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iheartgarrus · 2 years

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The Walk Before the Run

It's the Jali one-shot, finally! This ship would literally never have crossed my mind without this post from @asianshep. Thank you sincerely for the brainrot.

Title comes from "Glitter in the Air" by Pink, which is an excellent song for this ship imo, and this will likely not be the last time I use it.

Thanks and much love to @lerr-writes-fic for betareading and to @nicolasadrabbles for loaning me a couple character names!

Title: The Walk Before the Run Rating: T Content: Alcohol, mild language Pairing: James Vega/Tali'Zorah vas Normandy Genre: Fluff Word Count: 3370 AO3 Link

Tali let loose another muttered curse at the error on her screen. She was seriously considering intimidating the console into behaving with her shotgun - it certainly worked on people. The engineering team had woken up that morning to a 0.4% drop in drive core efficiency, seemingly out of nowhere, and the cause was still a total mystery, even into the midday hours. They were all working the problem, though Adams had gone for a walk around the ship, saying it helped him think sometimes. So when she heard the elevator a moment later, she thought he must be back - hopefully with some new ideas, if they had any luck.

So she was surprised and a little miffed when the next words she heard were not, "Great news: I know what the problem is!" but instead, "Hey, Sparks, how's it hangin'?"

Tali's hands paused over the console, and her brow creased behind her faceplate. "Fine…" she replied slowly, continuing her work on the engine. "I'm a little busy though. Did you need something, Vega?"

"Oh. Well, uh-" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, there's something I wanted to... show you. On the Citadel."

She stopped typing again, this time turning around to face him. "On the Citadel? What would you have to show me on the Citadel?" Mentally, she cursed her curiosity for getting the better of her. She really didn't have time for this.

He grinned with a feigned confidence that Tali saw right through. "Wouldn't wanna ruin the surprise. But," he hurriedly continued when she crossed her arms over her chest, radiating skepticism and impatience, "I promise you'll like it. Shepard even said so!"

She raised a brow. "You talked to Shepard about this?"

"Yeah, I mean-" He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced off to the side, bravado melting away. "Had to clear the shore leave and everything. Make sure I could borrow her best engineer for a night."

"Hey!" Gabby protested from her station. James' complexion darkened a few shades, seemingly having forgotten that there were witnesses to his fumbling.

"Anyway," he continued, his voice strung tight with nerves. "If you're up for it, we can meet up by Edroki Plaza in Kithoi Ward tomorrow at 1800. What do you say?"

Tali eyed him silently as she weighed her options - making him sweat was just a bonus. There was no way they wouldn't have the engine figured out by then, and while she knew James was no danger to her, that didn't mean some mystery date was a good idea. Still, her curiosity tugged at her, and if Shepard had endorsed whatever the hell this was…

"I'll think about it."

~~~

Later, Tali approached Shepard at her terminal in the War Room. "Hey, Shepard?"

"Mm?" Shepard hummed through a sip of cold coffee, eyes trained on the screen.

"What is James doing?"

Shepard set her mug down and began replying to a message. "What, like right now?"

Tali huffed, crossing her arms in an echo of her earlier pose. "No, I mean… He said he wants to 'show me something on the Citadel'. He said he talked to you about it."

"Ah. That," Shepard said with a rare, secretive smile. "Yeah, you should do that."

"But what is it?" she asked, oozing exasperation.

Shepard finally paused her work to turn and face her friend, leaning one hip against the desk. "Can't tell you that. But trust me. You'll be glad you went."

Tali narrowed her eyes and stared Shepard down, tapping her fingers on her elbow, hoping (foolishly, she knew) that her Commander would take pity on her and tell her what was going on.

But, as ever, pity was not in Viola Shepard's vocabulary.

Tali threw her hands up with an indignant groan. "Keelah, fine. I'll go. But I'd better not regret this, or I'm coming after you, Shepard." She turned and all but stomped out of the War Room.

"Have fun, Tali!" Shepard called out, eyes already back on her screen.

~~~

Barely dodging a deeply disgruntled-looking quarian, Garrus entered the War Room with a steaming mug in each hand and headed over to Shepard's terminal. "So," he drawled as he placed one of the mugs at her side. "Is she gonna go?"

Shepard pressed 'Send' on her message and moved on to the next. "Yep."

"Too bad," Garrus said mournfully, "I was gonna ask Jimmy to take me."

She snorted. "Nerd."

~~~

By the time Tali got to the meeting point, James was already waiting - anxiously, if the way he kept scanning the area and bouncing on the balls of his feet was any indication. She paused before she got too close, observing him for a moment and wondering for the hundredth time in the last 20 hours just what had gotten into him. He checked the time on his omni-tool, spurring her to do the same. 1800 on the dot. It would be cruel, she supposed, to be late and make him question if she was coming at all. She shook her head, still wary of this entire situation despite trusting Shepard's judgment implicitly, and continued walking in James' direction. "Can't wait to see what this is all about," she muttered.

When he caught sight of her, James ceased his bouncing, and his face broke out in a grin. "Hey hey! You made it!" he exclaimed.

His unmistakable joy at her arrival filled Tali with a lightness that she refused to examine too closely, and she found herself suppressing a tiny smile. "Yep, I'm here, James. Now, will you please tell me why I’m here?"

His smile turned sly. "Said I was gonna show you, remember? Follow me." Without waiting for her reply, he turned and headed down the main thoroughfare of Kithoi Ward's Market District. Tali followed with a huff, plenty tired of the secrecy by now, but she said nothing - he clearly wasn't going to give anything else up until they reached their destination. They walked side-by-side in silence, the din of the crowds and the ads calling out for their attention doing little to ease the awkwardness. After a minute, James cleared his throat. "So…" he said, trying to fill the space. "How's uh, being an Admiral?"

She snorted. "Honestly, it's a whole lot of bullshit."

"Heh." He glanced down at her before checking a street sign. "So politics really are the same in every species, huh?"

"It seemed like a much better system when I was younger," she said earnestly. "Even if it meant my father was busy all the time, I thought they were really getting things done, doing what was best for the Flotilla. But…" She trailed off with a sigh. "Look, it's not like it's all bad. But now that I've seen what goes on behind the scenes - let's just say I guess I was a little naive."

"I hear ya," he replied with a nod. "But hey, ain't that what bein' a kid is all about?"

"Yeah," she conceded. "I just wish I'd been more prepared, I guess."

He caught her eye again and smiled. "Far as I can tell, you're killin' it, Sparks."

She couldn't help smiling back, just a little. "Still a terrible nickname. But thanks."

"Anytime- Oh, we gotta turn here." He pointed out a nearby alley that was not as well lit as Tali would typically have liked - if she were with anyone but a trusted member of Shepard's crew, she wouldn't have taken a step further.

As it was, she swallowed her instinctual objections and followed James down the alley. Then down another, and another, as he steered them through the maze that the Ward became off the beaten path. After the fifth turn, she was growing frustrated. "James, where are we go-"

"Aha! Here it is!" he proclaimed triumphantly. He finally led them down a short flight of stairs to a basement door guarded by a single, unarmored turian. Tali couldn't help but look over her shoulder, wary of who might be lurking around a place like this. Keelah, could this place be any shadier?

Distracted, she nearly missed James transmitting something from his omnitool to the guard's and didn't get a look quickly enough to see what it was. The guard scrutinized whatever James had sent, nodded, and opened the door to let them inside with a mumbled, "Enjoy the show."

Show? What kind of show would be in… Tali's thoughts trailed off at the sight of the space that opened up before her. The first thing she noticed was how clean it was, in contrast with her expectations of a basement buried in a labyrinth of alleyways in the Wards. Bars bustling with patrons and servers lined either side of the tastefully decorated room, and the floor space - easily equalling the main floor of Purgatory in size - was filled by about a dozen small tables with accompanying chairs, holo-candles flickering at the center of each. Small parties of two or three sat around all but a handful of the tables, drinking, chatting, and laughing as if there weren't a galaxy-wide war going on. Mostly turians, she observed, but also more quarians than you typically saw in one place on the Citadel. The focal point, though, was clearly the modest stage at the far side of the venue. Currently dark, it waited in anticipation of whatever all of these people - including herself, apparently - were there to see.

James let out a low whistle, recapturing Tali's attention. "Man, place looks fancy all set up like this."

She tilted her head. "You mean you've never been here before?"

"Not when it was actually open," he explained, leading her over to one of the last empty tables. "I got the tip from a guy down at the docks whose brother works here. Came to scope it out a few days ago to make sure it was legit."

Seconds after they took their seats, a turian server came over and offered to take their drink orders - if he thought them an odd pair, he didn't comment. "Quarian-safe offerings tonight are a horosk-and-seltzer cocktail, dextro heat sink, and needor wine from the Joleya. All fully filtered, of course."

Tali's eyes widened at the last option. "You have needor wine?! I've never even seen it outside of the Flotilla!"

The server's mandibles flared in a polite smile. "For tonight? Of course. Can I get you a glass?"

"Please," Tali replied eagerly.

"Gladly. And for you, sir, our levo options include Akantha, a Bekenstein ale, and…" he paused and his smile faltered. "Well, ryncol, just in case, but I don't recommend-"

James laughed heartily. "Nah, man, that's okay. Y'know, I've never had Akantha, but I hear it's great - let's give that a shot."

The server relaxed again and nodded. "Perfect, I'll be right back with those. The show will be starting in about ten minutes."

Once he was gone, James reclined a bit in his chair and surveyed the venue, the picture of cool and collected aside from his leg bouncing under the table. Tali considered him for a moment. Even if she still didn't know what kind of 'show' they were waiting for, she wasn't an idiot - she knew he was trying very hard to impress her. It was… sweet, even if she wasn't quite sure how she should - or wanted to - respond to it. "Hey," she said to catch his attention. "Whatever it is we're here for, I wasn't sure I'd ever have needor wine again, after the Flotilla stayed on Rannoch. So, thank you for that, at least."

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table with a soft smile like she'd never seen from him before. "No problem, Tali. I just-" He cut himself off and shook his head. "Nah, never mind. So-" He cleared his throat. "That wine, it's pretty rare?"

She found herself really curious about what he had stopped himself from saying, but she let it slide. "Extremely," she replied instead. "Quarians don't make very much alcohol - well, not to drink, anyway. There's not a lot of space in the Flotilla to dedicate to non-essentials. Needor are a fruit native to Rannoch that we managed to take with us when we were driven off the planet. There are just three liveships that ferment it into wine, and as far as I knew, it was never exported. Production stopped when the war started, so…” Her gaze fell to the table. “There isn't much left now."

James gently laid his hand on Tali's shoulder - keelah, his hands are huge - but stayed quiet. That was one thing she appreciated about the Normandy crew: they were all far beyond platitudes by now. She sighed, comforted by the touch. "It's okay. I'll make the most of it.”

He lightly squeezed her shoulder before removing his hand and leaning back away from the table as the server approached with their drinks. Tali perked up at the sight of her glass (complete with ‘emergency induction port’) and, after offering a quick thanks, took an eager sip. She could feel James’ eyes on her even as he lifted his Akantha to his lips, but she was too focused on the delicate sweet-sour flavor of her wine to care. Her eyes slipped closed as she hummed blissfully. It was definitely from the Joleya, just a touch on the sweeter side compared to the varieties from the other two ships. She wondered if she could do some digging and find out who this place had gotten it from. It might be nice to have a bottle stowed away for a special occasion - winning a war, for example.

She set the glass down, wanting to take her time with it, and opened her eyes just in time to see James' gaze flick away from hers. Her cheeks warmed as she frowned a bit. How long had he been acting like this around her? It seemed so obvious now, and Tali thought herself pretty astute when it came to things like... well. But until he came to see her yesterday, she hadn't noticed anything off, aside from his initial fumbling attempt at a nickname. And now, the nerves, the staring, and all this effort he'd gone to - was it just that she hadn't been paying him any mind?

The thought bothered her, for some reason.

"James-" she started to ask, but she was interrupted by the house lights suddenly dimming while the stage lights came up. There was no announcer or introduction, just the low buzz of excited whispers in the audience for a couple of minutes while Tali grew increasingly restless. She thought she could hear James' fingers tapping arrhythmically on the table as well.

Finally, fading in over the speakers on the walls, an opening chord that Tali would recognize anywhere. She gasped, "That's-"

"Let the moon's shining light hide two lovers with its rays..."

Her next words were supplanted by a high-pitched squeal (one of a few in the room) when two singers took the stage, intoning in harmony. Because keelah, it was Jaani'Dal vas Raenna and Quintus Virinius, dressed casually but no less recognizable (mainly by voice, in Jaani's case), hitting every note of Fleet and Flotilla's love theme with effortless precision.

Tali barely blinked for the next three minutes, mouth hanging open and eyes laser-focused on the stage until the song reached a stunning crescendo, sending a chill up and down her spine before she leapt from her chair in applause along with the rest of the audience. Broken out of her trancelike state, she finally looked at James again, standing next to her and clapping as well, though looking a bit less like he was about to vibrate out of his skin from excitement than she did. She leaned closer and raised her voice to be heard over the cheers from the crowd. "What is this?" she asked.

He bent his head to answer near her helmet's auditory receptors. "They're putting together this charity concert tour here on the Citadel, but they have these underground dry runs first. That's why it's not advertised yet - you gotta know somebody," he told her with a wink.

She opened her mouth to reply, but a hush fell over the crowd as the next song began. Instead, she took her seat and contented herself with enjoying the drinks, the music, and the company, shutting out the war raging across the galaxy for just a couple of hours.

