn't seem to need to style it so much because it's already whimsical as it is, what with her being part-Veela. There were a lot of fanfictions that helped me to sort of see a better image of Fleur in my head so really, I owe it to all the talented writers out there!

It's also the same with Narcissa's case. Though I decided to give her paler hair, compared to Fleur's, because I wanted to emphasize that air of vulnerability Narcissa has—this image she conjures, like she's this fragile thing made of glass, which typically in fanfiction is what Narcissa uses so that Voldemort would overlook her a lot, hence why she wasn't given any "missions" or "tasks" while Voldemort was in Malfoy Manor. Slytherin preservation. This "fragile" image was something Narcissa capitalized on and maintained perfectly, but in post-war Cissamione fanfictions, she no longer has to put on that façade—she starts living for herself, but the quiet sadness about her never really goes away.

I really did struggle at first, I had to find a way where I could draw them without confusing people and myself.

So, again, I sifted through a lot of canon and non canon material about these two characters which funnily enough made me see some kind of parallel going on between them. I know. Fleur Delacour and Narcissa Black. Parallels?! It's nuts. But again, this is only within Fleurmione and Cissamione fanfiction, and it really helped me to draw them better. (At least in a way that made them distinguishable from one other at first glance, I’d like to think.)

These 'hair scenes' are mostly the bits where Hermione "first" sees Fleur. Hermione is entranced, a little curious, sometimes she feels indifferent, but the general theme is Hermione immediately finds Fleur beautiful—which probably explains why Hermione in fanfiction sometimes thinks Narcissa could be part-Veela like Fleur. And as you can imagine, that's where my struggle began.

You'll see what I mean in a minute. And just like last time, remember that this part comes with spoilers.

🔹 In Fighting is our form of Flirting by InsomniacAndBi in Chapter 2 Hermione sees Fleur for the first time. This is the first Fleurmione fanfiction I've ever read, and also the first time I've encountered Fleur's character. Tall, bright blonde hair, won the genetic lottery, aristocratic features, face held in a scowl, floats into the room with effortless poise, immediately starts demanding things out of people... Sounds vaguely familiar, doesn't it. Like some other blonde we know.

"Non!" A voice from the doorway said. "This is not what was agreed."

For a moment, Hermione thought about ignoring it but turned to glance over there if only to quell her curiosity. A girl stepped into the room and Hermione's phone call was forgotten in a moment. She knew that it wasn't nice to stare but Hermione couldn't help but do it because, in all honesty, this was the prettiest girl she had ever seen. She was definitely taller than Hermione was, with bright blonde hair and...clearly she had won the genetic lottery.

Her skin practically glowed and it looked so smooth and soft. It made Hermione wonder if she used those fancy beautification charms or had a very lengthy skincare routine. Or maybe, just maybe, this is what being rich did to people's faces. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that this girl was rich - like extremely rich, like even rich people thought she was rich. That kind of rich. That was the type of rich that this girl was.

Also, only super rich people curled up their lip like this girl was doing.

She breezed into the room like she was floating and Hermione hastily ended her phone call and promised to call back later.

"This is not what was agreed," The girl said again and Hermione felt incredibly small sitting in front of her. Not to mention, the girl's clothes screamed 'I'm rich and I know it' and Hermione's screamed 'I'm so out of place that I might as well be a bull in a China shop'.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione managed to get out when it became apparent that the girl was waiting for her response.

"You are English." The girl looked shock for a moment at Hermione's accent before shaking her head angrily. "This is not what was agreed."

🔹 In Oath of Silver by i_shall_wear_midnight immediately in the first chapter, when Witcher Hermione first meets Fleur, it's something Hermione quickly notices. Vivid sapphire eyes. Silvery blonde hair that shimmered in the torchlight. And once again, right off the bat, Fleur is pushy. She wants things done her way. It’s just so cute how she doesn’t even let the fact that Hermione is a Witcher, an extremely dangerous outcast in society, get in the way of that.

(I'm sorry for this but I just have to gush about Oath of Silver. Hermione as a witcher is just so fitting for her character; she possesses that natural eye for detail that remarkable witchers have, witchers like Geralt and Vesimir (a skill that gets even more honed through the Witcher Trials). Hermione even has Geralt's dry sense of humor, a bit rough around the edges, brilliant, snippy without really meaning to (because she asks a lot of questions and would rather get to the point), but has a good heart.)

The witcher figured that would be the end of her human interactions for the evening, but only a few minutes later, the stunning newcomer from before appeared before her. Upon closer inspection, Hermione couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t be conspicuous in any group of people she happened to find herself immersed in. The woman was looking back at her with vivid sapphire eyes, and silvery blonde hair that shimmered even in torchlight. Her attire was travel-ready, but elegant.

“Bonsoir. You are a witcher, oui? Or perhaps a ‘witcheress’ is more accurate? I am not familiar with all the terms…” She watched the beautiful stranger patiently while she fumbled through Hermione’s professional title. As if the distinctive, amber colored cat-eyes hadn’t given her away, the brunette mused wryly. Eventually, the blonde gave up and sat herself down at Hermione’s table, her medallion twitching faintly as the stranger got settled. Hermione filed that away for later. Her new dinner buddy seemed to be oblivious to the curious and concerned looks now being thrown her way at boldly taking a seat at a mutant’s table.

“I came from Ellander,” she began in a non sequitur. “The temple, and spoke to the priestess Nenneke, who told me about you.” Hermione continued eating her second serving of stew and waited for her to get to the point. “I would like to hire you as an escort as I travel back to Toussaint.” The witcher finally put her spoon down.

“Sounds like you ought to be asking some mercenaries to be your bodyguards,” she responded, eyeing the bow the woman was carrying on her pack meaningfully.

“A pair seems doable, and I’d prefer you.”

“I’m not a bodyguard.”

“Yes, technically, I am aware,” she replied, beginning to show signs of impatience.

“Then why are you soliciting a monster-slayer?”

🔹 Witnessed here in Time and Blood by whistle.the.silver is probably the most interesting one because it uses the concept of Veela hair as a wand core brilliantly. Again, this comes with huge 🛑spoilers🛑. Read the italicized words at your own risk. I can't add the entire clip here, as the topic of Fleur's hair is littered throughout several other chapters. But this story shows us a Fleur who is willing to do anything in order to protect Hermione during the course of the war.

My memory is a bit foggy, I haven't read this story in months, but here's what I remember:

This takes place during the time of Shell Cottage, where Fleur is married to Bill and takes care of Hermione. Fleur didn't expect to fall in love with the young brunette and, as the Golden Trio's time in Shell Cottage comes to an end, she worries over Hermione's safety. Fleur, using magic only known to the Veela tribes, does her best to offer Hermione protection in any way that she can--even going as far as to study what Lily Potter did so Harry could live. At one point, Fleur cuts her own hair with a length now roughly above her shoulders to give Hermione a new wand. But this isn't the only bridge Fleur is willing to cross to make sure Hermione survives the incoming battle. Fleur's grandmother, Ron, and even Bill himself, is a little sceptic over the propriety of Fleur's actions, but Fleur is determined to do whatever it takes to make sure Hermione makes it out of the war safe and alive.

So that was a lot to wade through, I know.

But if you've skipped all those parts for the sake of missing spoilers then let me go ahead and explain why the parallel between Fleur and Narcissa are there. Sure, it's plain to see that they have similar physical characteristics, but they're also similar in other ways.

In Witnessed here in Time and Blood, Fleur is willing to do whatever it takes to protect Hermione during the war: sacrifice the secrets of the Veela, make Hermione a wand, make her marriage and friendship with Bill suffer, be scrutinized by her Veela tribe, etc. And didn't Narcissa do the exact same thing during the war to make sure Draco made it out alive? They both chose to 'betray' everyone else for the sake of this one person. Not to mention, in Extinction by rubikanon Narcissa even makes Hermione a wand. (I’m telling you, there are so many parallels between these two ships and I can probably list more but I'd rather not make this post longer.)

Here, I’m just going to go ahead and say it—it’s almost like Fleur and Narcissa in fanfiction have the same love language.

A glaringly obvious difference between them is their upbringing, and we could argue that this why Fleur tends to be more open with her emotions while Narcissa tends to be more carefully guarded with hers. And I don't know if writers realize these parallels but as someone who's a huge fan of both characters and as someone who makes the occasional fanart of them, it's a pretty difficult detail to ignore. This crazy conspiracy all started because I had to find a way to make both characters look distinct from one another... It's just so interesting that writers from two different ships unknowingly make these parallels with two completely separate characters who are often at the opposite ends of the seesaw.

But again, let's take a look at Extinction by rubikanon. (I know. Extinction?! AGAIN?! Always.)

Spoiler warning!

🔹 Extinction by rubikanon has a marvelous take on this, as it turns out Fleur and Narcissa are actually good friends, and if I remember correctly, occasionally exchange letters (I’m unsure about this bit, I might have read it in a different story). They just get along remarkably well; I imagine they both share a kind of mutual respect for each other, a quiet understanding for the way the other woman carries herself: poised, meticulous, they pride themselves in their work, they both know how to handle an Ocean Of Secrets™, they're both accustomed to being under the spotlight of the public eye, and they’re both dedicated to their loved ones. Needless to say, Fleur and Narcissa are both giddy over the prospect of being with someone they love and adore, and end up meticulously planning numerous (I think it was hinted) double dates (Fleur with Bill, and Narcissa with Hermione) with the same kind of endearing enthusiasm that leave Hermione and Bill with no choice but to agree to the whims of their respective lovers.

(Scene seen in Chapter 23: Build Up Your Defense 2 of 2)

Narcissa and (Hermione) I were sitting together on one of the couches when Bill and Fleur arrived later. They showered Teddy with kisses on his little cheeks. He'd gotten past his clingy phase and adored us all, struggling to walk around the room by bracing himself on everyone's knees.

Suddenly Narcissa reached up and grabbed onto someone's wrist behind her head. "Don't even think about it," she said.

"That's just scary. How did you know I was there?" George stood up from behind the couch, a toy spider dangling from his hand. Teddy shrieked with laughter.

"She has eyes in the back of her head," Draco said.

"Mothers," George grumbled, sitting down close to Angelina. "Dump her, Hermione. I need you to date someone more prankable."

Fleur looked in surprise at the two of us on the couch. "Oh, la vache! How did I not know zees? You are lovers?"

"We're dating," I said mildly, though we really were lovers. In every sense. I glanced at Narcissa and bit my lip as heat spread through me. My imagination started planning a middle-of-the-night rendezvous.

"No wonder she (Narcissa) was so adamant about healing that curse," Bill said thoughtfully.

"Adorable! Simply adorable!" Fleur exclaimed, sitting down on Narcissa's other side. "We must go out for a double date next week, all four of us. We'll dine at L'Escargot!"

Narcissa's eyes lit up.

"Oh, no," I said.

"You won't have to eat snails," Narcissa said. "Please, mon amour?"

"French doesn't work on me."

"Please?" She kissed my cheek again and again. "Please? Please?"

Laughing now, I pulled her in for a kiss on the lips and said, "Yes, alright. But only because I have fond memories of trying new foods with you."

"As do I," she agreed.

Then we realized everyone was staring. Narcissa cleared her throat and straightened up, blushing. Draco made a face. Ginny looked a little more favorable. Harry held in laughter, and Andromeda hid her camera.

"Adorable!" Fleur declared again.

🔹 Also, I just have to add Sugar and Spice by waltzlikeits1698 because Chapter 4: Happy Birthday, Harry is absolutely hysterical. During Harry's birthday party, Hermione sulks in a corner because Fleur has apparently been avoiding her. Ginny decides to do something barking mad, something Hermione typically falls for.

“Ooh, someone’s grouchy,” Ginny teased, retracting her arm and facing Hermione fully. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Hermione insisted, although even she could hear the pout in her voice.

“Sure seems like it,” she snarked, summoning two shots and offering one to Hermione with a waggle of her eyebrows. Hermione pulled a face and Ginny shrugged before downing both, one after the other. (...) “You know, I spotted a tall, blonde drink of water hanging around the stairs.”

“What!?” Hermione exclaimed, whirling around and leaning out of the room to look at the staircase. Sure enough, standing at the bottom and resting a slender hand on the bannister was a tall, blonde witch who made Hermione’s heart stop with her mere presence. She had started forward before she knew it, her heart taking up an even quicker beat as she crossed the few steps and reached out a hand to clasp her elbow. The woman turned, that beautiful blonde hair catching the candlelight as it moved in one long sheet.

Hermione retracted her hand in horror, her eyes widening. “Mrs Malfoy!?”

Narcissa Malfoy raised an eyebrow at the witch who had practically accosted her. “Miss Granger. Can I help?”

What was she even doing here?

“Uh,” Hermione said dumbly, “sorry, I just… need the loo. Can I-?”

She gestured lamely to the staircase. Both women stared at the perfectly reasonable gap that Hermione could easily pass through. The moment stretched on.

