#youre telling me miss secret romantic would not be FURIOUS at the two of them for eloping without her

[ode-to-fury]

Most unrealistic thing about Tresspasser is the insinuation that Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast would not murder both Cullen and the Inquisitor the second she found out they’d even thought about having a wedding and not telling her

[firein-thesky]

COIN TOSS– PART II

(18+ MINORS DNI)

PART I

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader, a little Shouta Aizawa x Reader

SUMMARY: As you fall asleep, you wonder faintly, almost sadly, if you’re the first thing he’s fully touched without losing in a long time.

You are Eraserhead’s troubled protege with a Quirk that cancels out others the moment they touch you. Tomura Shigaraki takes great interest in you.

(Enemies to lovers, a lot of angst, some hurt/comfort)

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, age gap/power struggle, violence, gore, Tomura’s trauma specifically, (in later chapters) murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut, some blurred lines, rough sex, a smidge of a spit kink, a smidge of somnophilia (let me know if I’ve missed anything!)

If you are under the age of 18, you should not be reading or interacting with this!

A/N: again, thank you @randomrosewrites for beta-ing!! and thank you guys for the support and comments on the first part! here is your part two!! it's tomura heavy, but for those who love shouta, there's a lot of him in the final part! i hope you enjoy! let me know what you thought!

i also am obsessed with making playlists for when i write and i spend far too much time organizing it all and making sure the songs blend together so if you'd like to take a look at the playlist i made for this fic, it's here!

Read on Ao3

***

Shouta, like the responsible adult he is, soothes things out with you. Well, it doesn’t feel very soothed to you, but Shouta’s made his position clear and you’ve both returned to some semblance of normalcy.

He keeps his distance.

You try not to overstep, but you’re aching and furious.

(You’re holding a secret, too, letting it tear apart your insides, letting it turn circles in your mind until all you can think about is the chill of rain, the bite of a desperate kiss).

You hate that Shouta has retreated from you now. You hate that he’ll stop his hand before reaching out to touch you, like he always has to make sure, like he has to decide if that will be good for you. If you can handle it.

You feel shockingly alone.

You lash out at him more, bicker and argue over things you never used to. You don’t even know why you do it, can’t stop yourself from trying to dig into him. You regret it every time when all he gives you is impassiveness, levelheaded coolness. An adult speaking with an unruly child. He’s good at that, unfortunately.

Some days you want to beg him for answers. Why can’t you love me the way I love you? Is it me? How would you have me? If I was older? I can be more mature, I can be better and better and better–

His undercover work grows greater, draws him away from both you and Shinsou more. Shouta seems to ghost around your life now, drawn away from you, keeping a very careful space between you both.

But there are nights where he tells you to train with Shinsou alone now. You feel responsible. Mature. You glow with pride that he can trust you with one of his students, that you could be a mentor to Shinsou, too.

You grow closer to Shinsou because of this, too, when it’s just the two of you in the gym.

There is one evening in particular, when you’re both sprawled out on the floor taking a too-long water break because Shouta isn’t around when he admits that he used to be– still is sometimes– feared for his Quirk.

He tells you everyone expected him to be a villain.

“I used to be a thief,” you admit, “I was a petty villain, I guess.”

Shinsou looks at you and if he’s surprised, he doesn’t entirely show it, except for the lifting of his brows. You don’t sense judgement from him, though, when he asks, “Really?”

You take another swig of water, humming in affirmation. You swallow, “I was homeless, had no money, nothing. I was stealing from a supermarket when Shouta caught me.”

“You were just trying to survive,” Shinsou adds, like he’s trying to justify the crime, like it soothes him to know there was a good reason for a misdeed.

“Sure,” you reply, fiddling with your water bottle, “But I stole things I didn’t need, too. Just things I wanted.”

“But you’ve changed,” Shinsou says and you can’t tell if he’s trying to reassure himself or you more. “You’re a hero now.”

“Only because my circumstances changed. I was given a roof over my head, food to fill me. Clothes of my own that fit and weren’t torn. I was accepted.” You explain, “If it hadn’t been for Shouta, I would never have become a hero.”

Shinsou is silent, watching you.

“I’d probably be in jail. Or still a thief, in the least, if any other hero would’ve caught me.”

You don’t know why, but you think of Shigaraki suddenly. You think of how young some of the League of Villains are. You wonder if it had been them who offered you food and a home, if you’d be with them now, and not here, sitting on the floor of a nice, sparkling gym attached to U.A.’s dorms.

Something strange grows inside you, something a little bitter. It simmers with sympathy for them, for their lives. For kids like Shinsou with their villainous quirks. You wonder if he’d been poor, if he’d been alone, would he be here, too? Or somewhere else?

“But you were good before,” he says, and it almost feels naive, “I know you’re good.”

You shrug, “Good is relative, you know? I thought I was good because I didn’t kill people, I didn’t steal from other poor people, but society didn’t think I was good. I was still a thief.”

“But you were only a thief because you needed to survive.” he says again, “When given the chance, you changed and became a hero.”

“Exactly.” you say, “How many villains do you think just needed a chance?”

Shinsou goes silent now. His brows furrow in thought, pinching together in a way that makes him look a little too old for his age. You think all of the kids at U.A. grow up too quickly, all of them with too much on their small shoulders.

They’re only kids.

You’re barely older.

Shigaraki is barely older than you.

You push him out of your mind, toss your water bottle aside, and rise to your feet again. “C’mon,” you offer Shinsou your hand to help him up, too, “Shouta would kill me to know I let you lay around so much.”

This seems to pull him from his thoughts and he snorts, taking your hand.

You pull him up. And you both stare at each other a moment. You think he looks at you in a different light now and it isn’t bad, no, he seems to be pondering you more.

(And you’ll realize later that he’s become more sympathetic, that he sees you in villains now, reminds himself they’re people, too, with lives and needs and wants–)

It gives you a strange hope, as you begin to train with him again, to know that he’s the future of hero society.

***

Tomura spots you while he’s out stealing with Toga. Usually it’s Twice or Magne with her, but Twice was onto something else and Toga had decided to latch herself onto him for the day. He’s grown to tolerate her.

Besides, she’d managed to steal him a jean jacket, dark, rough, and worn with holes but it keeps him warmer while still being able to keep the hood of his sweatshirt up to hide himself. To blend in. She’d stolen herself something, too, as the weather begins to get colder and they still don’t have a base, wandering aimlessly.

(He feels stupidly responsible for them. But he’s learned good leaders are, in some way, responsible for their people. They don’t have to care in any way that is emotional, but they have to care in some way, make the group feel important to them. And begrudgingly, they are important to him–)

You’re with a boy around Toga’s age. Wild violet hair. You’re laughing at something he’s saying and you’re sharing street food, he thinks, something that’s warm, steaming up into the air.

He feels a vicious surge of jealousy for a moment. It’s so sharp and jarring that he reaches up to scratch at his neck, tearing into his skin.

But the boy looks too young and you tousle his hair like he’s a younger brother, not someone romantic. While there’s familiarity between you two, it’s not overly intimate.

Toga, unfortunately, follows his line of sight.

She looks between him and you. She tilts her head and Tomura can practically see the gears turning in her strange little mind.

“Do you know them?” she asks, almost innocently.

He doesn’t know why, but he says, “Just her.”

Toga looks back at you. She watches as you talk with the boy– the sun through the autumn leaves cast you in tangerine light, all golden and warm.

When she looks back at Tomura, a smile creeps onto her face. One that he knows is going to give him a migraine.

“She’s so pretty,” she trills, eyeing him too closely.

Tomura scratches at his neck again, harder, wincing a little when he feels a cut reopen.

“Do you have a crush, Tomura?” Toga sings, dancing in front of him to force herself into his line of sight.

“No,” Tomura snaps, bristling, which only seems to encourage her.

“Let’s say hi!” she says, about to bound off and Tomura catches her by the scruff of her jacket like a kitten. He’s wearing his partial gloves, but he still keeps a finger away from her.

“No,” he hisses, firmer now, pulling her back towards him. “They’re heroes. Don’t get distracted.”

Toga twists in his hold, wide-eyed for a moment, before her face settles into another enormous and excited smile. “You’re in love with a hero, too?!”

Tomura grits his teeth, snarling out, “I’m not in love with anyone.” He shakes her then and she yelps a little, “Now focus. We need food and I don’t want to deal with them.”

Toga finally squirms her way out of his hold, pouting at him, “You’re no fun.” she whines and all he does is shoulder past her. He stalks ahead, trying not to look at you again, if only to not draw your eye.

“Do you want to starve?” he asks waspishly, glancing at Toga over his shoulder.

She huffs, rolling her eyes, before hustling to catch up to him. She hums a strange little tune the rest of the time, knocking into his side, throwing him new looks as if to suggest they share some sort of commonality or secret. He grits his teeth but suffers through her torment.

When they return to the rest of the League with what they’d stolen, Toga announces to the whole group, “Tomura is in love with a hero, too!”

The migraine that had begun earlier in his temples reaches full force now. He doesn’t bother trying to deny it. He decides he doesn’t care.

Dabi’s laugh grates on him, though, “Is that so? Which little hero?” he asks Toga, and just as she’s skipping past him, he snags her, snatching the granola bar she’d had in her hand from their little raid.

She turns to grab it back and he pulls it out of her reach, “I don’t know! Give that back!” she squawks, clawing at him.

She must really dig at him because Dabi hisses, “You little twerp–” Just before Magne snatches the outstretched granola bar from Dabi’s hand. She hands it back to Toga, who quickly rushes off with it now.

And thankfully, for Tomura’s sanity, you’re not brought up again.

But he hadn’t noticed you– hadn’t noticed the way you’d seen him with Toga, too. Just a girl Shinsou’s age, following after him like an eager puppy.

Shinsou had trailed beside you like that, too, when you’d both walked back to U.A. with full bellies and new coffees in hand, warm and content.

***

There is a night where Shouta is out doing work undercover and you’re left to patrol on your own. You can’t take Shinsou yet, since he hasn’t earned his provisional license. You don’t mind these nights, by yourself, when you stick to shadows and rooftops, watching the city from above.

It’s cooler now and you tuck your face into the high collar of your hero uniform to hide from the wind that brushes past.

It’s been a quiet night so far. There are other, flashier heroes patrolling, too, meandering around the sidewalks to deter petty crime.

You check the time on your phone, noting that you have a little less than an hour until your shift is over, until you can go home and take a hot shower in an attempt to warm yourself up– especially your fingers, the tips of your ears.

You stretch, standing on one of the low roofs of a building. You’re stiff from crouching, so you decide to move around, change position. You use a grappling tool to shoot it onto a higher roof of the next building. You scale the bricks easily and once safely up, retract your grappling hook.

You look out over the quiet city, the golden light of lampposts, the meandering of cars through the streets. Some restaurants and bars are still open, their windows look warm and inviting with the flush of people inside.

You waste most of the last hour of your shift trying to remain warm, keeping a careful eye on the world below.

Towards the end, you notice a familiar figure in one of the alleyways down below. You don’t even see his face, just the back of his hoodie, just the angle of his shoulders.

Just the way he walks.

The thought should frighten you– that you know him like this, that you’re familiar with just the movement of his body.

Shigaraki Tomura walks away from the soft light of the main city, slips away into alleyways and darkness. You glance at the time. Your shift is nearly over.

This counts as hero work, doesn’t it? Silently following after him?

You drop down onto a fire escape– leap off to latch onto a lower window sill, until you’re dropping silently on to the ground a distance away from him.

You are careful to keep away from him, to use everything Shouta taught you about stealth to remain hidden. And you know Shigaraki is observant, you know he’s always looking over his shoulder so you have to stick to hidden places– behind dumpsters, ducking into alcoves of buildings.

He heads back to the part of the city you grew up in, where everything is falling apart, where there are plenty of abandoned buildings for hiding, plenty of places for runaway teens and homeless to sleep. The cheapest apartments, the streets that are the least patrolled by heroes and police alike, where parts of the Yakuza groups are bolder.

These streets are familiar to you. It’s a strange trip down memory lane.

You think of the last time you saw Shigaraki and flush darkly– it was around here, too, what happened that night.

Still, you follow him because you think you still have some upper hand. Maybe he’ll lead you to the rest of the League of Villains. For a heartbeat, you wonder if you’ll tell Shouta, if you’ll tell the Hero Commissions– you’d have to, right? That isn’t some little squirmish. That’s important information.

But he doesn’t lead you to the rest of the League.

He leads you to an apartment building, small and falling apart on the outside. A window is boarded up poorly. There are stray cats that linger around the side, where the trash is. You’re sure there are rats and bugs, too. You’re sure the building is one bad day away from falling apart.

Shigaraki pauses by the door that is nearly falling off its hinges.

He glances over his shoulder, “Are you following me in, too?”

Your heart kicks up, hammering against the inside of your chest. You swallow hard, internally cursing.

For all your effort of stealth, he still noticed you?

Well, there’s no use lying about it now.

You step around the corner you’d been hiding behind, moving towards the glow of a street light that flickers in and out of power to reveal yourself fully to him.

“When did you notice me?” you ask, peering at him, at the shape of him in the dark.

You catch the lifting of his scar when he smiles, just a baring of teeth, “I saw you on the roof.”

Damn, you curse again, you’ll have to work on that, “That bad, huh?”

He shrugs gracelessly, lifting of his shoulders only for them to fall unevenly, “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have known. You were silent otherwise.”

It feels like a compliment– a generous one, coming from him. You don’t know why you have to hold off a smile.

He turns back to the door, shouldering it open. He walks through the archway without another word. He leaves it open and it seems there is no light on the inside, just a blackness that swallows up your vision. He disappears inside.

You stand there, beneath the light that flickers in and out, eyeing the doorway. You could go now, run back home to Shouta, to the Hero Commission and tell them you think you know where he stays, you have a lead on him. You look behind you, glance at the alleyway you came from with it’s’ dull, fluorescent lights that splash against the concrete, that barely fight against the shadows.

You look back towards where Shigaraki had been, the entrance to the building.

You’d probably even get extra little hero points for it from the Commission.

Shouta would be proud of you.

For bringing them to this dilapidated, shabby little apartment complex that rests on the streets of the place you used to call home.

You swallow hard, flex your freezing fingers.

Then you step towards the doorway, peer inside carefully. You hold your breath and the door creaks quietly when you cross it’s threshold, into the darkness.

Tomura is mildly surprised when he hears the door creak behind him. He can feel you, even in the dark of this hallway, the tentative steps you take after him. They’re almost shy.

But you followed him, didn’t you?

You followed and followed and followed him– and of course you did, he thinks, you had kissed him back, hadn’t you?

He supposes you could be playing a part, trying to get close to him but his intuition tells him differently, not with the genuine reaction you’d had. Your sudden guilt for giving in to him. Still, he’ll be careful around you.

He’ll probably have to move again, which would be a shame, since he has already killed the tenant of this apartment– he’d been sure they wouldn’t be missed by anyone, made sure he’d have time. He did the work to get it, thought he’d have it for just long enough until the League made another move.

He almost wants to test you, see if you’re going to run and tattle on his location. He wonders how far you’re willing to follow him.

Tomura walks steadily down the hallway, to the apartment he has taken claim to. He unlocks the door, hands in his partial gloves, shoving it with his shoulder to then enter. He leaves it open for you.

The apartment is a studio, shabby and the heat isn’t amazing, but it has hot water and a lack of bugs in this particular room. It has furniture– a bed, specifically, was all he had cared about. There’s empty wrappers of food and cans of energy drinks on the counters because he doesn’t really bother to pick up after himself but otherwise, the space isn’t his. There’s nothing else of his, besides some spare clothes on the floor.

And still, you follow him here, too. But you stand at the doorway, peeking inside.

He glances at you and is reminded of a fox, something with clever eyes but wary, a little skittish– would bite if he got too close too soon.

So he gives you space, just like he let you leave.

If there’s one thing Tomura has learned, it’s patience. Any good plan takes patience. The reward is always sweeter. The longer and harder the level, the greater the wins.

He ignores you, puts even more distance between the two of you as he wanders further in. He flicks on lights. He takes off his shoes, shrugs off his jean jacket and throws it over the couch. He gives the appearance of carelessness, of letting his guard down. Non threatening.

And you take your fist shy step inside. The door behind you remains ajar, though, for escape.

Tomura has to fight a terrifying smile, fight the sudden twisting in his heart, the inhale of his breath.

“I don’t know how wise it was of you to bring a hero to your home.” you finally speak, cutting through the silence. You’re trying to be witty, but he can tell you’re nervous.

“This isn’t my home,” he answers.

Home, with it’s round and warm syllabus, is not what he thinks of this place.

You eye him some more, but before you can respond, he says, “I don’t know how wise it was of you to follow a villain into his home.”

“I thought it wasn’t your home,” you quip and he only gives you a dry look.

Your bravado is wavering, especially when the door clicks shut behind you, your hand finally falling to your side.

And the two of you are sealed away from the outside world.

“Why did you bring me here?” you ask him and your voice is deceptively quiet. Small.

“Why did you follow me?” he asks in return.

You inhale like you’re trying to steady yourself, “Because I’m supposed to.”

Tomura smiles now, something lazy, almost amused. He knows it’s a lie, can feel it slide along his skin, can see the floundering, desperate look in your eyes.

“Why did you follow me?” he asks again, forcing himself not to move, not to step towards you in his budding excitement. Patience, he tells himself, be patient.

“Why did you kiss me?” you ask instead and the question is raw, as if it’s plagued you, haunted you like an insistent ghost. Crept around in the back of your mind, growing teeth and fangs and spindly, lampshade bat wings large enough to terrify you.

The idea that he’s taken root in your mind in the same way you have infested his is near dizzying.

Tomura weighs his answers carefully. He’s silent for a long moment and it’s heavy, charged with something that he can’t name– has never felt before.

When he speaks, his voice is just a rasp of breath, a little more honest than he’d like, a touch annoyed with the truth, “Because I wanted to.”

Another long stretch of silence where you watch him carefully, where he can see your chest rising and falling too quickly. He can see that frightened look in the rounding of your eyes, the high flush in your cheeks.

And when you speak again, it’s hardly louder than a whisper, like it’s all you can manage,“Do you want to kiss me again?”

It is far too gentle of a question for what he wants– it almost feels innocent, juvenile. Out of place between the two of you. But he’ll take it, he’ll take whatever you give him and then some.

He takes a step towards you. You don’t flinch away so he takes another, then another, until he is standing in front of you. You’re close now– so close that he has to force air into his lungs. He reminds himself of patience, of waiting–

He could take whatever he wanted from you now, he supposes, but he doesn’t want to have to wrestle you for it. He wants it given freely, he wants you to kiss back, like you had before. He wants you to willingly submit and it’s taken longer but it’ll be sweeter, so much sweeter.

“Are you going to run away again?” he asks and he can feel his heart quicken, the squeezing of it awful and tight.

You look up at him in a way that reminds him of his dreams, the ones he pretends to hate, where you make those small, soft noises. Where you let him touch you and taste you and have you.

And you shake your head no, just fractionally, the barest hint of movement but it’s enough for him.

The force of his kiss slams you back against the door. You make a surprised noise against him as he crushes himself to you. It’s just as violent as the first, but this time you take back what he gives. You get your bearings quicker, like you’ve learned a lesson already. He grins into the kiss, opening it, when he feels your little hands clawing at his shoulders, at his back.

He groans when you part your lips for him, when you lick tentatively into his mouth. He possesses you, bears onto you, pinning you to the door as his hands, still gloved, curl around your sides, your hips.

Your hero costume is tight, fits the curves of you snugly and in a way that’s making him nearly insane. He isn’t careful, doesn’t care if he’s moving too fast now as his hands roam and grab and squeeze. There’s layers between you, he naturally keeps a finger lifted away.

One of your hands tightens in his hair, pulling when he bites your bottom lip.

But you don’t seem to mind, either, with the way your breath is hitching, with the way you’re trying to pull him closer, desperately fuse him to you.

Your lips are so soft, he notices, even with the forcefulness with which you’re kissing him back.

It feels surreal for a moment, like one of his dreams, when he parts from your mouth only to slot his lips against your jaw, your neck. A whine is loosened from you, which breaks when he sets teeth to the vulnerable line of your throat.

Your hands are in his hair still, body arching into him eagerly. Youthful in your earnestness.

You’re better than anything he could’ve ever imagined, so alive and rosy and warm beneath his hands, beneath his mouth, which is making a mess of your neck. A particular hard suck over the sensitive line of your pulse makes you pull at his hair.

“Don’t leave a mark,” you hush and he thinks you meant to sound more threatening, but it’s softened by the desperation in your voice.

He scoffs into your throat, dragging teeth roughly along your skin.

“Shigaraki–”

“Tomura.” he corrects without thinking, finally pulling away to look at you, which is almost a mistake because you–

You’re flushed, lips kiss stung and pink, all swollen. Your head is tipped back, exposing the column of your throat, hair mussed with being pressed to the door so roughly. Your eyes are hazy and fever pink with your Quirk activated, like spring flowers, glowing in the low light.

He thinks of paintings and colors and dreams, something like beauty, if he knew anything about that.

And he’s so hard it hurts, teeth grinding together as he looks at you because he can’t even fucking stomach this feeling.

Then you repeat his name for him, “Tomura.”

He’s never heard his name like that, bedroom soft, more of a lullaby and less of a tragedy. He feels like he’s going to shake apart, his body to become just old ruins– he feels as if it’ll collapse inwards, topple over to crush his heart.

Where he’s usually seething and livid and clawing ruthlessly, the festering feeling in his chest is replaced with a new energy; something bursting and squirming and warm. His Quirk lies dormant and docile inside of him with your hand in his hair, your other now at his neck, fingers pressing lightly at his jaw.

It’s terrifying, he realizes, to not feel his Quirk at the edges of his fingers.

(It’s freeing, too, he’ll come to find, to not feel it’s weight, it’s demand that had been encouraged and shaped in him.)

You’re both trying to catch your breaths, looking at each other now. His fingers, still gloved, flex and squeeze at your waist, like he’s scared you’ll run off again.

You inch forward instead, rock onto the tips of your toes to press your lips to his again– softer this time, but no less heated, no less desperate.

He thinks you must be starving, too, with the way you pull him close. His mouth slants over yours, demanding more, a little rougher.

You squirm against the door, the slightest rocking of your hips– he can feel it against his thigh, against his waist. It makes him hiss out a breath against your lips, makes him grab harder at your waist, force you to do it again, harder this time.

You whine and it’s the snapping of his patience.

He reaches for the zipper at the back of your hero uniform, gives it a rough tug, pulling it down some. And then you’re pushing at him, nudging him away from the door and it’s a flurry of movement as you yank at his hoodie while he pulls at your clothes. You’re both stumbling further into the room, towards the bed pushed back into the corner.

Tomura feels young suddenly– feels his age. He feels like a twenty something year old with a girl in his apartment who wants his hoodie off. Who's kissing him hard in between every article of clothing that manages to come off.

He sits back on the edge of the bed to ease the rest of your cat-suit down. He watches with interest as you wiggle your hips to help him get the fabric down over you– and it’s nothing romantic, he doesn’t kiss the newly revealed skin, he doesn’t gently run his fingertips over you, but you grow shy under his gaze.

You’re still in undergarments, athletic slips of fabric, but his eyes fly over your face. You’re nervous, he can nearly feel it, with the way you shift, with the way you catch your bottom lip between your teeth and worry it.

A thought strikes him.

“Have you done this before?” he rasps, hooking his hand in the crux of your knee to drag your forward so you nearly fall into his lap.

“Yes,” you grit out, arms coming up to his shoulders to steady yourself. “Once.” you then shakily exhale.

He doesn’t particularly care– your answer wouldn’t have changed how he’d treat you. He’s not going to be gentler nor slower because you’re less experienced.

“Have you?” you ask, eyeing him, fingers nervously toying with the ends of his hair.

“Yes,” he says, perhaps too sharply, but he gives no other information and you don’t press him, which he’s thankful for. He doesn’t have the patience for useless questions.

Rather, he pulls you down harder, so your bare thighs finally settle into his lap. He slides his gloved hands up the notches of your ribs to hitch beneath your bra. That comes off, too, and then he’s got his hands on you more. You gasp, arching into his touch when his fingers curl around a breast, fingers roughly brushing over the peak.

He doesn’t think anymore, just acts, just moves and does as he pleases. All the things he’s done in dreams or in his mind– he sets lips and teeth to your breast, tongue laving over your nipple. He forces your squirming still with an arm banded around your torso, keeping you flush to his eager mouth.

You yelp in pain when he uses his teeth too roughly, trying to jerk away from him but you can’t with his hold on you. He grins, mouth opening, spit slick and wet against your breast again. He groans against you when you pull on his hair.

But then he twists you, throws you down onto the bed only to crawl over you. He yanks at your panties just as you pull him down for another kiss– maybe to distract yourself, to settle your nerves. When you pull away, you’re on your back and he’s over you, your legs hitching over his narrow waist. His hands are on your thighs and you–

You suddenly grab for his hands.

“Take off your gloves,” you get out, breathless, and before he can respond, your fingers are sliding against his wrist, up to his hand, beneath the glove and against his palm.

It makes him shiver, makes him grit his teeth. You pull off one, then the other.

For a moment, he just looks at you all spread out and bare for him, his hands now open and uncovered, too.

You squirm under his scrutinizing gaze.

“C’mon,” you coax and he thinks you’re trying to find your bravado, “Touch me.”

There’s nothing between his hands and your skin now and he settles his palm on your stomach, beneath your breast.

He naturally keeps a finger lifted away.

“Tomura,” your voice is pitched, almost pleading, “You’re not going to hurt me– c’mon.”

He tenses for a moment, eyes flashing over your face. For a moment, his heart stumbles, he grows wary. He thinks of you slipping away beneath his touch, falling away into nothing and all he’d have is a bed of ashes.

But your eyes are bright with your Quirk.

His final finger comes down. Nothing happens, except you smile a little, except you arch up into his touch– alive and vivid and furiously warm.

He feels like he can’t breathe, can’t even function.

He catches a groan behind his teeth, falls forward as his hands become feverish and possessive, suddenly confident, suddenly brash– touching and squeezing and grabbing at you.

His teeth clank with yours as he tumbles into another kiss. You’re needier now, making those higher pitched noises that used to haunt him.

It drives him insane, makes him feel half feral, overeager and desperate. His fingers wander lower, seeking and searching, just as the kiss grows in intensity again. It’s messier, all open mouth and tongue.

When he pulls away, a string of spit connects the two of you and he lets more of the saliva pooling in his mouth drip down with it, letting it fall between your open lips, some on your bottom lip, too. It’s depraved and dirty and his eyes simmer as he gazes down at you.

Your face scrunches up as you go to wipe at your mouth, and he hates it because all he can think of is how cute that face is.

“Gross,” you mewl, but his fingers finally move between your legs and–

And all he finds is that you’re hot and slick for him.

He has to grit his teeth to keep from moaning.

But you nearly cry at the touch, a pathetic little noise, hips jolting like you’re not sure if you want to go towards his touch or away.

“Gross, huh?” Tomura asks, voice low, the pad of his finger sliding easily, teasing you slowly before he goads, “Why are you so wet then?”

He sinks a finger in suddenly– just because he can. Just because he wants to watch your face screw up again, which it does, your mouth falling open, eyes squeezing shut.

“Hm?” he hums, amused with the way you’re gasping beneath him. He starts a slow but deep rhythm and–

And he’s had sex before, a handful of times, but it’d always been for him. He hadn’t cared how the other person felt, hadn’t cared to try and get them off. But now he suddenly wishes he had learned, if only for you, now. He wants you as obsessed as he is, wants you to feel as maddened as he feels.

Thankfully, you’re so expressive. And he doesn’t have to worry about his fingers. He can find the spot inside you that makes you toss your head back into the sheets and moan for him, he can focus on the way you keen when he finds your clit with his thumb.

You’re a sensitive little thing, clawing at his bare shoulders, whining into his neck. He forces in another finger and you start rocking your hips, growing more desperate until–

“Fuck,” you gasp, “Fuck, I’m going to–”

He curls his fingers harder, watching your face as you fall apart, as you try and twist and squirm beneath him. He forces you through it, isn’t gentle, but selfish, wringing everything he can from you.

And when he’s finished watching you whimper and feeling you flutter and gush around his fingers, he takes them out only to force them between your lips.

Once more your face screws up, but you close your mouth around them and he groans low and raw. You look hazy, drooling all over his fingers, lashes fluttering prettily.

He uses his other hand to fumble with his belt, to work his pants down low enough for his cock, aching so bad that he swears he’s going to go insane–

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, watching the mess that comes with it, so wet and slick and shiny. He can’t help the growl he gives, before covering his mouth with yours again.

As you kiss, sloppy and desperate, Tomura slides the head of his cock against you and you’re so slippery and soft and molten for him that his next moan tapers off into a whine.

You pull away fractionally, “Shouldn’t we–”

He thinks maybe you were about to ask about protection of some kind, but he shoves inside you hard, breaches your body and watches as your eyes roll back, just about to cross as your nails turn sharp against his back.

You moan, low and drawn out.

He can’t help the absurd laugh that is wretched from him, his head dropping onto your neck as he snaps his hips forward. He can’t believe he’s actually gotten you here, in his bed, beneath him– let him inside where you’re so warm and soft.

“Fuck,” you gasp, maybe laced with pain, clawing at him, raking your nails down his back.

“Does it hurt?” he hisses, excited, his teeth coming down to close over your exposed neck.

“Yes,” you get out, almost a whimper, “Feels good, too.”

He snaps his hip forwards roughly, grinding deep as he laughs again when you just about sob into his shoulder.

You latch your teeth onto the vulnerable juncture between his neck and his shoulder, where you’d already laid claim to him once before.

He wrestles for your wrist, the one he broke, and forces it down onto the bed.

“Look at you,” he almost snarls, voice low and gravely, “Little hero letting me fuck her.”

You gasp when he angles his hips, when his other hand reaches beneath you, to fist a hand in your hair and pull so your neck is arched and exposed to him.

“I used to dream of this,” he admits roughly, the confession like a curse being spit out of his mouth, “Wanted to stalk you or possess you or–” he groans because he can feel how you’re throbbing around him, how slick you are for him, “Wanted to fucking ruin you–”

He pulls at your hair more, tries to get you to look at him through your wet lashes. The flash of pink meets red and his smile is more a cruel bearing of teeth.

“And you feel so much better than I dreamt– fuck, so much tighter–” he babbles as he ruts into you hard and quick. You keen, high and broken, just as he feels you flutter around him again and he almost loses his mind because–

“Are you going to fucking come again?” he growls, pulling harder on your hair.

“Yes,” you groan, “Please, fuck, please, c’mon–” your voice is high and wrecked and all he has to do is angle his hips a few more times before you’re shattering, nearly breaking apart, squeezing down on his cock so tightly that he shudders, that he let’s go of your hair just to focus on his own pleasure.

He doesn’t even realize he’s drooling into your neck, not as he loses his rhythm, as he shoves himself as deep into you as he can and comes hard. Pleasure races up his spine, turns him white-hot and sensitive, making his eyes roll back into his head, too.

You’re both breathing hard when he collapses on top of you. Your fingers, which were once scratching down his back to cause sharp shooting pain, are now surprisingly gentle, slipping back into his hair.

You squirm, fussing slightly– no doubt sore, no doubt aching with him still inside you but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t want to.

He mouths at your neck, feels you sigh, before he moves to cover his mouth with yours again. He kisses you languidly now, slow and deep.

You’re making breathy little noises against him, content and surprisingly soft, your other hand tracing over his side.

(He doesn’t like how much he enjoys this part, the afterglow, all that violence slipping away, expelled from you both–)

Tomura feels his cock twitch inside of you again, feels your hips arch up a little, and before he knows it, he’s moving his hips again. It’s a slow rocking, your lips still attached to his, heated and gentle.

“Gross,” you say again, just a breath against him as he fucks his cum further into you, feels himself harden, feels the mess he made of you. But you still hitch your leg over his hip, pull him deeper into you.

He grins lazily against your lips, “You like it,” he says and it’s not a question, rolling his hips until he gets you to shut your eyes and moan against him.

“Yeah,” you reply, nudging your cheek against his, rubbing like a cat until he returns the gesture. Until he’s humming because he’s sensitive and you feel so good, better than anything he’s ever felt in this miserable fucking life–

You whine a little, ‘Touch me again?”

He doesn’t deny you for whatever reason, doesn’t even have something smart to say as he slides his hand down your torso, down to where you’re both slick and connected. He rubs unpracticed, messy circles around that sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re sighing.

He’s no expert but he doesn’t really care and you don’t seem to mind this time, either. It’s unhurried now, lazy.

This time your peak is a fluttery, soft thing, and he watches as you gasp, as you blink away tears. She’s pretty, he thinks, feeling stupidly young again, she’s pretty like this. Like his dreams.