~~~

"I'm still in shock," Tali gushed as they made their way back to the Normandy late that night. The D docks weren't as bustling as they were during the Presidium's day cycle, but the bounce in her step still drew a few glances. "How did you even hear about this? I know you said that guy at the docks, but I wouldn't have even known to ask."

"Oh, uh," James coughed and did that awkward neck rub thing again. "They were talkin' about movies, and I asked if any of them had seen Fleet and Flotilla since I heard you talking about it in the mess a couple weeks ago. Apparently it's real popular with turians and that was a stupid question." Her quiet giggle seemed to relax him a bit as he chuckled along. "So I told him I had this friend who was a big fan, and he said it was my lucky day if I could beat him on the next hand. Good thing I've been letting those guys think I was lousy at cards," he confided with a mischievous smirk.

The fact that he'd been talking about her to strangers - asking about things she liked - made her all but certain that she really hadn't been paying attention to how he must've been acting around her. There was no way she could've missed this if she had been - tonight had proven that he couldn't play it cool with her if he tried.

All this time, he liked her.

She probably needed to figure out what to do with that.

As they stepped into the airlock and waited for the decontamination cycle, Tali realized she was still smiling softly, and this time when she made eye contact with him, he didn't look away. She felt herself blush and was grateful, not for the first time, that he couldn't see it. "James..." she said quietly, fiddling with the edge of her hood. "Thank you. I had a lot of fun, and maybe I needed a night off more than I realized. It was... sweet of you to think of me."

He grinned broadly, and her traitorous little heart skipped a beat. "Anytime, Tali. And you know, you can always come down and say hey when you need a break." The decon cycle finished, and they walked through the CIC together to the elevator. Tali pretended she didn't notice a few of the night crew smiling at them as they stepped in. Ships and their gossip...

James pressed the buttons for the Crew Deck and Engineering as the doors closed - Tali had never gotten out of the habit of sleeping near the comforting hum of the Normandy's engines. "Maybe I will," she said slowly. "And maybe..." She hesitated. Ah, what the hell... "Maybe we can find something else to do next time we're on the Citadel."

His eyes went wide, and for a few moments, he just gaped at her, but a curious tilt of her head seemed to snap him out of it. "You- I mean, yeah! Yeah, that sounds great. It's a... plan." Now his blush was perfectly visible.

She giggled again and took his hand for a brief squeeze. "Good night, James," she said teasingly, nodding toward the open elevator doors.

As he backed out, Tali was struck by the memory of a human gesture Kasumi had once taught her. Before she could talk herself out of it, she lifted her hand to her helmet's mouthpiece, made a 'mwah' sound, turned her palm up, and blew in James' direction.

He stopped dead in his tracks, just outside of the elevator, and she might've thought she'd remembered 'blowing a kiss' wrong if it weren't for his dazed, softly muttered, "Holy hell," as the doors slid closed.

#mass effect #tali x james #tali’zorah vas normandy #james vega #jali #fanfic #my work #fluff #alcohol tw #join me in this rarepair hell

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tothelasthoursofmylife · 10 months

Text

“Who wouldn’t be confused?”

London, England, United Kingdom – February 1846

Even casting up her eyes hurt.

Cloudia had arrived at the Morrow townhouse in the dead of night and immediately fallen asleep. It had been a long drive, and Cloudia wished she had simply checked into an inn for the night, even if it had meant potentially exposing her disguise (neither her aunt Felicity’s carriage driver nor Keegan’s butler had known). At least, then the drive – part of which had been rough because of the bumpy road – would not have worsened her state, and Cloudia might not have felt as sore as she did now. Alas, she was an idiot. With a hearty groan, she rolled to her side and closed her eyes again.

She could simply stay in bed and sleep all day to recuperate.

If she had not promised Kamden to visit today.

With another, louder groan, Cloudia sat up in her bed and rubbed her eyes. Of course, she could send Kamden a note to let him know that she could not come to the bookstore today, but he was an endless worrywart and would immediately think she was seriously wounded, not just sore with a few scratches. Her scratches had been treated back at Beaumont Manor on Cadell’s insistence though, and after a bath, she would look nearly as good as new – even if she certainly did not feel like it.

I didn’t feel like I had been inside a carriage but that one had repeatedly driven over me.

And if I didn’t go to Kamden today, everyone here would fuss over me. I would rather have one person bothering me instead of an entire household.

Just when Cloudia had managed to sit on the edge of her bed, the door was flung open, and Lisa entered, carrying a tray with tea. “Miss Countess is finally awake, I see,” she said with a grin on her face. “It’s past twelve o’clock; did you amuse yourself so much with the disguise I helped with? I suppose this means it went well and nobody found out you’re a fraud?”

Nobody except Milton ran through Cloudia’s mind, and a weird tingle went through her when she thought of him.