Slowly, Narcissa returned her inscrutable gaze to Hermione, who squirmed uncomfortably in response. She then took a small step to the side and gestured for Hermione to pass. She did so and, as she turned the corner of the staircase, sent a deadly glare at Ginny, who was practically pissing herself with laughter.

(...)

Fleur had arrived. Hermione couldn’t explain exactly how she could tell, considering she had been in the duplicated bathroom for the last ten minutes after humiliating herself in front of Narcissa, but she knew it like she knew that it was levi-O-sa.

(...) (Hermione) She tried to avoid eye contact with Narcissa on the way back down and was thoroughly unsuccessful: the witch had physically reached out and laid her own hand over Hermione’s on the bannister, forcing her to stop and look up. Then, with an intention behind her eyes that Hermione had neither the brain capacity nor the energy to delve into, she said “It’s Ms Black now.”

Then she had released Hermione’s hand and turned back to her conversation with Andromeda and two wizards Hermione didn’t recognise.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of people Hermione didn’t recognise.

Anyway, long story short, this is the result of reading both Fleurmione and Cissamione—

But RIGHT. At the end of the day, again, these are just some crazy little things I picked up on and I may or may not be right, no one has to agree with me, everyone can disagree with me. Actually, yes feel free to disagree with me. I need to get out of this damn site and you know, touch grass.

Okay. Well. I'm gonna stop here now. So. Bye. But thank you anon for this lovely ask!! I’m really touched that you wanted to know what inspired the way I drew Fleur 🥺💕💖 But still. So sorry for this massive word vomit!! 😂

[my-plastic-life]

Creating Sango Part 2: The Props

Of course my favorite (and original) demon slayer needs her props! Right away I knew she absolutely had to have her signature weapon, the Hiraikotsu. It’s a giant boomerang, so how could I not make that? That wouldn’t be hard, right?

I started by looking up real life boomerangs, but they were all bent too much to be the right shape. Fortunately, my husband has a Glow Forge, which is essentially a big laser cutter. It can’t print things in 3D (everything is flat, it just depends on the thickness of the material used), but for this, that wasn’t necessary.

So I started by printing out the Hiraikotsu in various sizes on printer paper and holding it next to the doll to get an idea of the size it needed to be. I settled on 12 inches tall. I gave hubby the file he needed, and the Glow Forge went to work! He used draft board, which is the cheapest material but totally fine here, and coincidentally it was almost the perfect color!

I then took some sandpaper and sanded down the edges to get rid of the black edges that result from the laser cutting. That’s just how the Glow Forge is. No problem. Got them all sanded off, and on to painting! I found a shade of paint a little lighter than the draft board, applied it, and BOOM. Hiraikotsu!

Next was adding details to the Hiraikotsu. It has wraps around it, three tassels (one with a bead), and, when Sango is wearing her kimono, it has a black strap with two gold buckles for her to hold in order to carry it. And of course, my doll is wearing the kimono, so the strap is necessary. Oh well, probably easier than trying to get her hand under a strap or tassel in her slayer outfit LOL.

I found lots of mini tassels at various craft stores that appeared to be the right size and color, so I grabbed them! I also got some leather strap for the wraps and found some cheap red beads to apply to one of the tassels. I planned to make the gold embellishment on the strap with jewelry wire like Miroku’s ring.

First up was determining the type of wrapping to use. I’d bought some actual leather strap, but it turned out to be way too thick and it didn’t look right. I’d wrapped Kagome’s bow in bias tape, so I got some of that out and tested it. Lo and behold, it was perfect! In fact, the printout I had to help determine the appropriate size really helped me here, because I was able to hold it against the real version to determine where to put the straps. And the printed straps? Turned out that the .25″ bias tape is a PERFECT match to that size! Hallelujah!

(That’s literally how I expressed myself every time something went well during all these doll transformations LOL)

The only issue was I couldn’t find brown bias tape in that size. Tan, yes, but not brown. So I got the next size up and tried to cut it in half. My cutting abilities aren’t professional, let me tell you. So then I thought, thanks to going nuts trying to find the perfect shades of brown for Kagome’s and Sango’s eyes, why not use some of the dozens of bottles of brown paint I’ve got? So I dug out a few potential candidates and painted little sample parts on a scrap piece of bias tape in the appropriate size (1/4″) before choosing the ideal candidate. I started dark, but then decided to go a bit lighter. The wraps are lighter than Sango’s hair, but obviously darker than the weapon itself.

I dug out all my figures with their Hiraikotsu, but of course they’re not consistent lol. Toynami’s entire weapon has a yellowish hue to it, making the wraps more of a reddish brown. The Kotobukiya figure’s wraps were close to the dark color I’d already used and the Hiraikotsu colors even matched pretty well, and then a Gashapon wrap was a little lighter than the Kotobukiya. Looking at various pictures and episodes, it seems it’s meant to be a lighter brown than I’d painted. So I went back over the dark paint with light paint and I’m very happy with the result!

Granted, I did have to make a second bottom wrap because, despite measuring the first time, when wrapping and gluing it after it was painted, it didn’t go around seven times (you can see seven wraps on the source photos), so I had to take it off and make a longer one, paint it, then glue it LOL. But at least it was an easy fix, and I have plenty of bias tape and paint! I’m guessing the paint caused it to shrivel up a bit, which would also explain why the top wrap isn’t completely enclosed in the back, but no one will see that so it’s staying!

For the ties/tassels, like I said, I had gotten a lot of miniature ones to use for this purpose. But the shapes were a bit off. They were more wide than long, and I had no idea how to attach a bead to them. So  I practiced making some of my own tassels with embroidery floss and decided that was the best course of action.

So I was able to make the tassels. Then came the question of the bows that seem to wrap around the brown leather and hold the tassels in place. I tried tying bows with the embroidery floss since the color matched perfectly, but it definitely didn’t give the right illusion. Ribbon had the same problem. So I dug through my stash of craft supplies and almost fell over when I found these:

I’d purchased those bows last year to make Barbie-size wreaths, and the tops of them are perfect! They’d just need to be painted! Fortunately, I had some paint that was very similar in color to the embroidery floss, and I knew I could always paint it too if need be.

My original plan was to somehow tie the bows around the wraps, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull that off, plus the thickness of these bows might have made the wraps stick out too far. So I decided to glue them in place.

Before I did that, however, I painted the bows, and then I held one next to the weapon to see how it would look. Sadly, they were entirely too big.

I didn’t have anything else in my stash that was the right shape, so I had to cut these bows down to size and reassemble them. That was intense! When that was done, I was able to glue the tassels on top, which also made the center of the bows. Perfect? Maybe not, but that’s part of what makes it unique! hehehe I did have to mix the paint with some white to make it lighter so it would match the embroidery floss, but it came out pretty darn close, so I’m happy with it!

The hardest part with Hiraikotsu was definitely the little buckles. They seem to have almost a chrysanthemum shape to them, and it appears that two ends of the strap goes through each one, probably to give the illusion of the strap being adjusted to fit around Sango’s torso.

So, how to make those. Well, looking closer, I thought they resembled fidget spinners. So I found some fidget spinner files online and modified them in Photoshop so they’d be the right shape. Then I printed them out in three different sizes to determine which one would look the best, and then I used an Xacto knife to cut the centers out of all of them so I could see which size worked for sliding the strap through. I settled on the .5″ option. Yeah, that’s tiny LOL.

Hubby managed to make some fidget spinners on his Glow Forge, but I told him, “Thanks, these are adorable, but I need the centers cut out completely.” Well, due to how small they were, they were way too fragile and just fell apart. So that was out.

So I printed out several of the .5″ buckles I’d made, cut them out, and stacked and glued like six together to give it some depth. When the glue was dry, I sanded down the edges to round them off, then I painted them gold and sealed them with Mod Podge.

I was afraid that, being cardstock, they wouldn’t be too durable, so I got to looking at my little paperclips and saw the smaller bend on them. A lightbulb went off and I thought those would be perfect! So I cut the rounded ends off three small paperclips (I even used yellow since that would be the best base coat for gold), then put them together and super glued them onto wax paper. When that glue was dry, I used the Xacto knife to cut out the inside where the glue had settled (I wanted to make sure I’d used enough so they’d stay together lol). Then they got painted and sealed with Mod Podge as well.

(Top two are cardstock, the rest are paperclips)

I wound up making three sets of the paperclip versions because they were significantly easier than the paper option. Once they were all set, I prepared to test them with the strap I wanted to use before deciding on one.

Well, I wanted to use black bias tape for the strap because it’s the same thickness as the brown wraps (and that seems to be what it looks like in the anime), and bias tape doesn’t fray/shred like ribbon does. Well, sadly, none of the buckles I’d made were big enough to allow the bias tape to go through. So I got some 1/8″ black ribbon, and it fit, but it was just too thin and didn’t look right. So I looked closer at my bias tape, and I realized that it’s double fold bias tape. I looked up 1/8″ bias tape and single fold .25″ bias tape, but neither of those seems to exist. So... I took to the scissors and cut the bias tape in half, then used Mod Podge to glue the two (no longer four) layers together to make one solid piece and to make the fabric stiff, which would keep it from being too floppy and help it maintain its shape better.

I then tried all the buckles again, and despite it being the more difficult option, the cardstock buckles were the only ones that fit LOL! But being cardstock, I was able to maneuver/shape them enough to get them to fit right, and with the paint and Mod Podgeon them, they were more durable than they’d been previously.

So I used glue to wrap the strap around the Hiraikotsu (there’s really no other way I could secure it since I can’t sew snap buttons, and they wouldn’t look right anyway), leaving enough slack to allow it to slip on and off the doll, and then added the buckles by sliding the strap through them.

And at last, the Hiraikotsu was complete!

Another reason I decided against the slayer outfit - I’d also have to come up with a sword LOL. I mean, I probably could have found one easily enough. The doll I used for her head actually came with one, it’s just stuck inside the sheath and not meant to come out. But oh well.

Another definite prop needed was Kirara. I have yet to find an actual Kirara figure in her transformed state apart from a miniature Toynami figure, and for one Sango is riding her, two half the body is missing, and three she’d be way too small for Barbie. Yet another reason to go with the kimono option!

I’ve had the Toynami figures since high school, and looking at the Kirara that came with Sango, I thought she looked pretty close. So I took her out of the cabinet, put her in a Barbie doll’s lap, and was pleased with the scale. So, to eBay I went to find a second Toynami Sango just for Kirara! But it’s okay, because I have a dear friend who’s a huge Inuyasha fan as well who was missing the Sango Toynami figure, so I sent her everything but Kirara to help complete her collection. :D

So boom, Kirara was done!

But... that same dear friend and I got to talking, and inspiration struck. She took an old off-brand Barbie horse (honestly it looked pretty scary LOL) and completely transformed it into this:

Yes! She turned a horse into Kirara! Now that’s impressive talent! I love her!!! Click here to see her process: Progress and Complete.

OMG the post office though... poor Kirara sat in Kansas City for THREE WEEKS, a whole week past the ETA, and I had to file three claims and angrily call twice and send an irate email for there to be any progress. We were both so afraid that she’d never show up that my friend is currently in the process of making a Kirara 2.0, new and improved, that she’s going to ship via UPS to ensure it does actually arrive! Don’t get me started on the postal service...

Anyway, there she is! Next for props...

Nothing! LOL Sango had the least amount of props, and I dare say the easiest props of the bunch. Will I make a demon slayer outfit version of her in the future? Perhaps. But for now, I’m totally happy with these!

[theoswriting]

lavender, honey and coconut (e.p. x fem!r)

summary:  Penelope Garcia can sniff out secrets like a cute security dog can sniff out drugs. y/n had been amused but had brushed off the warning. That had been her first mistake.

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!reader

word count: 4k

a/n: okay, this is my first time writing for cm and emily prentiss, so I hope it isn’t too ooc! this is definitely a different vibe to the show lmao, i mostly wrote this to amuse myself, and then decided it might be worth sharing. I hope you’lll enjoy it xo (tell me if u do, i’m nervous)

warnings: some alcohol is consumed, light swearing

ao3

Penelope Garcia can sniff out secrets like a cute security dog can sniff out drugs.

It's a well-known fact that if you want to keep something hidden, one, you don't tell Garcia because she's incapable of keeping anything secret and two, don't breathe near her because she will be able to figure out that you're hiding something, and she will know which buttons to push to get you to spill everything.

Penelope likes to think that in another life, she would've made a great interrogator. In this life though, she uses her powers to get what she wants out of her friends.

This was one of the first things y/n found out when she joined the BAU. Derek spoke about the tech goddess' powers with reverence while the rest of them spoke of it with fear. Even Hotch seemed a little disconcerted by the whole thing.

y/n had been amused but had brushed off the warning.

That had been her first mistake.

***

Paperwork days were the worst.

y/n should probably love them more because if she's stuck behind her desk, it means that no one is out there getting brutally murdered. Still, it's a lot less exciting. It doesn't help that the bullpen is oddly quiet, everyone focused on their files. Spencer is going through his about a mile a minute, stopping from time to time to rewrite something or to look up some kind of information. Derek is slower and y/n can almost see the boredom oozing out of him. Yet, he doesn't look up when she looks over at him and keeps diligently going through his notes.