Tomura spills inside you again soon after, groaning against your collarbones, and this time you force him to slip out of you. Force him to lay beside you as you both catch your breath again.

And he’s not expecting it, but he has the vicious need to be close to you, desperately wants to feel your skin against his. It’s a new feeling– usually after sex, he wants to be as far away from someone as possible. Usually he can’t leave or kick them out fast enough.

But there’s something about you now, hazy and pleasure-drunk, fucked out and dazed, that makes him want to stay close. Maybe it’s just that you’ve soothed all the festering that usually squirms in his chest. Maybe it’s just that you’ve made everything in him quiet for once.

He expects you to find some sort of your regret now, he’s sure that you’ll feel guilty, collect your clothes and go. But you don’t. You stay in bed with him. And it’s strange but he knows he wants to touch you, so he does. He doesn’t deny himself, why would he? He’s always taken what he wanted.

He curls around you, shivering a little with the skin to skin contact after the fog of sex has cleared from his mind. His hands slide over you, touch you fully and without restraint because he can, because you won’t disappear beneath his touch.

And for a moment, as he traces along the dips of your waist, he thinks maybe you were made for him– cut from his rib, isn’t that how the story goes?

He doesn’t know, only that there’s no one else in the world he can touch like this.

You’re surprised.

You’d figured after Tomura had his fill of you, he’d kick you out, send you away. You figured you’d feel guilty, that you would rush out of here and try to wish the whole thing away. But your hero suit stays on the floor and you’re still in his bed.

You didn’t think he’d be a cuddler, you assumed that he wouldn’t want nor care for any sort of contact after. But his arms are wrapped around you now, one of his hands sliding curiously over the curves of your body. All five fingers down, pressing into your skin.

But you suppose, for someone who has to be so careful with touch, that he would like this. That he might want this. You wonder if he ever gets to touch anyone like this, if he ever allows himself intimate touch like this– tender and for no other reason than to soothe or comfort.

You get the impression that he doesn’t, that touch is just a means to an end for him; sex is probably just an itch to scratch. You can’t imagine that he’s very relaxed or enjoying himself when he’s worried about decaying the person he’s with.

But all his crackling, restless energy now seems subdued, sated, as he walks his fingers over you. His hair tickles your bare skin as he nudges closer, nose running along your jaw.

Once more, you feel your age. You don’t feel like a hero, but just someone young, maybe on the cusp of being old. He looks young now, too, with his vivid eyes shut and relaxed, nothing to crease his brow. He doesn’t seem like a villain, either.

You brush a finger over his cheek, touch lightly at the scratches beneath his eyes, drag your thumb down to touch the scar at the corner of his lips.

His eyes flutter open to watch you, half lidded, squinted almost like a cat.

But he allows you to run your fingers over his face, doesn’t protest or jerk away from your touch.

No, his eyes fall shut again. He lets out a deep sigh that you think he has held inside him for years.

He doesn’t have a gentle face, but one that shows it’s angles and sharp edges, the scars and cuts that trail down onto his neck. You’d noticed some on his chest, too. Proof of an uneasy life lived, proof of violence and pain.

You imagine he’s seen horrors, kept them trapped inside for fear of letting them spill out, like maybe it’ll be as gruesome as the memories.

His body hasn’t been handled gently, you can tell, with it’s indents and scars and scratches. You don’t know who was the last person who touched him without wanting to hurt him. And you shouldn’t but you think of yourself when you were a child– desperate for love and affection, desperate for any scrap of attention like the scavenger you always were.

Maybe still are.

So desperate that you’d end up in the bed of your enemy– all because you couldn’t end up in the bed of your ally. So hungry that you’d eat out of a hand that has harmed and killed and destroyed.

Hands that haven’t known gentleness, a body that hasn’t known peace. But he’s being gentle with you now, isn’t he?

So you try to give gentleness to him now, too, with your careful touch. You keep your fingers kind and sympathetic.

Even your own eyes drift shut for a moment, still tracing idle patterns into his skin.

You only slip away from him for a moment, to use the bathroom, to clean up. Your reflection in the mirror looks strange; raw and flushed with color. Honest in a way that makes you turn away.

You slip back into bed with Tomura, let him latch onto you again. You drag your fingers gently over his ribs, over his sides.

You let your eyes fall shut, too.

There’s a sudden, loud buzzing from the floor that cuts through the quiet, which makes your eyes startle open. It’s insistent and you realize after a moment that it’s your phone, caught up in your hero suit on the floor.

You never came home after your shift. You curse softly, almost certain you know who's calling.

You squirm out of Tomura’s hold again, which he huffs at in irritation, but eventually allows you up.

“Where are you going now?” he asks, annoyed, when you climb out of bed to find your phone. Once found, you hold it up to him.

It’s still buzzing in your hand, lit up with Shouta’s contact.

You think the guilt should hit you now.

It doesn’t and that’s what you feel worse over. You swallow hard, frown down at your phone.

(Horribly, you even feel somewhat spiteful, as if you’re trying to prove something to Shouta. Maybe to yourself.)

You don’t answer.

And then you see the several texts from him, wondering where you are. They’re all bland, but you can tell he must be worried. It’s unlike you to not tell him where you are.

“Are you going to leave?” Tomura asks and there’s something strange in his voice, something you can’t place.

“Do you want me to?” you ask in return.

He doesn’t answer right away. But he does eventually give an annoyed drawl, “Do what you want.”

You take that as a no, don’t leave, since you’re certain if he wanted you gone, he would’ve told you.

You send a text to Shouta;

Sorry. Staying with an old friend for the night. Be back tomorrow.

It’s not unheard of, for you to spend time with an old friend from the foster care system.

You get a dry “okay” from him in response. You fight the urge to roll your eyes for some reason, tossing your phone away again.

You end up staying the night with Tomura Shigaraki, one of the most wanted villains in all of Japan.

Its not romantic— he isn’t sweet or funny or caring. But he holds you tight, leaves no room for distance. And it is the first time you’ve ever slept with someone like this, tucked away into a bed, bare, and wrapped up in each other.

Is this what it always feels like? You press yourself into the crooks of his body. You wonder if you’re supposed to fit this well together.

And it’s the first time since his Quirk developed that he hasn’t needed to wear his partial gloves to sleep in fear of decaying something.

He won’t admit it but it’s the best he’s slept in a long, long time.

You won’t admit it, either, but you think you could get used to this, too; this closeness, being held as if you’ll slip away, being held like he doesn’t want you to.

The morning brings rosy sunlight that slants through the windows. Neither of you talk much. You try to tell yourself this won’t happen again, can’t happen again.

But you had kissed him goodbye before you’d left, like he was a boyfriend and not a criminal, and you’d been in a surprisingly good mood for the rest of the day.

Like you had a crush, puppy love you never got as a teenager because you were too busy trying not to starve, only to realize you’d been starving in other ways, too.

But you’re sugar soft and excitable, dropping into bed that night alone, and allowing yourself to admit, in the quiet and privacy of your own thoughts, that you wish you were in his again.

***

One time turns into two which turns into three which turns into so many times you’ve lost count. That little, rundown apartment that isn’t really Tomura’s has turned into another world entirely, some harbor away from the rules of society. It’s almost too good to be true, a dream, a place for a secret as bad as this one.

When you’re here, you don’t talk of heroes and villains. You urge him not to; you think you’ll keep some part of your innocence in this affair if you don’t actually know anything about him or the League of Villains. You’ll feel too guilty, if you know any part of their plans and don’t tell Shouta. And telling Shouta anything about Tomura is beginning to feel like a betrayal, too.

You don’t know anything substantial about Tomura Shigaraki and that’s the way it needs to stay.

You know he likes sour candy, though, and drinks too many energy drinks– they’re sickly sweet and you think kissing him might make your teeth ache. You know he likes video games but no longer has a console. He has trouble sleeping at night. You’re familiar with the scars on his skin, the jagged ones across his neck, the one on his lip. The beauty mark on his chin. You know his moods; from the prickly ones to the downright vengeful ones. You even know the calmer ones, the quiet, contemplative ones.

(In this way, he seems like a normal twenty-something-year-old. In the quiet moments, when you’ve convinced him to watch a cheap horror movie on the tiny, staticky TV in the apartment, he could be anybody. When he’s got his bare hand up your shirt as someone onscreen screams and begs for their life, he’s not the heir to an underground empire. He’s just Tomura, with his face buried in the crook of your neck).

He pretends to get annoyed with you, huffs and scoffs against your lips when you’re being cheeky. You wear his worn down hoodies, slip your thumbs in the holes at the sleeves. He eyes you when you wear them, pulls you to him by the collar.

(He likes to fuck you in them– pushes the hoodie up your stomach to watch you ride him. But he likes things bare and raw, too. Skin to skin. So close it’s terrifying, so close you feel like he’s trying to tear you apart from the inside out. He likes it dirty, you think, because it makes it more intimate.)

You soothe him. You know you do because when he’s festering and angry, all it takes is your hand on his wrist, pulling it away from his neck. Sometimes, when he can’t think straight and there is too much on his mind, he forces you to lay on top of him until his breathing slows and his head is clear.

He can’t talk to you aloud about what’s plaguing him, but you must quiet some part of him. He likes to use you to think, runs his long fingers through your hair as you lay atop him. He pets you until his thoughts aren’t as jumbled, but smoothed out and sharp. Or until he doesn’t want to think anymore at all and he drags you into languid makeouts that always end with him surrounding you, inside you, possessing you.

You bicker sometimes, flash your teeth to make his eyes spark ruby and excited. Mostly, you act your age with him.

You don’t know when his birthday is or where he grew up. You don’t know what his childhood was like or what memories shaped him, don’t know where he’s been or where he’s going to be. You only know him now, in this moment, in this little world you’ve created for each other.

He’s what you imagined first boyfriends are supposed to be; excitable and often immature but fun and new. You never had the luxury of first loves, just odd first kisses with strangers and an uncomfortable loss of virginity with a friend of a friend of a friend who jammed his tongue too far down your throat. You hadn’t had anything stable until–

Until Shouta.

Shouta has grown suspicious of this old friend of yours and how much time you now spend with him.

He questions you about him and you wish you felt worse for lying. The rebellious part of this affair is thrilling, though. Feels like you’re sixteen and sneaking out from under your dad’s nose to be picked up by the boyfriend you’d know he’d hate. Feels like swiping liquor too young and getting sick off it, smashing the bottles and laughing with your friends because sometimes things just need to break.

“Will you at least tell me his name?” Shouta had asked one morning, when you’d let yourself into his apartment after another night at Tomura’s. You had your own hood pulled up around your face to hide the rose blossom hickeys against the skin of your neck.

He’d still poured you a cup of coffee. You’d watched his careful, large hands as they made it the way you liked it.

You’d given him a lie, fed it to him the way he feeds you breakfast, “Shinta. Are you happy?”

He’d slid the mug to you, let you catch in the cradle of your palm. He’d shrugged, but you think his eyes had flashed to you, “You know you can bring him around, right? You don’t always have to go to him.”

You’d had to bite back a painful laugh. It wasn’t funny. It had hurt strangely in the pit of your chest.

You had shaken your head, tried to brush him off, “It’s not like that.”

“Alright,” he’d said, but he hadn’t believed you. “You’re training alone with Shinsou again tonight, I’ll be busy with a job.” Then he’d given you a stern look, “And don’t cut it early to go see Shinta.”

“I’ve never done that!” you’d protested, perhaps a little too defensively. But it was true, you’d never do that to Shinsou, wouldn’t dream of it. The only time you’d cut training early was to share takeout with Shinsou, not ditch him for–

This comment had rubbed you wrong, scratched up against something abrasive and surprisingly fragile inside of you. Maybe because he was questioning your dedication which already felt so flimsy, even if he hadn’t been entirely serious, even if maybe he’d just been trying to take a dig at you. At this new boyfriend.

Shouta had grown cold then, shrugged impassively, took his mug of coffee and brushed past you to keep getting ready.

It had angered you enough to bring it up later to Tomura, when you’re falling into his lap and he’s squirming his cold, fluttery hands beneath your shirt to touch skin, to make you hiss through your teeth.

His lips tilt into a small smile as you fidget while he warms his frigid fingers on your body.

“Eraserhead asked about you yesterday,” you tell him, letting your nose brush against his, “Told me I could bring my friend around– don’t always have to go to him.”

Tomura snorts, eyes falling half-lidded when your lips skim over his. The night is plum dark, presses into this little apartment that’s tucked away from the world.

“How’d you get out of that one?” he asks, fingers walking over the dips of your spine. He likes tracing the bone beneath your skin, likes making you shiver.

“Told him it’s not like that.” you respond, your own hands wandering to his neck. You're careful over the ridges of flesh there, skim lightly to get to his jaw.

“No?” Tomura asks, pulling you closer, pressing his chest to yours, “Don’t want to bring me home to meet Eraserhead?” he sneers and there’s something underneath his voice, lurking, with its hackles raised.

You think maybe it’s jealousy, the same flash of his eyes like Shouta’s when he’d said Shinta.

But then he kisses you deep and drags your hips against his, forces a warbly, surprised little moan from you.

Most of your thoughts melt away then, most turn to something base and desperate, all desire and need. You can’t help but think about it, though, how you can’t ever take him home to Shouta. You can’t ever expect anything more than whatever stays in this room. He kisses you hard, your teeth clinking against his like clashing with the truth of it all.

There’s no happy ending here.

It’s like smashing bottles because sometimes things just need to break.

***

Tomura thinks you would be a good edition to the League of Villains.

You’re clever and capable. He comes to find you’re not just a good thief and pickpocket but an excellent one. You swipe everything from his pockets, right from under his nose, just to play with him. You’re stealthy and sharp; he could use someone like you at his side.

Your Quirk could be useful, though he doesn’t like the idea of you getting so close to people while in battles. You have a reckless streak, but he thinks he could temper that. All you need is a little guidance.

You were a thief once. You give him clues of your past; you didn’t grow up like the other heroes, didn’t come from a warm home with dreams of saving the world. Your head wasn’t filled with fantasies of rescuing the downtrodden. You were the downtrodden. And you learned that there was no one who was going to save you, except yourself. So you stole and fought and survived a world that was willing to forget you.

You’re like him, a very quiet part of him thinks, no one saved you. Not until you were too old, all grown up with sharpened teeth and claws, eyes that see in the dark. That could be now used and extorted by the heroes.

He thinks they’ve leashed you, taught you how to sit and stay and sic ‘em.

He wonders if he’d have gotten to you first, if you’d be with him and not your heroes.

Tomura doesn’t dwell on it, though. He refuses to imagine it. What would be the point? It didn’t happen.

Besides, he is certain he is capable of slowly swaying you to them still. You possess a startling amount of compassion for villains which, perhaps wouldn’t help you as a villain, but that’s fine.

(You’d have him. No one would touch you if you were at his side. You could be as stupidly compassionate as you wanted.)

You meet members of the League with him by accident, times when Toga and Twice’s meeting with him overlap with you arriving. Toga goes on endlessly about you, it seems. Dabi drops by once in the middle of the night, bloody and demanding a place to sleep because he’s tired of sleeping on the streets.

It’d been one of the more insufferable nights, perhaps one of the worst ways for Dabi to find out about you. You’d already been asleep, cocooned beneath blankets and Tomura’s body, just in one of his loose shirts.

Tomura had already been lying awake, listening to your even breathing when he’d heard the handle of the door shake roughly. He’d gotten up then, slipped into clothes, melted into the darkness by the door and waited for the intruder to try and step inside.

The lock had been picked.

He had nearly decayed Dabi by accident before realizing it was him.

A ridiculously quiet but terse argument had ensued then, before Dabi had asked, in a regular speaking voice, “Why the fuck are we whispering?”

Tomura had almost winced when he heard you stir from the bed before your small, sleepy voice had murmured into the darkness, “Tomura?”

You’d said it too soft, too sweet. It’d been for his ears only and something about Dabi hearing you, seeing you, being in this space that had been for you and for him had made Tomura suddenly livid.

He had watched Dabi’s mouth fall open in shock before you’d switched on the bedside lamp to flood the room with artificial, golden light.

Dabi’s face had been near horrific in the light, one side of it all bloody, the stitches mangled or falling out. Part of his face almost looked like it was melting, his eye squinted shut with the damage.

But he’d thrown his head back and laughed when he’d seen you, sitting up in the bed, blinking sleepily at them. Tomura hated a lot of things, but he’d hated nothing more than the sound of Dabi’s rasping laugh in that moment.

You’d narrowed your eyes when you had realized who it was.

“I had no idea you had it in you, Tomura.” Dabi had said.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Tomura had hissed instead, fighting the urge to tear into his neck, fingers twitching agitatedly.

Dabi had gestured to his face with a lazy flourish, “I need medical attention and I’m crashing on your couch.”

Tomura’s teeth had ground together, “Get. Out.”

“No, I’m sick of sleeping on the streets when you’re here playing house with your little hero bitch–”

Before Tomura could even react, though, you had found the small supply of first aid from beneath the sink in the tiny bathroom. You had come up beside them near silently and offered it up, asked, “Do you want help?”

And there it had been– that compassion of yours. Even for the likes of Dabi.

In that moment, he’d wondered how you had ever survived with it. He’d thought that you’d lose your hand if you kept extending it.

Dabi hadn’t let you touch him but you’d gotten a cool rag for him to clean up the blood, watched as he tried to patch up the wound. It was made worse by a mangled staple in his cheek, jutting out strangely.

“Does it hurt?” You’d asked but with the way you were looking at him, at his marred skin up close, Tomura could tell that you weren’t just referring to this one injury.

Does it hurt? You’d asked, like you were asking if it all hurt. You weren’t just seeing a singular part of Dabi, but a series of tragedies that was proudly presented in large, rippling scars against his skin.

“Of course it fucking hurts,” Dabi had spit out, all venom and bitterness. But you hadn’t even flinched.

Tomura had tried to kick him out again once his wound had been treated.

“It’s fine,” you’d said, resigned, tired and rubbing at your eyes.

(Later you’d shrug and tell him, I know what it’s like to not have somewhere to sleep).

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Dabi had drawled, already pulling off his heavy boots, prying the coat from his body to toss onto the floor. “Just don’t do any weird shit.”

And you’d gotten back into bed with Tomura, fit yourself against him, ducked your head down beneath his chin and pressed your hands against his sides, felt the notches of his ribs.

Sometimes he wonders if you can feel the missing one, the one you took from him, the one you’d been made out of.

It had occurred to Tomura that either you didn’t fear Dabi or you trusted him enough to know he’d never let Dabi harm you while sleeping.

Both were acceptable to him, both would aid him in converting you. And they were true, too. You shouldn’t fear Dabi, especially not with him around.

Tomura had brought his hand up then, suddenly covered your mouth with his large palm, letting all five of his fingers come down against your pretty face.

You’d furrowed your brows in confusion, not fear, which made something inside of him grow warm and hungry.

Then he’d slid his other hand down your body, between your legs, just to spite Dabi.

He’d watched as your eyes went wide in the dark, cheeks flushing beneath his hand. He could feel his smirk, smug and sharp, fitting across his teeth like a muzzle.

You’d tried to shake your head, tried to squirm away from his touch, but he’d been persistent and soon enough you were sighing against his hand, melting into the bed he pressed you into. Soon enough you were trying to hold back whimpers, all slippery and soft beneath his fingers, silently begging with your eyes.

He hadn’t denied you that night; no, you were being good, walking the steps he wanted for you. You were moldable and sweet beneath him so he’d give you what you wanted.

He watched in satisfaction as you came hard around his fingers, face scrunching up in that way he loved, fingers easing you through it. He was gentle with you then, taking his hand away from your mouth slowly, letting you nudge closer and cling to him.

(He loved when you clung to him).

You’d wanted so much affection that night and he had indulged you, letting your nose brush against his, or rubbing your cheek against his chest while his fingers wound through your hair.

You’d fallen asleep all tied up in him.

The next morning, you were gone before Dabi even woke up.

Dabi had asked, “What the fuck are you doing with her?”

“Mind your business,” Tomura had snapped, fingers already seeking out his neck again when they couldn't find you. He hated that he wanted your presence so badly now. (Hated that he missed you, but he would never say that, never even dream of it). Then he’d added,“And find someone else’s doorstep to show up on.”

Dabi had scoffed, “Whatever. Just don’t get distracted.” He’d pulled out a cigarette from his jacket still on the floor then, much to Tomura’s annoyance, and lit it with a spark of his fingers. Smoke curled into the air with his first drag. “I’m not about to watch all our efforts fall apart because you wanted to play Romeo and Juliet with some braindead little hero.”

He’d torn into the skin of his neck then. Wished he could tear into you instead.

“Violent delights and violent ends and all that shit,” Dabi had said then, his smile just a curled stitch, smoke pouring from his lips, evidently amused with himself.

But Tomura has never read that play and he doesn’t know anything about poetry in the same way he doesn’t know anything about art or beauty, just that you’re the only thing he’s bothered to compare to a painting.

***

You put Tomura into your phone as Shinta and when you’re too busy to visit him between missions and training, you text him. Though short, he is surprisingly witty over text, something that has you biting back grins and distracted, feeling like a schoolgirl as you try to hide the screen of your phone from the rest of the world.

You grow distracted with hero work, with Shouta. You pay less attention to your life at U.A. You don’t visit Shouta for lunch as often. You haven’t spent a quiet night with Shouta in weeks. You tell yourself you don’t care.

It’s better than fighting with him. It’s better than trying to beg for his love and affection.

Early tomorrow morning you’re supposed to shadow Shouta on a brief mission.

The Hero Commission is trying to train you into espionage and underground work, trying to mold you in the shape of Shouta.

But at night, when you’re alone in your bedroom, tucked away into your own apartment and not with Tomura, he calls you.

You let yourself say his name into the receiver of your phone, hushed and excited.

He doesn’t say I miss you or when will I see you again?

He says, “Touch yourself.”

And you don’t say I miss you, too, or hopefully soon.

You do as he says, let your fingers fan out over your stomach like they might be his. You listen to his breathing turn ragged over the phone. You moan softly for him.

You do what he says in the navy dark of night, bite back frustrated whines because you’ve gotten too used to his touch.

“–Wish it was you, fuck, it’s not fair,” you gasp, tilting your hips up into your fingers desperately.

You can hear the hiss of breath he takes, “Did I ruin you?” he croons into the phone lowly, his voice slithering through to you, making your thighs clench. “Can’t even touch yourself without needing me?”

You groan, high and defeated, fingers slipping against yourself. You’re aching and empty and bereft without him, “Yes, yes–”

He rambles about what he’s done to you, almost seething by the end, when he demands you tell him that you’re his, that he’s the one who made you this way. He’s the only one who can soothe you now. You need him.

He isn’t wrong, you realize, when you still aren’t satisfied after your climax. When it doesn’t feel as good as when you’re with him. You realize you hate sleeping alone now. You miss the press of his body to yours. You coo into the phone about it, lay on your stomach, arms curled around your pillow with your ear still to your phone.

It never gets overly sentimental. You don’t want to scare him, especially as you grow terrified of your own feelings. It doesn’t feel as fun anymore, you realize, only because your attraction to him has now grown serious.

Your crush has grown teeth and claws, ready to tear apart the vulnerable, fleshy parts of you.

But he talks with you until you fall asleep, phone still in hand, heart still on the line.

***

There’s a stray kitten that hangs out around Tomura’s apartment– he thinks there must be a colony of strays in the area, since it’s not the only one. But this one is scrawny, just a messy tuft of grey fur. It’d be sleek and pretty, if it wasn’t so malnourished, if it wasn’t missing clumps of fur or full of scars and scratches.

The kitten likes Tomura a great deal for some reason. It rubs itself against his legs, follows him around outside of the apartment, much to your utter delight.

You coo and fawn over it, scoop the little thing up into your arms and hold it up to Tomura’s face.

He hates it, the face you give him. The face the kitten gives him. He hates that the corner of his lips twitch upwards.

“He’s so cute,” you gush and he can hear now that the little thing is purring furiously in your hands. You wiggle the cat a little bit in front of his face and Tomura finally reaches up to stroke the back of his knuckles against the kitten’s head, if only to appease you.

Your smile is crooked– an excited curve of your lips, your eyes alight.

You’re always so expressive and he used to be livid about it, wanted to teach you a lesson in the worst way possible, but now he just wants to keep you from learning them.

He has to turn away from you at the thought, heads towards the door of the apartment building. You follow after him dutifully, coming up to nudge against his side. He’s become too comfortable with you there, knocking into his elbow.

You’re still smiling down at the kitten in your arms and he wants to look away because some part of this is starting to sting.

The kitten is excitedly looking around, green eyes all round and bright. It’s purring happily.

“Put it down, it’s not coming in with us.” Tomura tells you, his voice rough and soft.

You stop in front of the door with him. Your bottom lip pulls out into a pout. Your eyes get round like the kitten’s.

He gives you a cold stare.

You hug the kitten tighter to your body, “C’mon,” you whine, “It’s just a baby.”

“I’m not taking care of a cat.”

“I’ll take care of it!”

“No,” he responds, harsher, voice a little sharper.

Maybe, in the beginning of this little affair, you would’ve headed the warning in his tone, but now you don’t even bat an eye at him.

“Yes,” you respond indignantly.

You both glare at each other. The kitten’s purr still rumbles on.

Tomura can tell you’re not giving this one up, he can tell by the set of your jaw, the way you’re clinging to that little creature. There’s a determined flush to your face. Your eyes are bright and fiery.

All over this little stray.

“You’re a brat,” is all Tomura says and you take that as a win, because your face immediately morphs, brightens up completely. You duck past him, into the apartment building with the kitten cradled in your arms.

He heaves a deep sigh, following in after you. “I’m kicking it out when you leave.”

“Don’t be mean,” you reply, waiting at the door, and the irony is not lost on him. He comes up behind you, his chest to your back, crowding you against the door.

“I think you need to remember who you’re speaking to,” he says, his voice just a rasp against your ear and maybe at some point, it would’ve sounded threatening, but now you just lean back into his chest. His heart beats against the curve of your back.

Something soft is growing between the two of you, he can feel it. It has no place here, though, in this world. In the two of you. His ugly infatuation with you, all that anger and vitriol he had for you has melted, turned spring soft inside of him after an unforgiving winter.

He unlocks the door, he lets you in.

The kitten ends up coming and going. He opens the window to let it in and out, let’s you feed it. You call it Ryuji. It lives partially in this new little world the two of you have built.

He thinks of it like the pause screen in a video game, somewhere to return to when he’s frustrated or tired or done. Idle, soft music and the freezing of his screen. A moment away from the turmoil or struggle of the game.

But he’ll have to unpause eventually.

He can’t stay here forever, he knows it, but he just has to be sure he plays it right– he doesn’t think he’ll be able to start over this time, with you.

And he wants you there at the ending, at his side like in his dreams.

The ones where it’s all in ruins, the world nothing but his, destroyed, but he gives you his hand to have, and you take it in yours to hold.

***

The distance between you and Shouta stretches and grows until it snaps in the form of a blowout argument. Which, is mostly just you, shouting, crying furiously, and Shouta stone-faced and cool.

It had started with an offhand comment from him about how you’re not focused anymore. You’re getting sloppy. You’re distracted. And usually, you take his criticism with a stiff upper lip and a determined glare.

But you and Shouta haven’t been the same since you tried to kiss him.

You blame yourself, maybe, but part of you feels angry with him, too. Bitter. You thought, in some way, he reciprocated your feelings. He’d acted like it. And when he’d rejected you, he’d pulled away, been more careful with you.

(You wonder if this proves your point, that he was toeing a line with you then.)

And maybe your lies are starting to eat at you, too, starting to rot away on the inside of you. If you focused on them too hard and all that Shouta’s done for you, you think you’d start crying every time you looked at him.

But Tomura has also thrown all you know into question. And you’d already been critical of the life you were afforded by becoming a hero.

You look at all of Shouta’s students and you just get angry. You look at Shinsou, so determined to prove he can be a hero, that he’s good and you are livid. You look at Toga, with her villainous Quirk. She’s near Shinsou’s age and something about it just makes you ache, it makes you sick.

You look at her and see who she could’ve been as a hero– you wonder if they would’ve stuck her in espionage, with the likes of you and Shouta. You wonder if she would’ve gone to U.A. You wonder what it would’ve taken to change her fate.

Even Tomura, you look at him and in the safety and privacy of your own heart, you dare to wonder what he would’ve been like if he hadn’t been a villain.

(He could’ve been a rescue hero, you think, and he could’ve decayed debris to save people. This version of him lives in the quiet, tentative parts of you. It grows soft and underground, a seedling that has sprouted on the inside of your chest, and one day you think this little dream of yours will grow so large inside of you that it’ll breach skin and show the world it’s horror.)

It feels like a coin toss, almost, like the difference between a hero and a villain sometimes is one flip away from changing.

You don’t bother to wonder what would’ve happened if it hadn’t been Shouta that found you, but someone like Tomura. Or All For One. You know if you’d been given somewhere to sleep and a warm meal, you would’ve done what they wanted.

You wish you could say you were a noble, starving person, that there was something shining and golden inside of you. But all you were was starving.

Shouta says you’ve been underperforming lately. He says he’s considering limiting the nights you patrol until you can get it together.

The Hero Commission was supposed to come observe you to see if you’d progressed enough to begin accepting your own missions. He tells you he doesn’t think they should come any longer. It feels like a dig, too, like he’s reprimanding you somehow.

And you snap, “Well maybe I didn’t want them to observe me!”

He looks taken aback for a moment, before he asks, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know! Maybe I’m tired of being observed and used and watching all of these kids be observed and sought after and–”

“Alright,” Shouta sighs, and it makes your teeth grit because he sounds like he’s trying to parent you, “It’s one thing to be upset yourself, but I don’t see how this has anything to do with these kids.”

Your nails dig into your palms as you try to find the words to get him to understand you.

But he speaks before you can, almost patronizingly, “Clearly, you’re struggling through something, so it’s probably a good thing we’ve put this off.”

Tears well up hard and fast. It hurts to be dismissed like this. It hurts to look at him, to think that he’s a part of the ever growing issue that has been itching beneath your skin. You’re a part of it, too, but you have the sudden urge to run. To get out.

Still, you swallow down all of that turmoil and say, “I hardly know what I want now, so how do you expect children to know that they want to be a hero?”

“What is this about?” Shouta asks.

“It’s about the Hero Commission and U.A. and the entire fucking system. That’s what it’s about.” you seethe, looking up into his eyes, trying to find something there.

“It’s not just about you?” he asks, unperturbed.

“Why can’t it be both?” you respond, trying to keep your voice from going high, from going hysterical. There’s so much you want to say, so much that it’s making you sick, that it’s turning your stomach. “I’m– I’m barely older than them!” you say, because all you keep thinking about is how they’re just kids. And you were just a kid. And at one point, Tomura was just a kid.

He’s barely older than you. Closer in age to Shouta’s students than to him.

“I didn’t invent the system,” Shouta says and he sounds weary, “I just try to give my students the best opportunity at surviving being a hero. I try to teach them everything to keep them alive.”

They’re just kids! You want to shriek, kids that were chosen or forgotten or accepted or shunned.

Looking in the face of the system now feels so massive that it’s hopeless; a system that produces shiny heroes from children with their perfect and acceptable Quirks and discards the rest. Even you and Shouta, with your Quirks that aren’t as flashy, are pushed into the shadows to do the Hero Commissions business. And what business is that? You have to wonder their intentions, too, with all the money that’s pumped into it. Into all of these heroes. A system that forgets anyone who doesn’t fit into it’s perfect mold.

“But you see how it’s wrong, right? And just because you didn’t invent the system doesn’t mean you get to throw your hands up!” You say, voice raising.

Shouta levels you with a cool look. He lets loose a sigh. “What would you like me to do?”

You don’t have an answer, it’s too big of a question.

(You see the appeal suddenly, in wanting to get rid of it all, in destroying it since it’s such a mess.)

But you hate his aloofness, you hate that he doesn’t care. You hate that you feel crazy.

“I don’t know!” you shout, tears finally falling down your angry and flushed face. “I don’t know!”

“Are you done?” Shouta asks and it makes you want to scream more. You just want a reaction from him, you realize, you want something more than his impassiveness. You think of trying to shout more, to try and say something cutting or powerful or enough to make him wince.

But nothing comes to mind and you’re just stubbornly trying to keep back a sob.

So you shoulder past him, rush out of his apartment, rubbing at your cheeks and trying to keep back your hiccuping cries.

You have every intention of going to Tomura’s.

But you realize when you’ve nearly made it to his door that it might be foolish to go to someone like Tomura with tears in your eyes. What is the leader of the League of Villains going to do? You have a feeling you might just get your feelings hurt more.

So you pause, rub at your eyes again, try to dispel all the turmoil inside you. It doesn’t work, so you turn away from him, too, and you start moving.

Your feet carry you to the train station, carry you across town, to a warehouse you used to vandalize and hide in when you were young and alone.