I wondered if Milton had returned home fine. Was he as sore as I was? I hoped he was not doing worse than me. We had been treated separately, and I didn’t know the full extent of his injuries. He had seemed fine, had been adamant to the Disaster Trio that he was perfectly well, though he could be downplaying his state. Milton seemed hellbent on not wanting anyone to worry about him, after all.

And even if he was not physically wounded, the incident had definitely taken a toll on his nerves.

I could feel his arms around me when I recalled the memory, the almost mechanical grip with which he had held me, his warm body against mine, the tears raining upon my jacket. Oddly enough, my heart did a flip and ached when I thought of that.

“Thank you, Miss Greene, but I don’t want tea right now. I just want a bath,” said Cloudia and stood. She clenched her teeth when her feet touched the ground. It was as if someone had rammed a hundred pin needles into her flesh, and Cloudia wondered if that was how the mermaid from Andersen’s fairy tale had felt when she gained her legs and feet.

Lisa rolled her eyes and put the tray on a commode. “As you wish, Mylady. It sure took you long to answer though. Were you thinking of someone?” She grinned, and when Cloudia only blinked at her, wordlessly, Lisa sighed and vanished into the adjourning bathroom. A few moments later, Cloudia heard water rushing. By the time, Cloudia had slowly walked to her wardrobe and selected a simple day dress, the bath was prepared.

“That’s rather plain,” commented Lisa, raising an eyebrow at the dress. “Another disguise?”

“Yes,” Cloudia replied. “I need to be inconspicuous for the errand I have to run today.”

“Do you want me to accompany you?”

“No, I will be perfectly fine on my own,” said Cloudia. “You can go now, Miss Greene. I will call if I need your help getting dressed.”

“If you say so,” said Lisa and left the room. When Cloudia heard the click of the closing bedroom door, she exhaled, took off her robe, and stepped into the warm bathwater; its scent was almost unbearably sweet. It had been a year since she employed Lisa, but Cloudia simply did not feel comfortable undressing in front of anyone, even if it was another girl her age.

Cloudia took a deep breath and then sank underwater.

***

The warmth of the bath and whatever Lisa had put into it had helped, but every movement still hurt. Cloudia and Kamden had not arranged a specific time for their meet-up today, and she had decided to leave now; after all, the sooner she went to Kamden, the sooner she could return to the townhouse and her bed.

This state was truly dreadful. I would only wish it on my enemies. Hopefully, Milton fared much better than I did.

Cloudia touched the walls as she walked through the corridor; an unforgivable crime in any of her aunts’ houses, but nobody was around to see and scold her, thankfully. Just as she reached the staircase, she heard voices drifting out of Ceara’s room. Keegan must be with her, trying to entertain his sister while she fought off the rest of her sickness. And although this was a common event – Keegan had done so ever since Ceara had become sick; in the beginning, he had carefully stood in the doorsill – the sound of Ceara’s voice made Cloudia stop. Only yesterday, she had sounded stuffy and coughed terribly; now, her voice sounded clear, and Cloudia even heard her laugh, free of rattling and phlegm.

Collecting all her strength, Cloudia walked over to Ceara’s room and peeked inside. The room was decorated in a rather simple manner: flowery red wallpaper, a large, heavy bed of dark wood and a wardrobe, desk, and vanity of the same material. A few books were stacked on the desk, and a single painting hung on the wall right above it: It showed a ship caught in a storm. It was void of knickknacks or a hint of any hobbies; this was not only because Ceara liked her room clean and free of clutter but also because the Morrows spent little time in their London townhouse. Cloudia wondered how Ceara’s – or Keegan’s or her aunt and uncle’s – room looked like, her true room in Ireland; she had never been able to visit them there.

Keegan was leaning against the desk, his arms akimbo, and Ceara was sitting up in her bed, surrounded by a ring of pillows which was definitely Keegan’s work. Cloudia’s eyes widened when she spotted her. Only yesterday, she had been pale, and her hair mussed; now, her cheeks were rosy again, and her hair was shiny albeit messy. There was not even a hint of sickness hanging in the air anymore.

“Ceara,” said Cloudia, and she was sure she must be looking like a fish. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine, and, Cloudia, stop standing in the doorsill and come in,” Ceara said and rolled her eyes. “And what on earth are you wearing?”

The ensemble I had chosen was plain – a grey blouse and a long dark skirt – and while it might be too simple for a noblewoman’s day dress, it was not rags sewn together! I had no idea why everyone found fault with it. My body might be stiff and sore, but my mind was still clear; I didn’t choose blindly. I also couldn’t have put on my clothes the wrong way because Miss Greene had helped me.

“I’m off to yet another undercover mission soon,” said Cloudia, stepping into the room. Every step hurt and she wished she could have remained by the doorframe; instead, she forced herself to walk to the vanity and sit down on its chair. “I’m afraid I cannot tell you more about it.”

“That’s fine,” Keegan said. “How was spending a day with the Disaster Trio?” He grimaced as he asked the question.

“They were exhausting, but not as much as I had feared,” Cloudia replied. “They mostly ignored me, thankfully.”

“But did you win the hunt, Cloudia?” Ceara wanted to know, now even a glint sparked in her eyes when it had been such a strain only yesterday.

“Nobody won the hunt. There was some chaos, and it was eventually decided that no winner would be chosen,” Cloudia told her. Nothing she had said was a lie, but she was already preparing one in case her cousins asked what exactly this “chaos” had been; after all, Cloudia could hardly tell them about Domino throwing her off and the bandits. Instead of enquiring further, Keegan and Ceara only nodded.

“Of course, a hunt with the Disaster Trio wouldn’t go smoothly,” said Ceara.

“I knew going on a hunt with those people would be a waste of time and nerves,” remarked Keegan and scowled. “I am sorry, Cloudia.”

Geoffrey, Cadell, and Falk’s reputation was useful for something after all.

“It’s all right,” Cloudia waved away. “I’ve experienced worse. Let’s hope they don’t invite you to a redo hunt then, Keegan. This time I will not go for you.”

Keegan looked as if he had swallowed an entire bag of lemon drops. “I will refuse the invitation.”

“And what if Bentley accosts Uncle Aiden anew, and he agrees again?”

“Make an excuse, say that I am sick or busy.”

“Or leave England and never come back,” Ceara proposed, and Keegan nodded. “Or that. It is very practical that we primarily live in Ireland.”

Her cousins kept talking about other possible excuses, one more outrageously silly than the other, while Cloudia let her gaze wander through the room in boredom. She frowned when she spotted a familiar-looking box on Ceara’s bedside cabinet. “Ceara?” she asked, and Keegan and Ceara interrupted their conversation and turned their attention back to her. “Did you eat my cake?”

Ceara’s eyes widened. “That was your cake?” She scowled at her brother. “You said I could eat it!”

“I didn’t know! Mother said she got you a cake, and I thought this one was yours,” said Keegan, holding his hands up. “I’m sorry, Cloudia.”

“It’s all right,” Cloudia said and suddenly realised that she felt sad at the prospect of never even having had the chance to taste one of those orange muffins. Partially because she would have loved to find out what was so special about them – and maybe try to recreate this specialness – but also because this particular muffin had been a parting gift, and Milton had looked like it had been rather difficult to make her this present, even.

It had been such an odd scene yesterday. Milton had looked so nervous; what could be so reprehensible at giving such a banal gift? Someone had been even watching us, unless my tired brain had conjured a person in the shadows that had not been there at all which I very much doubted.

But who had observed us? Wentworth had been my first choice, but why would Milton be distressed by his butler’s presence? Anyone from the Disaster Trio could be excluded for the same reason. Maybe, Milton hadn’t wanted anyone to see us together, only for some servant to spot us, nevertheless. This didn’t ring true to me, though Milton might simply have still been jumpy from our encounter with the bandits.

“I hope you liked that muffin, Ceara,” Cloudia continued. “Flanagan and Bentley were on the verge of murdering each other because of them yesterday.”

“It was very tasty,” said Ceara, uncharacteristically sheepishly; it must gnaw on her that she had unwittingly eaten Cloudia’s cake even if it was such an inconsequential matter. “You can have the cake Mother bought me in exchange.”

“It’s fine, Ceara. I’m not in the mood for sweets anyway,” Cloudia replied. She could see that her cousin was about to retort something – likely something along the lines of “I insist” or “I will repay you at another time then” – when a footman carefully rapped against the doorframe and drew everyone’s attention to him. “Lady Phantomhive?” he said with a bow. “You have a guest; she is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

“Who would…” began Cloudia before it dawned upon her. There was only one “she” who would visit her at her family’s townhouse and only request her. “Please tell the Marchioness I will see her immediately.”

With a nod and another bow, the footman vanished.

“Which Marchioness?” asked Keegan and frowned.

Ceara sighed. “Her chaperone, of course, Kee. Marchioness Cecelia Williams.”

“Right. I always forget that Cloudia has a chaperone even if it is normal to have one; after all, Cloudia often walks around on her own.”

“My chaperone does not like to walk around at all,” said Cloudia and added mumbling, “but annoying people she sure loves.”