Finally, her eyes land on Emily. Her head is propped up on her left hand as she writes with the right. Occasionally, she will bite her nails as she focuses hard on part of her notes. y/n thinks she looks extra cute when she frowns, trying to understand her own writing. It makes y/n smile before refocusing on her own work.

y/n is almost done with one of her reports when she notices some missing information. She could easily look it up herself, but she's bored and this is the perfect excuse to get away from her desk for a bit. So she stands up, gathers her papers and walks to her favourite tech genius' lair.

y/n opens the door and sees Penelope's back turned to her. Before she can say anything, Garcia's voice rings out.

"Well if it isn't my favourite ray of sunshine, what can I do for you, y/n?"

y/n smiles at the blonde's greeting, as she sits down next to her, "Are you busy?"

"Not at all!"

"Great, I'm missing some information on this file, but most importantly, I'm in dire need of entertainment."

Garcia happily grabs the file from y/n and starts tapping away at her computer, putting up the information she needs on her screen in no time. She prints it all out and hands it to y/n with a flourish.

"Here's the info you need," She starts, but her eyes quickly turn regretful, "Sadly, I have no recent office gossip to entertain you with."

y/n pouts at that, "Damn, not even from Slutty David?"

Penelope shakes her head and opens her mouth to speak when she suddenly frowns at y/n. She pulls back slightly and y/n wonders if she'd forgotten to put on deodorant that morning. Penelope says nothing, just watches her.

"What?" y/n finally asks, unnerved by the staring.

"What are you not telling me?" Garcia asks simply and it's y/n's turn to frown. She can't think of anything that she might be hiding from her friend.

"Nothing?"

y/n is pretty sure that's the wrong answer and that Penelope is going to keep asking her questions until she confesses to something she didn't even know she was hiding. To her surprise though, Garcia only stares at her for a few more seconds before dropping it. As quick as it disappeared, her bright smile is back on her face and she goes back to telling a story.

It turns out that yes, she did have something to tell y/n about Slutty David.

y/n leaves Penelope about twenty minutes later with a refreshed brain, ready to get back to work. When she gets back to her desk, Emily looks up to give her a smile. y/n smiles back and winks at her as she sits down. Emily's smile broadens before she turns her focus back to the file in front of her.

y/n does the same, her smile staying even while going through an autopsy report. It's only hours later when y/n is almost done with paperwork that she freezes. She looks up at Emily and realizes.

That's what she's been hiding.

She frowns. There's no way Garcia knows that though, she and Emily have made sure, they've been careful.

Yeah, it was probably a fluke.

***

Mornings where she gets to wake up next to Emily are y/n's favourites. Even the early ones, when they get called in for a case, having Emily next to her makes it all easier.

That's what happens that morning, both of their phones going off at 5:45 am. Emily is the one to reach for her phone while y/n latches onto her and drops a kiss on her girlfriend's shoulder.

"It's JJ. We have to go in."

y/n nods and painstakingly opens her eyes. She drops another kiss on Emily's shoulder and turns away from her to get up, but before she can go too far, Emily reaches for her and kisses her. y/n scrunches up her nose even though she's smiling into the kiss.

"Morning breath. Gross," She manages to mutter against Emily's lips.

"Don't care."

y/n had wondered when they started dating if it would get to a point where it'd be too much to be together and then work together as well. Now, six months into their relationship, y/n knows she had worried over nothing. They have a system and boundaries. They keep the PDA to a minimum at work, which isn't a problem considering they had decided to keep their relationship a secret from the team. It's not that Prentiss and y/l/n don't trust their coworkers, it's more than they don't want to screw up the group's dynamics.

And it's also ridiculously funny to see how long it's taking a whole group of profilers to figure out that two members of their team are dating.

After getting dressed, y/n starts packing a new bag, taking clothes from the one drawer Emily had emptied out and gifted to her on their 2 months anniversary. Emily had a similar one at y/n's place. Considering their jobs and the amount of time they spent at each other's place, they figured it was smart to always have enough clothes at each other's place for instances like these.

Not even 10 minutes later, they're out of the door. They kiss one last time before Emily gets into her car and y/n gets into hers. As usual, y/n takes the long way to work, her place being famously further away than Emily's. So when she finally gets to the conference room, everyone is already there and waiting for Hotch.

y/n sits in between Derek and Spencer, "Good morning, my people!"

"It certainly is not," Hotch deadpans as he enters the room. y/n closes her mouth and nods to herself. She should've seen that one coming.

The others chuckle quietly, but the laughter quickly dies. Hotch was right. This is far from a good morning.

The murders are gruesome, the victims are all women which bear a striking resemblance to Emily. y/n doesn't bring attention to it, it wouldn't bring anything to the case except worry over a detail that isn't of much importance, at least not right now. Instead, she watches her girlfriend look at the pictures, and by the way her jaw clenches and unclenches repeatedly, she's come to the same realization.

"Alright everyone, wheels up in 20." Hotch dismisses them, and almost everyone rushes out of the room to get their bags. Garcia stays behind though, and so does Emily. y/n gathers her stuff slowly then, waiting for Garcia to leave the room so she can have a moment alone with her girlfriend.

Garcia doesn't leave, though.

She's staring at y/n ominously. She's missing a furry cat to be petting and she'd look like a supervillain from a cheesy action movie. y/n tries smiling at her, but the blonde doesn't respond in the slightest.

y/n leaves the room. She'll check up on Emily before take-off. She is big enough to admit that she was a little freaked out by Garcia.

She thinks nothing of it until hours later, when she's setting up their evidence board in a small town in buttfuck, Texas. JJ is standing next to her, writing the name of the second victim.

"Garcia has been asking about you."

It's such a weird thing to say that y/n is a bit taken aback. She pauses and slowly turns to look at JJ, "Uhm… Okay?"

JJ puts the cap on the pen and turns to y/n, her face probably too serious for whatever this is about.

"Remember when we told you about Garcia's weird ability to tell when someone is hiding something juicy?" y/n nods, still confused as to where this is going, "Well, she's smelt whatever it is that you're hiding."

y/n briefly wonders if no one is bothered by the constant comparison of Garcia to a literal hound dog, but apparently not. She lets out a small chuckle and nods at JJ, clearly not believing the warning tone the blonde had used, "Yeah, okay, I'll sleep with one eye open."

"y/n, I'm serious," JJ lowers her voice and looks around before confiding, "Penelope is the reason the whole team knows I had a one night stand with Slutty David."

"You had sex with Slutty David?"

JJ shudders, "Everybody makes mistakes."

***

y/n tells Emily about JJ's warning as they cuddle into bed that same night, exhausted from a day of leads getting them nowhere. To her surprise, Emily agrees with JJ.

"Garcia has a way of getting you to admit to things you thought you'd never say out loud."

The way she talks about it has y/n looking up from her very comfortable spot on Emily's shoulder to her girlfriend's face. She's staring off in the distance as if haunted by whatever it is that Garcia had dug up on her.

"What the hell did she find out about you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

***

"So, are you seeing anyone?"

It's Saturday night and they're out at a club for a Girl's night. After the case they'd had, they deserved a night to unwind. They've chosen a bar where the music is loud, but not loud enough to drown out Penelope's question. JJ and Emily are gone, lost somewhere in the crowd fighting for the bartender's attention, in search of more drinks. As y/n's brain finally processes what Garcia has just asked, she fights the urge to smile and look for Emily.

y/n has drunk enough to be on the dumb side of gay.

"Why do you ask?"

"Answering a question with another question, very telling," Garcia smirks.

Penelope seems oddly composed for someone who is two cocktails and three shots deep into the party. Usually, a drunk Garcia means sloppy kisses on the cheek and getting her away from attractive strangers before she can say anything overtly sexual or inappropriate. So something doesn't add up. y/n squints her eyes at the blonde in front of her, like that will somehow help her see things clearer.

It doesn't. Everything looks fuzzy and she probably should stop drinking.

"I'm not."

The lie tastes gross in y/n's mouth and if there's one thing that could make her feel better, it would be kissing Emily. Before she can stop it, a smitten smile makes its way onto her face. Garcia slams a hand on the table, making y/n jump. She focuses her eyes on Penelope who's pointing an accusing finger at her.

"There! Who did you just think about?"

y/n sputters, racking her brain for a more convincing lie but she can't stop smiling so she gives in. Damn her inability to lie when she's drunk.

"Okay, fine" y/n amends, "I am seeing someone, but please keep it quiet."

Penelope obviously does not keep quiet. Instead, she squeals loud enough that she startles a few people passing by their table. Of course, that's also the moment JJ and Emily pick to come back.

So when Garcia basically yells, "I knew it!" for the whole bar to hear, there's no way y/n is getting out of this one.

"Knew what?" Emily asks with a smile as she puts down a drink in front of y/n. She immediately grabs it, thinking that maybe if she blacks out, this conversation will also be erased from the history of the universe.

"y/n is seeing someone!" Penelope happily informs the two recently arrived. JJ whips her head, excitement filling her eyes, about a million questions fighting to be asked first. Emily, for her part, chokes on her drink.

"Why haven't you told us anything?" JJ says, her blue eyes even more glassy than usual, "Who is it?"

y/n shrugs, going for a nonchalant vibe. She goes with something vague.

"You don't know her."

Penelope's smile widens, "Oh, so it's a her."

Shit. Not vague enough.

What follows are a series of questions that y/n refuses to answer and thankfully, with Emily there to mediate, they manage to change the subject. Seriously, y/n could kiss her right then and there. Instead, she takes a sip of her drink and glances towards Emily. They decide to leave less than an hour later. JJ is about one sip away from taking her top off while y/n is just about ready to throw caution to the wind and start making out with Emily. To hell with consequences.

Penelope is still suspiciously acting sane.

"Oh, Pen, be careful, someone dropped their drinks right behind your chair."

JJ's heads up makes y/n glare at Garcia who looks a little too guilty.

***

When they get back to Emily's place, y/n barely waits until the front door is closed before kissing Emily. Emily welcomes it, blindly throwing away the keys to wrap both hands around her girlfriend's neck. The kissing is sweet, the taste of their last drinks still sticking to their mouths. It's a little messy due to the fact they're both smiling like two goddamn idiots in love. When they stop, Emily grabs y/n by the hand and drags her to the kitchen so they can both drink water to make their hangovers hopefully less painful in the morning.

They're almost done when Emily speaks.

"We have a problem."

y/n stops moving. She should've known this moment would come.

"Listen, if this is about the burnt toaster, I've already ordered a new one."

"Garcia- What?" Emily turns around to look at the spot where her toaster usually rests, "What happened?"

Realizing her mistake, y/n puts her empty glass of water down and wraps her arms around Emily's waist, "Nothing you need to worry about," Emily looks back at her girlfriend who looks too innocent, "What were you going to say?"

"Garcia knows you're with someone."

y/n nods slowly, wondering where Emily is going with this. She doesn't see any problems. Sure, Penelope knows that she might be sort of taken by a woman, but that's it. Even in her drunken state, she'd managed to keep any other incriminating details to herself.

"Garcia has a way of finding things out, it's only a matter of time until she puts two and two together."

Emily looks genuinely fearful and y/n wonders again, what kind of dirt Penelope had gotten Emily to disclose. She thinks back to JJ's warning as well. y/n turns it over in her head, but in the end, she scoffs and leans up to kiss Emily.

"Don't worry, babe. I'll make up a fake break up or something and we'll be fine."

Thinking she could fool Penelope Garcia so easily was y/n's second mistake.

***

Derek is getting himself coffee when y/n swiftly approaches him from the side.

"What secret did Garcia get out of Emily?"

"Which time?"

"There's more than one?"

"Oh yeah."

***

The whole thing with Garcia does make y/n and Emily reconsider telling the team, or at the very least, Hotch and HR.

They hadn't at first because of team dynamics, but mostly because they themselves were figuring out how they worked as a couple. It turns out they worked great, and hiding each other from their coworkers and best friends was getting a bit much for the both of them.

They wanted to show up at Rossi's dinner parties together without worrying about what their friends would think. y/n wanted to hold Emily's hand after a rough case on the jet without it being questioned, just as much as Emily wanted to drive with y/n to work every morning and walk into the building together.

So the next morning, Emily and y/n get to work before anyone else and walk into Hotch's office.

He doesn't have much of a reaction, not that they were expecting anything more.

What does surprise them is that, after giving them the whole speech about professionalism and whatnot, he smiles at them and says, "I'm happy for you both."

Aaron Hotchner smiles at them and y/n feels like her relationship has just been blessed by the angels from above.

***

"Hey, Spence? Do you know what Garcia dug up on Emily?"

"Emily sprained her wrist a few years back and told us that it had happened at the range. It turns out that she'd sprained it falling from her skateboard."

"Her skate- What?"

***

When y/n had told Emily they'd be fine, she wasn't being cocky, but she just knew that there was no way Garcia would suspect something with how careful they had been.