You haven’t been here in years.

It feels strange, loping around the side of the building. The alleyways are cast in garnet light with the fading sun. It makes it look prettier than it is. You enter through the same hole in the wall that you used to when you were young; you’re bigger now, though, need to duck lower, curl yourself up to get through it.

You think of yourself scurrying around, knowing the ins and outs of this dilapidated building the way most children know their childhood home.

It’s strange, stepping back into a place you haven’t been to in years. You know, in some way, it has to have changed. It’s falling apart more, there’s larger holes in the ceiling, letting in auburn light, setting everything ablaze. There’s a lot of debris; from torn tents to discarded sleeping bags to spare junk, it’s all spread out throughout the place. Graffiti covers every corner of the walls. You used to look for a face painted in pink, it’s eyes dripping down it’s face in the back corner of a wall. When your eyes slide along all the artwork, it’s nowhere to be found now. No doubt covered up by the years, but you know it’s there, somewhere beneath all that color and paint.

There are a lot of empty bottles, glass laying around that crunches beneath your shoe.

You pick up a glass by the spout, watch as it catches in the light, murky gold and sunkissed.

You feel small again, fragile like the bottle in your hand. You stopped crying at least, but all that’s left is the aftertaste. Just the lingering frustration, the bitter aloneness that settles over you as cold as Shouta’s stare.

Your fingers squeeze around the glass, curling tight, before you suddenly hurl it at the wall.

It bursts on impact, explodes into thousands of shining, glittering pieces that spark in the sun.

It feels good, so you pick up another glass– this one’s mint green, pretty like the sea, reminds you of spring and the stems of flowers.

It breaks prettily, too, the sound ringing and sharp in your ears, your eyes trying to catch all the splinters of it. It explodes in the light. It’s cathartic, letting all your aching frustration and hurt rush out with each breaking, with each smashing.

You don’t get through many more, not before you hear footsteps behind you.

You can’t say you’re surprised to find Tomura, but you can’t say you were expecting it either. Quickly, you turn away, try to school your features. You try to rub at your eyes again, as if this will somehow dispel damp lashes and splotchy cheeks.

“Are you stalking me?” you ask, but there’s no bite to it as he comes to stand beside you.

He doesn’t answer.

You think he might be, but you can’t find it in you to care.

The sound of the distant city is just a hum between you two. Glass sparkles on the floor like stars in the fading, ruby light.

You turn to face him, don’t bother trying to look up into his face, just shove yourself into his chest. You bury your face into his hoodie, rubbing your cheek against his chest. “Creep,” you mumble, “What are you doing here?”

His hands come up, one at the back of your head, the other along your back. He has his gloves on. Not that it matters.

“I followed you from the apartment,” he admits and his voice is quiet, but it seems to echo in this open space. Then he says, “You should be more watchful.”

“Don’t start,” you grumble, letting your fingers curl in his jacket, “Been scolded enough today.”

The hand at the back of your head tugs at your hair lightly, lifting your head from its hiding place against his chest so that he can look you over carefully.

The light casts him in maroon and russet, saturating him, making the dark of him stand out sharply. It makes the silver of his hair seem peach, brands him in all the sun’s honey and whiskey glory.

His eyes are vivid, maybe the most true shade of red you’ve ever seen in your life.

He takes in your face, perhaps your bloodshot eyes, your damp lashes. You aren’t a fool; you’re certain he can tell you’ve been crying. You have the urge to squirm away, to try and hide from his gaze.

But all he asks, in a surprisingly gentle tone, is “What happened?”

You shake your head fractionally, “Nothing. Got into an argument, that’s all.”

He hums lightly, tracking your expression. You want to glance away from him, but he holds you still for a moment longer.

When you can’t take his scrutinization any longer, you ask, “Wanna break some shit with me?”

He lets you go finally, let’s you step out of his arms despite not responding. You pick up another glass, this once an icy blue that reflects light that reminds you of the color of morning skies.

You watch as it explodes against the wall, flashing like a little firework. Glass rains down onto the ground, some of it flinging up into the air or back towards you. Tomura pulls you away from it by the back of your jacket, yanks you back into his chest as glass shards fly past you.

He glares at you somewhat and you can tell he wants to scold you, but he doesn’t. You squirm out of his grasp to do it again.

Glass showers down as you break another bottle. It rains in shards of tangerine and pale yellow, bright pops of cherry in the light. It feels good, to watch it all burst apart in the sunlight, like watching little stars burst and explode at your hands. It’s so pretty, for such a violent act.

You hand a bottle to Tomura, offering him the chance to also act out. Instead, he pulls off one of his gloves– tugs it off with his teeth, the glint of sharp white against flesh pink. You watch fascinated for a moment, catch his eyes, blazing and barbed.

When he takes it with all five fingers, you watch as it first cracks in your palm, before fluttering away into dust. Into nothing.

You make a face, “That’s not as exciting as breaking them.”

He rolls his eyes, but you catch the way the corner of his lips hike up. He takes another glass, this one icy silver, caught peach in the honey light, though. He keeps a finger lifted away delicately as he lifts it up to the beams of scarlet sun that flare through the rafters.

And in that fiery patch of dusk, with the glass reflecting iridescence onto the angular plains of his face, your heart gives a violent lurch, like it’s trying to burst free from your chest.

I think I love you, you think, unbridled, and so suddenly that it feels as if the thought has slammed into you the way a body might fall from the ledge of a roof.

I think I love you, you think again, because you can’t quite believe it, as he lobs the bottle at the wall. It fractures into a thousand little beams of glass and light, like an exploding comet. You feel as fragile as that, like he’ll do the same to you. Maybe you’ll be nothing but shards by the end of this, nothing but dust slipping through his fingers.

He turns to you, no doubt to say something snarky, but you’re already taking quick steps to him. He doesn’t get the chance to speak, not when you collide with him, hard and reckless, throwing yourself up onto your toes to kiss him with a new violence.

He makes a surprised noise, soft, but catches you otherwise. His hand is already up, worming beneath your clothes to press chilled fingers into the bare skin of your upper waist. He likes the way you hiss into his mouth, and you like the way they dig roughly into you. He forces you closer, melds his mouth to yours, rough at the edges, slick and warm at the center as the kiss blossoms into slow simmering heat.

And by the end of it all, when the light has given way to violet darkness, the press of indigo shadows that stretch tall in this abandoned warehouse, there is too much glass on the floor. Everything is shattered or decayed. Your lips are stinging from sharp-toothed kisses and the desperate press of his mouth to yours. You’ve turned molten, fallen apart the way glass does.

You walk home together, hand in seeking hand.

Your eyes flush pink with your Quirk, brightening up in the dark.

You knock into his side like you’re a kid, eagerly trailing beside him. He has the hood of his sweatshirt up, hidden, as you rush into the next train back to the part of town that holds the little, distant world of his apartment.

You sit beside each other on the train, knees pressing into each other. He leans over to crowd you against the cool glass as the world streaks past you in a wash of darkness. He ducks his face to yours, his hood hiding the both of you from any onlookers as he seers his mouth to yours again.

You feel like a teenager, kissing in front of strangers, beneath the flickering light of the train car. You feel young and reckless, letting him have you like this, while the city burns like a blurry halo behind you. But you feel older, too, older and in love, like you finally know the secret of the universe, the one that every adult knows and has only learned in the burn of a kiss, in the messy squeezing of your heart.

He licks into your mouth slow, you curl your small hand into his worn hoodie. If people stare, you don’t know, don’t care.

He pulls away from you, forcing you up when your stop is announced, leaving you a little dazed and dizzy, but you eagerly follow after him. Your hands bunch into the back of his jean jacket. You stumble behind him a little, feet tangling with his as you duck beneath his arm to come to his side.

Ryuji finds the two of you on your walk home the closer you get, follows you both inside, happily chirping at your coos. But he paws at the window to be let out again a short time later, after you’ve fed him something. Tomura opens the window for the cat, but not before you catch him rubbing a knuckle against the kitten’s fuzzy cheek, brief but gentle.

You think he likes Ryuji more than he lets on. You think he loves all this more than he lets on.

Tomura takes his time with you that night, surprisingly languid for once, like you’re not on borrowed time. Like this is an entirely new planet, a version of the two of you that is not bound by pasts and future expectations. No strings puppeteering you both, no invisible hands holding you both back.

He pulls you down into his lap, to sink onto him, fill yourself with him as you please. You twine your arms around his slender neck to pull him close, eyes half lidded and pyretic pink, fiery and soft with the way your Quirk reacts to his. It always hums somewhere inside of you, brushes against his until it quiets, until he’s soothed and relaxed.

“Do you feel powerful?” he murmurs against your lips, eyes flickering up to find yours.

The question takes you by surprise for a moment, pulling away fractionally from his parted lips. And with the way your heart squirms in your chest, looking down at him like this, you want to say no, I feel terrified and new and desperate.

But he drags nails down your back, makes you gasp and roll your hips down onto him, which startles a groan out of him. The sound of it turning your stomach in the best and worst ways, making you flush, making you squirm to try and sink lower onto him. Greedy and desperate, you wiggle your hips to make his breathing come out ragged.

It makes you realize you have one of the most dangerous villains beneath you, as desperate as you are.

You roll your hips again, slow, take what you want of him. You fist your hand in his hair, tilt his head back and watch as his eyes flutter. His cheeks are flushed.

Pretty, you think faintly.

“Yeah,” you breathe, gliding your lips along his, heart a storm in your chest to have him looking up at you like this, “I do.”

His lips tilt into a knife-sharp smile, enough to gut you.

And he lets you take what you please of him that night, and the thief that you are, you take and take and take. You steal from him with deft hands and a smile that he thinks he’d destroy the world for. You take all the love that you want from him, gorge yourself on it until you feel sick.

Until you feel as if you could rot with it, carrying your love for him in the pits of you, coveting in the safe, secret parts of you, for no one else to find.

Just you and him, like this, hand in seeking hand.

***

PART III

[fandom-imagines-stories]

A Bourbon Street Wedding

Enzo St. John x Mikaelson! Reader

Part 4 of 4: ( Part One, Part Two, Part Three)

Words: 3859

Summary: The big day has finally arrived.  You couldn’t have asked for anything more perfect. 

Notes: I can’t believe it’s been around 3ish years since I started this series. To anyone out there who is still reading, thank you! This is the final part in my Enzo and the Originals Series and I really hope you guys enjoyed. Thank you so much for reading! Warning: So much fluff ahead. Lovey dovey fluff, family fluff, just all kinds of fluff. 

-

The New Orleans’ sound did not wake you up. It was the feeling of someone looming over you as you slept that crept deep into your slumbering mind and forced you awake. Your eyes fluttered open and you screamed. Caroline stood over you, hands on her hips and rage in her eyes. 

“How are you still sleeping?” She shrieked yanking the covers off of you. You groaned and turned your head to look at the alarm clock. “The wedding is only seven hours away! We need to get ready!” Enzo rolled over, covering his ears with his pillow. Caroline grabbed your hand and Enzo’s arm and dragged you out of the bed.  

“Caroline, I appreciate how much you’ve done to help, but-” Enzo started groggily. Caroline shoved a bag of hair product at him and pushed him out into the hall. 

“Damon got here earlier, he’s waiting downstairs for you.” 

“But-”

“No, buts, we are already way behind schedule.” Caroline huffed. Her planner-face calmed and she smiled at both of you, stepping to the side so you could look at each other. “Alright, you two. This is it.” The last time you would see each other before the ceremony. You just stared at Enzo, speechless. Neither of you could even begin to know what to say, so you just laughed nervously. Caroline slammed the door. “Okay, let’s do this.” 

Bonnie, Rebekah, and Hayley all burst into the room. Hayley pushed play on the stereo and music blasted, mostly cheesy romance songs that Caroline had insisted upon. Bonnie popped a bottle of champagne and Rebekah toyed with your hair while Hayley and Caroline talked about their daughters. 

“Hope is staying with her grandmother this morning. Mary is bringing her later.” Hayley explained. 

“Ric’s staying with the girls. He sends his best.” Caroline announced. You nodded and smiled. Alaric was your friend, despite his complicated relationship with the rest of your family. Then again, most of your friends had a complicated relationship with your family. Caroline scowled. “Stefan has elected himself as the selfless martyr who will not be attending so he doesn’t ‘cause a scene’.” She rolled her eyes. You took her hand swinging it back and forth playfully. 

“You deserve better.” You noted. Bonnie raised a glass.

“Amen to that.” She handed out the drinks and the morning passed by with many giggles and indecisive arguments over what color lipstick you should wear. When all was settled, you were cast into a frenzy of makeup and hair curlers until Caroline declared your look to be ‘just right’. 

Meanwhile, downstairs, a reluctant vampire stood outside the gate, tempted to turn around and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Of course, the first person to greet him didn’t exactly put his mind at ease. 

“Damon Salvatore…” Klaus chuckled darkly. “What a pleasure to see you again.” 

“Niklaus.” Elijah called from inside. “Do stop frightening the best man.” The oldest living Mikaelson came out and stood by his brother. “Hello Damon.” Damon gave the pair a reluctant wave. The magic witchy Mikaelson- one that Damon didn’t even know existed until now- invited him in and the three lead him to the room where Enzo was getting ready. Damon death-glared him as Freya went upstairs and the brothers stood on either side of him, like minions of death. 

“Please tell me you’ve got bourbon.” He grumbled, side-glancing the two originals, waiting for one to pounce. Enzo watched in irritation as Damon threw his stupid, trademarked leather jacket onto the chair. Kol glared from his spot on the sofa. 

“I thought we’d already gone over the guest list.” He sneered. “I would’ve made sure that this-”

“Behave yourself Kol.” Elijah warned. 

“It’s nice to know none of you have changed.” Damon snarked, snatching up the bottle of bourbon on the side-table. He poured himself a drink and downed it quickly. “And neither has your taste in liquor.” Enzo growled.

“You’re here for a reason, Damon.” He groaned. “You already missed the bachelor party, now please, do something helpful.” 

“You missed one hell of a night, Damon.” Kol smirked, licking his lips. 

“Yeah, I heard about those call girls going missing.” Damon noted. “I’m surprised at you, Elijah. I never took you for one of us miscreants.” Elijah kept up his stoic expression, his tone betraying his slight annoyance.

“I refrained from last night's activities.” 

“He was absolutely no fun.” Klaus whined. “Lovesick fool. Hayley’s practically got him on a leash.” Kol and Klaus both snickered. Elijah shook his head, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He really was a lovesick fool, not that he was ashamed to admit it. And with Davina and Cami both gone, he didn’t reprimand his brothers for their partying. 

“I believe that I was not the only so-called ‘buzzkill’ at the party.” He pointed out, his eyes on the groom. Damon’s jaw dropped. 

“Enzo?” He fake-gasped. “Has our blood-thirsty party man finally turned into a hopeless romantic?” Enzo rolled his eyes and shrugged. 

“Just because I’m not a brute, doesn’t mean I’m a hopeless romantic.” He smirked. “Undeniably in love, yes. But not hopeless.” 

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Kol pretended to gag. “You remember you’re speaking of my twin? I know a couple secrets about her you would not find so romantic.” 

“Kol.” Elijah scolded. “We wouldn’t want Lorenzo getting cold feet now would we?”

“Yes because then I would have to remove them.” Klaus threatened, casting a dark look to the groom. Enzo gulped and began to tie his tie over his pristine white shirt. Elijah had picked it out, which meant that it was the best money could buy. 

You both looked perfect. After all, this was the biggest moment in all your centuries of living. The girls gathered around you and let out a collective sigh of awe. This was it. 

The guests were beginning to arrive and you felt your heart pounding, wishing that you could be with him to calm your nerves. But of course, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony and with your shared history of weddings, you needed all the luck you could get.  And so you waited, tapping your foot at an alarming speed and trying to take deep breaths. 

“Everything alright dear sister?” Kol wondered with a smirk, leaning against your doorway. Caroline, Rebekah, Bonnie and Hayley were all getting ready to be the perfect bridesmaids and Freya was preparing to officiate the wedding. She had been so excited when you asked her and you couldn’t think of anyone else you wanted to say the words ‘I now pronounce you husband and wife’. 

“What could go wrong?” You looked at your twin and smiled nervously. Kol’s face suddenly darkened. 

“Well I can think of something.” He growled. You turned to see who he was looking at and gasped. Kol stepped towards Marcel.  “I don’t recall sending your invitation.” 

“I just came to tell Y/N congratulations.” He held up his hands a sign of peace. “I don’t want to cause any problems. Not today.” Kol continued to loom ferociously over Marcel until you stepped in between them. 

“Kol, why don’t you go make sure that Klaus hasn’t killed any of the guests? I don’t want a single speck of blood on him when he and Elijah walk me down the aisle.” You were able to shoo him away before he could object, turning back to Marcel with fiery eyes. “Of all the days you decide to make amends…”

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness for not telling you I was alive all those years.” He started. “I’m asking you not to hate me. All I want is for things to go back to the way they were before everything happened. We were pretty close friends, you and me.” 

Thick as thieves, more like it. While Marcel was like a son to your older brother and a lover to Rebekah, he was always one of your dearest friends. You were devastated when you believed your father had killed him. When you discovered he was really alive, you were both relieved and furious. All those years and never once had he reached out to find you. Seeing him stand before you now erased all of your anger. 

“You say it like I’ve forgotten.” You cried, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you for coming, Marcel. You don’t know how much it means to me.” You pushed away with a small smile on your face and tears in your eyes. 

“Hey,” He comforted, placing a hand on your cheek. “We can’t have you crying before the wedding.” 

“Would you stay?” You pleaded. “Please, Marcel. It would make this day even more perfect.” He gave you a look. 

“Can you promise none of your siblings are going to try to kill me?”

“You know I can’t.” You both laughed and he agreed to stay, sneaking down into the courtyard where the ceremony was taking place. With him gone, you were alone again and the unstoppable nerves returned. “Come on, Y/N. You have faced centuries of trials and vicious enemies. You’re just-”

“Pledging to spend the rest of eternity with someone with probably as much emotional baggage as yourself?” Klaus finished, stepping into the room. Elijah had managed to get him into a suit and he completed it with his famous mischievous grin. 

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs with Elijah?” You put your hands on your hips. 

“Oh come now, don’t be so cross. It is, after all, the happiest day of your life.” He replied smugly. “I simply wanted a word with you before the festivities begin.” He led you to sit on one of the sofas, taking your hand in his own. 

“What’s this about, Nik?”

“I know that I have been… difficult these past centuries.” He smirked and you couldn’t help but laugh in agreement. “The truth is, Y/N, that I am completely afraid of losing your love to someone else. But I have seen the way you are with Enzo and I simply cannot bring myself to take it away from you. I may be a selfish bastard, but even I do not wish to see you unhappy. I wish you the most joyous life, Y/N.” 

“Klaus,” You placed a kiss on your brother’s shoulder. “My love for you will never falter or diminish, no matter how much of a thorn in my side you are.” He gave you the loving smile that you often wished to see more of. Klaus was troubled and all you hoped for was that one day he would find the kind of happiness you had found with Enzo. 

“You look stunning.” Elijah noted from the doorway. He held out his arm. “Shall we?” Klaus and you stood and the three of you walked down to where you would be entering. Caroline and Bonnie would be first, then Rebekah with Damon, and Kol insisted on announcing you like some kind of queen. You were pretty sure he just wanted to get a laugh out of the crowd before you walked down the aisle. Of course, it was just nice to have your twin want to take part. 

You could feel yourself trembling as Caroline and Bonnie started walking. Rebekah and Damon were bickering even as they began down the aisle. You took shaky breaths and felt Elijah chuckle. 

“Everything is going to be fine.” He assured you. 

“You know, it’s never too late for me to kill him.” Klaus whispered and you elbowed his side. Kol gave you one final smirk before heading out to the front of the space. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” He greeted. “You are all here to celebrate the union between Enzo St. John and my beautiful sister, Y/N Mikaelson. Us being twins, I could share a great deal of stories about Y/N…” He looked back towards you and you glared at him. “But that will have to wait until the reception. Now, without further adieu,” He had an exceptionally smug smile on his face now and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his final words. “Here comes the bride.” 

Enzo finally was allowed to turn around as the music began to play. His heart leapt and his breath hitched. You were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. In fact, gorgeous wasn’t even the right word for it. Nothing could describe how you looked as you walked towards him.  As if his eyes alone had calmed you, you felt your nerves wash away and the brightest smile spread across your face as you took the first step down the aisle. The faces of your closest friends turned towards you and with each step, you felt emotions bubbling up inside. As you reached the end, Klaus gave you a wink before taking his place beside Damon, removing a stake for his pocket. 

“Klaus!” You hissed. He gave you a mischievous grin.

“Couldn’t resist.” He said, Damon taking the stake from him.  Elijah lifted your veil and you felt a tear roll down your cheek. He smiled and wiped it away, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

Freya beamed at you as she greeted the crowd and thanked them for coming to witness your union. Enzo couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The ceremony itself was simple and you and Enzo stared into each other’s eyes the entire time.

“May I have the rings?” Your oldest sister asked. Damon handed Enzo your ring and Rebekah handed you his. “The couple has prepared their own vows.” Freya nodded for you to begin and you took a deep breath, taking both of his hands in yours.

“The first day we met, you were trying to kill my best friend. However, just a few years previous so had I.” You laughed through the tears now freely falling down your face. “I thought that the only promise I would make was to my family. Our code of always being there for each other, and although it has been tested- multiple times-” You shot Klaus a look. “I want to extend that to you. I promise to love you and to protect you and cherish you. Always and forever.” You slid the ring onto his finger and laughed to yourself, wiping away the tears. You looked into his eyes to see that he was crying too.

“I didn’t know what it was like to be loved.” He began and for a moment you thought he’d blubber more than you had. He always was a romantic. But he composed himself as best he could. “Until I met you. You saw past all of the bloodshed in my past. All of my pain and anger. You had had your fair share of hurt over the years and you decided to take a broken soul and mend it. You saved me.” He took a deep breath, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. “And I plan to spend the rest of our lives trying to repay you for the love that you’ve shown me. Always and forever.” He put the ring on your finger and you both laughed at how emotional you both were. Freya smiled. 

“What are you waiting for? Kiss her.” The crowd erupted in applause as Enzo dramatically pulled you into his arms and lowered you into a dip before kissing you for the first time as your husband. 

-

The reception was held at Rousseau’s, which was heavily decorated with roses and lights to the point that it no longer looked like a bar, but something from a fairy tale. Again, the handy work of Caroline. Klaus watched Caroline from his seat at the head table as everyone waited for you and Enzo to arrive. 

“Now that Lorenzo is officially family, I recommend you don’t give him the same treatment that you gave us for the past few centuries.” Elijah straightened his cufflinks with a smile, giving Klaus a side glance. 

“Of course not, Elijah. The daggers don't work on him.” Klaus grinned mischievously. “Although, there’s always the crypt in the basement.” 

“Don’t even think about it.” Rebecca chimed in. Elijah looked across the table to Hayley, feeling a deep desire to one day have this with her. To have the happiness that his sister was now experiencing. Hayley saw him and smiled, her eyes lighting up his soul, or whatever was left of it. Perhaps one day...

The doors opened and the newlyweds entered. You still couldn’t quite believe it. In all your years of living, you couldn’t think of a moment when you were half as happy as you were now. Enzo’s fingers were laced with yours as you walked towards the main table, seeing the smiles on your friends and family’s faces. The guests cheered as you took your seats. Dinner was quickly served and it wasn’t long before Rebecca stood, tapping her glass with her spoon to get the room’s attention. 

“Ah yes, it is time for the dreaded speeches.” She announced with a smile. “Being the maid of honor, I am obligated to speak for my dear older sister. And since I have over a thousand years of stories, it was difficult to pick just one. I succeeded however, in finding a memory that I believe best describes my sister.

“She and Elijah were the only two to escape Klaus without being daggered and shoved into a box.” She gave Klaus a brief glare before continuing. “In the late 1800’s, when I awoke, many things had changed. People I loved turned their back on me.” Her eyes came across Marcel, but didn’t linger for long. “Elijah reintroduced me back into society, but it was Y/N who helped me nurse a broken heart. She made me believe in my own strength again. Y/N showed me the love that only an older sister could. I am beyond delighted that her heart has finally found its equal.” She looked at Enzo happily and feigned a scowl. “But know that should anything happen to her, you will not only have my brothers to worry about.” 

“Duly noted.” Enzo nodded, his hand having never left yours. All eyes were now on the best man. Damon took a long drink from his glass and stood reluctantly. 

“There isn’t a lot I can say about Enzo before him and Y/N met. When Enzo and I first knew each other we were prisoners. We were trapped together, tortured together, and experimented on.” You felt Enzo’s grip on your hand tighten at the memory. “When I got my chance to escape, I took it. I betrayed him. Decades later, he swore revenge on me and tried to kill my girlfriend.” Reading the confusion in the crowd, he smirked. “Don’t worry, this bromance has a happy ending.” 

“Of sorts.” Enzo whispered to you and you both laughed quietly. 

“My point is that Enzo hated my guts until Y/N got him to forgive me. I believe her words were ‘There are better ways to spend an eternity than seeking revenge. Especially against an old friend.’ Anyway, here I am and here they are, so I guess we all know the end of that story.” Damon glanced at you and despite his usual smirk, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Elena was always rooting for the two of you to end up together, so that meant I have to too.” The crowd chuckled at his last comment, but you stood up from your chair and pulled the snarky vampire into a hug. 

“Thank you, Damon.” You whispered. “I miss her too.” You felt him return the embrace and smile sadly against your cheek. 

“She would have loved this, you know. All the gushy romance and twinkling lights.” He said, fixing a hair that had fallen out of place and tucking it behind your ear. You nodded.

“You’ll have this with her someday, Damon. And when you do, I will be the one giving the speech.” 

“Over my dead body, Mikaelson.” He snarked. “But I guess is Mikaelson St. John now. Jeez, that’s a mouthful.”

“Sit down, Salvatore.” You shook your head in amusement. As you went back to your seat beside your husband, you noticed a member of the wedding party’s chair was empty. A rush of panic shot through you. “Elijah, where’s Klaus?” 

All of your siblings turned to the vacant seat and their eyes widened. Everyone started to split up to go find him before he could cause any trouble. 

“I’ll go get Caroline, she went to the bathroom.” Bonnie said, taking off in the direction of the restrooms. You and Enzo decided to check the kitchen but were not at all prepared for what you would find. Sure enough, there was Klaus. And Caroline. On the counter. You quickly shut the door, trying to contain your laughter. You took Enzo’s hand and headed back to the table, grinning like an idiot.

“Well it’s about time.”

-

As the night slowly died down, Enzo clinked his glass to acquire the crowd’s attention. Everyone focused on him as he stood, shooting you a bright smile. 

“May I have everyone’s attention? First and foremost I would like to thank each of you for coming out to celebrate this wondrous occasion. Some of you are from this beautiful city, and some came all the way from a small town called Mystic Falls.” He turned to Damon and smirked before returning his loving gaze to you. “But to end the night, I wanted to say a few words to my new wife, Y/N.”  You felt the blush rise to your cheeks and the warmth rush over you. 

“A few months ago, I discovered who my family was. As it turns out, after a century of searching and hoping, they turned out to be a bunch of thieves and betrayers. No resemblance to me, I’m sure.” The room laughed. “I’ll admit that I was crushed. But now, the Mikaelsons have accepted me into their family, some more willing than others.” Klaus shrugged with a smirk, still flushed from his little rondevu earlier. 

“I almost had you.” He teased. Enzo continued, holding his hand out for you, lifting you to stand beside him.

“None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for the brilliant, caring, incredibly sexy-” he winked and you giggled, “most wonderful girl that came into my life when I thought I had no reason left to live.” You laid a hand on his shoulder, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes as they started to in his. “She made me see that maybe there was a slight shred of hope in this eternity we were both stuck with. Y/N became my world. A world I would do anything to protect.” His hand slipped into yours. “Now we may have our disagreements, and I’m sure we have a long road of bickering and evading certain doom.” He held up his glass in one last toast for the night. “So here’s to one hell of a forever.”

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[soulmate-game]

“Are you paw-sitive this is alright?” Selina half-purred half-asked. The slender cat thief was dressed casually— for her, anyway— in a floor length amethyst purple gown that swept just barely above the floor, accentuating her curves and coming down in a deep V neck that was just barely within the constraints of being acceptable for public appearances. Her companion, almost half a foot shorter even in her short heels, was a stark contrast. It was as if all the two women had in common was their hair color, a rich deep black that shimmered blue in the right lighting.

Marinette, with her hair done up in two buns and wearing a sensible pink-and-white cheongsam top with apple blossom embroidery paired with an ankle-length denim skirt that had a knee-high slit in the front, nodded even as she eyed her friend’s choice of outfit with a small frown.

“Of course. Bruce is in the media’s eye all the time, and he knows I don’t have a care for the spotlight. But you do,” Marinette stopped talking for a second, snapping her fingers and reaching into her purse. She pulled out a gorgeous inch-thick collar necklace that was made entirely of thick panels of flawless silver and high-quality diamond. At the very center of the collar necklace, where it would hang right in the center of Selina’s collarbone, was a diamond-and-obsidian cat face. “I knew I was forgetting something! Bourgeois owed me a favor for doing the outfit for her last magazine cover pro bono, so I asked for this as payment. It’s exactly what your outfit is missing.”

Just because Marinette didn’t like revealing clothing didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate someone else wearing one well, after all. And Selina wore her dress perfectly.

Selina quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the necklace with her expert gaze. Gently, she trailed her fingertips over the tops of the diamonds in the thick bands of the collar as a small smile flicked over her lips. She raised her eyes up to Marinette’s, light green eyes sparkling with mischief and knowing.

“You got this as a bribe for me, didn’t you kitten?”

Marinette smiled unashamedly. “I know you’re a proud lesbian, but would you mind playing the role of Bruce’s girlfriend, just for the media? And only while you’re single, of course. If you ever want out, you only have to say the word. Bruce already agreed, but he also doesn’t mind continuing to play the careless bachelor if you aren’t willing.”

Selina scoffed, rolling her eyes and grabbing the necklace. Effortlessly, she swung it around her neck and clasped it in place. “Please, darling. You and I both know it drives you up a wall when Brucie is hounded by gold diggers every time he steps foot out of that mansion of his. I’ll play the camera-girlfriend, but only for a maximum of a year. And you two can only call on me one a week at most, a girl’s gotta have some time to herself.”

Marinette nodded eagerly. “That’s fine! We probably won’t even call on you that much, Bruce is planning to play the ‘we want to keep our relationship pretty low-key’ card for now. Just an appearance once a month or two ought to satisfy those vampiric paparazzi.”

Selina just smiled. She had practically adopted Marinette years previous, during a trip to Paris where she had found out she apparently had a male doppelgänger. Now the two were sisters in all but official (Not-forged) legal documents. And because of that, Bruce had somehow become her brother.

Which Bruce later found out, meant that Selina would relentlessly tease him every time she needed to appear as his “girlfriend.”

Relentlessly.

But Marinette and Bruce had a Plan. She wasn’t quite ready to make a public appearance as his real girlfriend, mostly because of loose ends that still had to be tied back in France. She was making so many trips back and forth between the two countries that they couldn’t see each other in person much to begin with, so they also didn’t want their few in-person meetings tainted by greedy D-rate journalists.

But yes, they had a Plan. One year was the perfect time frame for the last stretch of said plan. Marinette would tie up the last few things she had to do in Paris, start an official branch of her fashion company in Gotham, and they would stage an entire break-up with Selina, a three-month “break” to “recover” and then a suitably dramatic, romantic “meet-cute” between the two of them to start what the media would see as a love-at-first-sight, fairytale relationship.

Nobody needed to know about Marinette and Bruce’s five-year pining session, or their one-year fumble through figuring out how to date one another before actually getting it right, or the most recent three-years of dealing with the fact that they were both highly experienced hero/vigilantes, the leaders of their own hero teams, and highly accomplished business people.

It was a hard relationship utterly riddled with drama, but they had finally reached the stable point where they were ready to commit. Sort of. They just needed Selina to fake-date Bruce in the public eye for a couple months, and then everything would be fine.

—*—*—*—*—*

One year and three months later.

Marinette shifted her purse on her shoulder. This would be her first time in over five years actually setting foot inside the Wayne Manor. She was excited to see Alfred again, and to hash out the last details for her and Bruce’s public “meet-cute.” But Alfred didn’t open the door this time, a short green-eyed boy with an all-too-familiar frown on his face did.

And once again, Marinette knew that Selina was not the mother. Her pseudo-sister was, as she had said so long ago, a very proud lesbian. But Marinette did know of a past fling of Bruce’s who did possess the proper genes to help create a child of this age.

Marinette smiled, pushing her inner rage at the thought of Talia Al Ghul out of her mind. She was still pissed beyond all rational thought when she heard about what Talia had done to Bruce. But this child was not at fault for any of it, only an innocent by-product.