***

Only Cecelia and Barrington would ever seek her out at one of her relatives’ houses and ask solely for her. That they did, however, was rather unusual. Not only was it an unspoken rule for her Watchdog associates, her Aristocrats of Evil, to stay away from Cloudia’s relatives as she wanted to keep her family as distant as possible from her Watchdog work (Barrington might be a longtime family friend and Cecelia her chaperone but both were currently Aristocrats of Evil first and foremost) but also because neither Cecelia nor Barrington wanted to engage with her family unless they absolutely had to. Barrington did not seem to enjoy her aunts’ company and often appeared outright uncomfortable in their vicinity, and Cecelia simply did not care for them and rarely left her house anyway.

Oscar was, of course, an exception to this “rule”: After all, he was a legally dead man, a legally dead serial murderer even. If he ever showed up at one of my aunts’ doorsteps, the situation must be seriously dire. If this horrible case ever came up, I could only hope that none of my relatives had ever heard a description of the Yard Ripper. Or had met Oscar when he was still working with my father.

That Cecelia had personally come to the Morrow townhouse must mean that she either had something very important to tell Cloudia – or that she was very, very mad at her.

I wanted the former to be the case. But what could be so important for Cecelia to seek me out at my Aunt Felicity’s? We were not investigating a Watchdog case; and if we were, I would be the first to know about it. Cecelia would never classify a complaining session about yet another unfortunate run-in with Adrianne Royceston as a matter of high importance, even if Cecelia did love those sessions. The only thing she would categorise so highly was her husband’s murder case.

Michael Williams’ murder five years ago, one day before his wife’s twenty-fourth birthday, was the reason Cecelia had employed herself as an Evil Noblewoman after all. Still, the only hint Cecelia had managed to uncover was a kind of code: FT43. She had not figured it out yet, and neither had I or anyone else we had carefully consulted.

But maybe Cecelia had finally figured it out – or found out something more about it, at least. Perhaps we had been missing another letter or number all along? Yes, another clue for this mystery would certainly make Cecelia come to my aunt and uncle’s house.

Content with her hypothesis, Cloudia slowly descended the stairs. Surely, by the time the little mermaid had to climb stairs with her new, aching body for the first time, she must have regretted that contract.

After what felt like an eternity, Cloudia finally arrived at the parlour. And right after she stepped inside it, she ripped her hypothesis into pieces and set fire to it: Unlike Ceara’s room with its strong colours, the drawing room of the Morrow townhouse looked almost drained. The seating was pearl-coloured, the furniture made of light wood, and any accent of colour was pale; even the light from the chandelier was duller than the light from the lamps in the corridor. The other rooms had been remodelled over the years, but the parlour had always retained its colour scheme. Cloudia always felt a bit cold when she entered the Pale Drawing Room; today, the coldness that washed over her did not only come from the icy feel of the room but also from Cecelia’s smile.

A servant closed the door behind Cloudia, and the sound of wood hitting wood echoed through the parlour for a bit too long.

“Dearest Cloudia,” said Cecelia, her voice sugary sweet. She looked painfully out of place in this near-colourless room with her black mourning dress, though her attire still felt fitting for the occasion. “Please sit down.”

Cloudia sat down on the sofa opposite Cecelia. The table between them bore not only a bottle of wine but also a tea set and a plethora of sandwiches and cakes. Cloudia itched to tell Cecelia that it was too early for teatime, but said instead with a sigh, “You know this is my uncle and aunt’s house and not yours, do you?”

“The Viscount and Viscountess of Morrow are currently at a luncheon at the Kents’,” said Cecelia. “I am your chaperone; in the absence of an elder relative of yours, I am essentially in charge of you.”

“Only ‘essentially,’” Cloudia retorted. “And this certainly does not extend to my cousins, let alone to you coming here uninvited.”

“It does now.” Cecelia poured wine into her glass and energetically set down the bottle; Cloudia was astonished it didn’t break. “Cloudia, dear, do you want to continue this irrelevant thread of conversation, or do you want to tell me what you were doing at Beaumont Manor yesterday?” She glared at her, her blue eyes glacial. “No, you do not have to tell me anything, my dear. I already know what you did. Isn’t it lovely that the wanted criminals that had been hiding in those woods were caught the day you were at Beaumont Manor? Right after I told you there were any bandits in the woods at all?”

“I don’t know why you care so much,” said Cloudia and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “The bandits are caught and imprisoned now; nobody was hurt, and the world is a little safer.”

“I care,” Cecelia replied, her expression darkening even further, “because I gave you all that information and you promised you would not do anything with it.”

“I promised that I would stay away from Scotland Yard – and I upheld that promise. I haven’t been there since, and Beaumont Manor is not in London and, thus, not under the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Police. I haven’t even crossed paths with any local police officer yesterday.”

“No, Cloudia, you promised to stay away from Scotland Yard and take a break. Going out and catching a group of thieves is not a break!” exclaimed Cecelia with such intensity that the wine in her glass vibrated. Cloudia was sure the furniture had shaken too.

Cecelia downed her drink and then leaned back and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I have never been so glad that I never had any children myself.” She let her hand sink and fixed her eyes on Cloudia.

“I didn’t go to Beaumont Manor specifically to search for the bandits,” Cloudia replied. “My cousin Keegan was invited by Geoffrey Bentley to join him and his friends at that manor for a hunt. He didn’t want to go, and I offered to in his stead.”

“You went on a hunt,” said Cecelia hollowly. “And Geoffrey Bentley and his friends were fine with you substituting for your cousin?”

“Not quite. They didn’t know it was me because I joined the hunt disguised as Keegan.”

“How lovely. What will you tell me next? That the Disaster Trio gallantly helped you defeat some criminals while you were meant to be on a hunt?”

“No,” Cloudia said. “They didn’t help me. They know nothing about the bandits.”

Cecelia raised an eyebrow. “Cloudia, dear, I know you’ve been training since you were a child and that the former head of the British knights and the infamous Scotland Yard Ripper are schooling you, but I doubt even you could fend off a dozen bandits on your own. Unless my source was not only inexact but blatantly exaggerating.” She leaned a little forward, the look in her blue eyes intense.

“Who helped you?” Cecelia asked, and Cloudia pressed her lips thinly together. “I doubt it was your burly butler. After all, you went to the hunt as your cousin; it would have been odd to bring your own servant under this circumstance. If you had asked Barrington for help, he would have done anything to stop you and confronted me for telling you about the theft and murder. The Bookstore Boy can also be ruled out; you are too protective of him, and I don’t think he would be of any use in such a situation – unless he was pelting the bandits with books and apprehending them with binding glue. There are not many other people you could have asked for assistance.” Cecelia tilted her head. “And, despite your absurd actions, I doubt you would have been idiotic enough to involve Oscar. Unless you wanted civilians to accidentally stumble over a notorious murderer who officially died three years ago.”

“I went to the hunt only with Keegan’s butler,” Cloudia told her. Her arms were still crossed, and she dug her fingers into her arms; hopefully, Cecelia would not notice this. “No one besides Keegan, Ceara, and my servants even knew I would be there.”

Cecelia clapped her hands together and her eyes sparkled in delight. “Another guest! Who else was at that hunt, Cloudia?”

“Why are you so insistent to know?”

“Because I am me, and for that reason, I think I will search for the answer myself and then,” Cecelia grimaced, “ask Oscar for a favour. After all, whoever helped you saw you fighting off a group of bandits – and no wig would stay on in such a skirmish. And considering that you are not still wearing one, I suppose you did not consult the Bookstore Boy and his binding glue after all.”

Cloudia felt a few degrees colder. “Cecelia–”

“Your helper, thus, knows that not Keegan Morrow was at the hunt yesterday,” Cecelia continued, ignoring Cloudia, “but Cloudia Phantomhive. There are many, many rumours regarding the mysterious Queen’s Watchdog – and some of those rumours even connect that figure to the Phantomhive family. If it gets out that a certain Lady Cloudia from exactly that suspected family disguises herself and hunts criminals, what do you think will happen, my dear?” Cecelia stood, and Cloudia’s body temperature dropped even more. “I abhor Oscar, but he is frighteningly protective of you to a degree, and he would certainly agree that it is better to find your helper and have him be killed before…”

“Don’t even think about it!” exclaimed Cloudia. She might have even jumped out of her seat if her body had allowed her. “Under no circumstance, I will allow you to ask Oscar to go after Milton…” Cloudia immediately clamped her mouth closed but the damage was already done.

While she cursed herself eternally, an impish grin appeared on Cecelia’s face. “Haven’t slept well, have you, dear? After all, the local police arrived to arrest the thieves rather late in the evening, and Beaumont Manor isn’t very close to here.”

Cloudia rubbed her face and groaned.

Dumb, dumb, dumb. How could I fall for this idiotic trick?

“I really should have stayed at an inn. Then, you wouldn’t have followed me there,” said Cloudia.

“Under these circumstances, even I would chase you to the end of the world,” Cecelia replied sweetly and sat back down. “I would rather that you stayed closer by because travelling is a nuisance, but I will travel if I must. Now, to this mysterious ‘Milton.’” She tipped a finger against her chin. “It can be both a first and a last name, but let me guess, it’s a first name in this case, isn’t it?”

Despite her best effort, something on Cloudia’s face must have given it away because Cecelia’s smile broadened. “Oh, you scandalous girl! Calling a man by his given name! There aren’t many nobles with the first name ‘Milton’ that are around the age of the Disaster Trio…” Cecelia’s eyes suddenly widened. “Milton Salisbury?”

Cloudia groaned again. “How on earth did you figure that out?”