They never showed up together at work. At first, they always timed their arrivals carefully, until it became second nature. They were never overly affectionate with each other. If they needed to be comforted during a particularly hard case, they'd wait to be behind the closed doors of the hotel room they shared on most trips. As much as y/n wanted to, she never showed up to work wearing one of her girlfriend's sweaters, no matter how warm and comfortable they were.

Bottom line was, there was no reason for Garcia to suspect anything when their teammates who were literal profilers hadn't caught onto anything.

No one except Hotch knew. And only because they'd told him, so.

y/n should've known though, from being a profiler herself, that being too confident meant she was bound to slip up and make a mistake sooner rather than later.

It all happens very quickly.

JJ asks y/n if she can grab a couple of files she had left with Garcia and bring them back to her because she was waiting for someone to call and she couldn't go too far. y/n, of course, accepts, always happy to get away from her desk and the paperwork begging for her attention. She quickly knocks on Garcia's door before entering and the tech doesn't turn around as she greets her.

"Bonjour, Emily, what brings you to Casa Garcia today?"

y/n chuckles at the blonde's eccentricities, "Sorry, but you got it wrong, it's me."

Penelope rolls her chair around to face her and she looks truly distraught to have gotten it wrong, "But I always get it right. I'm the all-knowing Penelope Garcia."

y/n gently pats her shoulder as she reaches past her to some files she sees on the desk, "Are these JJ's? She asked me to get them for her."

Garcia nods, but she still looks defeated at having failed to guess her visitor's identity, so y/n tells her she'll come by later with some coffee for a chat. Penelope nods and turns her attention back to her computer and so she leaves.

It's funny, y/n thinks, that of all the people Penelope could have confused her with, it was Emily. Maybe some of Emily's fears had planted themselves into her brain unbeknownst to her because y/n suddenly feels very uneasy. Why did Pen think it was Emily walking in? Had she unconsciously started walking like her girlfriend? No, no, that was ridiculous. Emily had a very distinctive gate that was very different from y/n's.

Still, something is off. y/n trusts her gut, it has never failed her, and her gut is telling her something is off.

She doesn't know what though. She had woken up with Emily that morning and they'd actually had time to enjoy a nice breakfast together and had plenty of time to get ready together. In fact, they had even gotten to enjoy a very pleasant shower together. y/n smiles at that particularly good memory until she realizes.

"Shit," she mutters, but not quietly enough. She's standing in the middle of the bullpen, her coworkers' eyes on her. Before she can tell herself that it's fine, that she was just paranoid and that there was no way Penelope had noticed, she hears a familiar but hurried clicking of heels approach the bullpen. y/n turns around to see Penelope standing on the other side of the glass window and one look at her is all y/n needs.

She knows.

Before Garcia can make her way inside the bullpen and bring mayhem with her, y/n hastily makes her way to her. She drops JJ's files on her desk haphazardly under Derek, Emily and Spencer's bewildered eyes. When she gets to Penelope, she gently grabs her by the arm and urgently leads her away.

"You smell like lavender!" Penelope exclaims with no preamble, "You usually don't smell like lavender, you smell of honey and coconut, but never lavender and that's why I got confused!"

y/n confidently nods in greeting at an agent passing by Garcia's office as y/n shoves her inside. He looks unsettled but only smiles in return, preferring to ignore whatever is going on. Smart man.

"That's why I thought you were Emily! Because Emily is the one who smells of lavender!" Penelope is pacing while y/n stands with her back to the door.

"Okay, Pen, I need you to breathe," She says when the techie is still going on about lavender, honey and coconut.

"Breathe? How can I breathe when you and Emily are dating."

y/n thinks that's a bit dramatic, but Garcia has finally stopped pacing and talking. y/n slowly steps towards the blonde and puts both of her hands on her shoulders. She debates for a few seconds, wonders if she'd get away with a lie but at this point, y/n's pretty sure the cat is out of the bag.

"Yeah, Emily and I are together."

y/n should've been prepared for it, but when Garcia lets out a high pitched squeal, it still gets her by surprise. Her pained grimace is quickly chased away by laughter when Penelope hugs her with all the strength and excitement caffeine was providing her.

"This is so great, I'm so happy for you two!" She lets you go long enough to see the smile that's made its way onto her face. It's the same smitten smile she always gets whenever she thinks about Emily and Garcia honest to god pinches her cheeks, "Aww, look at that smile!"

y/n laughs and tries to get her cheeks away from anymore pinching. That's when the door opens enough for Emily to sneak her head in, "Hey you two, is everything okay?"

She looks at Penelope first, but her eyes end on y/n. Before she can say anything though, Penelope smirks, "Why yes, lover, everything is just fine."

At that, Emily gets in and closes the door behind her. She looks at y/n for confirmation.

y/n just nods, "Yeah, she knows."

"You bet your sweet ass I know!"

And with no further warning, Penelope tackles Emily in a hug much as she'd done with y/n minutes prior. When she lets her go, Emily steps closer to y/n, and with a hand on her lower back, she says, "I told you she'd find out."

y/n ignores the I told you so her girlfriend apparently couldn't wait to give her, but yeah, she's not wrong.

It'll teach her to ever doubt the abilities of the all-knowing Penelope Garcia.

***

Months and months later, y/n meets up with Penelope for brunch on a Sunday morning. Before she can even greet her, the blonde fixes her with a stare that is both strange but oh so very familiar.

"What are you planning?"

This time, y/n grins and tells Garcia not to worry, that she'll know in due time. After all, she can only hide the little velvet box in her coat pocket and its content for so long.

***

[sodone-withlife]

icarus fell, and blood stained the ground

i'm back!! (but not really—the new school year literally starts in an hour and it will be back to my pathological dependence on academic validation. at least i can say i've technically published another fic before summer break ends)

anyway, here's the fic in response to part 1 of sumayyah's post. i published a companion poem for this some time ago. as per usual, i gave up on proofreading so hopefully any mistakes don't detract from the story. also, i hope the formatting and jumping back and forth between italics makes sense—let me know if it doesn't, though it might be easier to read on ao3 (it should go up on there by 4pm PST because school)

warnings: murder, major character death (may potentially be classified as suicide-by-proxy, depending on your interpretation), guns, canon typical violence, slight gore at the end, mentioned substances

word count: 1.9k words

The damned man thought of everything, Jessica thought as she scowled at the damned folder that sat innocuously on the large mahogany desk.

The desk that would soon be cleared, all traces of the previous owner gone.

She lifted a shaky hand and brushed it through her hair, shuddering at its greasy and unkempt state that hinted at the state she had been in recently. Weary to the bone, she forced herself to sit back up and grab her phone, dialing the number that was written on the sticky note placed on the inside cover of the folder. It didn’t surprise her to hear an unfamiliar female voice answer the phone with a “Ms. Brooks?”

He had thought of everything, after all.

Really, the only thing she was surprised at was the sheer extent of his connections—but thinking back to her phone calls with Haley back when he was still practicing law, the talks about extravagant offers from top corporations and firms, she really wasn’t surprised. Thus, it made sense that her call to the top law firm in the state would be answered within two dial tones and by someone who already knew who she was.

And within minutes of talking with the woman who introduced herself as Ms. Stevens, Jessica became even more aware of just how prepared her brother-in-law had been before he walked to his dea—

Not an in-law anymore—her brother. He had long since earned that designation, that spot in her broken family, no matter how much self-flagellation he put himself through in regards to her sister’s murder and no matter how much abuse her father hurled at him in the years before the man who once viewed him as a son succumbed to dementia.

Hours later, despite having already reached her limit twenty minutes into the call, she finally hung up the phone with only funeral arrangements as an immediate concern. Slowly, she stood up from the chair and mechanically made her way into the tiny bathroom that had once been a familiar sight, when her nephew was still a child—

She forced her mind away from that minefield; she wasn’t willing to spend another sleepless night thinking about what had gone down in the past month, what had happened a week ago in that apartment, what her nephew was doing and thinking in the cell that only seemed to become colder and crueler the more she thought about it.

How many prisons had he visited? How many interrogation rooms, holding cells, general population cells, max security cells, death row cells? Did he ever get used to it? Could he allow himself to get used to it, to forget that these people are also human no matter the crimes they’ve committed?

A careful hand fell onto Jessica’s shoulder, and she shuddered under the warmth that seeped into her body, a warmth that had been lacking from her life for a long time now. She turned to see Morgan staring back at her, concerned.

“You didn’t pick up your phone,” he explained neutrally, flicking his eyes towards her phone—and sure enough, there were ten missed calls, each from a member of the team. She looked back up but avoided his concerned gaze only to latch onto her reflection in the mirror and internally winced at her haggard appearance.

“Did you—“ she coughed, clearing her throat, “have you figured out what happened?” Morgan’s unspoken question about her well-being went unanswered, and she continued to avoid looking at him.

She watched the man shake his head through the mirror, unsurprised and once again cursing her brother for his incessant habit of playing his cards close to his chest, especially when it came to personal issues.

How else is—was—he one of the best at poker in the bureau, often even beating Reid?

“He hasn’t talked, either,” Morgan informed her quietly, saving her the pain of asking the question herself. “Forensics is still struggling to put together a cohesive picture. To be honest, I doubt we’ll ever find out what actually happened in that apartment.” He shook his head, frustrated at the man he considered his brother.

If either of them bothered to ask, they would have found that both were truthfully unsurprised at this outcome, given what they only recently learned about the factors and circumstances that led to it. The few established facts about this case in addition to speculation based on systematically organized notes left in an even more meticulously organized folder painted a clear enough picture of the events preceding the fall.

But it wasn’t really an accidental, flailing fall.

In all truthfulness, he didn’t fight it.

Icarus let himself fall to his death in an attempt to compensate for his hubris, to suffer the consequences of his mistakes, and it was both a cowardly attempt to escape the hellish burns caused by the boiling, melting wax and a selfless attempt to teach posterity to avoid ending up like him.

Jessica remembered the warmth of Morgan’s embrace when he ignored all protocol and took it upon himself to inform her of what had transpired in the past two months, regardless of the still-ongoing investigation. It didn’t do much to soothe the cold that had threatened to swallow her whole as she listened to the details in silent horror.

He had sat her down in her apartment, the one she had taken care of her ailing father in before he finally died and the one she couldn’t bear to move out of for all of the memories that had been formed inside—with her father on his good days, with her brother, with her nephew

“A week ago, we were invited by MPD to consult on a series of killings that happened over the course of a month. We had an eye on the situation since the second murder, and there were two more victims in the span of a week before we were finally called in,” he began quietly.

He had suspicions as to what was happening by the time the team was invited in on the case at the personal request of the MPD chief. It certainly wasn’t the first time he had come across this profile before, but there were simply too many puzzle pieces with matching edges for the connections to be brushed off as a coincidence.

“Based on the rate at which bodies were popping up, we anticipated another one within two days of us being called in, but the killer had gone suspiciously silent. We went through crime scenes, forensic reports, and things weren’t adding up.”

"It’s a local case and we’ve coordinated with MPD multiple times, they know the drill. I’d like to take a personal look as well, the brass has been all up in my business about this case given its proximity to the Hill."

That’s what he said to the team regarding him suddenly taking the initiative to go to the crime scenes despite his responsibilities—it had been a while since he last went out to crime scenes, often taking care of the office politics and coordinating the investigation back at whatever precinct or office the team had taken over.

“There were odd inconsistencies, missing pieces of evidence… There was evidence to show that the killer was an amateur, but ultimately the profile we ended up building was nowhere near as detailed as we hoped it could be—but it ultimately went a long way in helping us figure out what was really happening.”

Old case files going missing from his home office, growing interest in his job, sudden mood swings happening long after the worst of puberty, increased isolation, dropping grades…

Absentee fathers of Georgetown students being stabbed and shot to death as if the killer was unsure about what to do, an innocuous Jack-in-the-Box takeout bag sitting near the last three bodies…

Numerous signs, and yet it was the outwardly irrelevant piece of trash, perhaps a sign of the killer’s gluttony—a sick joke that only he could have recognized—that led him to put all of the horrifying pieces together. It’s been over a decade, and yet the memories of that damned day remained as clear as ever, dogging his every footstep. Nightmares in which the worst happens still often visit him in his sleep, sometimes even combined with the effects of Peter Lewis’s drug concoction, effects lingering even after all these years.

“Somehow, we completely missed the fact that he fit the victimology. Maybe it was because of his efforts to distract us… If we had put it together earlier we might have been able to figure it out much earlier, and maybe everything could have turned out differently.”

Only after intensive counseling and careful editing of his case reports was he allowed to continue in the bureau after Lewis and his targeted attacks, and yet he knew he was still being watched. It was with that thought in mind that he made a decision on how to handle the situation. Either way, his life would be irrevocably changed, and there would be casualties alongside him.

All he had to do was figure out how to minimize them.

“He never came in that morning; Reid was the first to notice the lights off in the office. We were headed towards his apartment complex as soon as we saw a cleared-out office with a retirement letter being the only thing left on the desk. All of the pictures, trinkets, law books, messy stacks of paperwork—gone.”