“Hello. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Would you mind telling Alfred I’m here?”

“Tt. Why should I?” The apparently bratty boy asked, crossing his arms and glaring straight at her. Marinette felt her eye twitch.

“I am a close friend of Bruce— Would I be correct in assuming he’s your biological father?” Immediately upon her question, the boy’s eyes widened ever so slightly in shock before his glare intensified. Marinette chuckled. “He didn’t tell me that he adopted any new children, and he always tells me when he adopts. Which means he didn’t have to adopt you, suggesting you are related to him directly. You can’t be a cousin or nephew, he has no living blood family. And all his pseudo-siblings are alive and fine, so you weren’t left to his care in anybody’s will,” she deduced out loud for him. “Plus, the green eyes and tan skin— I know of exactly one of Bruce’s past… suitors… who happens to fit the timeframe and features necessary.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Most assume that I am that harlot Selina Kyle’s spawn,” he snapped, but it lacked the same heat this time around. He was now analyzing her face closely, and Marinette noticed. She was careful to keep her eagerness toned down. She really just wanted to see Bruce and be able to hug and cuddle him for the first time in almost a year, and this child was her only obstacle at the moment. A very stubborn one.

Marinette sighed. “Selina is like a sibling to me, don’t call her a harlot. If Selina was ever pregnant, I would have known. Hell, Selina would have given me her baby to raise because she doesn’t have any interest in being a mother. Now, the polite thing to do when someone introduces themselves is so introduce yourself back. Not interrogate or intimidate them.”

The boy huffed, straightening his emerald turtleneck and rolling his shoulders back. “I am Damian Wayne,” he replied imperiously. “And Father has never mentioned a friend by the name Marinette. Which leads me to believe you are yet another no good hopeful suitor, and Father is still recovering after he and Kyle finally split up for good.”

Marinette froze, and slowly her eyes narrowed. “He never mentioned my name? Ever?”

“Tt. I already said no.”

Finally, the shape of Alfred Pennyworth came into view behind Damian. He had obviously heard the last bit of the conversation, because he just sighed and shared a long suffering look with Marinette. It was that look that made Marinette’s eye twitch a second time.

“Alfred,” she said slowly. “Has he mentioned me at all to any of his kids?”

“He has not,” Alfred replied. “And furthermore, Miss Selina would not stop giving him a hard time whenever he had to call her out for an appearance. It seems all of the children mistook their relationship for actually being of a romantic nature.”

Damian spun to the butler, eyes wide and swimming with a multitude of emotions. “What do you mean, ‘actually’, Alfred?”

“He means,” Marinette began before Alfred had the chance. Her eyes were narrowed, matching storms of dark, furious blue. “That Selina was only pretending to be Bruce’s girlfriend so that the press and gold-diggers would leave him alone. And apparently I need to beat some sense into my stupid, idiotic boyfriend, who I should have known would do something like this,” she looked up at Alfred, jaw clenching. “That man would never be able to pass for a functioning human without either you or me keeping his head screwed on. Where is he?”

“Not at the manor currently, Mademoiselle Marinette.”

“Alfred.”

The butler gave Marinette a rather mischievous little grin. “Master Bruce has forbade me from telling you where he is currently, he wanted you to stay at the manor and sleep the jet lag off until he got back. But I can tell you that he is not currently on Earth or on a mission.”

“Alfred!” Damian hissed, shocked that the man would say something so revealing. Alfred was the perfect secret keeper, why would he tell someone Bruce had never mentioned something so telling?”

“Oh, calm yourself Master Damian,” Alfred soothed. “Marinette has known about Master Bruce’s nighttime activities since before you were born. If anything, I believe he rightfully deserves the wake up call he is about to receive.”

Marinette nodded, eyes still stormy and determined. “Alright, so he’s at the Watchtower. The Zeta tunes are still in the Batcave, right?” When Alfred nodded, Marinette wasted no time. She easily slid around Damian and stormed into the manor, finding her way to the Batcave on pure muscle memory and rage.

“Wait, Alfred! I demand an explanation!” Damian’s loud voice slowly grew quieter as Marinette stormed down into the cave, ignoring how Alfred began to calmly explain the situation to the boy. She just slid right in to the Zeta tube, and commanded the computer to send her to the Watchtower.

“P-001, codename LADYBUG, recognized.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Batman pinched his nose from where he stood at the head of the meeting room in the watchtower. The briefing was supposed to start over an hour ago, but Hal Jordan had been twenty minutes late. No surprise there. But still, SuperMan had insisted that they wait until everyone arrived. And really, normally Batman would too. Except that his long time girlfriend was going to be landing in Gotham any minute now, and he would rather be back at the manor to greet her.

And the asinine argument that had been going on for the past forty minutes was finally going to end, even if Bruce had to hogtie every last one of his insufferable coworkers himself and force them through the rest of the meeting strapped to their chairs.

“Okay, can we PLEASE begin the meeting now, or so help me I will break out my kryptonite restraints,” he threatened darkly. He might have only mentioned Kryptonite, but everyone knew that that threat was actually aimed at all of them. Batman knew every last one of their weaknesses and was not above being petty when they strained his last nerve.

Quickly getting the hint, the entire room rushed to fill their seats and at least fake at paying attention. But of course, nothing goes quite right in the life of Bruce Wayne. Right as he turned on the slideshow he had prepared and began the meeting, the sound of an enraged woman’s voice echoed down the hallway in a deafening roar.

“BRUCE THOMAS WAYNE, YOU ARE IN SOOOO MUCH TROUBLE!”

Batman felt as if someone had just shoved him into a cryogenic freezer, a harsh shiver of dread running down his spine. There was exactly one person who could terrify him with a single word, and it just so happened to be the woman he was hiding a wedding ring from.

For the past eight years, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Oh shit,” Bruce breathed, but found he was unable to move from his spot. Yes, he wanted to see Marinette so badly that it hurt. But he also would like to stay alive.

SuperMan leaned forward, not really concerned since Batman would have reacted much differently had the voice been coming from a real threat. Instead, the man leveled his old friend with a very teasing smirk.

“Why is your heart suddenly racing?”

Bruce could only glare daggers at Clark before the door to the meeting room swung open, a tiny French woman standing there in a long, formal white-and-pink knee-length gown with a cheongsam neckline and one of her leaf-green heels held in each hand threateningly.

“You absolute idiot! When I said I wanted to keep our relationship out of the public eye, I didn’t mean to keep me a secret from EVERYBODY!”

“But darling—“ Bruce cut himself off as he was forced to dodge one deadly-accurate piece of flying footwear. “You don’t understand. The boys cannot keep a secret to save their life.”

“They have secret identities, don’t they?” She slipped her other shoe back on. She had known that her shoe never had a chance of hitting, and with Bruce in full Batman gear, even if it had hit him the high heel would have felt like she had only thrown a pillow. Had it been otherwise, she wouldn’t have even joked about throwing her shoes at him. But as it stood, she knew none of the normal things she had on her would be able to so much as make Bruce say “ow.”

Marinette placed both of her fists on her hips, marching up to Batman and pulling him down the full foot it took for him to be able to look her in the eye. His resulting gulp was clearly audible, and visible, to everyone else in the room. “You absolute, emotionally dense moron,” her voice had dropped from a yell to a mildly fond, but still very annoyed, grumble. “Your kids are mostly adults now, you know. And you never told me about Damian either. Did you honestly think I’d be mad?” Bruce looked away from her, which was honestly all the answer she needed. Marinette sighed, letting him go and softening her voice. “You need to trust your kids more, Bruce. I never wanted you to keep me a secret from your family, or even your close friends. Just the annoying ass paparazzi. And trust me a little bit more, yeah? I know it isn’t exactly your strong suit, but I’ve known you long enough that you should know I’m not gonna run for the hills just because you have a biological kid that wasn’t with me.” Marinette risked giving him a slightly vulnerable, lopsided smile. And Bruce immediately deciphered what it meant. His shoulders slumped.

The cost of using the Ladybug Miraculous for so long was that Marinette had to give up her fertility. She could never have children of her own, and Bruce had felt guilty that he had had a biological child, even though he hadn’t exactly consented to it, without her. But now he could see where he went wrong.

Marinette was just happy to have another piece of him to take care of. She never would have resented him for what had happened with Talia. And, seeing all of those facts written on her face now, he felt more than a little blind.

“... sorry.”

Marinette just huffed out a short, soft laugh before grabbing Bruce by the bicep. She turned to look at the other heroes still in the room, half of them uncomfortable with seeing such an emotional display while the others looked like they were incredibly invested in a good soap opera. She shot them a grin.

“I’m stealing him for the next few days, okay? Don’t worry, I’m sure you can make do with making Diana read the slideshow. I know from experience that it has everything you guys need to know and more. Don’t call us, I’ll field all your contact to Agent A!!” With that, she dragged Bruce by the arm out of the room.

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly resisting. Even if the reunion was far from ideal, just having this little bit of contact was extremely relaxing for the vigilante. When they reached the Zeta Tubes, he stopped Marinette and pulled her in for a kiss.

When they inevitably pulled away for breath, he smiled at her. “As soon as we get back, I’ll call everyone in and explain the situation,” he promised. “And then, we can spend the rest of the night doing whatever you want.”

Marinette smiled back, shoving him into the Zeta Tube. “Then get ready, because I wanna sleep off this damn jet lag and I plan on cuddling you like a koala the whole time. No escape.”

“B-001, Codename BATMAN. Recognized.”

“Can’t wait,” he replied right before he was whisked off. The sound of the love of his life laughing followed him through until he reached the other end of the teleportation.

—*—*—*—*—*

@maribat-writing-and-prompts

[katcoquette]

The Best of Friends

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes!

Word Count: 1.8k

TW: brief violence

Your last class of the day had finally ended, and you decided to head to dinner early. The corridors were mostly empty, a majority of the students were with their friends in their common rooms or enjoying the weather before it got dark.

You entered the Great Hall and scanned the tables for the platinum headed boy you called your best friend. Draco Malfoy had quickly become the person you were closest to. After his friendship was rejected by the famous Harry Potter in your first year, he had been skulking around the halls mumbling about it.

You were doing the same, but because Ronald Weasley had knocked something onto your robe, staining it and leaving you drenched and cold. That night, you started out complaining to each other, and ended in a fit of laughter. Since then, your classmates could find the both of you glued at the hip. You had gotten Draco through his Pansy phase, and he was there for you when you were dumped by Dean Thomas.

While his hatred for the Golden Trio only grew, your mere annoyance that first night had turned into them into friendly acquaintances.

You weren’t close with them like you were with Draco, but you would greet them if you had classes together or saw them walking through the corridors. It hadn’t ever been more than that, but you knew it bothered Draco every time you waved or smiled in their direction.

You would tease him about it when you noticed, and that would cause him to break his scowl and smile at you. It was hard for him to stay mad when you were around, he found himself happier when he was in your presence and didn’t like wasting his time on them when he had you next to him. Besides, you had stayed by his side all these years, so eventually he stopped worrying about losing you to the group.

His rivalry with Harry increased as the two of you grew up, until it reached a point where you would try to steer him in the other direction if you saw Potter. The less interactions those two had with each other the better, you had decided with Hermione one day.

Now, you were in your sixth year together and closer than ever. You didn’t see Draco at your usual spot, which you expected, since he usually came to eat later in the evening.

“Y/N!” Hermione called out to you. She was sitting with Harry and Ron and beckoning toward you to sit with them. You smile at them as you make your way there, glad to have someone to eat with since Draco wasn’t here.

You exchanged greetings with them as you settled into the spot next to Hermione, chatting about your various classes and assignments until a comfortable silence came over the group.

“So, Y/N, we’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Hermione started, breaking the silence, and looking pointedly at Harry.

“Yes! Yes- I was just wondering-“ Harry cleared his throat, almost awkwardly. “We were wondering, if you knew anything about Draco’s recent activities.”

You give him a questioning look, though you suspected you already knew what he was talking about. “Well… if he has the mark, like his father.” Ah. That’s what you thought it would be about. It wasn’t a surprise to you; Draco had told you the minute he next saw you that he had been given the mark over the summer. Generally, it was something you two didn’t talk about, unless he was having a particularly hard time with it. But you didn’t feel like you were close enough with the trio to betray Draco and disclose any information to them.

Harry sees the look on your face and tries to recover, “It’s just that, Katie Bell had that incident and-“ You put your hand up slightly to stop him from continuing, and let out a sigh, rubbing your temple with the other. You try to gain your composure, thinking about what the best response would be.

Draco was your best friend, but somewhere along the timeline of your friendship you had started to develop stronger feelings for him. How could you not? Behind the snide remarks and haughty behavior there was a sweet boy, who was hurting more than anyone knew.

That was the boy who had let you into his life, he was the one who held you when you cried. He was the one who had been inconsolable after this summer, after finding out what he would be forced to do this year. You knew how serious the situation was, you knew how dangerous Voldemort was, and how big of a threat he had become this year. You wanted to help them, but Draco was your priority. You would do everything in your power to protect him, because you loved him. You knew he cared about you too, but even if his feelings weren’t romantic, you were going to do anything you could to ease his troubles.

“I don’t know anything about that.” You lie through your teeth. It’s obvious to the trio that you know more, and Harry starts to try to convince you to share when Ron nudges him and motions over his shoulder. You look at her the same time Harry does, Katie Bell. He gets up to talk to her, and you give Hermione a sad smile. She gives you a slow nod, understanding why you wouldn’t give away Draco’s secrets.

Almost immediately after he walks in, your eyes meet Draco’s. He seems flustered, and you give him a worried look. He breaks your stare and assesses the situation in front of him. His best friend sitting with his enemy and the two other people who annoyed him most. Harry was talking to Katie Bell, who had stopped the conversation and was now staring directly at Draco.

You see him start to panic, looking to the students watching the interaction beside him before he backs away and turns to leave the Great Hall. You get up quickly and chase after him, signaling that your conversation with the trio was over.

“Draco!” You call after him, almost running to catch up. “Don’t, Y/N.” He spits out after you grab his shoulder. He continues walking down the corridor to the restroom. “What’s wrong?” You keep your voice calm as you continue after him.

“Just stop, okay?” Draco scowls at you as he pushes open the door. He groans when you follow him into the bathroom.

“No! I’m not going to leave when you’re obviously upset.” You cross your arms and wait expectantly. “Enough, Y/N. You’ve done enough already. I saw you talking to Potter. It’s obvious that he knows what I’ve done!” He shouts.

“That’s what you’re mad about?” You almost scoff at how ridiculous that accusation was. “I didn’t say anything to them.”

“I’m not an idiot, I saw it with my own eyes.” You can hear the pain in his voice at your assumed betrayal.

“Harry did ask about it, okay? But I said I didn’t know a single thing because I would never do anything to hurt you!” You try to explain. You can see the confusion still on his face. “Draco… I was protecting you.”

He furrows his brows, his nostrils flaring slightly when he breathed while he comprehended your words. “Why would you do that? I know you don’t agree with my family’s position.”

He was right, but that didn’t matter. He was the only thing that mattered, and you knew he didn’t agree with them either.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re my best friend-“ you start, running your hands over your face in frustration. The two of you had been so involved in your argument that you hadn’t heard someone else enter the room. “Merlin, Draco! Because I love you!”

You see his face soften completely, “You…what?” He looks like he’s about to say something until he notices the person who was now behind you. His face hardens again, and you can tell he’s furious.

You turn to see that Harry had followed you both into the bathroom. This won’t end well. “Harry…” You start, giving him a look, almost begging him to leave this situation alone. Instead, you see a hex fly past his head, barely missing him as he jumps out of the way. He throws one back at Draco, and you drop to your knees, trying to stay out of the way. They were fully fighting now, and you were backed up against the wall cursing the pride of these two.

Then there was a pause. You could see Harry crouching behind the stalls in front of you but couldn’t tell where Draco was. Harry glanced at you before sending another spell in Draco’s general direction.

Not a moment later you feel the air knocked out of you, the room around you fading.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy! You hit Y/N!” Harry screams across the bathroom. Draco turns the corner of the stalls to see you slumped against the wall, completely knocked out.

“Get out.” He whispers, rushing to your side. “Get OUT!” Harry scrambles to his feet and runs out of the restroom.

Draco scoops you up in his arms, burying his face in your hair as he lets out a loud sob. “I’m sorry, Y/N… I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, I should’ve never gotten mad at you.” He moves so he’s kneeling, bringing your limp body up to his chest and holding you close to him.

A few hours later, you start to regain consciousness. You can feel yourself in a soft bed, but your head is pounding and your body aches. You haven’t gotten to a point where you could move or open your eyes, but you could feel someone next to you holding your hand and mumbling. If you just concentrated on their voice…

Draco.

“-and I know you would never hurt me. I’m just terrified about everything that’s going on.” You can hear Draco sniffle before lowering his to just above a whisper. “You mean so much to me, Y/N. You’re the most amazing girl, so beautiful, and so smart. Even smarter than me.” He chokes out a laugh at that. “I can’t believe I did this to you. I could feel myself losing control and I’m so sorry.” He pauses, thinking through his next words.

“It’s always been you, Y/N. I- I love you.” He finally says, squeezing your hand.

You squeeze his hand back, finally finding the strength to open your eyes. Draco notices and lunges forward, wrapping his arms around your back and squeezing you tight. You return the gesture, letting out a mixture of laughter and sobs at the situation.

Draco pulls away after a few moments, brushing stray hairs from your face. “I love you, Y/N.” He smiles at you, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. “I love you too.” You say sincerely.

“By the way, I did hear your whole speech.” You let out a breathy laugh, still feeling sore. Draco laughs, embarrassed for a moment, “I’m ready to say it all again now that you’re awake.”

He leans in closer, “And every day after that.” He breaths, softly kissing your lips. And in that moment, you couldn’t be more grateful for the events that had finally brought you together.

A/N: AHH you all come up with the BEST ideas I loved this one. Send me any thoughts or requests, and thank you for all the support! xx

[every1studio]

“vampire lords” [ateez]

genre: misc. + a lil suggestive + otome-styled (reverse harem) 

ficstyle: bulletpoints (fem reader)

prompt: inspired VAMPIRE PRINCES INSPIRED BY OTOME GAME ROYAL BLOOD 

note: sorry for the wait! I’m officially back and I’ll be posting as often as I possibly can!!! 

Let’s meet the heirs of the vampire lineage. Who would you choose to be your lover and take over ruling the vampire clan?

-HONGJOONG 

(type: the reliable, “leader-worthy” heir that gets picked on by the other princes; known for being a flirt)

(special power:  psychometry - the ability to learn anything about the past or future of an object by touching it)

the one that you met first 

after talking with your father, the Earl, about your living conditions here at the estate, you took it upon yourself to explore the premises 

upon walking around the vampire estate, you heard a dramatic yet gentle melody that belonged to an old harpsichord 

the melody sounded nostalgic even though you don’t remember hearing anything so hauntingly beautiful 

you followed the sound into a glass greenhouse where the harpsichord sat in the middle of the room

you were entranced with the man playing his heart away 

all you could see was his body swaying to and fro with his fingers dancing across the keys 

his hair was slicked back and shined sapphire blue in the moonlight 

his strong brows furrowed as he played the instrument 

the keys he played were furious yet calming; like the beginning of a storm

his hands were adorned with black, sleek gloves

as if he was telling a story about his life; the good, the bad, and the bloody

you don’t know how long you were standing there but when the music stopped, you met the eyes of the man playing the harpsichord 

“you must be Y/N...” he asked as he stepped towards you; his footsteps echoed in the spacious greenhouse

his eyes glimmered red every time he was in the moonlight 

you nodded but unable to speak or move 

his aura was intimidating yet alluring 

but the moment he smiled, you felt like you were safe in this unknown place 

“I’m Hongjoong~ I’ve heard all about you from the Earl! let me know if you need ANYTHING!”

you broke out into a smile but before you could say anything...

Hongjoong brushed the hair away from the nape of your neck with his gloved hand and leaned in real close, so close that you could feel his breath of your skin 

“and when I mean, anything.. I mean anything... princess~”

you stumbled back away from him, “I-I’ll make s-sure th-that I’ll let you k-know when..” 

he was good-looking; seemed playful and almost flirty behind his initial scary demeanor 

he had you flustered

Hongjoong chuckled as he took off one of his gloves and reached to place his hand on your face

but....

will you choose his story?

or will you choose someone else?

-SEONGHWA

(type: an enigma, no one really knows about him except for the other princes; the oldest)

(special powers: shape-shifting and illusion-making)

“stop teasing our guest..” 

you heard a voice coming from behind you 

Hongjoong dropped his hand and cocked his head in annoyance, “I’m doing no such thing, I’m just making sure our guest is welcomed, that’s all..”

you saw a living and breathing sculpture

you felt your jaw gaping; you couldn’t help it 

“you can do that with your gloves on.. you don’t want to invade our guest’s privacy, don’t you?”

as soon as the mysterious man’s sharp gaze lowered to meets yours, you quickly looked away

“I hope he wasn’t making you feel uncomfortable.. please excuse his behavior..I’m Seonghwa..” he places his hand on his chest and gives you a curt bow 

you returned the bow, “I’m Y/N..”

Seonghwa gives you a subtle smile that you didn’t know he could be capable of, “I know who you are...”

he adjusts his outfit and held his hand out for you to take

“do you mind if I gave you a little tour, miss Y/N?”

you nodded as you placed your hand into his

“tch.. I was gonna offer if you weren’t already here... when will you stop having impeccable timing..” Hongjoong rolled his eyes as he walked back to the harpsichord with his hands in his pockets

“when you stop flirting as much as you breathe”

with that Seonghwa led you away from the greenhouse

he gave you a grand tour of the estate starting from the gated entrance 

Seonghwa was short with his words but they were endearing 

but as he gave you the tour, you noticed a couple of things

he always had a couple of crows fly to him every so often 

and he seemed to have a problem with mirrors and reflections 

usually every time you come across one, you would at least give a quick look but Seonghwa seemed to avoid them as much as possible

“miss Y/N.. is there something on my face?”

“hmm? no? why do you ask?” 

Seonghwa leaned in a little closer to you and said, “you’ve been looking at me more than you’re looking at where you’re walking...” 

you started to become a tomato and you could see him sneak a subtle smile

“just kidding, miss..” he murmured and continued to give you the tour 

he was truly mysterious; he was friendly but you could tell that he wanted some distance between how he seems like to you and how he really is 

....

will you choose his story to find out why?

or will you choose someone else?

-YUNHO 

(type: boy-next-door; doesn’t seem like a vampire at all, but has a sensitive, fragile and frightening side)

(special power: alchemy)

“Seonghwa~ the Earl is calling for you- oh! hi Y/N!” the voice came from a tall man

out of two of the other vampire princes that you met, he seems the least like a vampire; he seems like he would be in on a college campus getting some beers for a party 

“oh is that so.. please excuse me, miss Y/N.. I will have to conclude this tour to a halt-”

“a tour? I can guide her through the rest of the way.. leave it to me~” the tall puppy-like man gave a comedic salute to Seonghwa

Seonghwa nods, places his hand on his chest and bows, “I apologize for the unexpected inconvenience.. I’ll leave this miss Y/N in your hands, Yunho”

with that, Seonghwa left

leaving you with a giddy Yunho, “I’m guessing Seonghwa started the tour from the entrance right?”

“yeah he did!” you couldn’t help but answer with a smile since he’s already smiling 

“so all that’s left is the east wing~ shall we?” he stuck his arm out for you to loop your arm through

you giggled at his enthusiasm as you looped your arm through his

you realized that he’s not the textbook definition of what a vampire looks like 

which played pretty well since you could feel comfortable talking to him just about anything 

the way he talked felt so familiar even though it’s the first time you met him; he was probably going to be someone you can lean on

you two made a final stop in front of a pair of heavy-set steel doors; no other room in the estate had these kind of doors 

“this is my room~ the one room you CANNOT enter.. NO MATTER WHAT! OK?” Yunho tried to be playful to lay down the rule because he didn’t want to seem pushy 

“what if I need a late night chat?” you tried to match his playfulness but that backfired  

his eyes hid behind his bangs and he stood between you and the door

“my room is none of your business.. there’s no need for you to waltz inside, just knock on my door.. but you better not go inside, Y/N.. promise me you won’t come into my room...promise me now” 

his voice lowered a couple of octaves and even though he hid his eyes you could see a red glow through his bangs; this scared you, it was like he was a different person; he really seemed like a vampire 

“I-I promise..” 

and like a flip of a switch, Yunho went back to smiling and his eyes weren’t glowing blood red anymore, “good, well that’s the end of the tour! let me know if you need anything~ is there any place you want to check out?”

you were still shaken up by his switch in character, you needed a break from it 

“I’ll just walk around.. don’t mind me.. thank you Yunho~” you waved at him and went on your way...

...

will you choose his story and learn his secret?

or will you choose someone else?

-YEOSANG

(type: shy but romantic; a bookworm)

(special powers: telepathy and telekinesis)

to take your mind off of things, you went to the library and thankfully you were blessed with good memory so you knew where the library was 

you pushed the heavy doors of the library and you were amazed; it was better than any library you’ve ever seen 

there were bookshelves that were lined with books all the way up to high ceiling 

you walked around the library like it was an unknown wonderland

there were spiraling stairs and aesthetic reading areas; this library would rival any others out there in the world 

you were running your fingers along the spine of the books until you came across a secluded reading area 

there were two tall leather armchairs; one of them were stacked with books and the other was occupied by a sleeping beauty

it seemed like he was sleeping; his head was rested on propped up arm with his book in his lap 

you got closer to him and squatted down to see his face; you thought his profile was beautiful enough but now that you’re closer, he’s even more beautiful than you’d ever imagine

you went to reach his face to see if he was actually real or not

“I’m not a statue..” he murmured as he caught your hand before you touched his face; his eyes were still closed 

“h-how did you know I was here? do vampires have super-heighten senses?” you were caught by surprised and was rambling 

you calmed down a little when you saw him open his eyes

all of the heirs probably had different colored red eyes but his were different; it was a true red with gold flecks that made it seem like he had gold splinters stuck in his irises 

“you could say it’s something of the sort..” the man sits up straighter and cracks his neck to relieve some tension

“nice to meet you, miss Y/N.. I’m Yeosang..” he turns to face the books on the other chair and the books start putting themselves away on the shelves 

then he turns to you and reaches his hand out 

you take it thinking that he’s only reaching his hand to shake it but he pulls you up from the ground and wraps his other arm around your waist

“do you really think I look better up close?” 

“HUH?” how can he read your mind? is this another vampire ability?

Yeosang realizes that he’s being more bold than he usually is and let go of you immediately and starts to fumble with the hem of his sleeves

“ ..it’s a special power of mine,  my powers are only exclusive to me and no one else.. I apologize for intruding in your mind space.. I won’t do it again!”

apparently he was so embarrassed by his previous actions that he ran away, giving you no chance to say anything  

“Yeosang?!” you reached out for him but he ran away at the speed of light

what a character, you thought to yourself

... 

will you choose his story and find out what he was reading?

or will you choose someone else?

-SAN

(type: looks edgy and grungy at first but is really sentimental; is also the Phantom Thief, the modern-day Robin Hood)

(special power: magician)

after you left the library, you felt a little hungry so you went to go to the kitchen to find something to eat 

the kitchen staff were exceptionally nice to you and left after they offered you a midday snack; there were finger sandwiches and cream puffs that were exactly made to your taste 

“for a little one like you, you sure eat a lot” 

you turned after choking on your cream puff from being startled 

“hey, miss.. you okay?” the boy offered you some water to clear your throat 

“y-yeah.. thank you-” you paused to wait for a name from the strong-featured man

you were slightly embarrassed to have such an exceptionally looking guy see you being a mess

“the name’s San, at your service, miss~” he showed an unexpectedly cute smile 

geez are all the heirs perfect looking?

yes, yes they are 

“sorry you had to see all of that..” you murmured at the raven-haired boy

it seemed like he just came from an intense workout; sweat glistened all over his body but he smelled like he just came out of a Versace cologne commercial 

“it’s alright, miss.. hey, miss.. you okay?” he got close to your face after inspecting your flushed face and reddened ears but you nodded as you made space between the two of you 

he thought maybe he made you feel uncomfortable or maybe it was just a little awkward or maybe he made you upset in anyway; he needed to break the ice 

“hey miss, do you like magic?” San sat in the seat next to you as he crossed his legs 

“magic? like harry potter’s kind of magic?” you pondered as your doe-eyes sparkled in confusion but your eyes couldn’t meet his

“no like, a magician’s ”magic”.. you know like rabbits in a top hat and stuff like that..” San started to get giddy

“oh... yeah... I know what you’re talking about.. but why did you ask?”

he was ready to knock you out of your socks; he stretched out his arms, pretending to stretch  

“well you seem a little..” softly brushing your hair behind your ear, “distracted..”

he pulled a beautiful amulet from your hair; your eyes widened in shock 

it’s not like he’s wearing sleeves to hide such a fairly large amulet; the jewelry really appeared out of thin air

“you can keep it, miss~ think of it as a welcoming present from yours truly~ see ya later~” San waved at you as he walked out of the room

“wait! this looks expensive! where did you get this? how did you do that-” when you walked out of the room to chase after him, he was no where to be found

...

will you choose his story and find out how he did that?

or will you choose someone else?

-MINGI

(type: gentle beast; only smiles for you; known to others as the vampire assassin)

(special powers: invisibility and hawk-eyes; can switch eye-sight from x-ray, temperature, to long-range)  

you were still confused about San’s magic trick 

unable to pay attention to where you were going 

cue the cliche scene where you trip on your way downstairs to the large dance floor of a lobby

you squeeze your eyes shut but instead of a deadly and nasty fall, you fell onto someone with a strong build

“miss Y/N, you should watch where you’re going..” the deep voice of your savior made you a little too scared to open your eyes

“are you hurt, miss Y/N?” although his voice was deep, it was filled with care 

you slowly opened your eyes and saw his soft eyes that looked like they were a pair of Madagascar rubies 

“n-no.. I’m not.. I’m sorry.. I should’ve watched where I was going..” you tried to shift yourself away so that you weren’t leaning on him for support anymore but you almost fell, again

the deep-voice man held your hand so that you wouldn’t fall, “let me at least escort you down the stairs, we can’t have anything bad happen to the Earl’s daughter...”

“thank you... I’m not used to these steep stairs yet..” you murmured; you probably have a permanent blush by now 

“it’s nice to finally meet you, miss Y/N.. my name is Mingi-”

the sound of the harpsichord could be heard from where you two were

“Hongjoong must still be playing music...”

Mingi nods and turns back to you, “he could play for hours.. miss Y/N? since we’re here on the dance floor, would you mind if I asked for a dance?”

you looked everywhere but at him, “i-if you insist.. it would be a waste of this music and this dance floor...”

without another word, he slips his hand on the small of your waist and interlocked your small hand in his

you felt like you were Belle and he was the Beast; from Beauty and the Beast

it was like you were at a ball, wearing a stunning dress that swayed to follow Mingi’s lead

the fact that he was only looking at you and smiling at you made you believe that Mingi wasn’t as scary as you thought

he spun you out but you felt another hand take you away from Mingi’s

...

will you choose his story and continue to dance with him?

or will you choose someone else?

-WOOYOUNG

(type: kind of childish; is uninterested in many things except for you because he’s met you before)

(special powers: teleportation and mind-control; to control someone physically but not mentally/emotionally after consuming their blood) 

you completely let the other person pull you away from Mingi and carried you like a princess

“you should be careful of him, miss Y/N.. he’s a very dangerous assassin, you know~”

you looked up as you were still being carried; if looks could kill, you would be dead by now

but from your angle, you can’t really make out his full face

“if miss Y/N should be careful of anyone here, it would be you...” Mingi rolled his eyes as he got closer to you and your carrier

the male stuck his tongue out at Mingi and started to dash away

“you’re just mad because you got her taken from you.. sorry, not sorry, but dancing with Mingi is one of the most BORING thing you could ever do~”

before Mingi could get to you, you were shrouded in a poof of a cloud 

when the cloud cleared up, you could tell you were in another part of the estate

“you can teleport?” you asked

but then when you saw his face clearly, you wanted to ask another question, sadly you missed your timing

“wow, you’re not even gonna ask what my name is..” the man places you gently onto a plush sofa 

you looked around the room; this must be the common area 

“I’m Wooyoung, at your service~” he bows quite dramatically 

“I’m guessing you already know my name..” you grabbed a pillow for comfort 

Wooyoung sat right next to you and started to twirl with a strand of your hair, “I know more than your name..”

your eyes opened and got close to him, “you can read minds too? have we’ve met before? did we meet in another life?”