“I remembered something,” she replied quickly before she poured herself another glass of wine. “Milton Salisbury,” Cecelia repeated as if the name had bespelled her. “I didn’t know he could fight.”

“He can’t,” Cloudia said automatically, and she was surprised by the quick lie. Milton didn’t want anyone to know what they had done yesterday; and while Cecelia had found out on her own, there was no reason for Cloudia to feed her any details that might give away any of Milton’s secrets. After all, he, hopefully, kept hers too; it only seemed fair and right not to expose him. “Milton just helped a little. And although he does not look or seem intimidating at all, his sheer presence helped.”

“That’s interesting. But do you know what interests me even more?” There was a glint in Cecelia’s eyes that sent chills down Cloudia’s spine. “It was an amateurish attempt, but it is still fascinating that you would shield anyone as you did, Cloudia. That’s so very unlike you after all.” She raised her glass to her lips and her eyes sparkled even more when she mustered Cloudia. “Cloudia, dear, could you have fallen in love?”

Cloudia stared at Cecelia in bewilderment. She had never been fond of alcohol, but Cloudia felt herself itching for a glass of wine too – if only to cover one bad taste with another. “No, of course, not,” retorted Cloudia. “We had two conversations, Cecelia.”

“Sometimes, it only requires one look, my dear. And two conversations?”

Now I wished I had fallen badly from Domino. Kamden had told me about the dangers of a comatose state; however, I couldn’t imagine it being significantly worse than conversing with Cecelia when she was particularly insufferable.

Cloudia clenched her teeth and got to her feet. A prickle ran through her body, but she ignored it. “I need to leave now. Goodbye, Cecelia.”

Cecelia propped a cheek on her hand. “Oh, don’t be like that, Cloudia! I’m simply intrigued by your two little meetups with Milton Salisbury, though I have to say that it is peculiar that you managed to meet him at all. Leland only died in December; Milton should still be in mourning, even if mourning rules are laxer for men than for women.”

“He was…” began Cloudia and then stopped herself. She and her damned, tired brain. “I’ve been wondering about that too but…” She halted again, her stupid brain catching the implication in Cecelia’s words only now. “Did you know his father?”

Cecelia swirled her glass. “Yes, I did, my curious girl. I’ll tell you all I know about Milton Salisbury and his family if you sit down again.” She presented Cloudia with her impish smile yet again, and after weighing it out, the curious part of her won, and Cloudia sat back down.

Cecelia, an amused expression on her face, took a sip of wine before she started: “I first met Leland Salisbury in the Season of 1836. Michael and I had got engaged only recently, and I had moved to London.

“Leland was a thoroughly pleasant man, endlessly polite and charming. He lived far away from London and even during the Season, he only visited the city for a week before he would leave again. I – and the rest of London Society – thought it a little odd because who would snub the Season? Still, nobody thought much of it, and everyone was very surprised when Leland moved back to London not alone but with a wife and child. No one had known he was married and had a family before that.”

Cloudia’s eyes widened. “No one had known?”

Cecelia nodded. “No one had known. They came to London because they were expecting their second child, and Milton’s mother was, apparently, a rather frail woman and they feared complications. I suppose they must have lived somewhere in the countryside?”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“Yes,” Cecelia admitted and sighed. “I considered Leland a friend, and at that time, I already collected information, though for a different purpose. I had embellished my past a bit before I arrived in London; Michael, of course, knew my true background. However, British upper-class people can sniff out social climbers and the nouveau riche as if they are the world’s finest bloodhounds. There is nothing that people who can trace their family trees to the Norman Conquest loathe more than commoners pretending to be them.” Cecelia took another sip and then placed her glass on the table. “A commoner could marry a prince and become a princess in every form but address; still, a lowly-titled lady or lord of an old noble family will ridicule you at any given opportunity.

“Thus, I collected information predominantly on the worst of bloodhounds so that I would be untouchable in case they managed to sniff me out and try to reveal my heritage to everyone. Leland was a friend though; even if he found out, I was certain he would never tell. He was great at keeping secrets and possessed strong morale,” said Cecelia. Cloudia almost smiled at her words, Milton’s words from yesterday echoing in her mind: “Another person’s secret is not mine to share.”

“You could not get anything out of the man if he did not want to,” Cecelia continued. “Leland might not even bend under torture. Therefore, I neither had the want nor the need to pry into his affairs – especially not after he had gone to such great lengths to protect and hide his family – and, thus, know only a little. But,” her eyes lit up, “I could look further into Milton Salisbury if you want, Cloudia.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Cloudia said, glaring at her. “I might have broken my promise and might not be in the position to make you promise me something, but Milton is an outsider and shouldn’t be caught in this crossfire. I don’t want his privacy breached because of me.”

Cecelia laughed. “Milton Salisbury must be as charming as his father after all for you to fall for him within two conversations. I heard he was rather awkward. I was either misinformed, or he is only charming to you, maybe, my dear?”

“I haven’t fallen for him!” bristled Cloudia. “Stop repeating that nonsense.”

“Come on, Cloudia, it is perfectly normal to have romantic feelings, to have wants – and yes, this includes the Queen’s Watchdog.” Cecelia brushed a loose strand of her honey-blonde hair from her face. “It is also perfectly normal for a girl your age to have such feelings. So far, you’ve never given any indicator that you are even interested in the opposite sex, or anyone at all. I’m ecstatic to have received this crumb.”

“This is no crumb. It’s nothing at all.” Cloudia sucked in the air. “Could you please just continue? I do actually need to be somewhere.”

Cecelia grinned. “Of course, my dear,” she said in a honeyed voice. “Sadly, despite the precautions they must have taken, Milton’s mother passed away in childbirth. To make matters worse, Milton’s sister only lived a few months. I think she might have been born frail and then died of an illness. I am not certain,” Cecelia added, gritting her teeth.

“Her hair never got to grow long enough,” Milton had said yesterday. This implied that his sister had died young, but I had thought she might have passed away when she was one or two, not when she was a few months old. Losing his mother and sister in such a short timespan… it must have been so hard for Milton – and now, his father was gone too.

“Does Milton have any living family left at all?” asked Cloudia carefully.

“Yes,” Cecelia said, and Cloudia internally sighed in relief. “His stepmother is still alive, but she hates him.”

Cloudia’s heart dropped again. “She hates him?”

“Yes. Do you have difficulties wrapping your head around this concept, Cloudia? Just because you find him endlessly charming does not mean all of us do…”

“I don’t think he’s endlessly charming,” Cloudia replied, frustrated.

“Finitely charming, then?”

“Cecelia.” Cloudia rubbed her face, wondering if she should not rather leave right now when she still had some sanity left but, alas, her curiosity would not let her. “Why would someone marry a person who outright hates your children? It sounds absurd to me. Or has his stepmother not always hated him?”

“I’m not quite sure,” said Cecelia. A shadow hushed over her face upon admitting that; she hated not knowing something. “I would say she has always hated him. Elvira Salisbury loathes her stepson to such an extent; I doubt it has ever been different. Leland loved his son which makes his marriage even more paradoxical. You would have to ask Elvira herself why Leland married her anyway, but I warn you: She’s very tight-lipped when it comes to Leland and will immediately quit the conversation if you mention Milton. I’ve never done it myself, though I’ve been there when others tried. After all, the Salisburys might not be old nobility and, thus, draw some people’s ridicule because of that, but one might not forget that they are also very wealthy, and there are various noble families with financial problems. Milton Salisbury is, despite everything, quite coveted; I would not be surprised if a fight breaks out as soon as his mourning period ends. You should secure your chances before someone wins him before you, Cloudia.”

“God,” said Cloudia, ignoring Cecelia’s last few sentences, “what could make her hate Milton like that?”

“I don’t know.” Cecelia sighed. “If you ever find out, Cloudia, please let me know. Or if you would rather that I investigate this matter further…”

“No, definitely not,” Cloudia said immediately, and Cecelia rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun, my dear.

“At any rate,” she continued, “I daresay Milton Salisbury might have made a fantastic faux Earl of Phantomhive.”

Cloudia blinked at her. “Pardon?”

“Yes, you heard me correctly, my dear. Milton Salisbury is a rather mysterious man. After all, no one even knew he existed until eight years ago. Even now, barely anyone knows him. He is a very private person from what I have heard and spent the last few years travelling. If you could adjust anyone’s history to make it fit your purpose, Cloudia, Milton would be an ideal choice. That’s part of the reason why I am so enthralled by this possible infatuation of yours. Your heart led you to the best possible match.”

“I am not infatuated with him.”

“That’s why I said ‘possible.’” Cecelia sighed. “Unfortunately for you, Milton Salisbury is the only Salisbury by blood left. The title and company were meant to pass to his cousin, but he died years ago, making Milton the heir. If this hadn’t happened, nothing would have stood between you and your very hypothetical romance. He might ‘only’ be a baron, but his company makes him too prominent a member of society.”

“Well, I could not care less for this ‘hypothetical romance’ you are hallucinating, but…” Cloudia frowned. “… you said you remembered something regarding the Disaster Trio; that’s why you figured out Milton was at the hunt too. They appear to be friends, and I wondered how they could have befriended one another. Milton seems significantly younger than them and was travelling in the past few years, as you said.”