A retirement letter for formality's sake, one copy emailed directly to the director and one printed on his desk, to simplify some things for the bureau and to ensure that Jessica and his son get his pension should the worst happen. All of his decisions, meticulously recorded and justified, except for this last one to protect the team from the consequences of his choice. All of his notes, all of the claimed evidence, carefully stored in the file box he left next to the retirement letter back in the office. Favors accumulated since law school called in, contacts throughout the local justice system ready to step in and deal with the fallout.

All of this, an attempt to compensate for the mistakes he’s made over the years and his hubris, to protect the remnants of his family and the team.

Morgan couldn’t finish telling Jessica what had happened, voice somehow caught in his throat and refusing to cooperate. He simply shook his head, and she folded in on herself, the weight of the last week too much for her to hold up. Slowly, he pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back but not doing much more to soothe her.

This is a wound that wouldn’t ever heal.

The story ends like this:

Icarus burned, and Aaron Hotchner said nothing as the hand that held the gun against his temple shook with uncertainty. Everything he wanted to say was written—one might call him a coward, but writing had always been so much easier for him—and he knew that he would be the final casualty, that the killings would stop after tonight.

Icarus fell, and Aaron Hotchner was flung sideways, the unyielding bullet from his gun fired by his own son shredding the brain that thought had of everything but the emotional and psychological effects his final decision would have on his family and friends.

Daedalus grieved over his son’s crumpled form, and Jack Hotchner would be found with his father’s dead body in his shaking arms as he stared blankly at sights unseen to the team, who had come hours too late.

Blood stained the ground, seeping into the cracks and crevices of grasping fingers, and nothing would ever be the same.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Indruck 22 for the meet uglies?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship

“...such a waste of money. I mean, why spend all that to get something tacky on your skin?”

Indrid rolls his eyes at Barclay from across the counter of the Amnesty Lodge coffee shop, the cooks arms and hands sporting a plethora of tattoos rivaled only by Indrid’s collection.

“I dunno, l like the one I got.” The other man--who seems to be on the worst first date of his life--shrugs.

“You honestly think you and Juno couldn’t have spent that money on something else in college?”

“I mean maybe but, uh, we were earnin our own cash, figured we got to decide what to spend it on.”

“Hmmmm” the first guy sips his coffee, “sounds like a typical excuse for someone who doesn’t want to admit a mistake.”

“C’mon, that ain’t fair-”

“Ugh, stop saying ain’t! I can’t take someone who talks like that to meet my family.” Before the target of his disdain can respond, he snaps his fingers, “hey, buddy, can I get a refill or what?”

“The station for black coffee refills is right there, sir.” Barclay indicates the very obvious corner of dispensers, his voice the kind of calm that Indrid knows means he’s memorizing this guys face to warn other staff about.

They earn a brief reprieve while The Asshole leaves the table. When he returns, he’s shaking his head.

“God, have you looked at the photos they’ve got up? Who the fuck wants to look at bones?”

Indrid quickly glances at his friend to be sure he’s permitted to start a fight. Barclay nods.

“Quite a lot of people.” Indrid spins on his stool. “I’ve sold a number of them just from the display here. So perhaps you could keep your rude, unclultured, close-minded, obnoxious mouth shut.”

The man balks, looks to his companion for help. He offers none, mouth trying to form words and only coming out with halves of ones (except for the “fucks” which are plentiful).

“Oh my fucking god, you agree with him! That’s it, I’m out.” The Asshole pushes back from the table and storms out. The remaining man leaps up, panicked.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay man, shitty first dates happen to all of us.” Barclay offers from beside the bakery case.

“I mean yeah, they do, but that wasn’t one of ‘em. That was my boyfriend of three fuckin years.” He dashes out of the shop, sparing a final glare at Indrid as he does.

Indrid trades a sheepish look with his friend, “Oops.”

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

“I’m glad you finally get to meet Duck!” Aubrey grins over her shoulder as she and Indrid wind down the hall at the office Kepler magazine.

Founded by childhood friends, Kepler worked a combination of print and video content that saw its subscribers and revenue climb while other publications struggled to stay afloat. Aubrey was head of the video team, though she contributed content to the magazine in the form of interviews about environmental activists of color and sustainable gift guides.

Kepler has three sections: travel, science, and environmental writing. Indrid now has the honor of being one of their primary photographers. He started two weeks ago and is thoroughly enjoying his work and the company of the other staff. The only person he’s yet to meet is Duck Newton, one of the founders and main reporters, as he was off on an assignment.

Aubrey knocks, gets a friendly “come in” and ushers Indrid into the office.

Looking at him from behind the desk is The Asshole’s Boyfriend, whose face goes from open and friendly to confused, then to perturbed.

“You okay?”

“I, uh, fuck, n-ye.” Duck sighs, “remember how I told you Alex and I split after a shitty date in a coffee shop?” He points at Indrid, “this was the fella who, uh, expedited the process.”

“Ohhhh.” Aubrey frowns, then shrugs with a smile, “whelp, he’s our new photographer. We’ll see you around.” She hurries them outside once more, shutting the doors. As they head back the way they came, she whispers, “his ex was a huge fucking dick, so if word gets out everyone is gonna think you’re a fucking hero.”

“He didn’t seem to see it that way.”

“It was only a few weeks ago, so it’s still pretty fresh. He’ll heal from it okay, Duck’s a tough cookie. And I’m sure you guys’ll get along eventually.”

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

“Juno, please, you gotta come with me.”

“I would bud, except it’s April and I’s fifth wedding anniversary that weekend. And no, we already have plans, so we can’t just take over this assignment as part of the celebration.”

“Fuck” Duck leans back in his chair.

“...You really asked everyone?”

“Ye-no, fuck-”

“Duck.”

“I ain’t asked Indrid yet.”

“There it is.” Juno smirks, “you gotta ask; besides, we were gonna have him do illustrations for the feature, but photos would be even better. And we both know it ain’t his fault y’all broke up.”

Duck nods, promises to ask Indrid after lunch. He finds the photographer flipping through his files from his shoot for next issues cover. His silver hair is pulled back, red glasses sitting on the desk beside him so he can gauge color correctly.

Duck kind of wants to pull the silver locks just to see what happens. It’s not his fault Indrid looks like his Sophomore roommate who he had a raging crush on, only with more tattoos and a much more captivating face. Pity he helped fuck up Duck’s last chance at a stable relationship.

“Hey, Indrid, you got a minute?”

The photographer cocks his head.

“I, uh, so we got a feature on this whole chunk of places touting themselves as ‘sustainable romantic getaways. I booked a bunch of places, but a lot of ‘em will turn me away if I turn up solo. And the person I was supposed to go with ain’t an option any more. Neither is anyone else. You get my drift?”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “you realize this is a terrible idea, yes?”

“Hey, we been workin together just fine. Ain’t we? Wait, fuck, I ain’t been treatin you bad even when I’m tryin to be professional, am I?”

“No, you’ve been perfectly polite. But there’s a world of difference between being cordial in an office and going on what’s functionally a vacation together.”

Duck crosses his arms, “I ain’t about to lose eight hundred bucks in deposits.”

Indrid blinks, then chuckles, “Fair. What day do we leave?”

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

The temperature rises and the air dries as they speed south on Five. Indrid fiddles with games on his phone as cover for the list of “will this be a disaster or not” he’s mentally constructing. So far the signs are positive; Duck isn’t very chatty, but neither is Indrid. They have similar tastes in music, which makes much more sense when Duck explains he was a burn-out in high school. He also isn’t agitated by Indrid stimming, which makes it easier for the photographer to relax and enjoy the drive.

But they haven’t spoken about the elephant in the car, and Indrid resolves not to be the first to do so. No point in poking the sore spot if he doesn’t have to.

They stop at a Sinclair for gas. Duck reaches into his glovebox for something as Indrid climbs out, comes away with a photo instead. It’s one of those ones from a photobooth, faded but unmistakably him and his ex. His face falls for a second and Indrid scurries into the Dairy Queen attached to the convenience store.

As he waits in line, he turns one fact over in his mind like a picture he’s trying to make sense of; it would be easier to let their awkward first meeting go if he did not genuinely like the other man. He’s charming, in a quiet way, and very friendly. He’s built like the guys Indrid always got useless crushes on in college, usually third tier frat boys or--if he was lucky--a bear a few years older than him who liked his men on the odd side.

He doesn’t like seeing Duck sad. The sadness isn’t something he can fix. The stalemate between these two facts annoy the living hell out of him.

He’s next in line, glances up to confirm what he wants, and gets an idea. Last week, he overheard Duck talking with Aubrey about roadtrip snacks of their youth.

“One chocolate dipped cone, on me.” He holds the treat out to the other man.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. These are my favorite from when I was a kid.” Duck’s smile returns.

“I remembered. Or, ah, that is, I remembered you saying that.”

The smile changes, “you didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to. Shall we?”

“Yep. Uh, you gonna be able to drive and eat that at the same time?”

“Do not doubt my ability to consume ice cream under difficult circumstances, Duck Newton.”

They make it to their first stop unscathed. It’s what Duck refers to as, “eco-bespoke,” a fancy spa and hotel built in a former school, the kind that was made in an era of beautiful instead of grim educational architecture.

“Goats!” Indrid claps his hands, delighted, at the two animals stabled near the main building. One of it’s supposed sustainable elements is the small farm that helps feed the on-site restaurant. Duck smirks and Indrid suddenly feels the gulf in their upbringings, “Ah, I suppose they’re not exciting to someone who grew up in a rural town.”

“Nah, but they’re damn cute.” Duck checks the tag on their room keys, “okay, we’re in the green building, room 2B.”

Indrid snaps some photos as they cross the grounds, more to remind himself of things he wants to come back to later than anything else. He’s busy studying a strange mark on the wall by their door when Duck says, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Why--oh” he stares at the single bed, “in retrospect, we should have seen this coming.”

“Yeah.” Duck drops his bag near the closet, slides the door to look for spare linens. Indrid summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so bolsters it with nonchalance.

“It’s a king, we could easily share.”

“You’d, uh, you’d be okay with that?”

“It is only narrow definitions of masculinity that mean something like sharing a bed is inherently sexual.”

He’s not entirely sure that made sense, but Duck nods, “You want the right side or left?”

“Right, please.”

“Great. And, uh, Indrid? Thanks for rollin with all this. I, uh, I know it’s fuckin weird but this is a huge feature for the magazine and we woulda been fucked if we had to pull it.”

Indrid gingerly sits on his side of the bed, “You’re welcome. And I don;t know about you, but” he smiles, catches Duck watching him intently in the mirror, “I’m enjoying myself so far.”

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

“Why has an activity that renders one incapable of using their thighs been deemed ‘romantic?” Indrid mumbles, face-down on the bed to offer his burning legs relief.

“Fuck if I know.” Duck groans as he sits next to him, “Kinda fun, but if I was doin this to get you in bed, I’d be fucked.”

“I am in bed” Indrid teases.

“And if I tried to put the moves of you you’d toss me outta it. Assumin I could even move myself that close.” Duck nudges him, then clears his throat, “uh, I mean, not like we’d be doin that-”

“Nono, point taken.” Indrid rolls over. The horseback ride was one of the “couples exclusives;” a trot out to a beautiful oasis for a gourmet picnic. Indrid got some excellent shots, including one of Duck with honeycomb dripping down his chin, which he will not be offering up to editors but may keep for himself. For it’s beautiful composition, of course.

Mercifully, their next stop is the pool. Indrid settles himself in the hot tub while Duck types some notes on his phone. Then his friend doffs his bathrobe and Indrid may as well be in a dream. In the steaming, echoing paradise of multi-colored tile and ecstatic shouts, Duck stands like one of the angelic fountains at its heart has come to life.

“You okay there, ‘Drid?”

“Yes.” He hopes his lack of glasses means Duck will mistake his blatant staring for trying to get his vision in focus.

“Then scoot your cu--uh, your butt over so I can sit down.”

Indrid gladly moves aside, finds he’s so comfortable with Duck pressed against him that he begins nodding off in the warm lull of the water. When the other man nudges him, saying it’s time to go, he finds a strong arm draped over his shoulder and Duck’s smile the most relaxed it’s been all trip.

Their last task at this location is to locate the speakeasy somewhere on the premises and order the “lovers delight” (only available to couples). To do so, they follow clues purple light bulbs, doors that lead to tiny, art-filled rooms, secret staircases, and a false supply closet to a dark wooded, dimly lit, incredibly pleasant bar looking out over the property. The drink turns out to be a massive goblet (more a bowl that someone stuck on a stem) of ginger syrup, prickly pear juice, and silver tequila.

It also turns out to be incredibly strong. So much so that when they get back to the room, Indrid loses his balance getting his shoes off, which makes Duck laugh, which results in both of them flopping onto the bed.

“S’fun. You’re, you’re real good at the clues. Should, should go to an escape room when we get home.”

“Wasn’t, hic, that hard. They, they want, hic, want you to find it.”

“Take the compliment, goofus” Duck pushes his shoulder.

“You’re, hic, the goofus.”

“Nuh uh.” Duck sticks his tongue out. Indrid does the same, then licks his cheek just to hear him laugh.