Wooyoung started to laugh at your cute remarks, “no I can’t, that’s Yeosang’s thing... but I’m glad that you were thinking about me~”

Wooyoung cupped your face with his veiny hands and got real close, “we’ve met before.. when we were kids..” 

your excitement caused your forehead to slam into his

“really?! when?! what happened?! I don’t really remember!” 

although you were fine, Wooyoung’s forehead was throbbing

“my head is spinning now, there’s no way I can tell you~” he half-teased, half-spoke the truth

“what?! no way... is there anything I can do to help you?” you were concerned; you have always been hardheaded... literally 

Wooyoung lowered his chocolate red-brown eyes and snickered under his breath, “if you give me a kiss and make it better, I’ll tell you~”

you got up from your seat; blushing, of course, “what are you a kid?! forget it!”

“wait, miss Y/N.. I was just kidding!”

you darted out of the room

...

will you choose his story and go back to find out how you two met before?

or will you choose someone else?

-JONGHO

(type: rarely talks but watches out for you; unlimited strength and does anything you ask of him)

(special power: blood absorption; the ability to absorb blood and/or use it to convert into anything) 

you didn’t know how long you ran for but you turned up in the rose garden, which looked exceptionally beautiful at night; your heart stopped beating at the speed of light and you felt relaxed in the midst of the rose bushes 

there was an exquisite gazebo in front of a moonlit-sparkling lake so you sat there and thought about how you got to this place

how you left the place you called home to get back in touch with your father

how your father was the leader of vampires; which meant you were half-vampire, half-human

how your were suppose to marry one of the vampire heirs to stay protected from the other creatures who want your powers 

it was a lot to take in

you walked closer to the lake to look at your reflection; looking at the glowing red eyes you were always made fun of for, wondering where you got them from

sure they weren’t as bright as the other vampires but they were still red

you were lost in thought; unable to detect the large man-eating koifish swimming up towards you

by the time you realized there were another pair of eyes staring back at you from under the water, it would be too late to jump back to safety 

you felt a fast gust of wind as someone got in front of you

they placed their hand into the fish’s mouth and pushed it down; causing the lake’s water to form into tsunami-like waves away from the person in front of you 

the fish shriveled up and turned to ashes that blew away with the night’s cool breeze

everything happened so fast; your knees finally gave out from shock and you sat onto grass that thrived next to the lake 

“miss. Y/N...” the person called out

because of the moonlight, all you could make out was a man with a muscular build and a pair of glowing dark red eyes

he reached out for you but you flinched

this man had incredible strength and was scared that if he touched you, you would become like the fish

he was hurt by your action but took his hand back, “there are dangerous creatures lurking in the waters.. please be careful.. miss Y/N..” 

you couldn’t help but feel bad, he saved you but you can’t even bring yourself to even thank him

“um thank you!” you finally had the courage to get up to talk to him

that was when the moonlight hit his face and not his back, you could finally see his face

he had his own charming looks; despite of his physically and powers, he was pretty baby-faced and when he smiled back at you, you felt your heart skip a beat

“you’re welcome, miss Y/N.. my name is Jongho.. welcome to the Aurora estate..” 

he walked alongside with you back into the castle but never said a word

sure, it was quiet.. but it wasn’t awkward

...

will you choose his story to find out more about him?

or will you continue the story to choose later?

[ masterlist + guidelines ]

[shera-dnd]

Cupid’s Kiss

Took me way longer than expected curse the whims of my mental health but the winner of this month’s 3k fic poll is finally here!

In which Carmen and Julia have a lovely totally not date in Paris while in search for two thieves who are certainly also not having a date

if you’d like a chance to get your fic ideas written by me, or just want to support me, you can feel free to donate to my ko-fi (rules over here)

and here is the ao3 link if you’d rather read it over there

also this fic was brought to you thanks to the help of @cantdrawshaw

NOW ON WITH THE FIC

Carmen Sandiego was the best at her job. She had bested trained assassins and killer robots, evaded the world’s most advanced detective agency, and destroyed the largest criminal organization. All in her early twenties.

Yet there was one task she was not prepared to face. One that escaped her skills, both martial and technical. One that she had failed to plan around. One that existed entirely beyond the range of her skills. A foe that she could not beat.

“Come on, Carm,” Zack called, “it can’t be that hard. If even Ivy could score with the girls, you can do it too.”

“Even Ivy?!” His sister replied, furious, “I’ve been with more girls than you, jackass.”

“Guys, guys!” Carmen interrupted, “you’re not helping.”

Mentioning her interest in spending more time with Julia Argent had been the biggest mistake she had made in weeks. This was supposed to be a peaceful day at their old home base, but now here she was.

Her friends were trying so hard to help her and she couldn’t even be mad at how poorly they were doing, because she knew she wouldn’t fare much better were the roles reversed.

“Sorry,” the siblings replied in unison.

“I appreciate the support,” she assured them, “but I’m not trying to ‘score’ with anyone. I just wanna get to know Jules a little better.”

“So this is not a date?” Ivy asked.

“No!” She replied, a little too quickly, “me and Jules aren’t like that. She’s more of a… professional acquaintance. A coworker.”

“Carm,” Zack replied, “we’re coworkers and you’ve never had a bouquet of roses delivered to my door.”

“It was just a thank you for handling all those precious artifacts for me,” she explained, “she’s a hard worker, she deserved it.”

“Sure,” Ivy nodded, unconvinced, “is that why you take time to chat over coffee with her every other caper?”

“Not every moment of our lives has to be a chase, you know?” she countered.

“Or why you keep finding excuses to dance with her?”

“It’s the easiest way to speak privately at those parties without garnering unwanted attention,” she recited as if from a textbook.

“Or why-”

“Cease this!” Shadowsan’s stern voice commanded and the siblings fell silent, “VILE has trained her to never cave under interrogation. You’ll have a better chance extracting information from a rock.”

Carmen smirked at them, proud to have her skills of deflection recognized.

“Do not be so full of yourself,” he added, making Carmen flinch just a bit, “I have taught those lessons for years and I know how to see through them.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she deflected, looking away.

He walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“I have seen the happiness Miss Argent brings you,” he said, “and I wish you the best of luck should you wish to pursue it.”

That meant a lot to Carmen. More than she could really express in words. But after she had been so thoroughly embarrassed by her friends, all she could really say was,

“Not you too.”

She looked up at the smirking siblings and braced herself...

“Hey, Red,” Player’s voice called, just in the nick of time.

“Player!” She jumped to attention and grabbed the laptop from their desk.

“Woah!” he exclaimed, “everything okay, Red?”

Zack and Ivy snickered as they sat by each side of her, so they could see Player.

“I think Carm would rather you sent her on a crazy chase instead of sitting here talking about her crush on Jules,” Ivy teased.

“Well it looks like you might get to do both,” Player replied, to Carmen’s dismay, “look who our cameras just found walking around Paris.”

The screen cut to a video feed of one of ACME’s hidden cameras over the streets of Paris. None of the people on camera seemed particularly conspicuous… until a particular pair walked on screen. Even without their costumes Carmen could always recognize them.

“Tigress and Paper Star,” she noted, “those two can’t be up to any good.”

“Looks like we’ll be going to Paris, eh Carm?” Ivy commented as she playfully nudged her side.

“City of love,” Zack added as he joined the nudging.

Carmen groaned. This was gonna be a rough mission.

Chase had grown a lot over the past few months. His deductive reasoning had vastly improved, his mood was far more amenable, and he actually stopped to listen to Julia nowadays. What hadn’t really improved with time was his overall clumsiness. 

“Miss Argent, I’ll be fine,” his insistence was interrupted by a powerful sneeze, “This is nothing.”

“Agent Devineaux, please,” she pleaded, “you’re in no state to continue this investigation.”

Devineaux had landed himself into his fair share of rivers over the months he had worked for ACME, and it seemed that so many cold baths had finally caught up to his health. Not that he would ever admit to that.

“Nonsense,” he claimed, “I’ll be back in perfect shape by the time we land in Paris.”

The sneeze that followed said otherwise.

“Chase, please,” she asked again, “rest. I can handle this.”

“I refuse to send my partner on a mission by herself.”

“As sweet as your concern is,” she countered, “I doubt I’ll be by myself for long.”

“Ah yes, I’m sure La Femme Rouge will make for good company,” he agreed and she was glad he did, but it sounded like there was more to his words. “Were you anyone else I’d worry this was all a ploy to have some private time with Miss Sandiego.”

She shot him an unamused glare.

“Apologies,” he said almost immediately.

“Accepted,” she sighed, “but I do not appreciate any insinuations as to the nature of me and Miss Sandiego’s relationship. We’re good friends, nothing more.”

“Of course,” he nodded, but Julia could tell he had more to say.

Truly his detective skills have improved considerably as of late. It had become harder and harder for Julia to pass her excitement for those missions as simple passion for her work. Not when she had abandoned that work as soon as it conflicted with her passion for… something else.

Chase was her friend and she knew he’d understand her feelings for Carmen. She was also sure he’d do his best to keep it a secret until she was confident enough to bring these things to light. She trusted him and she didn’t fear anything of the sorts.

What she did fear was Chase trying to wingman for her. Just the thought was enough to fill her with dread. Enough dread to keep her mouth shut about her feelings in the vicinity of Agent Devineaux. Even if it felt bad to hide this from her friend.

Thankfully the Chief chose that exact moment to call her to give her updated information on their targets. 

Now she could just shut off all these awkward feelings and focus on her work.

The Louvre had been an obvious target. The world’s most famous museum, home to thousands of priceless works of art, including the Mona Lisa itself. It was so obvious in fact that VILE had never bothered to consider it.

But VILE was gone now and its escaped students no longer had any faculty to dissuade them from this target.

That’s why Carmen now walked its halls, diligently searching for any security flaws that could be exploited and any sign of the two master thieves on the loose.

She still took time to appreciate the art of course. This was the most famous museum in the world for a reason and she wasn’t gonna let this unique opportunity escape her, even with the evil duo to watch for.

Carmen had her attention split in every possible direction, her mind juggling its many tasks as she wandered hall after hall. Until, that is, she found something that pulled her focus into one singular point.

A shorter woman in a nice fitted suit, standing before one of the statues.

“Jules,” she greeted as she walked up behind her.

“Miss Sandiego,” Julia smiled as she greeted her, utterly unsurprised. She must have been expecting her, “it’s nice to see you here.”

“It’s nice seeing you too,” she replied, “and we went over this before, Carmen is just fine.”

“Carmen,” she said, in a way that warmed Carmen’s heart, “I take it you’ve been enjoying your time in Paris.”

“Hard to go sightseeing while I’ve got work to do, but I’m making do,” she shrugged, “how about you? What caught your attention today?”

Julia turned back to the statue she had been appreciating until then, “Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.”

Carmen smirked, it was her time to shine.

“Sculpted by Antonio Canova, commissioned by welsh art-collector John Campbell in 1787,” she recited from memory, “its prime version was acquired by the Louvre in 1824 after the death of its previous owner, Joachim Murat.”

“Very impressive,” Julia praised, “I wish my students put half as much time as you do into their research.”

“I’m just good at memorizing trivia,” Carmen shrugged, trying to hide her pride at earning that praise, “I’m sure you know so much more than me on the subject.”

Boy was Carmen right about that. That seemed to have been the cue to send Julia into a long lecture about the neoclassical and romantic periods, as well as an analysis of the sculpture’s mythological origins and the many interpretations of the myth.

Many people would probably find this amount of information unspeakably tedious. But for Carmen, who was always hungry to learn about the world around her (and could never get tired of Jules speaking so enthusiastically,) it was exciting and endearing.

Carmen had realized then that she wanted nothing more than to spend her every waking hour listening to Julia talk on and on about anything she wanted, as long as it was passionate like this. Maybe someday soon.

Right now they had the whole rest of the Louvre to scout.

“Alright, alright, victory is yours,” Carmen playfully interrupted, “I guess you really are the biggest history nerd here.”

“Oh I’m sorry, it seems I got a bit carried away,” Julia cringed in shame. Damn it Sandiego! “I didn’t mean to bore you.”

“You couldn’t bore me if you tried,” Carmen assured her as she placed a hand on her arm, “I mean it. It’s nice hearing you talk.”

“Unfortunately I no longer teach,” she replied, “otherwise I would have given you an open invitation to any of my classes.”

“Well, how about you show me around the place?” she suggested, “we can call this a private lesson.”

At that Julia smiled again, “then I hope your memory is as good as you say it is, Carmen Sandiego, because I’ll be quizzing you at the end of the tour.”

They both laughed as Julia led them along to the next art piece in what was clearly a meticulously planned tour of the museum. Jules kept her teacher face on for all of her little lectures, but as they walked from room to room it felt so simple and casual.

For once Carmen felt like there was no rush and that she could just enjoy her time with someone she cared about. Maybe that was the moment. Her chance to make something out of this and let Julia know how she felt.

“Hey, Jules,” she called, walking a little closer to her.

“Yes?” Julia turned to look at her, she seemed surprised by the sudden closeness, but did not move away from her.

Carmen decided to take that as a good sign.

“This has been really nice, you know?” she tried, her usual confidence failing her, “just spending time with you like this.”

“I guess it was,” she replied with- Wait, was that a blush? No, that had to be wishful thinking.

“Yeah,” she agreed, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck, “and I just feel like-”

It was then that she was rudely reminded of what she was here to do.

“-you have got to be kidding me!”

“What?” Julia jumped a little in surprise.

“5 o’clock, behind you,” Carmen instructed.

She turned to look and there they were. Tall, blonde and scheming, and short, monochromatic and homicidal. The two thieves they were here to catch. Two thieves that had also noticed them.

They both smirked at them for a moment, before Paper Star whispered something into Tigress’s ear and they both bolted in separate directions.

“I go for Tigress, you go for Paper Star,” Carmen ordered as she bolted after her target.

Tigress was the fastest of the two, and the one most likely to pull dirty tricks on them. Unfortunately for her, Carmen was well-versed in all of those tricks, and of course had all her equipment on her. It’s amazing how much she could hide in just a red hoodie.

Soon Tigress had led the both of them out of the main building, ready to make a run for it and disappear into the city. Her mistake though, was going somewhere Carmen could use her grappling hook without worrying about damaging priceless works of art.

She swung after her, quickly closing the distance and knocking her down with a kick to the stomach. Tigress groaned as she forced herself back up, but instead of running again or getting ready to fight Carmen, she simply shouted.

“Come on!”

“Done running around?” Carmen taunted.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” she replied. Well that was unusual, “did you girlfriend catch Paper Star already?”

“What!?” She nearly jumped in surprise, “She’s not- we’re not- that doesn’t matter! You’re going to jail, for good this time.”

“For what?” she replied.

“Trying to steal from the Louvre!”

“Ah yes, because that’s the only reason we’d be enjoying some time together in the city of love,” she mocked and rolled her eyes.

Was she implying what she thought she was implying?

“Aww, babe,” a voice above them called. Paper Star leaned out of a nearby window and openly teased her partner in crime.

Babe?

“She caught you already?” she continued

Tigress groaned again, “not my fault you got easy mode.”

Paper Star jumped down and casually hooked her arms around Tigress’s neck.

“Well I’ve won,” she declared, “now where’s my prize?”

The last thing Carmen expected was for the two of them to kiss right there in front of her, and yet that was exactly what they did.

“I did not need to see that!” She complained.

“You were the one who interrupted our date!” Tigress complained back.

“Do you seriously want me to believe that you two were just spending the evening together in the Louvre as a date?”

“Was that not what you and your little agent were doing too?” Paper Star teased.

Carmen’s reflex was to say no, but… was that what they were doing? They had been walking around, sightseeing, talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company and- oh god Carmen almost confessed to her back there. 

This was her chance to have a proper date with Jules and it got ruined right at the finish line because of a mission that didn’t even exist in the first place!

She would have time to figure all of this out later, right now she had a job to do and two smug assholes to put in their place. Thankfully she already knew just how to do that.

“You’re right, it was very rude of me to interrupt your romantic evening,” Carmen raised her hands in surrender and backed away, “how about you two get back to what you were doing and I can arrest you both tomorrow?”

“What?” Tigress challenged, “no romantic chase over the rooftops of Paris?”

“I’m sure your girlfriend would love that,” Paper Star added.

“Actually I think Julia would rather just have you behind bars,” she shrugged.

Right on cue the ACME’s blue sleep gas finally reached the both of them, making them both drop on the spot. It was kinda cute how they were put to sleep still holding each other. Carmen almost felt bad for arresting them. Almost.

She pulled her grappling hook again and launched herself through the open window above, landing right next to a very proud Julia Argent.

“Two for one,” Carmen praised, “at this rate, pretty soon you won’t be needing my help anymore.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I had my partner down there to keep them in place,” Julia replied playfully. Carmen’s heart skipped a beat at the word ‘partner’, even though she knew she meant it as coworkers.

“Always happy to play distraction for you, Jules,” she played along.

Taking another step forward, Carmen felt her sense of balance completely leave her as she accidentally inhaled some sleep gas fumes. 

She tumbled forward, but before she hit the ground she felt Julia’s arms holding her up. It took her a second to shake away the effects of the gas, and another second to process the position they were in. How Julia was holding her like she had just dipped her in a dance.

For a moment they froze, staring into each other’s eyes as they held onto each other, until finally Julia helped her up again.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Julia apologized as she tried to fix up Carmen’s scuffed clothes.

“It’s fine,” Carmen assured her, “I should’ve been more careful around the sleep gas.”

Still Julia fussed over her, readjusting Carmen’s hoodie as she muttered a few more apologies. It took her a moment to notice just how close they were both standing now. The realization made her jump back a bit on reflex, but still she remained considerably close to Carmen.

She took a moment to collect herself before finally asking, “so uh- you had something you wanted to tell me?”

Carmen sighed in relief. Good to know those two hadn’t completely destroyed her chances.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed our time together today,” she admitted, “before we got interrupted that is.”

Julia gave her a genuine smile that made her heart stop, “I enjoyed our time too. It’s nice to be able to talk about these things outside of work.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, feeling her confidence return bit by bit, “wanna do that again sometime? Maybe over some coffee.”

Jules seemed surprised at first as she caught on to what Carmen meant, but that expression was quickly replaced by a playful smile.

“Carmen Sandiego,” she called, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Nothing escapes ACME’s best detective,” she joked, “I guess I am.”

“Then I’ll have to ask you to wait a little for my answer,” she asked.

Carmen opened her mouth to say that she was more than fine with waiting however long she needed, but she was frozen mid motion when Julia’s lips met her own. A quick, sweet little peck. 

“I want to finish our first before we plan the second.”

[writemekpop]

Breaking Point (Part 2) | Mark Lee & Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader and Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Summary: In the next few weeks, Jaehyun charms you in a way that Mark never did. Your body lusts for Jaehyun, but Mark won’t let go of your heart... It’s hard to resist the man that you’ve always loved. Who will you choose?  

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 3.4k

Read Part 1 here

Screwing your eyes shut so you won’t see Mark’s furious face, you unlock your apartment door and await a torrent of abuse. 

It never comes. 

You slowly open your eyes and see Mark, tight-lipped, standing in the centre of an apartment that looks completely different to the one you left just minutes earlier. 

Clothes are strewn wildly over the floor, and your precious coffee table lies pathetically on its back. The room starts to tilt around you, white clouding your vision. 

“What have you done?” you gasp.

“I said I was going, so I am,” Mark snaps. 

You look at Mark properly and notice that he’s put on his winter coat and trainers. When you see the suitcases stacked next to him, your heart drops. Mark is really going to leave you. 

“Wait… please… I…” You try to say something to stop him from leaving, but the words just don’t seem to come out. You fumble desperately for something to hold on to and hit the bare wall. Your numb lips can form one name only. 

“Jasmine?” 

And then you see her, hair stuck to her tear-soaked face, small feet tripping on the bare floor. Your feet propel you towards her, and you scoop her into your arms. 

Jasmine starts wailing. The sound makes Mark drop his bag and walk towards you, his hands outstretched to comfort your daughter. When you see him approaching, you scowl and cradle Jasmine away from him. Mark’s face crumples, just for a second, but it’s enough to make your heart ache.

Mark picks up his things and hurries through the door, face turned away from your gaze.

You wait till you hear the door slam.

You take Jasmine back to your bedroom, not ready to face an empty bed. Half of the items are gone from your room, and you feel like half of your heart is missing too.

---

A few days later, you’re lost in a gigantic supermarket, staring blankly at the shaving foam you no longer need to buy for Mark - when you see him.

Jaehyun is stacking shelves just metres away from you, his bronze curls and pink-frosted cheeks just as perfect as you remember. All you can think of, though, is how you blubbered idiotically all over his shoulder. You swerve and hurry in the opposite direction.

The sudden shift in direction sends Jasmine lurching forward in your trolley. Her chubby face starts to turn disturbingly red. Oh no. As you speed down the aisle, you pray with all your might that she’ll save her tears till you’re out of Jaehyun’s sight.

When you’re just a step away from safety, Jasmine erupts into wails. Her cries pierce the hushed supermarket like a siren, making your stomach lurch.

Lifting her out of the trolley, you hold her to your thumping heart, trying your best to soothe her before she attracts any more attention. You cringe into her soft hair, your breaths relaxing as Jasmine’s whimpers quieten.

When you finally muster the courage to lift your gaze, your eyes trail up a strong, green-vested chest, smooth neck and concerned caramel eyes. Jaehyun. Wow. Your memory does not do justice to how good looking this man is.

“Damn it,” you blurt out. You clamp your hand to your mouth, but it’s too late. Your words are out there. Cheeks hot and prickling, you stare at the food in your trolley and wait for the moment to end.  

Jaehyun’s melodious laugh tickles your ears. “You always know what to say, don’t you?” You look up and see his beautiful face stretched into a smile. Something golden breaks through the nervousness in your spine.

You realise you’re meant to say something. In your suddenly blank head, only one thought comes to mind.

“This is… Jasmine,” you mumble. You immediately regret it. The thought of other people holding your baby sends shivers creeping over your skin. You mentally cringe, begging Jaehyun to get bored and walk away as soon as possible.

“She’s beautiful,” Jaehyun murmurs, making no move to come nearer. Your hunched shoulders relax a little.

You don’t stay calm for long, though.

“Y/n… listen…” Jaehyun bursts out in a stutter, his peach skin turning a hot red. “I’ve been thinking about you since that night... You’re so sweet and pretty and honest and…” At the sight of your raised eyebrows, he seems to suddenly run out of fuel. “Do you maybe want to go out for… dinner?”

Your mind flashes to an image of you and Jaehyun kissing in the sunset, Jasmine playing happily nearby. But then the image warps, and all you can see is Mark and his suitcases and his cold, cold eyes. No. You cannot do the dating thing again.

Gritting your teeth, you attempt the rebuff. It’s a crying shame, though. He really is so handsome. “Um… I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Jaehyun…” Allowing your voice to trail off, you mentally beg him to interrupt you.

Jaehyun laughs, though it lacks his usual lustre. “Umm… I meant we should go out… as… n-neighbours! I do live in your building after all… But it’s fine if you don’t want to. How about you give me your number instead?”

You’re not an idiot, you know what this means. Your mind is telling you to swerve away while you can, before shots are fired and your daughter gets caught in the crossfire.

But as always, your heart won’t listen. A reckless glow blazes inside you at the prospect of accepting Jaehyun’s offer.

“Okay,” you say, allowing yourself a small smile.

It’s just as a friend – better, a neighbour. He said it so himself. Reciting these reassurances, you drive your doubts deep down, and let yourself stare into Jaehyun’s hazel grinning eyes.

---

Less than a day passes before Jaehyun calls you. “Hey, Y/n… can I ask you something?”

“Uh… okay,” you stutter, your pulse racing at all the things you wish Jaehyun might say, but hope that he doesn’t.

“This new kid’s play centre opened nearby… there’s a ball pool and everything. A friend from work asked me to come with her, and it turns out that her daughter is the same age as Jasmine. Would… you and Jasmine like to go with me?”

You bite your lip. Jaehyun’s words rush out to fill your silence. “I’m sure Jasmine will love it. And… it’s free so you don’t have worry about that… Also, it’s on a Friday so you won’t be at your new job-”

Jaehyun cuts himself off with a tiny gasp. Why does he make you smile so much? Something about him knowing your work schedule is putting flutters where they really shouldn’t be.

“Jaehyun, that sounds lovely,” you sigh, staring at the ceiling and trying in vain not to grin. You know it’s not officially a date, so there’s no reason for your stomach to be twisting itself into knots the way it is.

“It better be a damn good ball pool,” you tease.

Jaehyun’s deep laugh reverberates through the phone. “The best.”

---

Jasmine is throwing multicoloured plastic balls at a sweet little girl called Belle with pink-rimmed glasses. The two of them hit it off instantly.

You, however, are trying to ignore how close Jaehyun’s warm shoulder is to yours.

When Jaehyun’s work friend Irene excused herself to take a call, half of you was begging her not to leave you alone with Jaehyun, and the other half was praying she’d never return.

Jaehyun’s murmured voice in your ear makes you jump. “Jasmine is gorgeous, isn’t she?” It’s a completely neighbourly, un-romantic comment, but your stomach swoops anyway.

“Thank you for this – it was amazing of you,” you say honestly. With everything that’s going on, you never find the time to take Jasmine out for fun.

For what feels like the hundredth time, your eyes flit down to Jaehyun’s large hand, which rests on the bench just inches away from yours. This time, however, it seems to shift closer, and your pounding heart nearly drowns out the billowing wind.

“You’re amazing.” Jaehyun’s whispered words are nearly carried away by the breeze, but the sound of them heats you to the very core. A sickly-sweet shiver runs through you at Jaehyun’s closeness.

You glance at the girls, but they’re still wading through the ball pool, totally oblivious to the storm raging inside you.

Jaehyun shifts his hand slightly, and his fingertips brush yours with a tingling contact that sends stars firing up your arm.

You risk a glance at Jaehyun’s face, but see that his lustrous eyes are fixed on the ball pool, the only hint that anything’s out of the ordinary is a raspberry tinge on his ears.

Casually, almost carelessly, Jaehyun’s warm hand clasps yours, and you nearly gasp. It fits perfectly in yours, and is almost rough, the slightest rub of friction shooting delicious sparks through you.

You keep Jaehyun’s hand in yours, his fingers drawing small circles in your skin. You revel in the secret comfort.

Much too soon, Jasmine is tired, Irene returns, and your solitary cloud evaporates. On the way home, you’re forced to satisfy yourself with glances into Jaehyun’s mischievous eyes and daydreams of when you’ll get to hold his hand again…

---

A week later, after another one of your “not-dates”, Jasmine falls asleep in the car on the way home. Jaehyun swoops her into his arms and carries her all the way up to your apartment. You’re secretly grateful – you’ve been pulling so many double shifts at work that lately all your body does is ache.

You lean on the doorframe and watch Jaehyun gently settle your daughter down into her bed. An inexplicable array of emotions flood through you as you watch him.

You are suddenly filled with this pull - this desire to kiss Jaehyun. You know it’s not fair on him – you’ve made it clear that you only want to be friends, and you’re not even sure you’re over Mark… but still, you feel like you need your lips on him to breathe.

Jaehyun leaves Jasmine’s bedroom, his pale skin glowing in the blue light of the TV. You walk up to him and gently place your hands on his strong shoulders. Jaehyun’s breath catches in his throat as you run your fingers through his hair.

His dark eyes watch you silently, and you swear you can feel him trembling under your touch. But he doesn’t lean forward, doesn’t try to kiss you.

Your gaze drops to his plump lips, which are slightly parted. Against your better judgement, you stand on your tip toes and press your lips onto his. Jaehyun’s lips are softer than you could ever imagine, and you melt into the kiss.

His hands gently find your waist, and he feels so good that it takes all of your strength to pull away from him and take a step back. Jaehyun’s cheeks are flushed pink and all you can think about it kissing him again-

No. This is a mistake.

You can’t bring another man into your and Jasmine’s life like that. Not after Mark tore your heart out.

“I think you should go…” you mumble, looking at the ground.

Jaehyun stands motionless for a moment. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but shuts it abruptly. He gives your hand a light squeeze and walks out of your apartment.

---

The next evening, you’re scrolling through the photos you took with Jaehyun, when your phone rings.

A string of stern numbers flashes on your screen – no kissy faces, no nicknames, just digits. Your heart drops. You know that number. You know it because it’s the last one you deleted off your phone. You know it because it’s etched on your heart, pain leaking from the rough stitches.

Mark.

Screwing your eyes shut till the flood of nausea subsides, you press accept.

For a moment, there’s nothing but static.

Then, “Y/n?” And it’s him, it’s his looped accent, the scrawl of his handwriting in the notes he used to leave you on the bathroom mirror. The upsurge of grief is so strong it catches you off guard.

Mark continues talking even though you don’t respond, like he always did, never able to handle silence. “I-I- was worried about you, I stopped by at the convenience store and Mrs Oh said you lost your job, and she asked me why didn’t I know… I-I should’ve known, I shouldn’t have left you like that.”  

Your chest is caving in, already crushing the weak walls you built to protect yourself. But you force your barriers back up, remembering your pain.

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have left me,” you spit.

You imagine the pain flitting over his face, but you force yourself to continue.

“I tried to tell you I lost my job, but you wouldn’t listen. You never listen, Mark.” You remind yourself it’s over. “You never listened, Mark. My life was collapsing in on me and I couldn’t even take care of Jasmine, and all you cared about was your own problems. I’m sorry if you feel guilty now, but this is just too little, too late.”

Mark’s shock tinges the silence. Thrusting the ache deeper down your throat, you await his angry rebuttal.

Mark’s voice takes you by surprise; it’s soft and broken. “Why did you take Jasmine with you to work that day? I was at home. I could’ve looked after her.”

For a moment, you’re thrown off. You don’t know what rant you were expecting, but this isn’t it. You fumble for an excuse, not letting him have the upper hand.

“Well… you don’t have her things, I mean, what would you do in an emergency?” Shivers break over your skin, but you force yourself to be still. You’re not in the wrong here.

Mark continues, in that chillingly soft way you don’t recognise. “I know I’m not Jasmine’s father, but in these past two years we’ve been together, have I ever looked after Jasmine?” He stops you just as you’re about to interject. “No- not when you’re around, have I ever really taken care of her?”

And that’s when it hits you. You never have left her with Mark. Why have you never left her with Mark? Your mouth goes dry. Before you can spiral deeper into chaos, his voice fills the line again.

“I couldn’t enter your life because you wouldn’t let me. You don’t trust me, Y/n. You never have.”

You gulp, the dense air in the room suddenly clogging up your throat. Desperate to turn the argument back to where it should be, you strike out.

“I tried to let you in, Mark! But you didn’t care about anything except yourself.” Your voice cracks, tears rising furiously to the surface.

“Oh yeah? Well what about you?” The anger welling in Mark’s voice is almost a relief. “I know you think you’re looking out for our family, but you haven’t asked me how I am, you haven’t even touched me in months.”

“So that’s your excuse for walking out? That… that I care more about my own child than your ego? You think that gives you the right to tear my apartment apart and walk out on us without looking back?”

Through a screen of furious tears, you watch those blank digits and wait for a response.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” It’s less than a whisper.

Then there’s just the low crackle of static, and the faintest sound of jagged breaths. For the first time ever, Mark has nothing more to say.

You count dozens of Mark’s muffled, halting breaths before they gradually return to an even rhythm. By the time he speaks again, you’ve long lost count.

“Do you remember…” his throat crackles thickly. “Do you remember the day I was sure it wouldn’t rain, but the moment we got to the playground, it poured down so hard we had to hide under the slide for an hour?”

The memory of Mark tenderly drying your soaked hair, whispering jokes in your ear and interrupting your laughter with kisses grates at your chest. You don’t answer, though. You’re not sure if you even know how.

Mark continues, his tone slowly rising. “What about the time Jasmine said she was too old to sit on Santa’s lap, then cried for so long that we had to take her back and force the guy get dressed up again?”

“He said it was his pleasure,” you whisper, a smile creeping onto your face. You’ll never forget Jasmine’s joyful expression that freezing night.

“And… and what about that time when we all went up to Taeil’s lake house? When we snuck off in the evening to have sex in the attic and Taeil walked in on us?”

“I’ve never seen a grown man squeal like that!” you exclaim, remembering Taeil’s traumatised expression and Mark’s giggles whilst he shielded your naked body from view.  

You actually laugh out loud, heart swelling with how beautiful that trip was. That was the only real holiday you’d ever had. You fall back into a happy silence.

“I miss you, Y/n…” Mark murmurs. “Can I come over?” Your chest goes tight. You know you should say no, but what slips out is just the truth, the agonising truth.

“Yes.”

---

You settle on the couch waiting for Mark. Your face is damp with tears and every muscle in your body aches, but you’re smiling. And when you doze off, Mark’s blurred face fills your dreams.

All of a sudden, a pounding noise wakes you.

Your heart is thrumming, jolted alive in seconds. The knocking gets louder, more insistent and you roll off the couch, frantically searching for the light switch.

The clock reads 03:43am. What kept Mark so long?