Cecelia tilted her head. “Could it be… that you don’t even know how old he is? Or are you being hypocritical by saying that ‘three to four years’ are ‘significantly younger’ when you and Milton Salisbury are seven years apart?”

“Wait, he’s seven years older than me?” asked Cloudia, aghast, and stared at Cecelia. “He looks barely older than me! I thought he was eighteen or nineteen, maybe.”

“Milton Salisbury is rather elusive. I’ve only seen him once or twice but that was years ago. He looked younger than he was then already. His youthful appearance would help too if you had to fabricate a birth date…”

“Cecelia.” Cloudia rubbed her eyes. “Also, didn’t you just tell me I cannot marry him anyway because he’s the only blood Salisbury left? Why are you even continuing this nonsense then?”

“Because companies go bankrupt all the time,” said Cecelia with a straight face. “If that happens, he is essentially free. And the Salisbury family is not an old noble family; Milton Salisbury is only the sixth baron. Do you even know which numbered countess you are, Cloudia? No? See? The Salisburys are insignificant in the eyes of the nobility and gentry. They have been looking down on them forever; marrying you would be an enormous elevation and a great honour.”

“But didn’t you also tell me that Milton is twenty-two? Don’t you think he could be too old for me?”

“And? Your own parents were six years apart in age. There are, of course, vile, sickening people who specifically only take interest in much younger people – children, really. As long as Milton Salisbury likes you and not the fact that you are fifteen and impressionable, it should be fine. Especially considering that you will most certainly not marry anyone anytime soon, Cloudia. You don’t want that for yourself, and even if you were to get poisoned with foolish passion and attempt to marry, let’s say, within a year, Barrington, Oscar, and I would do our utmost to lock you up in a basement that is very, very far away from any altar or priest, do you understand?” Cecelia said and then shuddered. “I want to be contrary so that I’m not on their side, but I cannot be in this case. This may be the one aspect we can all agree on; I feel sick. At any rate, if you somehow still manage to marry someone before you are at least twenty, the least you will do is make Barrington cry which will be amusing. The most you can cause is the Yard Ripper taking his first victim in nine years.” She paused. “That we know of.”

“Oscar hasn’t killed anyone since his arrest,” Cloudia said.

“That we know of,” repeated Cecelia. “I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again and again until the world dries out: Blind trust does not suit someone in your position. Especially when it is blind trust for someone like Oscar Livingstone. I’m also teasing to a certain extent. After all, until you are twenty-one, you cannot marry on a whim anyway: You need your guardian’s approval, and despite her distance, I cannot imagine that your mother would agree to you entering a wedded union at your current age.

“However, if Milton Salisbury does turn out to be vile and sickening, you know how to use a knife. It’s good that you always have your father’s dagger with you; he would certainly want you and your honour to be protected.”

“Cecelia.”

“And as I often say: If a man cannot keep it in his trousers, it is nothing but kind and forthcoming to ensure that this will be a permanent state.”

“Cecelia.”

“For this case, always keep in mind that men are at a disadvantage; everything is dangling freely and vulnerably in the front. One, maybe two, good cuts and…”

“Cecelia.”

This conversation really had gone on for far too long.

Taking a deep breath, Cloudia stood. This time, it barely even hurt. “Well, I really need to head out now. Thank you for this utterly exhausting conversation; you have outdone yourself, Cecelia.”

Cecelia grinned. “You’re welcome.”

Cloudia sighed and then walked to the door. Just when she was about to turn the knob, Cecelia raised her voice again, making Cloudia whirl to her. “Cloudia,” Cecelia said, and the subtle softness mixed with her stern tone startled Cloudia. “The Watchdog operates under the monarch’s orders and investigates specialised cases regarding the underworld and the general wellbeing of the empire. They do not seek out cases themselves, let alone such ‘low’ ones like petty theft or the accidental killing of a common maid.

“I know what you are doing and why, but it has been so long, and you are not doing yourself any favours, Cloudia. I would even say that if you continue this, the consequences will be more than unpleasant. You know where you would end up.”

Without a word, Cloudia left the parlour.

***

The carriage rattled through the London streets which were bursting with activity today despite the February chill. And while even the sheer thought of having to push through the crowds in her state exhausted her, Cloudia, nevertheless, told Newman to halt three streets away from the Sainteclare Bookstore. The plainest carriage Felicity and Aiden possessed still had “rich” written all over its wood, and Cloudia did not want anyone to see her step out of it and go into Kamden’s store.

“Shall I accompany you to Mr Sainteclare’s bookstore, Lady Cloudia?” enquired Newman while Cloudia climbed out of the carriage.

“No, I will go there by myself,” she replied and adjusted her cloak and bonnet. “You can drive around the city or even return to my aunt’s townhouse. I will be at Kamden’s home for hours, and I would not want you to get bored waiting – though you are also welcome to stay here and wait if you want to; I hope you brought something to read at least.”

“I did,” Newman said, a little sheepishly. “I dared to be so free to pack some books when you informed me about your visit. I thought it might be preferable if I stayed close by, Lady Cloudia. One can never know what emergencies might arise.”

Cloudia smiled. Newman had been in her employment for two years now, and though his sight sometimes pained her, she could not imagine not having him around. “That’s very considerate of you, thank you, Newman. Please sit inside the carriage and help yourself to the blankets stored under the seats. It is horribly cold today.”

The little bell above the door jingled and signalled her freedom from the dense crowd outside as Cloudia entered the Sainteclare Bookstore. As always, the store greeted her with its warmth and the smell of new and old books and polished wood. The first time Cloudia had come here, she had been astonished by the sheer friendliness the bookstore emitted despite its rather bleak state at the time – though she had not been able to dwell on this fascination; after all, no sensation was comparable to finding your doppelganger.

Despite the many years that bridged that event to the present, Cloudia’s mind still retraced those same thoughts, still noted the same sensations, whenever she came here. Though, by now, something bittersweet had mixed itself with these sentiments of old: If things were as they had been meant to be, Cloudia might not have come here today. After all, the bookstore was rather far away from Weston College, and a meeting place closer to the school would have been a better choice.

But, alas, Kamden had dropped out of Weston after his first year.

His decision had caught Cloudia and Barrington by surprise. Kamden had wanted to attend the prestigious boarding school and had put a lot of time and great effort into preparations so that he would not seem out of place despite his commoner’s background. Barrington and Cloudia had even visited him for June 4th, and all had seemed fine then; they could not fathom what had brought about Kamden’s change of heart. Cloudia had asked him again and again, but Kamden had refused to tell and always avoided her eyes whenever she raised the question, for she could read his eyes like an open book. Kamden had only assured her that she was not the cause of his decision, and Cloudia knew that he had told the truth because he had held her gaze when he said those words.

Cloudia and Barrington had eventually stopped enquiring. If Kamden wanted to tell them, he would one day.

And if he had had a bad experience at school, I could certainly sympathise.

Cloudia spotted Kamden behind the counter. A girl with a friendly smile and freckles all over her nose was standing in front of him, and Kamden blushed while he talked to her and sorted her books and shifted through the cash register. He seemed perfectly caught in the conversation; nonetheless, as soon as Cloudia entered, his eyes wandered to her and lit up. Cloudia smiled at him and gestured that she would browse for a while. Before Kamden could say anything, she vanished between the shelves.

Although Cecelia had spoken a vast array of nonsense earlier, she had been true about one thing: Cloudia had never been interested in anyone romantically. While love had always been a popular topic amongst her cousins (except Keegan who was not involved in those conversations), the subject had exploded in frequency and evolved in the last few years. What had once been vague became concrete; fairy-tale-like fantasies made way for realistic expectations and prospects as they grew older and began to attend balls and mingle with society. Suddenly, her cousins had opinions regarding boys and men beyond simplistic notes whether they were annoying and bothersome or not. Constantia could fuss over a boy for hours, and everyone – even Clarissa who had always been more interested in horses than people – could partake in that conversation while Cloudia could only numbly nod along and try, in vain, to steer it elsewhere.

She had always had difficulties talking about “normal” subjects, but she had been schooled to be able to say something on any topic at least. However, not even the – frankly humiliating – talks Cloudia had with Cecelia about “adulthood” had helped. Not only had she spoken about matters Cloudia never encountered at gatherings, but Cecelia had also talked about them as if they were something you simply had to know inherently to a certain extent. Whatever shift her cousins (and presumably most other people) had gone through, it had completely eluded Cloudia.

Kamden, on the other hand, it had hit with full force.

Whereas Constantia’s crushes could last for months, Kamden’s were fleeting: They were frequent (it was as if he had a new infatuation every week) but always intense and all-absorbing – that he was shy by nature and his stutter returned whenever he was nervous did not help to ease his agony. And it did seem to be agony to hold all these feelings within yourself and be unable to act on them, let alone vocalise them. Last year, Kamden had had a long-lasting crush, and it had been disastrous. Calliope had, as many others before and after her, walked into the bookstore one day and right into Cloudia’s brother’s heart; unlike anyone else so far, Calliope had dwelled there.