Duck rolls onto his back, giggles dying down to a contemplative sigh, “He woulda hated this.”

“Your ex?” Indrid crawls to stay close to him.

“Yeah. Everythin I like, or, or thought was fun, he thought it was a waste of time or just plain worthless. He, he wasn’t like that at the start. Dunno what changed. Probably me. Probably got borin. Got worse.”

Indrid is not so drunk that he believes he can fix this. But he’s just drunk enough to stroke Duck’s cheek and murmur, “No. Nono, hic, you’re th’best.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, but he must have, because his phone is beeping at them to get up and face the day. They do so with to-go coffees in one hand and their bags in the other, neither speaking of the night before until Indrid has turned the car into deeper desert.

“Sorry for gettin on a thing about Alex last night.”

“It was a three year relationship; goodness knows you’re allowed to have feelings about it.”

“Even relief?”

Indrid glances at him, “Of course.”

His friend leans back in his seat, sipping from his travel mug, “That’s half the reason I been in such a funk. I feel like I oughta be sad, then I feel guilty for the fact I’m relieved instead. But if I really was that unhappy in it, why did I hang around so long? Maybe that was the best I deserved, y’know?”

“I know the feeling, yes, but I can’t say I agree with your statement. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are and adores it, not someone who loved what you once were and became bitter when you grew.”

Duck looks at the console between them, at Indrid’s chipped black nails and the hand he hopes isn’t shaking. He squeezes it a moment longer than necessary, “Thanks, ‘Drid. It’s nice to hear that from someone who’s still gettin to know me. Juno and them, they’re my friends, I know they’re in my corner but, uh, sometimes I worry that anyone new is gonna find me dull or somethin like that.”

“I’m sure some people would, just as some take one look at me and decide I’m a weirdo who they don’t want to deal with. But I can say with certainty that I don’t find you that way.”

Duck grins all the way to their destination. It’s a quirky trailer park full of amenities and built mostly from salvaged materials, doing it’s best to run off the grid. It also gives each trailer a theme, and Indrid flaps his hands when he sees they’ve been booked in the “The Cramps” themed one.

“Hell yeah.” Duck mirrors his excitement as they open the door. Their haven from the desert sun is full of kitschy horror artifacts and a much smaller bed than the previous spot. There’s no debate this time; Indrid settles on the right, Duck on the left, and they settle in for a nap before venturing out to work.

They take in the bar, the arcade, the mini-golf course, and the “couples supply room” (“damn, didn’t know they made eggnog scented massage oil” “ooh, I like how that smells”), but Duck turns out to be most excited to rent a stargazing kit and guide Indrid out into the dark desert. They’re on their backs, shoulder to shoulder and munching chocolate covered fruit, when he discovers the source of his glee.

“There!” Duck points to a crackling streak of silver.

“A meteor” Indrid wiggles happily as a second one speeds through his view.

“It’s the Perseids, and this is a damn good place to watch ‘em. Look, there’s another one.” He’s breathless each time and Indrid’s heart threatens to beat hard enough to crack the earth at the sound.

“Did you ever wish on stars when you were little?”

“Yep. Never asked for much worth notin, though I’m pretty sure I wished once to just wake up and be a boy. Or, uh, guess for everyone to see me as one. What about you?”

“I wished...I wished for someone to do things like this with, some who’d kiss me and tell me that they didn’t need to wish because what they wanted was right here.. I love the world, I want to see so much of it, that’s half the reason I chose my profession.. But when I was young I thought I’d be with someone when I did. I thought it was easy to find that kind of love. To be worthy of it.”

“Hey now” Duck rolls onto his side. He’s backlit by the moon, meteors zipping behind him as if they, just like Indrid, are pulled to him, “what happened to all the stuff you said in the car about deservin someone who adores you?”

“It’s easy to apply such things to you, harder to believe them about myself.”

“How come?”

“Because you are everything a sensible person could want in a man and I am not.”

“That’s where you’re wrong” He sets a hand next to Indrid’s shoulder, “Can think of at least one sensible fella who wants to get to know you a whole hell of a lot.”

“He’ll get to know me plenty, we’re co-workers.”

“There are different kinds of gettin to know someone.” Duck dips down, brushes their noses together, “for instance, the last few days I’ve gotten to know you’re a damn good travel companion and that Ned was smart to hire you. But I’ve also gotten to know there’s some things about you I really wanna know.”

“Such as?” Indrid’s fingers find Duck’s sides.

“Such as whether you wanna go on a date with me when we get back. No assignment, just the two of us gettin some time together.”

“I want nothing more.” He leans up to kiss him, feels him shudder happily when their lips meet. Indrid wonders how long it’s been since someone kissed Duck like they meant it, and resolves to make up any deficits with an enthusiasm that would put horny eighteen year olds to shame.

Indrid nips Ducks ear, “you know, were it not for the threat of mosquitos and scorpions, I’d suggest we make good use of the non-food items in that basket.”

Ducks grin lights Indrid up like a comet, “Then howsabout we go test just how conducive our trailer is to romance?”

Indrid kisses him adoringly, “Lead on, sweetheart; I’ll follow you anywhere.”

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 8

So some of the details I’m getting are coming from the Teen Wolf novel On Fire that was published in 2012. It basically gave backstory into some of the characters that we never really see in the show. Like is describes Scott’s father and describes him having an asthma attack. I really recommend it. You can find it online for under 10$ so it’s worth it. 

TW: Mentions of S*xual Abuse

————

After the game ended, everyone else was celebrating. Beacon Hills lacrosse had qualified for the state championships. I played along until I was able to slip away back into the school, seeing as Scott was doing damage control with Allison and Jackson. The players and Coach were long gone, I slipped into the locker room door just as it was closing. 

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Stiles’ phone, and to my amazement I heard Stiles' ringtone echoing in the dark.

“Oh thank god.” I sighed in relief, following the ringing, “I was so worried about-” I stopped, the phone slipping from my hands. There Peter stood with Stiles’ arm in his grip. Derek stood in the shadows behind him. 

“Now who is this little thing, nephew?” Peter tilted his head to the side. His face had been healed completely of burns, nothing remained. 

Derek kept his stern expression, not meeting my eyes, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” 

Peter hummed, “Really? I haven’t seen you since you were about yea high.” He placed his hand at his chest. 

“Let him go.” I glared at him, not fooling around with his pleasantries. He dropped Stiles' arm. 

“Certainly, at the lady’s request.” He grinned. Without breaking eye contact, I reached forward and grabbed Stiles arm, pulling him behind me. He struggled a little.

“Now is not the time to be the man, get behind me now.” He complied.

“What the hell…?” I heard Scott’s voice ring through the empty locker room.

“Scott, no-” I was cut off by Scott walking around the corner of the dark hall, a towel around his waist. His eyes landed on Derek. 

“Thank God! Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea what’s been going on?” Our eyes darted towards Peter, and he finally saw him. 

Peter had picked up a crosse, looking over it in his hands, “I really don’t get lacrosse…”

Scott gasped, “It was you.”

“When I was in high school, we played basketball. There’s a real sport. Still, I read somewhere that lacrosse comes from Native American tribes, and that they played it to resolve conflict. Do I have that right?” No one answered, “Hmm… I have a little conflict of my own to resolve, Scott… But I need your help to do it.”

“I’m not helping you kill people.” Scott said firmly.

“Well, I don’t want to kill all of them– just the responsible ones. And that doesn’t have to include…” He looked back towards Derek. 

Derek sighed, “Allison.” 

“You’re on his side? Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?” Scott asked, incredulously. Took the words right out of my mouth. 

“It was a mistake…” He said the words, but I wasn’t sure if he even thought they were true. 

“What?” Scott asked, clearly shocked. 

“It happens…” Derek looked away.

“Just a werewolf thing, right?” I glared at him, he continued to find the floor more interesting. 

“I think you’re getting the wrong impression of us. We just really want to help you reach your full potential.” Peter set the crosse down. 

Scott scoffed, “By killing my friends?”

“Sometimes the people closest to you can be the ones holding you back the most.” He glanced towards Stiles and I.

“If they’re holding me back from becoming a psychotic nut-job like you, I’m okay with that.”

“Maybe” He walked up to Scott, I backed away with Stiles, “You could try and see things from my perspective…” He sunk his claws into the back of Scott’s neck. Scott groaned, and fell when Peter pulled his claws out. The alpha looked at me, wiping the blood off on his jeans. 

“You have potential as well. Mark my words, in the next few days you may realize there is more to you, (Y/N).” 

“I’d rather die.” I spat. Stiles grabbed my arm. 

“I guess we’ll just have to see.” Peter nodded to me, then walked out with Derek following behind. 

“Laura would be disgusted.” I glared at him. He paused, looking over his shoulder for a second, but continued on his path out the door. Once they were gone, Stiles pulled Scott by the shoulders and turned on the cold water. He gasped, breathing heavily. 

“Dude, we have a huge problem.” Stiles said. 

“Trust me… I know.”

-

After a confrontation with Jackson, Stiles and I drove home. There we found Uncle Noah at the kitchen table. There were papers and files spread all over and a bottle of whisky with a glass. 

“Whatcha doing?” Stiles asked.

“Work.” He slurred. 

“Anything we can help with?” He asked, so we came around the table to sit across from him. I looked at a paper. It was a report of the interview with Mr. Harris. 

“You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey, that would be awfully nice.” Uncle Noah closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. I took the time to take a picture of the statement, hiding my phone back in my pocket before he opened his eyes again. 

“Any leads?” Stiles asked, pouring the whiskey. 

“You know I can’t discuss that with you.” Stiles poured more into the glass, “Not too much!” 

Stiles slid the cup across the table, “Okay. There you go, Dad.”

“Thanks.”

“Bottoms up.” Stiles said, as we watched Uncle Noah down the whiskey.

 “You know, Derek Hale would be a whole hale of a lot-” He slurred and grunted, “Hale of a lot…?” 

“Hell of a lot?” Stiles corrected him 

“Hell… Yes… He would be a hell of a lot easier to catch if we could get an actual picture of him.”

“How do you not have a picture of him?”

“It’s the weirdest thing…” He slurred, “It’s like every time we tried to get a mugshot, it’s like two laser-beams were pointing at the camera.”

“Nice.”

“Oh, my God… Ohhh! God, that ounce hit me like a brick. And I have said way too much, and if you repeat any of that-” He warned, pointing to both of us.

“Dad, it’s us! We’re not gonna say anything. Come on!”

“See, the thing is, they’re all connected… I mean, the bus driver that got killed? He was an insurance investigator assigned to the Hale House Fire.” He pointed towards a paper.

“Terminated under suspicion of fraud.” Stiles read. 

“Exactly.”

“Who else?”

“The video store clerk who got his throat slashed? He’s a convicted felon– history of arson.” That was the attack that involved Jackson and Lydia. 

“What about the other two guys, the guys who got killed in the woods?” The two guys that Stiles saw in the woods when he got drunk with Scott. 

“Priors all over their records, including-”

“Arson. So, maybe they all had something to do with the fire…” Uncle Noah grumbled. Stiles wanted more info, “Another shot?”

“No, no, no. No more.” he slurred. 

“Dad, come on! You work really hard, all right? You deserve it.” It was enabling and wrong to get the sheriff drunk to get information out of him. The dots were all starting to connect. 

“Oh, my God… I’m gonna have such a hangover…”

“You mean you’re gonna have such a good night’s sleep!” He poured another shot for his dad. He looked at me, muttering out of the side of his mouth, “I’m gonna have an eternity in the lowest circle of hell…” I patted Stiles' arm.

“Let me know if he says anything else.” I whispered and came around the table, “Goodnight Uncle Noah.” 

“Goodnight, sweetie.” He called. 

I went into my room and connected my phone to my laptop so I could get a better look at the report. Stealing evidence was a crime, but I was already doing enough illegal things that I figured it would matter too much. I pulled up the picture and enhanced it the best I could. It was a transcription from Uncle Noah’s recorder. 

𝙱𝙴𝙶𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙿𝚃 

𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚡 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙸'𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛. 

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚗'𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜, 𝚑𝚞𝚑?

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚛. 𝚆𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜. 𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚝. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚘, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎? 𝚃𝚘 ��𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚢…𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛… 

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝙳𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜. 

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍, 𝙸 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏. 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚟𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝. 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛. 

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗?

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗. 

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎? 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛. 

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝚂𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖? 

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝙽𝚘. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚊 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍. 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛. [𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 #𝟸0𝟺]

 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵: 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜? 

 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚢𝚖𝚋𝚘𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝. 𝙸 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝.

𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙿𝚃

I didn’t need to see the evidence to know what the symbol was. It was the Argent family crest and Kate Argent is the one that burned down Derek’s house. She’s the one that murdered the Hale’s. That’s why she was a touchy subject to him. But there was something else too. 

-

The next day I was out shopping when I saw her. Kate Argent was in the sporting goods department, looking at arrows. She must have sensed me staring so I went back to looking at…lamps. 

“(Y/N)?” She called. Shit. I looked up nonchalantly. 

“Um, yes?”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)? You remember me right? Swim class?” And that’s what it was. That’s what connected Kate to the school. She was a swim coach. She must have watched Derek from there. 