You run to your door, panting, the floor like ice on your bare soles. As you reach the door, your mind floods with uncertainty. You know you miss Mark, and your body yearns for him again, but what are you getting yourself into?

Screwing a deep breath into your lungs, you release the chilled latch, pull open the door, and see…

Jaehyun.

Jaehyun!? He’s panting, the buttons on his white shirt all mismatched, a red tinge glowing on his cheeks even in the darkness. You suck in a gasp, the goose bumps that ripple over your body having nothing to do with the cold.

“What are you doing here? You can’t be here I-”

“I have something to tell you, and it can’t wait.” Jaehyun’s usually mellow eyes are glinting with a feverish brightness. Finding the strength to nod slowly, you walk further in and close the door behind him.

Strange shadows stretch across the darkened flat, the room pulsing with light each time a car soars by the window.

Jaehyun’s voice is less than a murmur, but it surges with energy. “I can’t ignore this anymore… what’s happened to me.” You hug your arms tight around your thin pyjama vest. He continues.

“I think about you all the time, Y/n. I can’t stop thinking about you. I know that you just got out of a relationship, and I know you’ve got Jasmine, but…I’m… I’m falling in love with you.”

A wave of emotion swells in your heart, rocking your shaking body. Light sweeps the room, illuminating Jaehyun’s quivering face as he steps closer.

The last thing you see is Jaehyun’s lips, and then his strong arms are wrapped around your thin vest, his mouth pressing against yours. Hot tears you don’t remember crying race down your cheeks, mingling with Jaehyun’s tears and tinging your wet kiss with salt.

Before you know what’s happening, you press your hips against Jaehyun’s, pulling him in tighter. Your skin is alive and buzzing, even through your sobs. Your heart is throbbing, but for once, it’s not with sadness.

Your lips release, and with your foreheads pressed together, you sob and shake and smile together until you can find the strength to let go. “So… what do you say?” Jaehyun murmurs.

You gaze into his watery chocolate eyes, and open your mouth, ready to pour your heart out of it. “I…” But then, Mark’s face burns into your mind, and you’re speechless. Mark is the man who had your heart, who’s had it for longer than you can remember. You clench your hands into fists and push Jaehyun back. Jaehyun’s face falls. Your heart lurching, you brush his soft cheek with your hand, murmuring, “Jaehyun… I… I love…”

A loud knock stops you in your tracks.

Mark is here.

Part 3 Coming Soon…

[beautiful-bau-beau]

Could you please write an imagine where the reader is a waitress that Reid has fallen in love with, and he's been trying to keep it a secret from the team but they find out about her and insist on coming to the restaurant with him to meet her and they tease him a lot about it but it's okay cause she's in love with him too and she finds the whole thing hilarious and adorable and they end up together.

Wax Wings

You can read it as a stand-alone, but it’s a part 2 to Couldn’t Help But Melt!

Spencer Reid x gender nuetral!reader

Contains: Fluff

Masterlist

-

After you had given him your number, he had tried his hardest not to call. He knew that if he blew you off you would most likely never speak to him again and therefore, be safe. You would be able to live a life without having to worry about his safety, growing angry at missed dates or appointments, fearing going out in public just in case you ran into a criminal. 

Yet, despite the hard facts, his heart had somehow taken control of his brain and caused him to throw caution to the wind. It had only been a day of resisting temptation before his fingers pressed your number into keypad of his flip phone, and he cursed at how easily he was willing to endanger your life. But as soon as his ears were met with your buttery voice, he knew he was a damn fool not to call you earlier. 

Your first date was one for the books. What you had interpreted as “going to the theatre” turned out to be a reenactment of the 19 century Phantasmagoria. 

“Oh. I thought when you meant theatre it was supposed to be a play of some sort.” You looked around the lobby of the theatre as Spencer handed the teller his tickets.

“Well, technically, it is. It’s a form of horror theatre that projects skeletons, demons, ghosts and other such creatures onto walls, with techniques that make the image easy to move around or to change size. The shows started under the guise of seances in the late 18th century, particularly in Germany but gained popularity in the 19th century all throughout Europe. Some shows even use certain smells, electric shock, fasting, or drugs to enhance the experience for the viewer.” He caught your questioning glance and pinked, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Not that this show practices any of those methods, you are completely safe, I swear.“ 

You started to laugh, covering your mouth with your hands as to not draw too much attention to yourself. Spencer watched you nervously, wondering if he had done something wrong.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked first if this would be something you’re interested in before purchasing the tickets but I was just…. overhasty, I guess, at your request to plan the date. Looking at it now… this seems as if it is not the most romantic gesture I could have planned.” His cheeks pinked and he started to panic. “We can go somewhere else. Anywhere else!” He offered, surprised at you shaking your head.

“Spencer, no one I’ve ever dated has ever brought me to anything quite like this. This seems so much fun! And hey, if I get scared you can do that cheesy thing where you wrap your arm around me, hmm?” You smiled, taking his hand in yours. “Lead the way!”

Spencer’s mouth twitched, heart thumping wildly in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you right where you stood, but there was time for that. He couldn’t rush. He squeezed your hand softly, tugging you inside the dark theatre to find your seats.

Eventually Spencer had given you that toe-curling, leg-popping, dreamy kiss that he had wanted to, and from then on, your relationship was like a dream. Of course there were the days where you had the late shift and he was out of town, sometimes for weeks at a time, but as soon as the two of you reunited it was as if he never left. 

You had been dating him for quite a few months now, but still had yet to say those three little words. There was the issue of not meeting any of his friends or coworkers, whom he spoke so much about. It made you wonder if he was ashamed of you, a lowly waitress dating a Supervisory Special Agent of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.  

Turns out it was quite the opposite.

-

“Suspect is on the move.” Prentiss whispered to her phone as she stalked the subject in question. “He doesn’t seem to be in any rush. Perhaps we’re mistaken?”

“Prentiss you know as well as I that our margin for error is quite small.” Hotchner replied, irritation lacing his tone. “Garcia, Morgan, you got eyes on the victim?”

“We have eyes.” Derek confirmed. He and Garcia were posing as a couple as to not arouse suspicion. 

“How about you, JJ? Rossi?" 

"We can see Emily, and the suspect.” Rossi replied adjusting his position in the car he and JJ were sitting in. 

“Great, I’m on my way to the rendezvous point. Meet you all there.” Hotchner commanded, effectively ending the call. 

“They’re pretty.” Garcia lowered the menu in front of her to meet Morgan’s eyes. “I am still so frustrated at the fact that Spencer kept the fact that he had a significant other hidden from his very best friends! What are we, just co-workers? The nerve!” She hissed, quieting once she saw you approach the table.

“Are we ready to order?” You plastered on your customer service smile, pen and paper ready to jot down their orders.

“Actually, we’re just waiting on more members of our party.” Morgan explained, craning his neck to eye the door. The pair had chosen a large table near the back of the restaurant to stay out of sight. “But I’ll take a water, please.”

“Me too!” Garcia chimed, trying to take in all the details of your appearance. You nodded, placing your notepad back in your apron.

“No problem! I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.” You swiftly turned on your heel, almost bumping in to a tall, broad man. You muttered an apology, heading back to the kitchen.

“Is that them?” Hotchner asked, pulling out a chair next to Morgan.

“It has to be, they’re the only person who’s working that doesn’t have a wedding ring on their finger. Unless Spencer proposed and didn’t tell us that as well!” Garcia fumed.

“Baby girl, I don’t think Spencer would be the type to propose without telling us.” Morgan tried to calm her but she clearly wasn’t having any of it.

“Who knows what he’s capable of hiding? What next, a secret love child?” She whispered, lifting her menu back up.

“JJ and Rossi decided to pass Prentiss, whose ETA is 7 minutes.” Hotchner ignored Garcia’s ramblings, picking up a menu for himself and surveying the options. “They should be here…” The automated doorbell chimed as the pair entered the diner. “Now.”

“Penelope,” JJ approached the group, taking a seat next to the woman and placing a comforting hand on her back. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve decided he’s uninvited for my Winter Solstice party. And Christmas. And New Years. If I find out he’s lying about anything else he will not be receiving an invitation for my Valentine’s Day Soiree, that’s for damn certain.”

“Don’t be too harsh on the kid.” Rossi chuckled, scanning the perimeter. “So who’s exactly our "victim” here?“ He lifted his fingers, finding the usage of police jargon in this case quite hilarious.

Morgan turned, eyes catching your figure. "2 o'clock. My 2 o'clock." 

"When you turn to face them we both have the same 2 o'clock.” JJ sighed, passing Rossi a menu.

“Good for Spencer.” He whistled, reaching for the booklet when his phone buzzed. “Prentiss says he’s walking through the door.” The chime went off again, prompting the team to quickly pick up their menus to cover their faces.

“Hey!” You greeted, giving him a swift peck on the cheek before he sat on one of the stools at the counter. “It’s a little busy tonight but I should be off in…15 minutes? Then we can head to dinner." 

"That’s alright, I’m in no hurry.” Spencer smiled, leaning his head on his fist, staring at you with that wistful gaze that made your heart melt.

“I’ll be back! If you want anything, let me know.” You ruffled his hair, grabbing a water jug from the counter and heading back to the crowded tables. 

Prentiss came in through the side entrance, not wanting Spencer to spot her accidentally. She shrugged off her coat and took the last empty chair, quickly hiding her face with a menu. 

“2 o'clock.” JJ nudged, tilting her chin in your direction. Prentiss took a moment to eye your figure before nodding to herself. Good for Spence.

“Garcia?” Prentiss mumbled.

“Uninvited from Winter Solstice, Christmas, New Years, and maybe Valentine’s Day.”

“Sound about right.” Prentiss assessed. “He’ll be paying for this for a long time." 

"Hello!” You chirped startling the team, filling Morgan’s and Garcia’s glasses with ice water. “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

While waiting for you, Spencer was lost in thought, wondering exactly how he was going to tell you that he loved you over dinner. Should it be before we order? During the meal? Perhaps he would tell you before you even reached the restaurant, in your apartment while he waited for you to get changed. He wanted it to be perfect.

Of course, he realized, as much as he wanted to tell you, he was aware that something was missing. You had introduced him to all your friends, and he had yet to do the same. He was unsure of how to tell the team after so long. They would be furious if he broke the news he was dating someone after months of being in a relationship, so he kept putting it off. This was only adding to the problem, but he was unsure of what to do. He figured he could tell Morgan soon enough, see how he reacted, and then tell each of the team individually.

Your cheerful voice brought him out of his stupor and he searched to find you. You wore a smile, but were clearly antsy to get off your shift. He was about to turn back to the counter when he observed that a man from the table you were at almost looked like Hotchner.

Wait a minute… that was Hotchner!

What are they doing here?! Spencer thought, leg starting to jiggle against the metal framework of the stool. He waited until after you poured their respective waters, took their orders, and collected their menus before heading over to the table.

“What are you guys doing here?” He hissed, resting his hands on the table.

“Excuse me sir, do we know you?” Prentiss asked, crossing her arms. “You almost look like a friend of ours, but that friend wouldn’t hide the fact that he’s in a relationship, now would he Garcia?”

“Well, our associate is so complicated… who knows what he’s capable of.” Penelope raised her brows, giving him a pointed glance.

“So you guys…”

“We already figured out Y/n is your partner. Morgan brought up your irregular behavior, and Garcia looked through your credit card reports to find that you spend an awful lot of time at this place. Prentiss informed us that you have started exiting the subway at a different stop than usual, not to mention, facial recognition scanners from a social media account one can assume is Y/n’s… it was not that hard to put all the pieces together.” Hotchner explained, taking a sip from his glass.

“When were you planning on telling us, young man?” Rossi asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Soon! I swear I just… I didn’t know how to tell you guys.” Spencer admitted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

“ ‘Hey JJ, I have a girlfriend,’ might have been a good place to start.” The blonde female pointed out, sighing.

“It’s not as simple as that I-”

“Spence?” You asked, approaching the table. “Do you uh, know these folks?”

“Oh, Y/n! Hi! Yeah I know these people…” Spencer smiled, clearly caught off guard.

“And how exactly do you know my lovely customers?” You gestured with your hand for him to explain.

“Y/n… um… these are… these are my friends. They were so excited to meet you, they rushed down here without telling me. I know you’ve been asking to meet them… so here they are.” Your expression instantly changed, a genuine smile overtaking your face. Garcia went to interject, when Rossi raised his hand. Play along.

“You work at the BAU with Spence? I’m so happy to meet you guys! I just- We were going to go to dinner… What if we just stayed here? I should be able to get off, and I won’t even have to change!” You gave Spencer a pleading look, and he nodded. At least he hadn’t made reservations… 

The rest of the evening was spent in laughter, you getting to talk to each member of the team and hear work stories that weren’t related to cases. After you had all parted ways, Spencer offered to walk you home.

“And that one story Aaron told about your "science-magic”? Priceless! You looked so embarrassed.“ You laughed into the night sky, breath forming cloudy puffs as you spoke. Your hands were intertwined, and Spencer felt his heart stutter.

"I’m so glad you finally introduced me to your friends! I thought… well, I was wondering why it was taking so long to get a proper introduction.” You mumbled.

“I’m sorry I just… I didn’t tell them we had started to date. At first, you were this secret I wanted to keep all to myself. But then weeks turned to months and then I found myself falling n love with you and it felt so wrong to just spring it on the team that I had met this amazing person and fell in love when they didn’t even realize I was dating yet.” He explained.

“You love me?” You asked, stopping where you stood.

“I uh, what?” He laughed, backpedaling his speech until he realized what you were referring to. “Oh um… I wanted to tell you tonight, over dinner. This is perhaps the opposite of how I wanted to tell you actually, I mean, there were going to be candles, and breadsticks- I know how much you like breadsticks and I- oomph!” Spencer’s ramblings were cut short when you pulled him into your embrace, kissing him softly.

“I love you too, Spencer.” You smiled as you pulled apart. “I love you too.”

—-

buzz buzz

“Hey baby girl what’s-”

“He told them he loved them!” Garcia’s rushed cries echoed throughout the receiver. “He told them he loved them and told me so he could invite them as his plus one to all the parties! Derek, Derek! This is huge.” Morgan softly chuckled on the other end of the line.

“Well… what do you know?”

[jayz4dayz]

number 3, meariri :))

I gotchu, Anon. Also, sorry not sorry, but there will be some angst. 

Prompt: “Please, don’t leave.” 

The Night You Left

Three years had passed since Mary Saotome last saw the love of her life. And those three years felt like a lifetime since they last embraced each other, heard each other’s voices, shared their final kiss. It was the last time she saw those breathtaking cerulean eyes that were full of tears. 

“I can’t do this,” Mary murmured. 

Ririka’s smile instantly turned downward. “What?”

“This. Us,” Mary sighed. “I almost lost you once to your family. I’m not gonna go through weeks and weeks thinking you were dead like I did. I just can’t go through that again.”

“What are you saying?” Ririka asked. Her voice was emotionless but her expression spoke a thousand words.

“I’m leaving,” Mary stated simply. “I’m… I’m sorry, Ririka.”

“No,” Ririka shook her head. “Can you think about this? Please? We can move to another country and start a new life together! Please, Mary, I-I love you.” 

For a brief moment, Mary reconsidered. But her mind was already set and believed this was the right decision. Ririka would not have to worry ever again about her family going after her for having an affair with a middle class woman. She would be safe. 

Mary fought back her tears and inhaled sharply. “If you love me, you need to understand that I’m doing this for both of our safety. Now please, don’t make this any harder for me than it already is.”

“I don’t care about my safety! When has any moment of my existence been safe? Just… Please, don’t leave,” Ririka pleaded.

“Kirari needs you,” Mary stated.

“I need you!” Ririka retorted, tears now freely flowing from her eyes.

Mary hated seeing Ririka cry, especially if she was the cause of it. But this was to be expected.

“No matter how much you deny it, I have no place in your world. The amount of times your family has almost killed the two of us is staggering,” Mary explained in a defeated tone. “You’re not safe when you’re with me. And I can’t keep you safe anymore like I promised.”

“So this is it then?” Ririka asked sadly. 

“I guess so,” Mary nodded.

Ririka sighed in defeat. “I can’t force you to stay even if I want to, but can you grant me one final thing?”

Mary nodded slowly. “Anything.”

“Kiss me one last time,” Ririka requested, fluttering her eyes shut. 

Three years had long since passed by since Mary vanished from Ririka Momobami’s life. For months she questioned whether or not it was the right decision, tried to find and date new people. But no one could ever replace Ririka. 

Some people fall in love and are able to fall out of it, moving on to the next person their heart comes across. Mary was not one of these people. She knew after three years of trying to move on that she had made a mistake. Ririka was the one for her and she left her. 

And the moment Mary bumped into Ririka completely by accident on a cold winter’s night in an empty train station, it was surreal. The possibilities of them coincidentally being in the right location at the right time was incredibly low, yet there they both stood.

The two stared at each other for a long moment in disbelief, each trying to convince themselves that what they were seeing wasn’t real. But the one thing they couldn’t deny was real were the tears that formed in both of their eyes.

“Ririka,” Mary choked out, her voice scratchy from the cold air.

“Mary,” Ririka spoke softly like it was a forbidden secret.

‘You’re as beautiful as you were on the night I lost you,’ Mary wanted to say but did not. 

“You… cut your hair,” Mary smiled weakly. 

Ririka blushed and lightly touched the ends of her semi-short platinum hair. “Yeah, I cut it a couple months ago. I thought I might change up my look since I have my own life now, separate from the clan. And I’m happy.” 

“That’s wonderful, Riri. I’m happy for you,” Mary said truthfully. 

A silence filled the atmosphere around them, but it was not awkward nor was it uncomfortable. The two stared at each other like it was the first time.

“I… I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently,” Ririka admitted, looking away shyly. “I’ve missed you.”

Mary grieved for months after leaving her. She missed her touch, the way she would pout when she wanted attention, her adorable laugh whenever Mary did something amusing, the way her lips perfectly fit against her own, their tangled naked bodies holding onto each other after they made love. She missed everything about Ririka; she missed what they had together. 

“I’ve missed you too. So damn much,” Mary cried, holding back a sob. “I… I never should have left. I was a coward. I promised you I would stand by your side no matter what and I broke that promise. I hurt you. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ririka.”

Ririka gave a slight smile, stepping closer to her until she was close enough to reach out and touch the blonde. “I understand. It’s in the past now. It’s okay, Mary.”

“No, it’s not okay. You must be furious with me for randomly showing up after all this time,” Mary grimaced, feeling hot tears pour down her face. “I left the woman I loved more than anything in this world. I left you and I never should. And I-I still love you. I never stopped loving you and I never will, Ririka.”

Ririka wrapped the shorter girl in a tight hug, feeling her own tears start to fall. Mary flinched from the unexpected contact, but held onto the platinum haired girl like her life depended on it. And it was comforting. After months of sleeping alone in a cold bed, refusing to be touched by anyone in a romantic or sexual manner. Everyone else touch felt wrong and made Mary recoil every time. But the warmth that spread throughout the blonde by the touch Ririka provided was comforting and soothing. She missed it dearly.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I never blamed you for leaving. I was never angry,” Ririka murmured. “I never stopped loving you either. Time or distance will never change that."

Mary broke free from her embrace, smiling fondly at her. “I’ve come to learn that too.”

“I hate to change the subject, but I’m dying to know what you’re doing at the train station at midnight,” Ririka pointed out. 

Mary laughed. “The same to you, Riri. Why are you here so late?”

“I am meeting Kirari and Sayaka in Osaka tomorrow at six in the morning. It’s a bit of a journey to get there,” Ririka explained. “And you?”

“Oh uh, I’m meeting Yumeko and Itsuki in Tokyo. It’s far from where we’re at right now, as you can tell,” Mary explained plainly.

“It seems we’re going in the opposite directions,” Ririka said, a hint of sadness.

“Maybe we don’t have to,” Mary suggested softly. 

Ririka frowned. “I don’t know, Mary. Kirari is expecting me.”

“Please,” Mary pleaded. “Don’t go.”

She knew it was selfish to want Ririka to stay with her, but she refused to let her go again. She would be a fool to make the same mistake twice.

“I won’t,” Ririka confirmed, reaching up to caress Mary’s cheek. “The night you left, I realized I would never be able to let you go. And you expect me to be able to now?”

Mary smiled and laughed before she placed her lips onto Ririka’s, spilling every ounce of built up emotion she had been feeling for the past three years. Ririka was more than eager to reappreciate, kissing her back with just as much fervor. They both had too much emotion that was too much for words to describe alone. And so, the two had an intimate conversation through their lips that explained how they felt perfectly. 

Mary broke the kiss, remembering she still needed to breathe. Golden stared into cerulean lovingly. “I’m never leaving again. That is, if you’ll have me.”

Ririka grinned widely, slowly nodding. “Always.”

[alj4890]

And Then I Left You

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) in a "what if" version to the RCD/TRR fan fic And Then I Met You Series

A/N This was one chapter that I couldn’t find a way to divide up. It’s a tad long, but let’s just say that what we have been waiting on finally happens.

@krsnlove @my-heart-beats-for-ya @aworldoffandoms @flyawayboo​  @trappedinfanfiction @everythingmarvelsherlockspn  @sophxwithers @kate-mckenzie @twinkleallnight

Masterlist

Chapter 6 The Chase is On

Cordonia, The Royal Palace...

Glancing at his door, Drake set his coffee cup down to see who was knocking in a persistent and irritating manner.

"Hey. Where'd you disappear to last night?"

"What were you doing with Thomas Hunt?!" Amanda stormed into his chambers and shut the door. "I thought you were my friend!"

Drake rolled his eyes. "I see you're in your usual, reasonable state of mind."

"Just answer me this." She took a deep breath to try to remain calm. "Are you on my side?"

"Come on, Amanda." He muttered. "Of course I am. That's why Hunt is--"

"I don't want to hear anything about him!" She snapped. "I don't care why Thomas is here." Her eyes narrowed on Drake. "I simply want to know that I can still depend on you to help me if I need it."

He folded his arms. "I'm trying to help. If you would just--"

"That's all I needed to hear." She twirled around and quickly left his room.

Dropping his head back, Drake groaned in frustration. He then searched for his phone to send a group text to Thomas, Liam, and Maxwell.

Drake: A's been by showing that she's just as stubborn as before.

Liam: I will have a talk with her. She can't ignore me during this social season.

Maxwell: 😬 Is this the same A we grew up with? She ALWAYS finds a way to wiggle out of stuff she doesn't really want to face.

Thomas: I think my only chance is to irritate her into finally speaking to me.

Drake: Maybe you can corner her at the derby.

***************

The Derby...

"Now remember, you have to remain pleasant whenever they bring Thomas up." Nadia whispered.

Amanda grit her teeth. "I can fake it for a few minutes."

"That a girl." Olivia encouraged her as she stepped up to talk to the reporters.

"Your grace!" Ana smiled warmly. "Welcome home."

Amanda's answering smile was more natural at that opening to her interview. 

"Thank you." Her eyes lifted to the crowd of people milling about the track. "I didn't realize how much I missed Cordonia until I came back after such a long absence."

"It must have been a surprise to come home and discover that you are to take part as one of Prince Liam's suitors."

"Quite." Amanda shrugged with a smile. "I know though that his royal highness will choose a lady that will make all of Cordonia proud."

"How do you rate your chances?" Ana continued. "Given your closeness over the years, do you think you have a better one than the other suitors?"

"Not at all." Amanda gripped her hands together. "I believe that Prince Liam will give every lady a fair chance to see if they are meant to be his future queen."

Ana's attention drifted over Amanda's shoulder. "There you are!" She motioned for Thomas to come forward. "Perfect timing. I was about to ask how things are going with The Earl's Undoing."

The duchess stiffened when he stepped up next to her and set his arm around her waist.

"Everything is moving along as expected. Our only hiccup is Ryan's need to extend a promotional tour of his last film." Thomas turned toward Amanda. "Lucky for me, her grace has been so understanding."

Amanda felt her cheeks heat up with color. "I'm certain anyone would understand a need to wait on one of their leading actors."

"You'd be surprised how many refuse to hear the real reasons behind delays."

Against her better judgement she lifted her eyes to his.

An apologetic smile formed on his lips. He kept his gaze on her face as he spoke. "I intend on making it up to her grace once everything is ready to begin."

Amanda's eyes narrowed more in confusion than anger. She didn't know what to think about that or any of what he was hinting at. Her curiosity was starting to override her furious pride.

"Does this mean you might have to push back its release date?" Ana asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"Possibly. We will know more once filming begins." He explained.

"Speaking of dates, I noticed that both you and Simone Carmichael just so happen to be here at the same time." Ana grinned at him. "Are you spending these next few weeks with her?"

Thomas had to grip down hard on Amanda's waist to keep her from walking off.

She had lowered her head so that her large sun hat hid her annoyance. He still caught the brief twist of disgust on her lips.

"No. I had no idea Simone was coming here." He bit down on his tongue when he felt Amanda pinch his hand. "From what I gathered, she came here strictly to do a photoshoot for you."

Ana chuckled. "Well, that and I might have hoped once I knew you were here too to help romance along."

"Forgive me." Amanda said sweetly. "But I must join the other suitors."

"There isn't anything to help along with Simone." Thomas gripped a handful of material at the back of Amanda's dress to keep her in place. "I wish her nothing but luck in her career and personal endeavors."

Ana didn't bother to hide her disappointment. Her eyes then lit up when she focused once more on Amanda. "Your grace? You know Thomas well. Which of his recent dates do you think was the most successful?"

Amanda could feel Thomas stiffening next to her. One quick peek revealed his frown firming while he waited to hear how she would respond.

Unable to believe her luck, or rather lack thereof when it came to her own personal romances, a laugh escaped her lips.

Thomas nearly cringed from the sharp, bitter edge he and those who knew her well could only detect in what was usually a warm, carefree sound.

"I wouldn't dare to presume Thomas's heart." She made a show of checking her watch. "I really must be on my way."

"Thank you, your grace." Ana added. "And Thomas," she winked at him, "I'll be watching you and those who visit Cordonia."

"Let. Go. Of. Me." Amanda hissed once they were well past the press.

"I need to speak to you." He insisted.

"You're ruining my dress!" She whispered harshly. "If you let go of me then I will listen."

She couldn't believe he actually believed her lie. Once his fingers eased, she made a mad dash through an opening in the crowd.

"Amanda!" He tried to keep an eye on her as he was forced to pause here and there to keep from mowing people down in his pursuit.

The last glimpse he caught was seeing his escaped lady ducking into the suitors' tent.

*******************

"Riley got into Liam's tent safely." Maxwell whispered. "Operation Big Apple is officially a go."

Nadia giggled. "Good. I hope we can find them a lot of special alone time. It's going to seem so weird to Riley being basically courted like a contestant on a reality show." Her nose wrinkled. "It's a shame they never got to go on real dates before all this."

"It will work out." Maxwell told her. "We'll--" he saw the one who really needed help and waved. "Thomas! Up here!"

"What are you doing?" Nadia didn't bother to whisper. "He's the enemy of our friend!"

"Babe, he's so not the enemy." Maxwell grinned at her anger mounting. "If you would hear him out, you'd know just how bad he has it for our friend."

Nadia hmphed as she watched the still an enemy in her eyes climb the stairs of the section they were seated in.

"How'd it go?" Maxwell asked.

"I was making some headway until Ana brought up Simone being here." Thomas sat down next to them. "Then she escaped before I could get a word of explanation out."

Nadia's delighted smile held a hint of evil.

Maxwell shook his head in exasperation over the two women he knew and loved. "Will you tell my wife," he whispered, "without mentioning a certain someone's name, why you went on those dates?"

Thomas eyed him then frowned at Nadia. He tried not to think too much about how he must be desperate to continually open up to these people who were practically strangers. He had a hard enough time doing so with his own friends. Accepting help from Amanda's had to mean that even he was unaware how much he must love this woman who refused to be near him. 

"I wanted to make certain it was her I wanted instead of just someone."

Nadia's brow furrowed. "You didn't know?"

"I did to some extent. But before I took a chance on ruining our friendship, I wanted to make certain."

"And every one of his dates was a bust." Maxwell added. "Nobody could measure up to our Aman--her."

Nadia looked back and forth between the two. "Oh. Then why did you come early?" 

 Thomas glanced around to make certain no one was listening. "I was asked by someone how I felt about her."

"Key component of operation Big Apple." Maxwell added.

Thomas merely quirked an eyebrow at that cryptic statement before leaning closer. "I told him I am in love with her and he planned on me being here for all this," he gestured around, "so that I could be with her in secret." His eyes flickered to the suitors' tent . "But she won't allow me to tell her how in love with her I am."

Nadia remained silent after his heartfelt confession. Maxwell shared a concerned glance with Thomas at his wife’s unusual reaction to something that would normally make her squeal with fluffy feelings.

"That is the most romantic thing I've ever heard!" Nadia clapped her hands over her mouth.

"And we have one more for team Thomas." Maxwell announced with glee.

******************

The Royal Palace grounds...

Thomas stood off to the side with Drake, Maxwell, and Nadia as the ladies of the court lined up to greet the queen. He scanned the overly eager smiles and excited whispers of many of the young women hoping to catch Liam's eye. A slight smirk formed as he noticed just how uninterested Amanda seemed with it all.

Her facial expression was one of calm neutrality. She didn't gush when Liam walked by, merely curtsied and bowed her head. A genuine smile flashed across her lips when he paused to say hello. Other than that, she might as well have been standing in line for some mundane task.

Once the queen and Liam chose their partners for the croquet game, she and the remaining ladies were forced to follow along and clap politely for them. Thomas caught a few of her eye rolls each time someone complimented the prince on his amazing form with the use of a croquet mallet.

"Things must have gone well in the tent." Nadia whispered. "Look how happy Liam and Riley are together."

"I knew it would." Maxwell boasted. He then noticed Amanda trying to peek over towards them instead of focusing on the game.

Her hat helped shade her eyes as she ever so often turned to look at Thomas. The slight tightening along her lips was the only indication that she didn't understand why those closest to her were hanging out with him.

Thomas noticed and met her gaze with his own questioning glance. Her body stiffened in response before turning her attention back to a game she had always found immensely boring.

"Wow." Drake whispered. "I'm impressed. I've never known a simple look could irritate her that much."

"Will there be mingling anytime soon?" Thomas asked.

"Once all the fawning is done, we'll be able to eat and mingle." Maxwell explained.

"Good." Nadia placed a hand on her stomach when it gurgled. "I hope it's soon."

It wasn't long before Liam and Riley won, causing many to surround him to offer their congratulations.

Drake snorted. "With how they're acting you'd think he just became some conquering hero of a war or something."

Thomas had lost sight of Amanda when the crowd of ladies surged. As Liam politely excused himself, while holding fast to Riley's hand, he managed to get through and find an empty table.

"We better join him before he's surrounded again." Maxwell tugged Nadia along with him.

"You coming?" Drake asked when he noticed Thomas's hesitation.

"I was trying to see where Amanda went." His eyebrows lifted when he noticed her talking to the queen and pointing directly at him.

Her smile was a bit unnerving with the smug triumphant he could so easily see.

Much to his surprise, she began to walk over with the queen just a step ahead of her.

"Your majesty," she said sweetly, "allow me to introduce Mr. Thomas Hunt."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hunt." Regina greeted him. "Her grace tells me you have quite the interest in Cordonian history."

Thomas blinked. The only history he knew had been interested in was whatever took place in  Amanda’s book. "Er, yes. After reading Amanda's story, I have wanted to see the fields and buildings where it all took place."

Regina smiled in approval. "Then I am most happy to be your first guide."

"My first what?" His brow furrowed.

Amanda laughed softly. "You are a lucky man, Thomas." Her eyes sparkled with imminent victory. "Queen Regina knows every historical happening that occurred on the palace grounds."

"You flatter me, your grace." Regina fondly replied. "Now go and participate with Liam and the others. I will make sure your Mr. Hunt is taken care of."

"You don't need to--"

Amanda curtsied and interrupted his attempt to get out of this. "You are too kind, mam." Her smile grew at Thomas's shock. "And don't believe a word Mr. Hunt says about not wanting this tour. He is afraid of irritating people with his need for extensive detail."

His eyes narrowed at her success with getting rid of him for the remainder of the afternoon. Little did she know that he was not going to go down without a fight.

"Perhaps her grace can join us, since it is her book that sparked this interest."

"She can once the tea is over." Regina took his arm. "Now then, let us start over there with the apple trees that Queen Odette planted for each child she bore."

Thomas frowned at Amanda's unabashed glee as he was forced into this. He knew he should be pleased that she couldn't chance being within the same area as him, but he had intended for today to be the end of her not listening.

He was ready to do whatever was needed to finally tell her what was in his heart. If need be, he would sneak into her chambers and force the issue. Yet...with her anger, she might use that as a way to make him leave her country.

Two hours into the tour, his prayer for escape was answered. Regina was summoned by the king for some matter or another. She quickly gave her apologies and insisted he go enjoy himself at the tea party.