And she had been a lovely girl – her golden hair matching her golden personality – and she had clearly been as interested in Kamden as he had been in her. Calliope would return to the bookstore nearly every day until she had become a constant in their lives. Even though Cloudia had never befriended her, after several weeks, she could not imagine Calliope not being there, mostly because Kamden and Calliope got along as if they had known each other forever from the beginning. Because of his stutter and his precarious situation after his parents’ death, Kamden had a difficult time finding friends, with Cloudia having been the sole exception for years, and it had been a delight to see Kamden interact with Calliope. They were birds of a feather, both so shy and passionate and kind, and had become a heart and soul from the moment they met.

However, in the four months (thinking back, it always seemed as if it had lasted longer) they had spent together, they had danced around the matter; neither of them ready to say out loud what they had known since the start.

And then Calliope’s father had found out about them.

Her father was a wealthy middle-class merchant and learning that his only daughter was in love with a poor, lowly bookstore owner had sent him in a rage. He had intervened immediately: He had sent Calliope away to her aunt in India and stormed into the bookstore at peak time to yell at Kamden for “manipulating his child to steal her money”; he had even damaged part of the shop. Calliope’s father should be thankful that Cloudia arrived after he had already left. She had been full of fury while she helped Kamden pick up thrown books and sweep away broken shards. Despite everything, Kamden had insisted on not doing anything, on not making the behaviour of Calliope’s father public or pressing charges. Cloudia and Barrington had reluctantly agreed.

Just like with whatever had induced Kamden to change his mind about Weston College, Kamden did not want to talk about what happened with Calliope. But, again, Cloudia had raised one final question:

“Why didn’t you tell them that you’re Barrington’s ward?” Cloudia had asked him one night. In the days after, she had moved in with Kamden, not wanting to leave him alone while he was heartbroken.

“What would it have changed?” Kamden had replied. “I am still only a shop owner.”

“Cloudie,” she heard a voice behind her, and Cloudia whirled around to face Kamden. He smiled at her, and, with the terrible memory still brushing her mind, Cloudia warmed at the sight of this simple expression. Back then, Kamden’s sadness had run so deep that Cloudia had feared it might stay. What a terrible thing love is, she had thought when Kamden had finally fallen asleep the day of the incident. To demand so much space and then leave one so empty when it’s gone.

Kamden opened his mouth to say something but then his smile vanished, and he mustered her, frowning. “Clou-Cloudie, are you all right? You look a little pale.”

“I was at a hunt yesterday,” Cloudia told him. “I’m still rather sore and battered from it; it’s nothing serious.”

“You’re ‘sore and battered’ from a hunt?” He blinked at her in confusion. “You’re usually only a bit tired afterwards. How long did it last? No, did you get hurt?” he continued, his voice full of worry and horror, and Cloudia sighed.

Kamden had become far too sharp when it came to identifying whether someone was injured. Since leaving Weston College, he had spent increasingly more time with Dr Alan. I was glad that he had found a new passion, though I had to admit that it was as handy as it was annoying.

Cloudia stepped forward and away from the shelf she had been leaning on – thankfully, her legs didn’t decide to be traitors and fold under her – and held her hands up. “The horse they gave me threw me off, but I am fine,” Cloudia said intently. Kamden didn’t have to know about the bandits, and Cloudia was suddenly glad that Domino had dismounted and given her the perfect half-truth. “I checked: Nothing is broken; nothing is sprained. I only have a few bruises and some minor cuts – which were treated already, do not worry – and I’m sore.”

“A horse threw you off?” Kamden’s eyes widened. He took her shoulders and made her look into his eyes. “Did you hit your head, Cloudie? Did you see a doctor?”

“Yes and no,” Cloudia admitted, sounding a little sheepish. “A servant treated me; it was so late, I refused to have a doctor fetched for nothing at all because, Kam, I am perfectly fine. I landed very luckily. I have no headache or am nauseous; it didn’t even hurt afterwards.”

“Still,” said Kamden and took her hand. “You weren’t properly examined. They should have sent for a physician anyway, to be sure.” He tightened his grip. “Cloudie, you should lie down. I’ll get Dr Alan.”

Cloudia sighed. “Very well,” she said, and Kamden gently pulled her after him to the staircase in the back that led to his upstairs flat, uncaring that there were still patrons in his shop. Handling her as if she was a porcelain doll (and slightly annoying her), Kamden brought Cloudia to his room. While she kicked off her shoes and took off her cloak and bonnet, he grabbed the books on his bed and placed them on an already precarious-looking tower of books in one corner of the room. She then laid down, and Kamden pulled a blanket over her. He turned to leave but ended up lingering in the doorsill, and although Cloudia reminded him that someone could be raiding the store right now as it had been left unattended, Kamden only returned downstairs with great reluctance.

Cloudia sighed again and drew the blanket to her chin, breathing in the familiar scent of sandalwood soap (every boy and man seemed to smell of sandalwood, even if the fragrance was only faintly present) and old and new books. Although Cloudia generally disliked clutter and dusty air, a wave of comfort washed over her in this room that was both endlessly cluttered and stuffy from dust.

Kamden was remodelling and -organising his office and, thus, had to temporarily move out all the books from there, storing them in every free corner of his small apartment. The last time Cloudia had visited him, she had opened a cupboard to search for biscuits and found a few old tomes stuffed next to his pottery. The office and its adjourning archive had not only hosted books and antiques Kamden had acquired for himself, but also numerous used, often rare books meant to be resold as well as decades’ worth of ledgers. And each of these hundreds – if not thousands – of books seemed to come with its own, years-old dust that was infuriatingly eager to infest the air. It made it hard to keep up with cleaning, and Cloudia’s annoyingly stubborn brother refused to get any help. This madness had been going on for a few weeks now, longer than planned because the manufacturer had accidentally mixed up the dimensions of the custom shelves and none of them had fit in the end. The correct shelves must have arrived by now though: The shaky book towers in Kamden’s room were smaller now than they had been a few days ago, and the corridor had been much more walking-friendly again.

Still, Cloudia liked Kamden’s overstuffed, dusty flat because it was his flat, and coming from the Morrow townhouse, which was almost uncomfortably sterile, this place was wonderfully warm and homely, though it made her yearn even more for the comfort of her own home. The repairs at the Phantomhive townhouse could not finish quicker.

“‘Of deep and angry crimson, where the sun and the wind together; set a brand upon the clouds for being guilty of such weather; and the widest open country is a long dull streak of black…,’” Milton had recited softly, absentmindedly yesterday. The memory popped up in her head so suddenly, it startled her. It must be the abundance of books around me, Cloudia thought and clutched the blanket tighter, and because of Cecelia, the sky had been about to turn red when she arrived at the bookstore. Books blocked her view through the window, though it would surprise her if it wasn’t dark outside already. Winter days passed so quickly after all.

Cloudia was about to douse when the sound of steps turned her wide awake again. A moment later, Kamden returned and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Dr Alan is doing a domiciliary visit across town and won’t be back for a few hours,” he said. “And I closed up the shop.”

“Isn’t it a bit early for that?” asked Cloudia. “As I said, I’m all right; you don’t have to close the store so early if you don’t want to.”

“But I do. And there weren’t many people here anyway; earlier, it was just two couples, one gentleman, and E…” Kamden cut himself off and blushed.

She grinned. “What a lovely simplistic name.”

“It’s Elise,” he mumbled.

“An even lovelier longer name,” she said. Cloudia moved a bit to the side so that her shoulder brushed the wall. A few framed daguerreotypes hung on it. Barrington had made it a habit to drag them to a studio at least twice a year, but he was barely in any of the pictures on Kamden’s wall. Kamden rotated them; currently, most of them showed only Cloudia and Kamden although Barrington was in numerous photos they had taken that day. Cloudia patted the space next to her, and Kamden mustered her, concerned. “And you do feel fine so far, Cloudie?” he asked. “No blurry vision? No dizziness? No fatigue?”

“As I said, I don’t experience any symptoms related to head injuries,” Cloudia said. “I do feel fatigued but only because I came back from the hunt late last night and had a conversation with Cecelia today.”

“What did you talk about?” Kamden wanted to know, and Cloudia hoped the warmth she felt now was not rushing to her cheeks.

“Just some Watchdog-related things,” she said and tapped the bed again. Kamden hesitated before he climbed next to her. He had had this bed for years, and when they were younger, they fit next to each other without any problems. They were growing rapidly though, and now, Kamden knocked against Cloudia and the bedframe a few times and mumbled apologies while he settled next to her, on top of the blanket. At least, so far, neither of them had grown too large to make lying side-by-side impossible. Again, Cloudia was reminded of Calliope: Last summer, they had lain like this after that horrible day; back then, they had had fewer problems fitting into the bed.

In retrospect, it felt a little silly how much I had worried about Kamden at that time. Of course, he would have healed from it; he might have lost his first actual love, but we were still young and growing and had so much life ahead of us.

“What is Elise like?” Cloudia asked, craning her head to look at her twin who immediately turned red.

“She… she…” Kamden stuttered. “E-Elise’s nice but…” He shifted to his side, his tousled hair falling into his face, and sighed. “Today, she told me that she and her family will move to Glasgow. The books she bought are for the train ride.”

“Oh, Kam.” Cloudia grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“It’s all right. I haven’t even known her for very long,” he said softly.

“How do you even know when you like someone?” Cloudia asked absentmindedly before she froze, and Kamden jerkily sat up. He stared at her, his eyes wide and concerned. “Are you truly feeling well, Cloudie? Should I try getting Dr Alan here quicker?”