“Oh right.” I smiled, “I completely forgot. With everything going on it’s been hard to remember.” 

“Right, I heard about your parents.” She gave a sympathetic smile, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” She put a hand to her chest. 

“It’s alright. It seems that there’s a lot of fires in this town, huh?” I smiled, tilting my head to the side. 

Her smile tightened, “Yeah. Unfortunate circumstances.” We both nodded slowly. It seems like we both knew what was really going on here.

“What have you been up to recently?” She asked. 

“Oh I work at the school. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your niece, Allison. Such a sweet girl.” 

“She is, isn’t she? Kinda like how you used to be. It seems you’ve been associating with Derek Hale. He’s a fugitive, don’t you know?” 

I answered innocently, “I’m quite sure you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Which one? Associating with Derek Hale or that he’s a fugitive.” 

“Ms. Argent, I think you and I both know what a real criminal is. Now I am sure someone was chasing your niece around that school and I wish she hadn’t been in that situation. And I believe we’re assuming that all these killings were committed by someone who enjoys seeing others in pain. Someone manipulative. You had Derek as a student, does that sound like him?” 

Kate chuckled, “I know him a lot better than you do. A lot better.” She left, taking her arrows to the front of the store. 

-

What did she mean by that? How did she know Derek “a lot”? Not like I really wanted to get answers from him since he decided to join his Uncle’s murder parade. Derek was good, he fought for justice for his sister. But now that he’s found her killer, he doesn’t want to hurt him. I guess, I could understand the point that Peter was his only family left. The point that Peter made it so he was the only family left was just too much to ignore for me. I just-…I couldn’t believe that he would do that unless he was trying to trick him somehow.  

I messed with the soup I made for dinner, placing the cover on the pot and letting it simmer. Stiles was running like a bat out of hell. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” I looked out at him. 

He skidded to a stop, “Peter Hale is taking Scott’s mom out on a date, I’m gonna go rear end them.” He took off again. That meant Peter wasn’t around Derek to influence him. Which meant I could talk to him alone. I turned off the stove top and grabbed my keys. 

On the drive there, I felt the terrible feeling again. Something was going to go wrong again. I parked in the spot that we had first parked when I originally got lost in the woods and found my way to the Hale house. It wouldn’t be hard to find it again. I walked for a while and I had finally found it, his Camaro was in front of the house. I was about to step onto the porch when I felt a sharp pain in my back. I inhaled sharply, arching my back. I reached around and pulled out whatever had hit me. I inspected it, it was a tranquilizer dart. Who the hell-…

My vision started to get a little fuzzy, I blinked hard to clear it. Soon, my legs get numb. I fell backwards, landing on the forest floor. I groaned, trying to move but my limbs weren’t responding. Kate Argent kneeled down next to me and smiled. 

“Guess I was right about one thing.” She pulled down a gas mask that had been on the top of her head and threw something through the open window of the house. The last thing I heard was Derek yelling at Scott to run.

-

I was slow to wake up. Whatever had been in that dart knocked me out real good, the effects were still lingering now even as I was waking up. I was back tied in a chair again. If I got out of this situation alive, I was throwing out every chair I owned. 

“There you are, sleeping beauty.” Kate’s voice echoed. She bent over to meet my eyes. I tried to pick my head up, fighting to stay awake. 

“Man, I think I gave you too much. Thought you could handle it.” She lifted my head up. 

“Wha-what did you give me?” I slurred. 

“Wolfsbane. Nothing deadly, just enough to knock you out.” She smiled, dropping my face. Why in the hell did she shoot me with wolfsbane? And why did it work?

“It took me a while, but I finally found your connection in all this. It seems Beacon Hills has two werewolf families.” 

I found the strength in my neck to look up, “What? My…my family aren’t werewolves. I didn’t even know they existed until like two months ago.” I grimaced. 

“Well they aren’t now, silly. How is Michael by the way?” She asked, the door opened behind me, two men walked in - dragging something large behind them. My vision was still fuzzy so I couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Michael?”

“Yeah, he was my little protégé. His family come from a long line of hunters. Just like me. He got too involved with his undercover work though. When we tried to destroy your clan the first time he couldn’t go through with it.” 

“You’re crazier than I thought.” I shook my head. 

“I don’t blame you for being confused. I didn’t know either for the longest time. My brother and your father had a deal of some kind, details. They kept you hidden from your own world.” She pouted dramatically. 

“Listen, lady. You are insane.” I blinked hard, my vision finally clearing. The two men had left, and it turned out the large thing they had been caring for was Derek. They had him chained up, by his hands, leaving him to dangle. He was shirtless and passed out. 

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” I asked as she walked over to him. She turned back, surprised. 

‘A little protective, are we? You can’t think you can keep him all to yourself, not after our history.” She hummed, running her finger over his chest. What she said hit me like a ton of bricks. That’s why he hated talking about her, why he felt so guilty when she was talking to him about Laura. 

“You sexually abused him.” I gasped, completely mortified. 

“I wouldn’t call it abuse.” 

“The law would. He was sixteen years old. He was just a kid!” She didn’t look the least bit phased, “You’re sick. A sick, sick bitch.” She crossed over to me quickly, slapping me hard across the face. I will admit that it hurt a lot, but the worst pain was that as soon as Kate’s hand connected with her cheek, Derek woke up with a gasp. She turned, a wicked smile on her lips. 

“Oh this just keeps getting better and better.” She smacked me again, sending me back into darkness. 

-

I woke up, not sure how much time had gone by so I could finally get a good look at Derek. There were wires attached to his right side, attached with black electrical and paper tape. He looked in pretty rough shape, worse off than I was. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, still not meeting my eyes. 

“I’m okay.” I nodded, “Derek, I am so sorry for what she did to you.”

His jaw tightened, “She told you.” 

“I thought she got to you just being the swim coach but I could have never imagined… I’m so sorry.” It made sense now why he didn’t want to be close, why he couldn’t be around me in the beginning. She took everything from him under the guise of love. She preyed on a child. He didn’t want to be vulnerable again.

“I can’t imagine how much anger you have. And guilt. None of this was your fault.”

“It was my fault. I was stupid and should have known better.” He glowered. 

“Derek, you were a kid. And she’s a psychotic manipulator who used her charm and good looks to seduce a child. She’s a monster.” 

“I know that. but that doesn't make the guilt any worse. I’m the reason they’re all gone.” His voice trailed off at the end. 

“No, no you’re not. She was manipulating all the people that Peter killed. The bus driver was an insurance investigator assigned to the case and got fired for fraud, Mr. Harris taught her how to make the bomb necessary to start the fire, she hired three guys with priors of arson. That’s why they were on Laura’s list, she figured out all the people helped Kate with the fire. But I guess Peter already told you that.” He stared, processing what I had said. 

“Did he not tell you that?” I narrowed my eyes, “He’s killing people and he didn’t tell you why, just that they were on Laura’s list?” He didn’t answer. 

“Why are you blindly following him? What good reason could he have for killing Laura? If he really wanted to kill those people, why wouldn’t he just work with her? He cut her in half and left her to rot! Left her for you to find!”

“I don’t need you yelling at me about it! I know he killed her and he has no justification for it. He’s crazy! I’m playing into this because if I don’t he’ll go after you!” He shouted, finally looking at me. 

“What?” I mumbled.

“He wants to make a new bloodline. As soon as he builds up a pack, he’s coming for you and-” Derek was cut off by a door opening. And in walked Kate Argent followed by her niece, Allison. Derek had shifted formed when they walked in, all of the anger and rage built up in his system and the change just happened. 

“What is this place?” She asked. 

“Let’s start with the basics– you know how every family has its secrets?” Kate came to me, wrapping a gag around my mouth before I could talk, “Ours is a little different…” She turned the spotlight onto Derek. He roared at her loudly. 

“Isn’t he beautiful?” She mused. Allison took a step back. Kate walked over to the electrical equipment, turning up the dial Derek gritted his teeth, his body became rigid as it went through him. At the same time, my vision clouded. I could feel my body hanging like his, the electricity flowing through my bones. The two only stood there, watching Derek struggle, scream, and writhe. 

“What are you doing to him? Is this going to kill him?” Allison asked, her voice echoing between the room and the vision I was in. 

“Oh, come on, kid. Don’t get all ethical on me now.” Kate leaned against the equipment. 

“What is he?” She looked between Derek and I, “What are they?” Kate finally opened the circuit, cutting off the electric flow. Derek hung there limply, breathing heavily. I was pulled from the vision, gasping for air and feeling all the soreness that came with being electrocuted.

“Her…” Kate hummed, “I’m not sure. But him - shape-shifter. Lycan. Werewolf.” Derek glared at them, his eyes burning bright blue. 

“But to me he’s just another dumb animal.” She flipped the switch again, sending more volts running through him. He screamed through his gritted teeth. I glared, fighting against the visions so I could focus, I could feel the static making my hair stick up. Allison, looking conflicted, looked between Kate and Derek. Kate turned off the volts again. His head hung low, the pain finally knocking him out. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my head straight. 

“Come here,” She brought Allison closer to Derek. Kate grabbed his chin. 

“Get your hands off of him!” I tried to shout around the gag, but it all came out as gibberish. Kate ignored me regardless and forced Derek’s lips open to show his teeth. 

“There are canines. Also known as fangs. Made for tearing and rendering flesh. Not something you find on those cute little leaf eating herbivores, is it?”

Allison shook her head, “Is this a joke to you?”

Kate’s hands dropped from Derek’s face, “Sweetie, there are werewolves running around the world. Everything’s a joke to me. How else do you think I stay sane?” Sanity train left ages ago. 

"So was it him at the high school? And all the other animal attacks?” Allison asked. 

“There’s actually three of them. Another younger one like him,” She motioned to Derek, “Called a beta. And then there’s the alpha. Alpha is the pack leader. Bigger, stronger, nastier. Those are the real ugly motherfu-. ” As she was speaking, I kicked a nearby rock towards her leg 

“Why did you take her if she’s not one of them?” Allison looked at me. Kate nodded and walked over to me, pulling a vial out of her pocket. 

“A very extraordinary thing occurred that I have never actually seen before. You see, she comes from a family of werewolves but is not a werewolf. But somehow they were able to form a mating connection, because as you know animals like him mate for life. He feels her pain, she feels his.” She opened the vial and let a drop fall down onto my pants. The liquid seeped through the fabric onto my leg, causing a red hot burning sensation. I bit down hard on the gag, breathing hard to ignore the pain.  She put the cork back on the vial, walking her and Allison back out of the cellar. 

-

Later on in the day, not sure how many hours went by but Kate was back, rummaging through Derek’s jacket.

“Come on, Derek, he killed your sister.” She pulled out his wallet and took the money that was inside, “Ya know, maybe you’re not telling me because you wanna kill him yourself or for some reason, you’re protecting him.” She dropped the wallet and grabbed his chin so he faced her, she put what looked like his driver’s license up to his face. 

“Awww, look at that sour face.” She pouted and let go of his face, “I bet you’re used to people coming up to you and saying: Smile, Derek. Why don’t you smile more? Don’t you wanna just kick those people in the face?” Derek glanced at me before looking back at Kate. 

“I can think of one.”

“Promise?” She smiled, an amused look on her face, “Cause if I thought you’d be that much fun, I’d let you go.” She continued to rifle through his wallet, “Nothing, nothing, nothing. God, I hate this detective crap.”

“Are you gonna torture me or are you just gonna bore me to death, huh?” He was getting more and more irritated. 

“Oh sweetie. I don’t wanna torture you.” She said sweetly, “I just wanna catch up. Remember all the fun we had together?" 

“Or the time you burned my family alive?” He growled, “Working with another set of psychos to do the same to another family?”

"Ya know? I was thinking more about the hot, crazy sex we had. But the fire thing, that was fun too.” She played with his emotions, the same way she had done before. Derek jerked forward towards her. She didn’t flinch.

“I love how much you hate me. Remember how this felt?” Kate bent down to the hem of Derek’s pants. I struggled against the chair, agitating the burn on my leg, but I needed to help him. Kate’s tongue snaked out and ran over Derek’s abdomen. Derek roared at her, his fangs sharp. 

“Sweetheart, I really don’t want to torture you.” Kate said as the door opened again, revealing a bald man, “But he does.” Kate looked at me, watching me continue to struggle against my restraints. 

“Ooh, she’s a fighter, Derek.” She laughed, “Reminds me a lot of myself at her age.” She looked at her henchman, “Don’t be shy, give her some too.”

-

After getting nothing from either of us, the man left. The guy seemed to enjoy punching Derek in his stomach and watching me double over. His experiments ranged and there were a few new cuts on my body that weren’t there earlier today. Kate walked in, listening to someone on her phone. 

“Unfortunately, Derek, if you’re not gonna talk I’m gonna have to kill you.” She walked back over to the electrical box. I screamed through the gag, lunging my body forward, making the chair jump forward. I tried again but lost balance, the chair fell sideways. My arm slammed into the concrete floor. Derek winced at the impact. Kate chuckled, reaching for the knob to close the circuit. 