"And do give my apologies to Lady Amanda." She said as she paused at the door. "Let her I know she can tell you even more stories from the past than I can."

"Thank you." Thomas bowed his head. "I intend on claiming her attention as soon as I find her."

***************

Amanda had known as soon as Thomas disappeared with the queen that he would find a way back to the party. There really was only one option she had if she intended to not be confronted once again with whatever he felt the need to talk about.

But how could she sneak away without anyone noticing?

She grimaced at the ruby red dress she had on. It practically screamed designer and had drawn a lot of attention. With the floppy sun hat and heels, she couldn't have been less prepared to escape into the capital. She set her barely touched teacup down and began to walk the perimeter while trying to think of a plan.

"What are you doing?" Drake asked when she walked past him.

"Hmm?" She paused, preparing to glare at him. Then it hit her. If there was one person in the world who knew a way to get out without being seen, it was Drake. "Remember our conversation this morning?"

He eyed her warily. "Yeah?"

"Then let's get out of here." She whispered.

"Why?" He nodded toward the banquet being set up. "You love those pitiful excuses they call sandwiches."

"I'd rather have a cheeseburger."

His eyebrows lifted. "Really?"

"I missed breakfast." She whispered. Which was true since she was afraid of bumping into Thomas in the palace dining room. "This tea isn't going to hold me over until dinner."

Drake hesitated. A big part of him was ready to fall into her plan for his own sake. If he heard one more lady giggle while saying how strong Liam must be to swing his mallet, he would end up saying some kind of snide remark. He hated seeing his best friend be showered with phony attention.

But then again, he had promised to help Thomas with talking to Amanda. Shouldn't he find a way to keep her here so that they could finally put an end to her stubborn refusal? Of course, he could use the time alone with her to help ease the way for Thomas.

"After we eat," Amanda added, hoping to tempt him further, "we could find a place to play a couple of games of pool." She held her purse up. "I'll even buy the first two rounds of drinks."

She really is desperate for a break, he thought.

"Deal." He nodded toward a gap in the hedges. "When I say go, you head straight through there. I'll meet you down the hill in a few minutes."

She beamed at him before doing as she was told. As she hurried down the hill, she couldn't help but chuckle at her finding yet another way to avoid Thomas. Now she wouldn't have to worry about any confrontations or declarations or anything she didn't wish to hear.

This day was turning out better than she thought.

***********************

At a dive bar...

After grabbing a burger at some little hole in the wall place, the two had searched for a bar that they wouldn't be bothered at. The one they decided on was barely lit inside with an occasional neon side here and there. The few patrons sitting at the bar seemed the type to mind their own business and expected others to do the same.

"You sure about this place?" Drake asked. He felt a little uneasy at the type of patrons here.

"It's a bar without nobles or press." She pointed out. "This is exactly what we need." 

The two wandered over to an empty pool table. Drake handed Amanda a pool cue then proceeded to rack the balls.

"You going to finally tell me why we left the tea party so quickly or not?"

Amanda shook her head. "How about a drink?"

He mentally shook his head as she ordered for them both. She was getting worse. Before news of Thomas’s dates had aired, Amanda had been more willing to talk about him.

"Are you going to break or what?" She asked.

Drake leaned down and struck the cue ball.

Two solids went in.

"Guess I'm stripes." She muttered.

Eyeing the other patrons, Drake sidled up next to her. "Maybe we should go somewhere else."

"Why?"

"Because you are in a fancy dress!" He hissed. "A dress that looks like you stepped out of one of those old paintings in the palace with ladies sitting in the gardens or something.

Amanda wrinkled her nose. "I don't think anyone here cares about that."

"Why did you decide to leave the tea party?" He demanded.

She leaned down to line up her shot. "Because I didn't want to stay."

Drake's head dropped forward in frustration. "Why?"

"You know why!" She twirled around to face him causing her skirt to flare out in an elegant spin. "I did not want to be cornered by Thomas again and forced to listen to him talk about his love life!"

"Amanda, do you know why Thomas is here? Alone?"

"I don't." She stuck her nose up in the air. "And I don't want to. What he does is none of my business." She took another shot. "And I intend for us to be nothing but workplace associates."

"And people call me stubborn." Drake grumbled. "Liam invited him here. If you would just--"

"Hey!"

The two turned toward a large, bald, burly man. The black leather vest he wore had on it what appeared to be a bleeding skull and other lovely items of death.

"This guy bothering you?"

Amanda relaxed. "No. But thank you for coming to check on me." She gestured toward Drake. "He is actually a friend of mine."

Casting a warning glare towards Drake, the intimidating man then faced Amanda. "I know you."

She highly doubted it. "You do? Forgive me, but I can't remember our meeting before--"

"You wrote that book." He stroked his beard while staring at her. "What is it called?"

Drake's eyes widened. "You read The Earl's Undoing?"

"That's it!" He snapped toward his other companions.

Four more heavily muscled bound men walked over and was introduced to the duchess.

Drake mentally groaned at the bodily harm that he knew was about to befall him.

Amanda was delighted if he was to go by how bright her smile was directed at the men she was introduced to.

"Did you really like it?" She asked. "I was worried that many wouldn't give it a chance being about people who aren't well known."

"We did." The one introduced as Breaker replied. "My sister has talked of nothing but your book since it came out."

The first one, who said he was known as Crow, spoke up again. "My mom loves it." He smiled, revealing a few missing teeth. "You mind if I call her and have her come here to meet you? She doesn't live far."

Drake cleared his throat while edging around the bikers surrounding Amanda. "We should probably head out. We--"

"Of course I don't mind." She waived off Drake shaking his head. "We can stay another hour or so if you want to call her." She smiled warmly up at Breaker. "If you think your sister might want to also, I would be more than happy to meet her too."

The men excused themselves, yelling to the bartender to give her whatever she wanted and to put it on their tab, and stepped outside to make their calls.

"Okay. We're leaving." Drake whispered. "There's a back door over by the restrooms." He nodded toward the other side of the bar. "I'll go first and--"

"But why?" Amanda sat down on a barstool. "I can't leave with their family members coming here."

"Did you not notice the fresh blood on that one guy's shirt? All the scars? The weapons?" Drake ran an agitated hand through his hair. "These aren't the kind of men you sit down and talk regency romances with!"

"But they approached me about that very thing." She whispered back. "If you want to go on back to the palace, I'll be fine--"

Drake held his hand up to make her stop talking. "I don't know why we're arguing about this. We're--"

"Arguing about what?" Crow asked.

"You sure this guy ain't bugging you?" The shorter of the five asked from over Drake's shoulder.

"I'm sure." She replied with a laugh. "Thank you though, Gearhead." She tilted her head towards Drake. "He's more like a brother to me and likes to try and be an older one at that."

The bikers looked on Drake with some respect.

"Hard enough making a sister do anything, much less one that isn't related." Breaker grumbled.

He slapped Drake on the back. "You're a good man for looking out for her."

"Thanks." Drake managed to say once he was sure no bones were broken.

While the bikers sat down next to Amanda to ask her more about her book, Drake sent a quick text to Thomas.

He knew if there was any chance of getting out of here safely, he would need some help.

******************

An hour later...

Thomas's entrance went by unnoticed.

The only sound in the bar was Amanda, reading her novel before a small crowd of some of the roughest individuals he had ever seen.

They were captivated as she added emotion to the dialogue.

After ordering a drink, he found a seat towards the back that allowed him a perfect view of her.

She gave her thanks as one of the bikers poured her another cup of tea when her voice cracked. She then continued with the passage that held her audience on the edge of their seats.

Elizabeth rode as if the very hounds of hell were nipping at her heels. Every moment that she felt slipping away meant that she might be too late.

"Eliza!" Marija called out. "Turn north!" She whipped her horse to catch up. "It is a shortcut to the abbey."

The two ladies continued down the moonlit road, each praying for the man they loved.

Reginald and Arthur were already in the field that would decide once and for all who would be with Elizabeth.

Arthur removed his great coat followed by his jacket, cravat, and vest. "Here." He handed them to his brother. "I'll fence better being unencumbered."

Reginald did the same. He then tested his rapier, moving it faster than the eye could follow.

"Brother, I beg of you, stop and consider what you're doing," Carlisle spoke in a low tone. "Please, don't do this. Sir Reginald has never been bested. You must--"

"I have to." Arthur snapped. He placed a hand on the younger man' shoulder. "When you lose your heart to someone one day, you will understand."

"This isn't love." His brother insisted. "This has been an obsession, one you refuse to let go."

"Some would say that the two are one in the same." Arthur rolled his wrist, testing the weight of his own rapier. "Now, forgive me, but I must fight for my chance with Elizabeth."

One noble who had journeyed with others to this spot to make certain honor was upheld in the duel motioned the two combatants to the center.

He dropped a handkerchief, causing the two to rush each other. Their swords let out a screech of metal as they slid over each other.

Arthur barely deflected Reginald's strikes.

He really is the best swordsman in Cordonia, he thought.

"Oh!" Crow's mom gasped. "This is my favorite part, your grace."

Thomas knew it was his too. He found himself leaning forward as Amanda continued after thanking the elderly woman dressed from head to toe in leather.

The two fenced, each with a determined fury to be the man to have Elizabeth all for himself.

They ended up face to face during a violent block.

"Elizabeth loves me." Arthur snarled. "She has been mine far longer than yours."

"That might well be so." Reginald spat. "But not only am I in love with her, I'm the only man she has ever been betrothed to. She is my intended. The Queen was the one to settle that Elizabeth will belong to no other but me." His eyes narrowed with the hatred he felt towards this man who dared to try and steal her away. "She is mine by right! Not yours!"

They pushed away and began to strike with more fury.

Each burned with a desire to permanently eliminate the one who stood between him and a lifetime of happiness.

The one that made them doubt that they held Elizabeth's heart.

Breaker's sister sniffed while wiping her tears. "Here it comes." She whispered.

Amanda yelled out Elizabeth's words.

"WAIT! PLEASE!"

The two noble ladies on horseback rode directly onto the field.

Before either could react to seeing the very one they were fighting over,  Elizabeth slid out of her side saddle and ran to Arthur.

The bartender cursed out loud. "Elizabeth chose that bastard over Reginald?"

"Hush!" Breaker's mother told him. "Listen."

"Elizabeth." Reginald whispered, as he saw her take Arthur's hand and yank him further down field.

He gripped his sword. Anger fueled his body as he was forced to see the woman he loved choose another. He took a step forward to finish this duel and destroy Arthur once and for all. Yet something made him halt and watch his Elizabeth talk with the man she had met first.

Crestfallen and heartbroken, Reginald took one last look at the lady who had once been his then turned to collect his things.

I must leave, he thought to himself. Elizabeth deserves to be with the man she loves. I can't take that away from her when all I've ever wanted was for her to be happy.

He handed his rapier to his man servant. He then began to put his coat back on.

He was startled when a pair of arms embraced him from behind.

Turning abruptly he noticed a somber looking Arthur speaking to his brother and Lady Marija.

Elizabeth lifted her eyes to Reginald's face, taking in every feature she adored.

"Eliza," Reginald stepped back and took her hands. His eyes dropped to the ground as he spoke, unable to see her disapproval for his rash actions, "forgive me for trying to take the one you--" he noticed her damp skirt and silk dance slippers.

A surprised yelp escaped her lips when he picked her up and carried her over to a moss covered boulder. Her concern mounted when he knelt before her.

"Reginald, I--" her breath caught as he began to use his discarded cravat to tenderly dry her feet.

"You're going to catch a chill or worse if you remain out too much longer." He took a deep breath to calm his renewed anger over her having such a man to look after her. "Arthur should see you home at once."

Elizabeth cupped his cheek urging him gently to look at her.

"Why would I allow Arthur to take me home when I would much rather be with the man I am in love with?"

Reginald lifted his eyes to hers. "Eliza? Do you mean--" 

"I love you, Reginald." She scooted off the boulder and into his arms. "You are the only man I can ever see myself married to." 

Even in the early blush of dawn, he noticed her cheeks coloring from her admission. As if desperate to prove her heart was his, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close as he responded to her sweet touch. When they broke apart to catch their breaths, their smiles were nearly identical with their joy. 

"Eliza,” Reginald pressed her hand to his heart, "my love, my very being is and shall always be yours."

Amanda shut the well worn copy she had been given to read an exert from, thanking the group when they applauded.

She stepped off the stage and began to sign the copies they had brought.

"My lady," one of the bikers placed his hand on her shoulder. "You aren't like those nobles we always read about."

"Thank you, Ink." She patted his heavily tattooed arm. "I promise there are more out there, like Prince Liam, who care and want to listen to the people."

"Your grace," Crow's mom pulled her into a brief hug. "This has been the best surprise yet at this bar." She turned toward the others. "Right?"

Many murmured their agreement while some others spoke of the time Arnie threw a full keg at a guy who came in causing trouble as their favorite surprise.

"Will the movie follow the book, my lady?" Breaker's sister asked.

"Yes, it will."

Amanda whirled around at the sound of the deep voice she knew so well.

"Thomas! What are you doing here?"

He briefly shrugged while moving to stand a little in front of her.

"I plan on it being as if the words Lady Amanda wrote came to life." He explained to the group.

"You're that Hunt guy." Ink narrowed his eyes. "You better have treated our duchess like she deserves."

"Mr. Hunt has been nothing but kind." Amanda quickly spoke up. "He might love my book more than anyone."

"I do." Thomas said softly.

He took her hand and held tight when he felt her trying to tug it away without making a scene.

"If you will excuse us," Thomas met each of the suspicious pairs of eyes on him, "I need to speak to her grace about my plans in Cordonia."

Crow shared a glance with his comrades.

"It's fine with us as long as she wants to go with you." He replied.

Thomas cocked an eyebrow at Amanda.

Seeing no way out of this without causing a problem, she wished the bar patrons a good night and promised to visit again before she left the capital.

Drake breathed easier once they made it out the door.

"That might be one of the weirdest experiences I have ever had." He muttered as they walked to Thomas's car.

"They were sweet." Amanda glanced back at the building. "I never dreamed that people like them would enjoy my-"

"Get in the car." Thomas bit out as he held the door open for her.

She stiffened once more, remembering how angry she was with him. "I think I'll walk."

Drake didn't bother to mask his groan at her response.

Thomas tossed him his keys, told him to drive back to the palace, and grasped Amanda's arm. He guided her on into the night.

"I meant alone." She grumbled.

Thomas remained silent.

She huffed at that. "Why did you come to the bar?"

He abruptly stopped in his tracks. His grip on her arm caused her to stumble back against him.

She looked up at his face made harsher by the shadows and low light of a nearby streetlamp.

"Do you have no knowledge of the danger you placed yourself in? Do you have any idea what they would have done to Drake if those men had not been fans of your novel? To you?!"

His questions struck like a whip as he held tight to her.

She glared defiantly up at him. "I've been on my own for many years, Mr. Hunt. I do realize the danger, yet since those men were gentlemen I saw no need to treat them any differently than someone kind I meet at a palace ball."

"Your stubbornness is going to be the death of me." He let go of her arms, took her hand, and continued to walk the path back to the palace.

She twisted her hand to set it free, then jerked him to a stop once more when he refused to let her go.

"Why were you there?"

"Drake texted for my help in getting you safely out of that bar."

"And why does he have your number? And why are you reading texts?! You hate texting."

His eyes narrowed. "I never hated receiving texts from you."

For some reason that he didn't understand, that made her angrier than anything else he had said to her.

"Why are you mad at me?" He asked. "Is it because of--"

"You never told me!" She shoved away from him when his grip loosened. "We talked everyday, Thomas. EVERYDAY! Texted one another multiple times each day." Her eyes sparkled with tears. "I told you private things about myself that I never shared with any other person." Averting her eyes, she took a shaky breath. "And you couldn't bother to tell me you had begun to date again."

"Amanda, it isn't what you think. Those dates were nothing more than--"

"I don't want to hear it." She stepped out of reach. "I see now that I took advantage of our living arrangement and thought we had a closer relationship than we did." She looked up at him, trying to not let him know how hurt she was. "Like I said at the masquerade ball, I will treat you only with a professional courtesy and not involve you in anything personal."

"If you would let me explain why I did what I did--" his eyes widened when she jogged off to get away from him. "Amanda!"

She paused, gripping handfuls of her skirt. "I only want to know one thing. Why are you invited to the events?"

"Liam invited me." He replied. "He came to my home during his bachelor trip and we discussed you."

"Me?" She paled. "Why?"

"He believed that you have feelings for me and didn't want to possibly choose you when you could be with the one you want."

"He did what?" 

She covered her face. She couldn't believe Liam would do something like this to her. She didn't know if she would ever get over this embarrassment.

"Liam then asked me how I felt about you." He added. "And I told him that I am in love with you."

Her head snapped up. "You told him what? Why?" Her brow furrowed. "Are you trying to protect me from something?"

"No. I told him because I didn't want to lose you in case he decided to choose a friend to marry." Thomas replied. "He then invited me to every social event so that I could secretly be with you."

"Then why the mass amount of dates?" He could hear her anger once more in her tone. "If you are so in love with me that you journey to Cordonia weeks before you planned, why did you date so many different women as soon as I left your home?"

Thomas guided her into a small park near the gate of the palace. He gestured toward a bench for her to sit. When she stubbornly refused to budge, he tugged her over and used his weight to force her down beside him.

"I prefer to stand." She grumbled.

 "And I prefer you sitting beside me." He countered. 

She scoffed while folding her arms and staring off into the distance. 

"I didn't want to take a chance on hurting you." He began. "I--" 

"Hurting me? How?" She removed her sun hat when she bumped him with her trying to face him. 

 He repositioned on the bench and set his arm across the back of it. "I was worried that my attraction to you was formed from you simply being near at hand."

 Amanda's brow furrowed. "I see. So, you decided to start dating to test whether or not that was true?" 

"Yes." He gently brushed a curl back that had been caught up in a breeze. "And every single one of them proved that I wasn't simply lonely." His fingers slid down her cheek. "I was lonely for you." 

Thomas inched closer to her until he could easily slide his arm around her. "When Liam came to my home and told me you were his suitor," he paused, searching for the right words, "I've never felt so hopeless in my entire life. I thought in that moment I had truly lost any possible chance to be with you." 

Amanda lowered her eyes. "I felt the same way when I saw the footage of your dates." 

He cupped her cheek, carefully urging her to look up. "Those dates were nothing. There was no affection, no spark, nothing remotely romantic." 

Her eyes searched his for the truth.

He waited patiently for her to say something about his confession.

Eventually she blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know what to think.”

“Would you like us to try and be together in secret?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Would you? You've never struck me as the type of man who enjoys subterfuge.”

A hint of a smile appeared on his lips. “True, but I could last a few months doing so just to be with you.”

“We would have to be so careful.” Amanda blinked in surprise at herself for even considering doing this. “Even this,” she gestured to his arm curving around her, “would cause a scandal. Which, though it would eliminate me from being an acceptable choice for Liam, it would cause a great deal of damage to my standing within the court.” Her nose wrinkled. “I wouldn’t mind that so much but I need their support from time to time for votes that could affect the people of my duchy and for the various charities I am over.”

“Then we will make certain no one sees us.” He pulled her closer. “With your friends assistance, I think we can find time to spend alone.”

She felt her heart pick up speed as it finally registered that not only had Thomas confessed his love for her, but that she was about to do something so daring. 

“Amanda?” He leaned closer to her, giving her time to make a decision. His lips brushed her cheek. 

She swallowed before meeting his lips with a tentative kiss. She should have known that any kiss they shared could not remotely be considered chaste. It was all she could do to keep up with his passionate response.

After a few moments that felt all too brief, he eased away. “We better get you back to the palace before someone notices you're gone.”

“Drake is probably waiting by a side door we usually use to let us in.” she mumbled when his lips brushed hers again.

“Then we shouldn’t abuse his friendship.” He forced himself to move away from her. 

Taking her hand in his, he led her out of the park.

The clock tower chimed the late hour by the time they found Drake leaning against the palace’s east wall with his arms crossed. Noticing that the two were still holding hands without Amanda arguing had him smiling in relief.

“Everything good?” He whispered.

The couple shared a look before both nodding.

“Thank God.” His voice returned to its normal gruff nature. “I was about to resign from trying to convince Amanda to hear you out.”

[eldritchw1tch]

i don’t want you like a best friend: a tswift-pimms playlist

i don’t want you like a best friend: a tswift-pimms playlist 

link

this is the pimms playlist i spent more than a year working on from like, 2018 to the end of 2019! as such, it only contains music up through lover, not anything from folklore or evermore. @permets-2​ finally poked me into posting the liner notes, which I gave up on because tumblr formatting was fighting me, so please know i haven’t actually looked at them since 2019 and there might still be missing things? idk.

this playlist is absolutely dedicated to my beloved @faiasakura​, who did her own version of an all-tswift pimms playlist completely independently (we actively avoided comparing notes, lol), which can be found here!

i don’t really go here lately but i hope this is of interest to someone!

Prologue

1. Don’t Blame Me (reputation)

for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

…

Lord save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

Act 1: The Q

2. Gorgeous (reputation)

a crush

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

…

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But what can I say?

You're gorgeous

3. Treacherous (Red)

something magnetic, pulling them both in

And I'll do anything you say

If you say it with your hands

And I'd be smart to walk away

But you're quicksand

…

Your name has echoed through my mind

And I just think you should, think you should know

That nothing safe is worth the drive

And I will follow you, follow you home

4. Dress (reputation)

a shared and precious secret: love, desperate and messy and everything. But also: the scrutiny, the frenetic anxiety, the fear.

I’m spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about—

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you

5. Tied Together With a Smile (Taylor Swift)

the pressure builds; jack’s anxiety gets worse

Hold on, baby you're losing it

The water's high, you're jumping into it

And letting go, and no one knows

That you cry, but you don't tell anyone

That you might not be the golden one

And you're tied together with a smile

But you're coming undone

6. Long Live (Speak Now)

the glory, the playoffs, the memorial cup: the golden boys of hockey, on top of the world

Long live the walls we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, long live all the magic we made

And bring on all the pretenders

One day, we will be remembered

…

Hold on, to spinning around

Confetti falls to the ground

May these memories break our fall

7. State of Grace (Red)

the 34 days, inside kent’s euphoria

This is a state of grace

This is the worthwhile fight

Love is a ruthless game

Unless you play it good and right

These are the hands of fate

You’re my Achilles heel

this is the golden age of something good and right and real

8. Cruel Summer (Lover)

(that golden season and its dark underbelly)

So cut the headlights, summer's a knife

I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know

-

Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh)

And I scream, "For whatever it's worth

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

9. Haunted (Speak Now)

the overdose: kent finds jack on the bathroom floor

Whoa, holding my breath

Won't lose you again

Something's made your eyes go cold

-

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Something's gone terribly wrong

You're all I wanted

10. I Know Places (1989)

kent in the waiting room, holding on hope

Something happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

…

Lights flash and we'll run for the fences

Let them say what they want, we won't hear it

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Not this time

Act 2: The Fallout

11. The Story of Us (Speak Now)

kent goes to the draft; jack won’t answer his calls

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room

And we're not speaking

And I'm dying to know

Is it killing you like it's killing me?

Yeah, and I don't know what to say

Since the twist of fate, when it all broke down

And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now

…

The battle's in your hands now

But I would lay my armor down

If you say you'd rather love than fight

12. Last Kiss (Speak Now)

jack and kent, the same realization from opposite sides

So I'll go sit on the floor

Wearing your clothes

All that I know is

I don't know how to be something you miss

I never thought we'd have a last kiss

Never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

13. Death By A Thousand Cuts (Lover)

Starting to live with the devastation and the broken heart

Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

Flashbacks waking me up

I get drunk, but it's not enough

’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier's still flickering here

’Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not

It's death by a thousand cuts

14. If This Was A Movie (Speak Now)

regrets and memories

Last night, I heard my own heart beating

Sounded like footsteps on my stairs

Six months gone and I'm still reaching

Even though I know you're not there

I was playing back a thousand memories, baby

Thinkin' 'bout everything we've been through

Maybe I've been going back too much lately

When time stood still and I had you

15. Cold as You (Taylor Swift)

the grief and pain become anger and bitterness

And when you take, you take the very best of me

So I start a fight cause I need to feel something

And you do what you want cause I'm not what you wanted

…

You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray

And I stood there loving you and wished them all away

And you come away with a great little story

Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

Interlude 1: Jack

16. I Almost Do (Red)

kent doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does (but jack doesn’t either)

I bet you think I either moved on or hate you

‘Cause each time you reach out, there’s no reply

I bet it never, ever occurred to you

That I can’t say hello to you

And risk another goodbye

…

Oh, we made quite a mess, babe

It’s probably better off this way

And I confess, babe

In my dreams, you’re touching my face

And asking me if I want to try again with you

And I almost do

Act 3: Coming of Age in Vegas

17. New Romantics (1989)

vegas; teammates; living in the moment; drinking, dancing, and self-destructing

We're all here, the lights and boys are blinding

We hang back, it's all in the timing

It's poker

He can't see it in my face

But I'm about to play my Ace (ahh)

We need love, but all we want is danger

We team up, then switch sides like a record changer

The rumors are terrible and cruel

But honey, most of them are true

…

Heartbreak is the national anthem

We sing it proudly

We’re too busy dancing (yeah) to get knocked off our feet

Baby, we're the new romantics

The best people in life are free

18. Begin Again (Red)

kent starts to move on

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

19. The Way I Loved You (Fearless)

all the drinking and dancing and dating still feel empty and hollow; he just wants to feel again; he just wants that love back

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

It's 2 AM and I'm cursing your name

I'm so in love that I acted insane

And that's the way I loved you

Breaking down and coming undone

It's a roller coaster kind of rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

…

He can't see the smile I'm faking

And my heart's not breaking

'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all

And you were wild and crazy

Just so frustrating

Intoxicating, complicated

20. The Lucky One (Red)

kent parson: the loneliest boy, so alone at the top of the world

You had it figured out since you were in school

Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool

So overnight, you look like a sixties queen

…

And they tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused

'Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used

And all the young things line up to take your place

—

Another name goes up in lights

You wonder if you’ll make it out alive

21. Come In With The Rain (Fearless)

(starting to move on is not the same as letting go)

I’ve watched you so long, screamed your name

I don’t know what else I can say

…

But I’ll leave my window open

'Cause I’m too tired at night to call your name

Just know I’m right here hoping

That you’ll come in with the rain

Act 4: Implosion

22. Out of the Woods (1989)

memories he can’t escape of a love like a car crash

The night we couldn't quite forget

When we decided, we decided

To move the furniture so we could dance

Baby, like we stood a chance

Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying

And I remember thinking

-

Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet?

…

You took a Polaroid of us

Then discovered (then discovered)

The rest of the world was black and white

But we were in screaming color

23. Red (Red)

Kent decides to go to epikegster

Loving him is like driving a new Maserati

Down a dead-end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin

Ending so suddenly

…

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head

In burning red

Loving him was red

24. The Last Time (Red)

didja miss me? (something tentative; something a little bit hopeful on both sides)

Find myself at your door

Just like all those times before

I’m not sure how I got there

All roads they lead me here

I imagine you are home

In your room, all alone

And you open your eyes into mine

And everything feels better

25. The Archer (Lover)

kent tries to extend an olive branch but it’s still covered in thorns

Combat, I'm ready for combat

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

'Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

…

I've been the archer, I've been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling

But who could stay?

…

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then I hate my reflection for years and years

26. Bad Blood (1989)

jack’s answer to kent’s wounded lashing out

Oh, it's so sad to

Think about the good times

You and I

…

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood

You know it used to be mad love

So take a look what you've done

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

27. Breathe (Fearless)

kent, driving away from epikegster

I see your face in my mind as I drive away

'Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way

People are people and sometimes we change our minds

But it's killing me to see you go after all this time

…

And we know it's never simple, never easy

Never a clean break, no one here to save me

You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

…

And I can't breathe without you, but I have to

Breathe without you but I have to

28. All Too Well (Red)

despite all the pain, there’s an irresistible nostalgia for what they had all those years ago—for when things were so much simpler

Maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece

'Til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all

Too well

…

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again

But I'm still trying to find it

Interlude 2: Kent

29. Fifteen (Fearless)

a memory, a reflection

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you

You're gonna believe them

And when you're fifteen and your first kiss

Makes your head spin 'round

But in your life you'll do things greater than

Dating the boy on the football team

But I didn't know it at fifteen

…

When all you wanted was to be wanted

Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday

But I realized some bigger dreams of mine

Act 5: Moving On, Growing Up

30. Clean (1989)

finally learning to be his own person, separate from that shared past

There was nothing left to do (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

When the butterflies turned to

Dust that covered my whole room

So I punched a hole in the roof (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

…

The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud

But no one heard a thing

…

Rain came pouring down

When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe

And by morning

Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean

31. 22 (Red)

friends and freedom, and real joy in that this time around

It feels like a perfect night

To dress up like hipsters

And make fun of our exes, uh-uh, uh-uh

It feels like a perfect night

For breakfast at midnight

To fall in love with strangers, uh-uh, uh-uh

…

Yeah

We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time

It's miserable and magical, oh, yeah

Tonight's the night when we forget about the deadlines

It's time, oh-oh

32. So It Goes… (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

'Cause we break down a little

But when you get me alone, it's so simple

'Cause baby, I know what you know

We can feel it

…

And all the pieces fall right into place

Getting caught up in a moment

Lipstick on your face

So it goes…

…

I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl, but I

Do bad things with you

So it goes…

33. Dancing With Our Hands Tied (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

I, I loved you in secret

First sight, yeah, we love without reason

Oh, twenty-five years old

Oh, how were you to know?

…

Could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Picture of your face in an invisible locket

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

I had a bad feeling

…

I'd kiss you as the lights went out

Swaying as the room burned down

I'd hold you as the water rushes in

If I could dance with you again

34. Wildest Dreams (1989)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

…

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your

Wildest dreams, ah-aah, haa

34. Shake It Off (1989)

At the top of his game, at the top of his sport, and actually happy at long last

I never miss a beat

I'm lightning on my feet

And that's what they don’t see, mm, mm

…

But I keep cruisin'

Can't stop, won't stop groovin'

It's like I got this music in my mind

Saying it's gonna be alright

…

'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break

And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

35. Holy Ground (Red)

Remembering with enough distance and experience to appreciate what was, not ache from it

Spinning like a girl in a brand new dress

We had this big wide city all to ourselves

We blocked the noise with the sound of, "I need you"

And for the first time, I had something to lose

And I guess we fell apart in the usual way

And the story's got dust on every page

But sometimes, I wonder how you think about it now

And I see your face in every crowd

…

'Cause darling, it was good

Never looking down

And right there where we stood

Was holy ground

Act 6: Reunion

36. ME! (Lover)

reconnection, reconciliation, re-appreciation

I know I tend to make it about me

I know you never get just what you see

But I will never bore you, baby

(And there's a lot of lame guys out there)

…

'Cause one of these things is not like the others

Livin' in winter, I am your summer

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e

37. This Love (1989)

an unexpected reawakening

Tossing, turning

Struggled through the night with someone new

And I could go on and on, on and on

Lantern, burning

Flickered in my mind, only you

But you were still gone, gone, gone

…

Been losing grip, on sinking ships

You showed up just in time

…

This love is good, this love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead, oh-oh, oh

These hands had to let it go free, and

This love came back to me, oh-oh, oh

38. End Game (reputation) (ft. ed sheeran as jack)

After all this time, there are things they aren’t ever going to let go of again, no matter the trouble they bring

I got a bad boy persona, that's what they like (what they like)

You love it, I love it too 'cause you my type (You my type)

You hold me down, and I protect you with my life

…

I don't wanna touch you, I don't wanna be

Just another ex-love you don’t wanna see

I don’t wanna miss you (I don't wanna miss you)

Like the other girls do

I don’t wanna hurt you, I just wanna be

Drinking on a beach with you all over me

I know what they all say (I know what they all say)

But I ain't tryna play

…

I wanna be your end game (End game)

I wanna be your first string (First string)

I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team)

I wanna be your end game, end game

39. You Are In Love (1989)

something real; something sacred; something to build a life on

You can hear it in the silence (silence), silence (silence), you

You can feel it on the way home (way home), way home (way home), you

You can see it with the lights out (lights out), lights out (lights out)

You are in love, true love

You are in love

…

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night, he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says "You're my best friend"

And you knew what it was, he is in love

40. Change (Fearless)

when the two biggest hockey players of their generation come out of the closet—together—are in love with each other—it changes more lives than just theirs

So we've been outnumbered, raided, and now cornered

It's hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair

We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found

They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared

You can walk away, say we don't need this

But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this

…

'Cause these things will change

Can you feel it now?

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down

This revolution, the time will come

For us to finally win

And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah

Oh, oh

41. Call It What You Want (reputation)

When it stops mattering what anyone else thinks

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

All the drama queens taking swings

All the jokers dressing up as kings

They fade to nothing when I look at him

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn

At least I did one thing right

I did one thing right

I'm laughing with my lover, makin' forts under covers

Trust him like a brother

Yeah, you know I did one thing right

Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night

…

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walking with his head down

I'm the one he's walking to

So call it what you want, yeah

Call it what you want to

42. Lover (Lover)

love

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

…

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Forever and ever, ah

Take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

43. New Year’s Day (reputation)

love

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi

I can tell that it's gonna be a long road

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

…

Don't read the last page

But I stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we're making mistakes

I want your midnights

But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

44. Daylight (Lover)

Building a new life in the daylight

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in

Everyone looked worse in the light

There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven

I'll tell you truth, but never goodbye

…

I once believed love would be (burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

Like daylight, daylight

…

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

[refinedbuffoonery]

I + Can’t + Lose + You (2)

masterlist. Read it on AO3. 

A/N: Did I take my time on this or what? Yikes. I’ll try to get the next update out much faster. Enjoy! 

*****

Riley had to admit, she was having the time of her life on this impromptu road trip with Mama. 80s music blasted from the truck’s speakers, and she and Mama danced in their seats. But Riley knew their fun was coming to an end the moment she spied the sea of brake lights in the distance. 

It took no time at all to catch up to the traffic. Every vehicle packed on the freeway sat at a standstill. 

“How do y’all live like this?” Mama asked incredulously. “There is no reason for this many cars to be on the road.” Riley chuckled. 

After another half mile of crawling through bumper to bumper traffic, Riley was finally fed up with it too. “Okay that’s it,” she announced. “We’re taking the back way.” 

LA streets were slow, but nothing was as slow as the 10 during rush hour, and they’d left right at the beginning of it. Avoiding the freeways like the plague, Riley wound through the city streets, flooring the gas through every yellow light. 

After a particularly risky one, Mama questioned, “Who taught you to drive?” 

Riley grinned ear to ear. “Jack.” Mama rolled her eyes and double checked that her seatbelt was buckled. Before long, they were back on the freeway, zooming toward the desert. 

In Indio, they stopped to get gas and use the restroom. From here to Phoenix, there was just a whole lot of nothing. Maybe some cactus, tumbleweeds, and the occasional Joshua tree if they were lucky. 

Although, Riley doubted her luck, considering she was driving to Phoenix in a truck with crappy air conditioning in the last week of July. She regretted not changing out of her favorite black Van Halen tank top into one that was a lighter color. 

By the time Riley exited the gas station’s convenience store armed to the teeth with snacks, Mama had finished filling up the gas tank and was now leaning against the tailgate, waiting. “You’re still driving,” the older woman said. Riley sighed. Of course she was. 

Riley jumped at the sound of a door slamming open behind them, almost dropping her armload of snacks. A guy wearing a navy blue hoodie sprinted toward an old Bronco, clutching something to his chest. He dove into the car and sped off. Riley and Mama winced at the squeal of the tires as he skidded out of the parking lot and back onto the road. 

The sole convenience store employee had chased after the thief to no avail. Dejected slump curving his shoulders inward, he stared after the long-gone car. 

Wordlessly handing the snacks to Mama, Riley cautiously approached the employee. He was just a kid, 25 at the most. “Hey, I’m sorry that happened.” She tipped her head toward where the Bronco had been parked. “Are you okay?” 

“Am I okay?” he asked incredulously. “Of course I’m not okay! That was the third one today and my boss is going to be fuc--pissed and it’s all because I can’t see in the back anymore because the first guy smashed the security camera with a can of Pringles which he then stole.” He had the wild look in his eyes of a furious customer service employee who was about to explode but couldn’t because they were, well, a customer service employee. Riley pitied him. 

“Well, I can’t do anything about the thief, but I think I can fix your security camera issue.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Riley wasn’t totally sure she could fix it, but she’d seen Mac build and fix enough cameras over the years she figured it was worth a shot. “Can you show me where it is? I’m Riley, by the way.” 

“Marco,” he replied, holding the door open for her and Mama. Marco led her to the far corner of the store. Back here, everything a customer did would be completely concealed from the cashier. Mounted from the ceiling, the security camera’s shattered lens didn’t do much good. 

“Can I take it apart?” 

Marco looked skeptical, but he said, “It’s not like you can break it any more.” 

Riley unhooked it from the wall and began taking it apart. Aside from the shattered lens, it wasn’t actually broken. She could fix it if she had a camera. 

Riley froze. She did have a camera…

God, when did she turn into Mac? 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered as she cracked her phone open. Riley didn’t bother checking to see if she had any notifications first. They were about to disappear forever anyway. Mama’s eyes widened, but Mac would’ve been proud. She held up her unusable phone and wiggled it. “In this line of work, always get the insurance.” 

“You’ve spent too long with that MacGyver,” was all Mama said, but Riley didn’t miss her impressed smirk. 

The hardest part was breaking her phone. Riley prided herself on having the lowest phone replacement rate, which she knew was only because mission success relied on her tech actually working. Mac only sacrificed hers when he had no other option. 

Riley also knew Mac picked which phone to sacrifice based on who would have the most dramatic reaction. So, she dutifully handed it over every time wearing a serious expression, refusing to give Mac the satisfaction of being annoyed. 

Connecting the phone camera to the security camera wiring was easy enough. The finished product looked janky as hell, but Riley was pretty sure it would work. “Alright, go check whether it works.” 

Marco wove his way back to the counter. A few seconds later, a shrill “It works!” echoed through the convenience store. 

Mama smiled. “Good girl. I’ll meet you in the truck.” 

A rush of pride filled Riley--the same one she got every time she MacGyver-ed her way out of a problem. Fixing the security camera hopefully would put an end to Marco’s shitty day. 

She met Marco by the exit. “Thank you!” the kid said, throwing his arms around her in an overenthusiastic hug. Riley stiffened at the contact and patted Marco’s shoulder. He let go, none the wiser to her discomfort. 

“You’re welcome,” Riley said. “Have a good rest of your day.” She exited the convenience store and walked back to the truck. 

**********

Mac was alone in the war room when Riley’s location disappeared off the map. 

Gone, in the blink of an eye. 

“No,” Mac said to himself, voice catching. Her location last showed her at a gas station in Indio, but she could be taken anywhere from there. There was a whole lot of nothing and no-man’s land for her kidnappers to make her disappear in. 

Watching the tracker cut out finally pushed him over the edge. Mac succumbed to all the worst case scenarios that were threatening to incapacitate him completely.  They know who she is, and they’re forcing her to hack something. Or maybe they don’t know who she is, what she can do, and they just grabbed her off the street because she’s pretty and...Mac couldn’t finish the thought. 

Without anyone there to stop him, Mac let himself get absorbed in his own head. I’ve lost her, for good this time. She’s gone. Riley’s gone.

Why the hell hadn’t she sent him a clue? Every time she got kidnapped, she always managed to give him a clue about her whereabouts. Riley was one of the smartest people he knew. How did this happen? Who the hell took her? 

I never told her I’m in love with her. 

God, what if he never got that chance? Or what if something really bad happens to her and he’s too late to stop it and she loses her faith in him? 

He had to find her. And when she was safe and healed and at home he’d tell her. Mac stormed out of the war room, nearly running Matty over on his way out. 

“Where are you going, Blondie?” she asked. 

“To get Riley back.” 

He didn’t stop walking until Matty said, in the gentlest possible voice, “Mac.” 

Her tone was the only reason he turned around. If she’d spoken in her Matty The Hun voice, it would’ve fueled him to keep walking, but something about the knowing gentleness made him pause. He turned to look at her, every emotion he felt about the situation and about Riley plain on his face.

 “Okay,” she said, giving him a small nod. If she didn’t know about his feelings for Riley before, she definitely did now. 

Mac ran to his truck and sped off. 

**********

Matty added Mac’s location tracker to the screen in the war room. Like a true Californian, he skipped getting on the 10 completely and stuck to the secret back ways he’d learned over the years. Like Riley, he sped through every yellow, but eventually he got stuck in a long chain of red lights. 

Despite the fact that one of her two best agents was MIA and the other was out of his mind with grief and fear, Matty smiled to herself. Mac would find Riley; they always managed to find each other, against all odds. And when they finally reunited...maybe some things would finally be put on the table. 

Good things, Matty decided. She’d always suspected their relationship might go down this road. For years, Mac and Riley unconsciously gravitated toward one another. They stood unnecessarily close together, they constantly flicked their gaze to the other, they kept tabs on the other’s emotions. 

Because of that, she’d rarely put them undercover together as a couple because of the romantic potential. If they were ever going to move past their obliviousness and develop feelings, Mac and Riley deserved for that to happen on its own, without a bunch of charades in the way. Although, given the details they’d both left out from their reports on the op in Monte Carlo, it might’ve been just the thing to finally push them together after all this time. 

All of the chaos of the last year must’ve brought new, deeper feelings to the surface, because after defecting to Codex, Mac and Riley grew closer, though they remained guarded with the rest of the team. Even if they didn’t recognize it, their relationship was changing, hopefully for the better. With the hands they’d been dealt in life, Mac and Riley deserved that kind of lasting happiness more than anyone else she knew. 

Eyes still trained on the screen, Matty whispered, “Go get her, Mac.”

[its-sixxers]

OC Interview - Tandreth

name ➔ “Who’s asking?” he grins. “Indoril Tandreth, if you’re Velothi. If you’re one of the jarl’s men, I’m no one.”

are you single ➔ “Quite. Why, are you looking to change that? I’m a hard man to tie down.”

are you happy ➔  “My coinpurse is full, I have a collection of various artifacts and treasures, someone to warm my bed every night - I suppose I can’t complain.” The smile leaves his eyes, however.

are you angry ➔ “I’m Velothi. It’s in the blood, so they say.” You can’t imagine the aloof man in front of you furious by any means, but there’s a bite of challenge to his tone.

are your parents still married ➔ “Hah!” he laughs. “They never were. Everyone calling me a bastard is right in more ways than one.”

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ “The Ashlands. Northwestern Vvardenfell, back in the day - now the entire island’s ash.”

hair color ➔ “Black, but I’m told the sun turns strands brown if it’s bright enough.” Tandreth combs his fingers through his curls. “I bleached it white, once upon a time. Didn’t want to look my sister, you see.”

eye color ➔ He flutters his eyelashes. “Red as Azura cursed them.”

birthday ➔  “The tenth of Sun’s Dawn. Year 430, of the Third Era.” Tandreth waits for the math to be done, eyes twinkling playfully. “I look good for my age, don’t I?”

mood ➔ “They change like the weather. Now? Or most often? The answer to both is bored.” He tries to look at the sheet of paper and the notes upon it. “Tell me you have something better to ask.”

gender ➔ It’s not the interesting question he wanted. “I’m a man. Not that the local Nords seem to believe me.” His smile grows wicked. “Their wives do.”

summer or winter ➔ “They’re the same thing, here in Skyrim.” He sighs. “Summer. I like to be able to feel most of my fingers.” You note his left pinky is missing.

morning or afternoon ➔ “Morning. I like to watch the sunrise before I turn in for the night.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ “Always am.” he sighs dramatically, lounging further back in his chair. “How can anyone not be? Tamriel is filled with the beautiful.”

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Now we’re at the interesting questions.” Tandreth kicks his feet up on the table. “Of course I do. Love at first sight, hate at last sight - isn’t that how it tends to go?”

who ended your last relationship ➔ It catches him off guard - he’s leaning his chair back on two legs, and nearly falls over. The front feet of the chair connect with the floor loudly as he settles himself. “The law.” he answers simply. “And gold.”

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ The next question quickly repairs his high spirits. “Dozens, I’m sure. Don’t mistake me for cruel - I’ve never been dishonest about what I am. I can’t prevent others from lying to themselves.”

are you afraid of commitments ➔ He rolls his eyes. “You sound like Raansi.” he mutters. “I’ve spent the last fifty years in Skyrim, I think that’s commitment enough.”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Tandreth opens his mouth then frowns. “... you know, I haven’t.” he realizes aloud, and is clearly troubled by it. “Maybe I should give that great dragonborn ox a hug. I’ve gotten good at dodging her hammer, you know.”

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “I like to collect the letters.” he grins from ear to ear. “They don’t stay secret for long, if I can help it.”

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ Those red eyes of his drop to his nails, where he makes a display of picking at his cuticles. “Don’t be foolish.”

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “Lust is simpler. There’s less tears involved, much more fun for all parties. I don’t need someone simpering over me to feel like a whole person.” he answers, perhaps a tad defensively.

lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Iced tea offers much more variety in flavor. That’s a drink for Hammerfell or Elsweyr, not this frozen tundra.”

cats or dogs ➔ His mouth twists. “I don’t keep pets. Humans live short enough lives, animals are asking for heartbreak.”

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “I have a very large circle of acquaintances and paramours. Does that count?”

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “A wild night out, of course. It helps one feel alive.”

day or night ➔ “As much as I hate the cold, night. Have you seen a full moon over the snow on a clear night? As bright as day, and clear as crystal.” There’s a dreamy expression on his face.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ “Several times. Not all for troublesome reasons, I assure you.”

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “I am the pinnacle of grace.” Tandreth looks almost offended to be asked.

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “There was this necklace I tried to steal from a sleeping beast of a woman, and I nearly had my nose broken for the trouble.” You think it’s a joke, but the grave quality to his tone suggests that Tandreth takes any threat to his nose very seriously.

wanted to disappear ➔ “Wanted to? I can.” Perhaps he is dodging the questions.

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ “They’re intertwined. Part of a smile is in the eyes, you know - and they’re at their best when smiling.”

shorter or taller ➔ “Taller.” he answers first, then wrinkles his nose - his reflexive response has brought up something uncomfortable. “I don’t mind either way.” he adds hastily. “I’ve been very happy with people of all sizes.”

intelligence or attractive ➔ “You must think me vain indeed.” He tilts his chin upward. “But aye, I’ll say it - beauty. Not all can find tomes to pore over or tutors from the imperial province. Beauty isn’t just in the face, or the form, it’s an energy all its own.” He gestures vaguely with his hands. “A school of magic, perhaps. Difficult to define. It’s why I love it so dearly.”

hook-up or relationship ➔ “I’m a hard man to love.” he says with a dramatic shrug and an affected sheepish smile. “But I don’t leave my bedmates wanting.”

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ Tandreth exhales shortly. “I liked the other questions.” he mumbles. “Presently? Only my sister’s left of it, and we’re not on speaking terms.”

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ His smile is entirely without humor, a grim thing that ages him by decades. “Don’t worry, dearest. I live my life to the fullest.”

have you ever run away from home ➔ “I think every young lad does, at some point.” He’s picking at his nails again.

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “By my family? No. But there’s a few cities I’m not allowed to set foot in - do you have the time to listen? ... no? Pity.”

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “What intrigue!” Tandreth’s good humor returns. “I’d have to have them to bear some secret distaste. The people I hate in my circle I make no secret of.”

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “I’ll stretch the definition of friend to play along with your questions. No. You don’t live as long as I have by trusting anyone but yourself.”

who is your best friend ➔ For a moment you think he’s about to say ‘no one’, and you’re correct - but the pause before he says so is notable indeed.

who knows everything about you ➔ “My sister, I suspect. We’re twins, you know - she’s an hour older. Will never let me forget it.” He snorts. “You’d think she had decades on me, the way she carries on. She knows everything - so she might was well know everything about me.” You sense he’s a little bitter.

He offers to take you to a play in town after your work day is complete. You respectfully decline, and he respects your professionalism - but he still winks on his way out.

[supremeuppityone]

Author’s note: This was created for the Klaroline Fall Bingo Event @klarolinefallbingo.

Prompt: Thanksgiving

                                    _________________________

           “Seriously, who gets married on Thanksgiving?!”

           Klaus wryly replied, “That’s your objection, love?” Nodding toward the front of the room, he said, “Not Elvis officiating the wedding or Cher playing the wedding march?”

           “Nope. It’s exactly how I want my wedding to go — celebrity impersonators are a must-have. Besides, accordion music is the language of love,” she retorted, trying to smooth out the wrinkles of her travel-worn knit dress. Had she known Bonnie and Enzo would decide at the last minute to get married, she wouldn’t have stuffed her only dress in a corner of her luggage.               

          Thanksgiving in Las Vegas had been a spontaneous suggestion of Bonnie’s, something so completely out of character that Caroline was irritated she hadn’t been suspicious right away. But her sister had bribed her with reservations at the exclusive Arcadius Lounge, which promised a gourmet feast of all things pumpkin and cranberry, so she stopped asking her usual pesky questions.

           Klaus eyed her appreciatively, his voice low as he rumbled, “I always knew you were a secret romantic, sweetheart. Even when our debate about unionizing cannabis workers grew so loud we were kicked out of the library, I could tell you were the sentimental type.”

           She bit back a laugh as Bonnie and Enzo pulled a few robot dance moves as they walked together down the aisle. She studiously ignored Klaus, pushing down those inconvenient feelings she’d developed from when they were in college. Their little group of friends was incestuous enough between Bonnie and Enzo, Rebekah and Stefan, and Kol and...everyone else.

           Sure. Keep telling yourself you aren’t interested. How much did you bribe the manager to ensure your room was right next door?

           “Wise men say ‘Only fools rush in.’” As the Elvis guy continued, Caroline realized he’d adapted the introduction to the wedding vows into Elvis’ song, “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” She and Klaus looked on in amusement/horror as he perfectly timed his arthritic pelvic thrusts to the “like a river flows to the sea” chorus. Classy.

           Still, she grew misty-eyed when she saw how unbelievably happy Bonnie was as she and Enzo joined the Elvis guy in performing a few of his signature karate moves. “You and Bonnie are sisters,” Klaus leaned in, his breath on her cheek making her skin tingle pleasantly. “Is your family planning a reception when you fly home?”

           Hopefully their family had no idea where they were. “Oh, um...it’s complicated. I’m sure you noticed when we were in school that Bonnie and I never went home for the holidays and made ourselves scarce for the annual Parents’ Day activities. It’s because we had to cut our family out of our lives. They’re...um, a destructive force and we just couldn’t handle them anymore.” They were the only ones to escape the Gemini Coven.

           And now Bonnie was bringing Enzo into this mess. At least he hadn’t fainted when they made his tattoo dance across his arm. Plus, they were kind enough to put a glamour spell on it so it was the correct Chinese symbol for courage. (No one should be walking around with a tattoo that said lusty noodle.)

           If only their magic was always so predictable — when they’d first arrived on campus, Caroline’s hair turned a different shade of purple for nearly two weeks after she cast their protection spells. Every time she’d run into Klaus with his flirty winks and knowing smirks, the color would change, forcing her to come up with lies that sounded more and more ridiculous. Not to mention Bonnie’s stupid insistence that her magic could be affected by strong emotions...

           Klaus politely waited until drag queen Cher finished her impressive rendition of “If I Could Turn Back Time” (odd choice for a wedding, but somehow, with the Elvis guys singing backup, it worked.) “I certainly can sympathize with you. My siblings and I had a similar situation with our parents. It took some time, but we finally made a clean break. Self-care is important.”

           “Self-care, yes. Definitely,” Caroline muttered.

           He seemed to be searching for something in her expression, and whatever he found there caused his brow to furrow. “Caroline,” he began in that accent that always made her ache, “are you —”

           Whatever Klaus started to say was cut off when Kol suddenly stumbled into the chair beside them, sloshing his drink over the rim. “Abraham Lincoln’s a cheap bastard,” he whined, “he used Whiny Camel Vodka in my martini. Haven’t had to drink that swill since uni.” Tossing a flirty smile over his shoulder at the impersonator behind the bar, he added, “at least he’s a tasty little stovetop treat.”

           “Stovepipe,” Caroline corrected in amusement.

           Klaus’ troublemaking brother waved her off, loudly whispering, “No, little bird, he insisted he was a top!”

           They both frantically shushed him, not wanting to miss the next wardrobe change for drag queen Cher. It was shaping up to be spectacular with her frothy “Turn Back Time” 80s wig almost touching the paper wedding bells hanging overhead. She suddenly was aware of how close they were sitting; the warmth of Klaus seeping into her skin was making her hot and cold and did he always have to smell like delicious fall spices and seriously how much longer was this wedding anyway?

           “You guys ditched me last night,” Kol said petulantly, leaning over until he was practically in Caroline’s lap.

           “You got drunk and tried to fight a horse.”

           Huffing indignantly, Kol replied, “You didn’t hear what the bloody horse said.” He slowly blinked, glancing between the two of them as though he just remembered something. With an impish grin, he revealed, “You know, Nik bribed the clerk at our hotel so his room was next to yours. Seemed like a bloody waste to get two rooms to begin with. Although I applaud that you two are shagging at a frequency that requires two beds. Bravo!”

           Where the evening could’ve gone next was anyone’s guess, but the adorable flush staining Klaus’ cheeks made Caroline feel undeniably giddy about the outcome...

           And that was when the altar erupted in purple flames. To Enzo’s credit, he didn’t seem especially freaked out when a strange man sporting black, soulless eyes flicked his wrist and caused Elvis guy to fly across the room. Drag queen Cher pulled off one of her enormous platform stilettos, brandishing it like a rhinestone-bedecked baseball bat, and Caroline made a mental note to send her an enchanted wardrobe if they managed to survive this mess.

           When the intruder tried to grab Bonnie, Enzo sucker-punched him, which made Caroline snort in amusement despite the terror she felt. Their sadistic coven leader had had that coming for years.  

           “Your days of running from our coven are at an end,” he swore, that malicious spark in his furious gaze filled Caroline with dread.

           “Kai! We put you in one prison world; don’t think we can’t shove you in another one,” Bonnie growled, channeling her power to send Enzo and the wedding chapel staff to their safe house in a wisp of smoke.

           Caroline looked over her shoulder at Klaus, who seemed torn between confusion and terror. Like most of her dates. Just before she magicked him and Kol away to the safe house, she winked and said, “I told you it was complicated.”

[s-creations]

Lost Inhibitions

Prompt found from @dead-bird-studios-cut-footage.

“Hello, Darling!” “No.” “What?” “No.” “No what?” “No you aren’t allowed to smile like that. It makes me feel things.”

Fandom: A Hat in Time Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves (Pre-Relationship) Warnings: Drinking, Forced Truth, Poor Attempt at Writing an Accent.

Mafia Town may be a bit of a journey, but their bartender makes the best mixed drinks. Better than anyone else on this pecking planet. So, it was honestly worth the treck, because some days straight whiskey just wouldn’t cut it. Amos cut his way through the crowd as he entered the bar proper and claimed the stool furthest from the door. He only waited for a few moments before being greeted with a cheer of joy.

“Conductor comrade! Mafia is very happy to see favorite customer. Hard day?” 

“Aye, ye can say that.” Amos huffed, tossing his hat aside. 

“Is Grooves or is Grooves?”

“Yes ta both,” they shared a laugh as the bartender gather his needed supplies, “What have ye got for me taday?”

 “New shipment for new drink! Very exciting. Special little liquid that lowers all care.”

“I’ll take it.”

Amos cringed slightly at the color being created in the tall glass. The vividness of it reminding him of Grooves’ new on screen outfit. Which the Conductor didn’t want to think about. With how flattering and perfect of a fit it was on the Moon Penguin. Peck it all, Amos wasn’t that great with emotions. Especially not of the romantic interest variety. 

He was broken out of his stupor when the drink was placed before him. The Mafia bartender looking very proud at his newest creation. 

“Color ain’t that, uh...pleasin’ ta the eyes.” 

“Very true. But you won’t care soon enough. Mafia promise.” 

Amos gave a shrug, a tip to the bartender with the glass, and took his first drink. He wasn’t ashamed of the shiver that visibly traveled through him. It was sweet, almost too much, but the punch of alcohol that followed after more than made up for it. He felt his body respond in kind by leaning over the bar. 

“Oof, ya really weren’t kiddin’ about that effect.” 

“Conductor feeling better already.” The bartender smirked when the owl laughed in response. The Mafia pulled out a glass to clean, leaning over to give the Conductor his full attention. “So, still have emotional constipation issues, ya? Mafia still does not understand why not explain situation to penguin.” 

“Too many years o’ aggression,” Amos answered simply, “Can’t simply be pushed away because o’ some feelings. Askin’ a rival to forget all o’ that… ‘e probably doesn’t even like me. …Just tolerates.” 

Mafia bartender winced slightly as Amos downed the rest of the drink in one go. The Conductor placed the empty glass down and tapped the counter. A silent ask for another. “Mafia understand your worries. But, Mafia will be asking Conductor to take this slow. As a friend. Is a very hefty drink.” 

“Ya know better than anyone I can tolerate more than the average...anyone. Keep them comin’ ‘til I can’t stand.” 

“Very well. Mafia will do as requested. Doesn’t mean Mafia is not concerned for possible outcome from this.”

Amos decided it wasn’t worth his time to respond. Between the alcohol itself and the new ‘mysterious’ liquid the bartender has acquired, the Conductor was more than happy to just sit there and, quite literally, drink his cares away. 

______________________

“Peckin’...headache.” Amos grumbled as the train pulled into the station. He should have probably figured that anything that gave that much of a carefree experience would have heavy repercussions. One being a hangover. A hard one. The other holding the feeling as if he was floating on a cloud. As if he still wasn’t supposed to care but did. This was hard to put into words. It was almost like all Amos wanted to do was talk even though he wanted nothing more than crawl into bed.

Hand still pressing against his temple, Amos descended from the train and joined the large crowd heading towards the studio. He kept his attention towards the ground as he was in no condition to hold a conversation with anyone. Not that the universe would allow the owl that luxury. 

He’d just entered the front lobby when the double door on the right side of the room burst open and DJ Grooves walked in. Already in the needed on screen outfit that was driving Amos crazy. No one was allowed to look that good in just a pecking awful color. Who made that color? 

The Conductor was shuffling towards his side of the studio, keeping his head down as he approached the reception desk. The penguin’s bright attitude making the owl’s own sour one so much worse. How could anyone be that happy so early in the morning? If Amos didn’t have just a pain drumming in his head, he would take the time to admire how well Grooves lit up the room. But he wasn’t in the mood to be so vulnerable before the second rate director. His second desire to slink past the other without being noticed, however, was not fulfilled either as the other director called out. 

“Hello, Darling!” Grooves leaned against the reception desk, full attention on the pained owl. That smile...it was too bright and was making the Conductor’s stomach do weird things that didn’t have to do with the hangover. 

Amos didn’t give the other a chance to continue before turning to Grooves and growling. “No.” 

“...What?”

“No.”

Grooves raised a brow, his smile slipping into something more worried. “No, what?”

“No, ya aren’t allowed ta smile like that. It’s makin’ me feel things.”

What. Did he. Just say.

If the quiet around the lobby was anything to go by, Amos did, just in fact, let slip something damaging. Grooves’ smile had completely fallen away. A look of absolute shock replacing it. Amos, on his part, felt his face heat up as all attention that was directed at him. His feathers, even being ruffled from the hard sleep he had, were puffed out in embarrassment.  He also became painfully aware of how furious his heart was beating in his chest. 

Was he dying? It felt like he was dying. He needed to throw up.

“What...What was that Darling?” Grooves broke the strained silence. 

Amos responded by slamming his hand down on the counter and marching over to his doors, face burning red. It felt like something was clawing at his throat. Another thing that wanted to be said that the Conductor knew would ruin things even further. He knew if he stuck around for too much longer, the words would spill from him. Which was the last thing he wanted. 

He placed a hand over his mouth as he made his way through his side of the studio. The owls that had already made it in and missed the disaster that was Amos’ life gave a smile to their approaching director. Did they not see how angry he was? 

“What the peck do you have to be so happy about!” Amos swallowed hard as the smiles fell away to tensed expressions. He’s not mad at them. He’s actually not sure who he’s mad at. Why did he just say that? 

“Good morning sir.” One owl hesitantly offered. 

“I was ‘til I opened my mouth to flatter Grooves.” Amos clicked his beak closed, becoming more flustered as his actors stared at him. 

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I can’t keep me mouth shut for some reason and ‘m sayin’ things I don’t want to.” The Conductor quickly turned and headed straight for his office. Leaving confused owls behind him. “No one get me unless the studio is on fire!” 

He felt less better when the door to his office was closed. He may have been alone, but Amos still had no idea what was wrong with him. Now he was alone with his racing thoughts as to what the actual peck was happening. Clutching his throat, he attempted to calm his frazzled mind to try and solve his current problem. Taking stock of his situation came down to a few things being realized. One: he still felt as if he was in a drunken stupor. Two: that special liquor had some prolonged side effects. Three: Amos had lost his filter and possibly couldn’t lie. 

“Test, need a test.” His attention perked up seeing a blue pen resting on his desk. Picking it up, Amos held it out, glaring it down as if this was his last life line. “This pen is r- blue.” 

He growled darkly, leaning closer to the writing tool. “This pen. It’s re- blue. Peck it all! It’s r- blue! PECK!” 

Frustration reaching its peak, Amos threw the pen, watching it with minimal satisfaction as it hit the wall and clattered to the floor. He dropped into his chair. Holding his head in his hands, Amos swallowed hard in trying to keep him quiet. 

“All I ‘ave ta do is stay in my office until the studio closes. Then, I march to the Mafia and tell them to get rid of that blasted drink and then-” Amos’ rant was cut short at the gentle knock on his door. Fear rose that he turned into anger. “I said I didn’t want ta be bothered!” 

Another knock. 

“I said-”

Amos stood and backed as far away from the door he could get as Grooves walked in. The fear was back in full as the owl attempted to merge with his wardrobe. There was a sharp snap as the door was closed and the penguin regarded the other with worry. Which was something the owl didn’t want to deal with. He didn’t need pity, he needed peace!

“I said ta not bother me.” 

“Well, when your crew comes over to my side with worries about you, I feel as if I need to ignore your sudden request. Were you planning on staying in your office the entire day?” 

“Aye, that was the original idea.” Amos growled. 

“Now I’m even more concerned. Why are you willing to lose a day of filming?  What is going on with you today?”

“What’s it to you, ya peckneck! I thought ya would have liked havin’ a day up on me when it came ta filmin’. What do ya care if I’m havin’ a bit o’ an off day? It’s not my fault da Mafia has a new drink that apparently forces the drinker to tell the truth. Or spill their secrets. And it’s even more unfair that ya walk into my office with that outfit on! One that I ‘aven’t been able to get out o’ my mind because it’s just so perfect on ya! Ya’re not helping this confused thought about ya at all!” 

Silence fell over the two once again. Amos, realizing what he’s just said, turns his back to the penguin with hands keeping his mouth clamped as he hides his face in a wool jacket. He was shaking, if the rattling of the nearby hangers were any indications. He felt so sick. His stomach was now churning with fear. This was the absolute worst, how could this be happening? Did he just confess? That wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Amos flinched feeling arms wrap around him. He was pulled from the half created cocoon of clothing and into the comforting hold of Grooves. The penguin in question leaned over to place his chin on Amos’ shoulder. 

“I believe I have a good grasp on the situation right now,” Groove spoke softly as to not startle the owl, “Between your rather flattering words and the outburst just now, we have a few things to discuss once you’re feeling better. But for now, I do think it’s in your best interest, and you planned this already,  to stay here for today.” 

“I need ta work…”

Grooves laughed gently at the response. “So your plan is an issue if I suggest it? You are not working in this condition. It may not seem like much, but you’ve clearly already said things you’ve regretted saying. Let’s not put your actors through too much stress. But if you’re that worried about it, you can start working on your next blockbuster script.” 

Amos smirked at that. “So, ya sayin’ I’m the better director?”

“Someone has to like your work, I suppose.”

The Conductor laughed, allowing himself to fully relax into the embrace. He was startled, feeling something run through the feather’s on the back of his neck. “...Grooves?”

“Thank you for flattering my new look. If I’d known you were a fan of this style, I would have planned more like it.”

“Ya know I wouldn’t have told you under normal circumstances.” Amos let out a startled chirp as something nipped at his neck. He broke away to turn and give a hard glare to Grooves’ smug look. “Don’t be so proud of yourself.” 

“Too late.” Was the flippant response, Grooves already heading for the door. “I have my own movie to worry about, so I’ll be taking my leave. Do you wish to talk tonight?”

“...Yes, I would. If you’re willin’ ta listen.” 

Grooves gave a sincere smile as he opened the door. “Of course Darling. As I said, we have a few things to discuss. You’re not the only one who’s been holding back a few secrets of their own. Til this evening, dear Conductor.”

Amos gave a nod as the penguin left, the door closing gently and Grooves’ footsteps fell away. The Conductor shuffled his way back over to his chair. Dropping into it once more, he felt better than he did when he previously hid himself away in his office.But he was rather dumbstruck with how well it all actually turned out. 

“Right...better call that peckin’ Mafia first before gettin’ to work. No one else needs to go through this. Ever.”