“Say hi to your sister for me.” She paused, “You didn’t tell her about me did you? The truth about the fire?“ Derek’s guilt showed on his face, now too tired and beaten to hide it. 

"Or did you?” She asked, “Oh, sweetie, that’s a lot of guilt to keep buried. It’s not all your fault. You got tricked by a pretty face. It happens. Handsome young werewolf mistakenly falls in love with a super hot girl who comes from a family that kills werewolves.“ Derek’s emotions ranged from anger to guilt and sadness. 

"Is that ironic? Is it? Ironic, that you were unknowingly helping me track down the rest of the pack. Again. We’re just a little bit of history repeating.” She paused for a minute, thinking about what she said, "History repeating..“ She muttered. 

"It’s not Jackson is it? Oh no no no, he’s got a little scratch on the back of his neck. But he’s not in love with Allison. Not like Scott.” It didn’t take torture to find out who the other beta was, so that just meant Kate Argent was more of a monster than I originally thought. The new danger was to Scott and that translated to Stiles, and I wasn’t there to keep him safe.

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

Read part 9 here!

I’m reading the transcript of the episode as I’m writing so let’s say the similarities between what (Y/N) says and what Kate says are intentional. 

Likes, Comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Again I want to thank everyone who has been reading, it’s bring back my Teen Wolf nostalgia. 

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[alinastracker]

hi, bonnie, my beloved!!! I don’t know if you’re still taking those college prompts but if you are, it think 21 is pretty cute <3 it’s definitely got malina vibes

ASK AND U SHALL RECEIVE MY LOVE<3 

prompt: I get stuck with a late class that doesn’t end until 9pm and I’m always anxious about walking across the campus to the dorms, so you offer to walk with me and one night, I find out that it’s in the exact opposite direction that you need to go in

it’s nice to have a friend

"And please everyone, actually read the assigned chapters for next week!" Professor Yerwei sighs as the class dismisses. "Miss Starkov can't continue to be the only one of you raising her hand."

Alina can't help her smug little smile as she packs up her things. At first, her classmates were quite happy to have someone else participating so they didn't have to. Their groans seem to indicate that won’t be working for them any longer. Pity. 

Her smile fades, however, as she takes out her pepper spray, clutching it tight in her right hand. Slinging her backpack onto her shoulders, she files out with the rest of her classmates. 

Alina loves her art history class. She's learned so much about Ravkan art throughout her years, which is fine, but this class actually focuses on the rest of the world, art from Kerch, Novyi Zem, and even Fjerda and Shu Han.

She just hates that the class is only offered at night.

It doesn't surprise her. The class itself isn't very large, mostly filled with students of mixed backgrounds like herself. But there's something cozy about the class. She feels safe there.

That is, until she steps outside and has to walk across campus to her dorm at nine in the evening. It's late September, which means the sky is nearly pitch black by the time class ends, and while the campus is fairly well lit up, there are a couple paths with burned out bulbs that need fixing, a few shadowy areas that give her cause to quicken her steps. Her roommate, Genya, has offered to make the trek just to walk with her, but she couldn't ask that of her friend. She would just have to grin and bear it.

Alina grips her pepper spray a little tighter and is about to step into the night when someone calls her name.

No, not someone. She knows the voice, even if he is new in her life. Malyen Oretsev. He sits in front of her and a little to the left, giving her the perfect angle to stare at the side of his beautiful face. Any time she's not answering questions, she's looking at Mal.

"Way to show us all up in class," he says, a teasing smile spread on his face. He moves with such ease, such surety, wearing an army style jacket that fits him in all the right places.

"Well, I can't help it you don't read the book," she teases back, momentarily forgetting her dreaded walk. She's made it three times now, but it has yet to get easier.

"Hey, who said I haven't read it? Maybe I'm just shy."

Alina laughs. "Good one, Oretsev."

He grins, and for a second, his eyes flash to where her hand rests at her side, locked around her pretty purple pepper spray. "Heading to your dorm?" When she nods, he says, "Mind if I walk with you?"

She's not sure if he's asking because he genuinely wants to walk with her or if he's just noticed how shaky she gets after class, holding her one line of defense close, but it makes her all warm inside regardless. "I'm not out of your way? I'm in Sankta Lizabeta Hall."

Mal shakes his head and drapes an arm over her like it's the most natural thing in the world, and oddly enough, it feels that way. "Not out of my way at all."

On the walk to her dorm, they talk about how refreshing it is to take a class taught by a professor from Shu Han, the plans they have for the upcoming weekend. Alina smiles the whole time, surprising herself with how at ease she feels. At some point, she stuffs her pepper spray in her coat pocket, forgetting all about it.

From that day on, Mal walks with her after class each Tuesday and Thursday night, with Alina almost always tucked under his arm. She tells herself she likes being close to him because the weather is getting colder and colder, but really, he just makes her feel safe and giddy and good.

One night in mid-October, they come out of class to a downpour. Groans pass between the two of them and the rest of their classmates as they make their way out, some of them going back inside to wait it out, others making a mad dash for their dorm or nearby car.

"Should we wait?" Alina asks.

Mal pulls out his phone and brings up a radar map. "Doesn't look like it's stopping anytime soon."

They share a look, and then, almost in unison, pull up the hoods of their coats and dash into the night, the storm swallowing the sounds of their laughter.

~

"My brother is always forgetting his things when he visits my room," Tamar is saying as she leads them up the stairs in Sankt Juris Hall. She has yet to meet Tamar's twin, Tolya, but from the pictures she's been shown, he appears to be a giant with absolutely gorgeous hair.

Once they're in her brother's dorm, she adds gentle to the front of giant, as they walk in on him in the middle of crocheting, a podcast playing from his phone.

"Ah, my book," he says, pausing his podcast and setting his work aside.

"Yes, yes, your book. Now stop leaving your shit in my dorm."

Alina laughs, and it brings Tolya's attention to her. "You must be Alina." He stands to his full height, and she has to look up to meet his eye. Saints, he seems tall enough to make two of her. 

"That's me," she says, and lets out a soft oof when Tolya wraps his large arms around her. Admittedly, his size compared to her own makes for a pretty great hug.

"Good to meet you. Tamar says you're a very talented artist. You'll have to show me some time."

She beams and nods to his abandoned yarn. "You seem to be something of an artist yourself."

Tamar groans. "Don't encourage him. I have so many scarves from over the years. Thank the Saints he's finally moved on to making things for his roommate."

"At least my roommate appreciates my work."

As the twins bicker, Alina walks further into the room. Tolya's side is neat and orderly, bed made, a basket beside it for all his crocheting, not a piece of trash in sight. The other side of the room . . . not so much.

She's seen worse, especially when it comes to boys, but the contrast is hilarious. His roommate's bed is a mess, pillows strewn and blankets hanging off like he left in a hurry. There's a few empty wrappers and water bottles on his desk, a pile of books stacked haphazardly. Then there's the heap of clothes shoved in a corner on his bed — clean or dirty yet to be determined. Her eyes linger on the pile, and she's not sure why until her eyes zero in on the hoodie on top. A very familiar hoodie.

Alina grabs it and turns to Tolya. "Do you live with Malyen Oretsev?"

Tolya pauses mid-bickering, glancing over at her. "You know Mal?"

She nods. "We have art history together."

"Oh! You must be the little friend — his words, not mine — he walks with after class. Lina. Huh, I should have put two and two together."

Alina scoffs. "Little friend?"

Tolya shrugs, and Tamar says, "I mean, he's not wrong."

She huffs, throwing the hoodie back onto Mal's bed, but says nothing, knowing she doesn't have an argument.

Just before they leave, Alina ducks her head back in and says, "Hey, Tolya? Don't tell Mal I was here."

If he finds her request odd, he doesn't show it, already going back to his crocheting. "Sure thing, little friend."

~

"So then, after doing all that catchup, they practically let Jrue steal the ball, and he runs down the court and tosses it just high enough for Giannis to dunk it in. It was incredible!"

"Uh huh."

Mal sighs. "I get it, you don't care about American basketball."

"Or American football, or our football—"

"Hey!"

"Okay, I care about your games."

"Thank you," he says, looking proud. "Anyway, you're saved."

They've reached Sankta Lizabeta Hall. Alina sighs, fiddling absently with a loose thread on her gloved hand. She’s wearing only one, because at some point today she had lost her pair, so Mal had offered up one of his — a gesture her heart has still not recovered from. She looks up at the building, then back to Mal. Admittedly, even when he rambles on about sports, she's always sad when their walk to the dorms after class comes to an end. Even though it's near freezing most nights now, their walk seems to take longer and longer. If Mal has noticed her slowing her steps lately, he hasn't said anything.

"Saved indeed," she says. But there's one more thing she has to do tonight before parting ways. "Though, I was thinking. You always walk me to my dorm, but I never do the same."

"Oh," Mal says and shrugs. "It's fine. It's not much further, no sense for you to backtrack."

Oh the irony. "I know, but still." She takes his hand, somehow warm despite the frosty air around them. Her heart skips a beat as she realizes this is the first time she's held his hand. "It's really only fair."

"Alina," Mal grumbles, and she can almost see the wheels turning in his brain, trying to figure a way out of this.

"What? It's not like you live much farther."

He groans. "It's late, and cold. You should get inside."

"What's the matter, Malyen?" She's grinning now. "You think I can't survive another minute or so out here? It's not like you reside in, oh I don't know, Sankt Juris Hall or something far like that."

She sees on his face the moment it clicks. Mal curses under his breath and asks, "How did you find out?"

"Tamar took me to meet her brother, and I just so happened to notice some very familiar clothes on a very messy bed. You're not quite as tidy as your roommate, Malyen."

"If you say my full name one more time, I'm going to bury myself into the ground."

Alina laughs and it’s just a little maniacal. "So what gives, Malyen? Juris Hall is like, a minute from class." Her own was around ten, longer if the sidewalks were icy or they took their time.

Mal's eyes turn downcast, and he kicks the pole of a streetlight. "I don't know. You just looked so uncomfortable leaving class each night, holding your pepper spray like your life depended on it, and I just — I didn't want you to be alone." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, it probably sounds weird and creepy and everything you're trying to avoid."

Her heart is thumping so loud she's afraid he might hear it. But he's still not even looking at her. "Mal," she says softly, and finally he looks up. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

He's unsure for a breath longer — the first time, she realizes, that she's seen him be anything but certain — before finally, he smiles. Shyly. "Really?"

She nods. "It’s ridiculously kind of you, especially since you barely knew me then. But I’m okay, really. I don’t want you to keep going so out of your way for me.” 

Mal pauses, shuffling on his feet, and she can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “And if I said I wasn’t only doing it for you?” At her frown, he adds, “If I told you these walks are the best part of my week?”

She’s momentarily speechless as her brain scrambles for something to say, so she ends up blurting out, “Football practice is the best part of your week.”

His smile is sly as he says, “Football is the second best part of my week.”

“Oh, well.” Saints, she wants to jump his bones. She’s wanted to since the first time she laid eyes on him. But she hesitates still, needing to be sure before she can let herself leap. “Certainly there’s better places and times to go for a walk.”

Mal shakes his head, and there’s amusement in his tone. “Come on, Alina, are you really going to make me spell it out for you? It’s not the walk, it’s the company.”

“The company,” she echoes in a small, but pleased, voice. Her dark eyes are sparkling with something giddy — like she’s fifteen again, tripping over a smile from her crush.

He just shrugs as if to say, take it or leave it, and she knows her answer. 

Alina grins and shrugs in return. “Well, then I guess you can keep accompanying me.”

He snorts. “Oh, you guess, huh?” Mal suddenly drops dramatically to one knee, and in that moment she can see his confidence has returned, the easy way he moves, like he’s singing his favorite song and knows every word, every beat. “How generous of you, oh honorable Alina Starkov, for granting me the privilege of walking on the same pavement your very feet grace!”

Alina’s laughing, she’s been laughing for the whole speech, but now she crosses the distance between them and tugs on his arm until he stands. “You’re the worst,” she says, and before she loses her nerve, she kisses him. She can tell he’s surprised, but he recovers fast. His arms wrap around her waist, tugging her closer. One of her hands is on his red scarf — one of Tolya’s making, she knows now — while the other dares to run through his hair, a fantasy she’s had all semester. Suddenly it’s not so cold out anymore.

They pull away breathless, sharing careful, sheepish smiles of two people exploring something new; something exciting, but fragile. 

“I think we’ll have to find a new excuse to hang out once class ends in a couple weeks,” Alina says, looking up at him through her lashes, cheeks flushed. 

“Agreed. Maybe something involving food, or drinks.” He pauses, then very delicately brushes his thumb over her bottom lip. It’s somehow more intimate than the actual kiss. “Maybe more of this.” 

She bites down on the spot his thumb had just been. “Definitely more of this.”

Mal smiles, and this time, he’s the one to initiate the kiss, the one to tangle his fingers in her hair. They kiss until they’re dizzy and frozen — on the outside, anyway. On the inside, she’s all heat. They say their typical goodnights, but this time, they part with the promise of so much more than walking on the horizon.