Cloudia’s face reddened, and she let go of his hand and crossed her arms. “I was just wondering about that,” she said, hating how unsteady her voice sounded.

Kamden mustered her, bewilderment now mixed in his expression. “You… wondered about that?”

“Yes,” she huffed. “Am I not allowed to?”

“Yes, of course. But… you… Cloudie, you...” He paused and then laid back down. “You have never asked before,” Kamden said softly. “I’m just surprised. I thought you simply were not interested in… uhm…”

“I am curious about everything,” Cloudia said, sparing him from finishing the sentence; she did not want to hear it anyway. “But I guess it might be awkward asking you that. I’m sorry, Kamden.”

Kamden looked at her for a moment before he said, “It is… it is all right. You can ask me.” He slowly exhaled and rolled on his back. “You know when you like someone when… when you, uhm, feel a little tug that draws you to them. Their face, their voice, their personality… You always crave… crave their company. You constantly want to be at their side and miss them even if they have, uh, only just left. You-you think of them at all times. You become more… more nervous around them and you blush uncontrollably. You feel warm in their presence and your, uhm… heart flutters when they are around and…” Kamden covered his face with his hands. “No, you’re right. This is awkward.”

“I’m sorry,” said Cloudia, pressing her face into the cushion. “But you did well, thanks.”

***

Three days later, the pipes at the Phantomhive townhouse were fixed. Although Cloudia had yearned to leave her aunt’s house and return to her own place and sleep in her own bed again, that yearning wasn’t strong enough to smother the uneasiness she felt whenever she was in the townhouse.

After all, Cloudia’s father had died here.

Ever since Cloudia had witnessed Simon’s death in the townhouse’s garden, she hadn’t been able to go out there. The garden was cared for, but even looking at it for too long made her stomach churn and her head ache. This unease extended, albeit lightly, to the rest of the townhouse; infuriatingly, her mind registered the whole building as Simon’s place of death, not just the garden. And whatever she did, this discomfort was always throbbing at the back of her mind.

Now, as Cloudia stepped over the threshold, disquiet washed over her, and she wondered if Milton had felt the same way when he had returned to his home for the first time after his father’s death.

It had been five days since the hunt, and Milton still found his way into her mind which was to be expected.

Weeks later, Cloudia still caught herself thinking of him which was unusual.

A month later the wintry cold slowly ebbed away, and she spotted the first spring flower – and her mind still dwelt on him, and she could not figure out why.

Two meetings, one proper conversation, barely a day in each other’s presence – she should have long forgotten him, ceased to care for him as soon as they had parted ways after the hunt. It was unnerving that she hadn’t. That, for some maddening reason, she couldn’t.

Cecelia’s and Kamden’s words always brushed her thoughts of him; they echoed in her mind, gnawed on her nerves but Cloudia refused to believe that she was in love. While her head might be betraying her, her heart was secure. It didn’t flutter, didn’t pump warmth through her body whenever she thought of him. Her heart was steady, even if it longed to see him again, to talk to him again.

Only she could not do that.

Milton was still in the first phase of mourning. He could neither pay nor receive any visits; the reception and the hunt must have been exceptions, though Cloudia had never learned why. Even if he was not in mourning, she would be unable to contact him. How could she as a lady write to an unrelated gentleman? Especially if she did not tell him beforehand or had a good reason.

But she had to. With every passing day, she grew more annoyed and frustrated with herself that she was powerless to expel him from her thoughts.

I could not go on like this. I would not go on like this and let this nonsense consume me. Rules were meant to be broken. My current life broke the rules – I was a broken rule personified. Simple mourning etiquette could not stop me.

“I will meet Milton Salisbury,” Cloudia said into the loneliness of her room. To herself. To challenge the world. To turn her decision into more than a silly thought.

Something was pulling me to him, but it was not love.

He was not a crush; he was a mystery to be solved.

And I would find a way to meet him.

***

London, England, United Kingdom – May 1843

Yelling woke her up.

It had been four days since her attack, and Cloudia still needed all the rest she could get. Groaning, she rolled to the side and pressed her pillow to her ear – in vain. She could still hear the shouts.

What the hell was going on so early in the morning?

Cloudia cursed under her breath as she drew back the blanket and hastily got dressed. The room tilted a little; still, she managed to be swift and not faint halfway through buttoning her dress. A maid arrived just when Cloudia strode out of her bedroom. She quickly apologised for nearly hitting her with the door before she hurried downstairs, fuming.

Her fury dissipated and was replaced by cold horror when she got closer, however, and could finally discern who was making such a ruckus. Oh no, she thought and quickened her pace, fainting risk be damned. Cloudia only came to a halt when she arrived at the final landing and everyone’s eyes turned to her.

“Dia,” sighed Barrington and lowered his sword. “You are alive after all.”

“Of course, she is. I’ve been telling you that for the last ten minutes,” Oscar said, and Barrington scowled at him. They were standing a few metres apart, Barrington with a weapon in his hand and still wearing his overcoat, and Oscar with his arms loose by his sides and looking thoroughly annoyed.

“Remind me since when you are trustworthy,” Barrington retorted, his voice full of venom.

Cloudia clasped her hands around the balustrade. She had never disillusioned herself that she could hide Oscar from everyone forever, particularly not from Barrington or Cecelia. However, she hadn’t expected Barrington to barge unannounced into the townhouse and find Oscar before she had the chance to explain herself. She took a deep breath and then said, “Where is Clifford?”

“Mr Clifford left half an hour ago. He said he had some errands to run,” Oscar told her, ignoring the daggers Barrington glared at him. “He intended to return before it was time for you to wake up.”

“I would bet money that you stuffed poor Old Ted under the floorboards,” hissed Barrington.

“Be my guest if you want to lose all you have.”

“Barrington, it’s all right,” Cloudia said, and Barrington stared at her. “It is all right? Dia, do you have any idea who this abomination of a man is?” he asked and pointed his sword at Oscar again; it left him unfazed. “I know you must have only woken up, but can’t you at least feel the evilness radiating from him? He’s a criminal, a serial murderer. A convict whose execution was in the papers only recently. He must have somehow escaped; we should call the police.”

“I know very well who that is.” Her heart beat loudly in her chest as she let go of the balustrade and walked down the stairs, her steps steady. “Barrington, I arranged for him not to be executed.”

Barrington’s eyes widened even more. “What?” it slipped out of his mouth before he glanced at Oscar. “Dia, did that man do something…”

“No, Barrington,” Cloudia cut him off. “It was my idea and mine alone. I searched for him and freed him; the execution was a lie.”

For a moment, it was dead silent in the entrance hall. Then, the sound of metal scraping leather filled the air as Barrington sheathed his sword. “Cloudia,” he said with rare finality. “We need to talk, in private.”

Cloudia was thirteen years old and a child, though she had never felt her age as strongly as she did now.

Barrington had ordered a footman to keep an eye on Oscar and then beckoned Cloudia to follow him. He had led her upstairs to her father’s office. When Cloudia had become the Watchdog, she had picked another room to work in. Not only because it felt odd to move and change anything in what she had always known as her father’s room but also because the windows opened to the garden. Despite his quiet rage, Barrington was merciful enough to draw the curtains.

After he had lit the last lamp, he sank into an armchair opposite her. He might have chosen the room, but, like Cloudia, he wanted to avoid sitting at Simon’s desk and had gestured for her to take place in the seating corner. It was a small, cramped space, and while Cloudia had never asked, she was certain that this area of the room had been a later addition, shoved into the office after everything had already been furnished.

“Dia,” said Barrington, and although he hadn’t raised his voice, had only spoken intently, Cloudia flinched. At least, he hadn’t terrifyingly called her “Cloudia” again. “How are you? I’m sorry I didn’t notice beforehand; that man is a plight. You had another attack, hadn’t you?”

“Yes,” Cloudia said and leaned back into the cushions, expecting to blow up dust even though she knew that the room was regularly cleaned. “I woke up four days ago. I’m only feeling a bit faint, still.”

Barrington sighed. “I’m glad you are all right. I only wished I had known sooner. But then…” His expression was grim. “… I haven’t been told about quite a lot of things, it seems. Dia, what were you thinking?”

“I found Father’s sketchbook,” it spilt out of Cloudia, to her own surprise. She had thought she might struggle to get the words out, but they easily flowed out of her, as if she was glad to finally let go of this secret that she had carried with her for a year. “One of them, at least; I guess he must have filled many. The one I found was full of pictures of landscapes and a village or small town. Father had only drawn one person clearly and in portrait. I had never seen him before and I wanted to know who he was. So, I conducted some research and eventually found out that he was Oscar Livingstone, the Scotland Yard Ripper. I read about his crimes, but he appeared to have been close to Father, and I couldn’t have him executed or rot away in an asylum before I had any answers. I talked to Her Majesty, and she approved his release, though it could only happen in secret due to the notoriety and severity of Oscar’s crimes. I got him out of the asylum, and Rowan ensured that his supposed execution would be in the news.”

“When you found Si’s sketchbook, why didn’t you come to me?” Barrington asked. His face was blank, his voice calm, and it unnerved Cloudia.

“Because,” she replied and could feel anger clawing its way up her throat; she swiftly pushed it down and away. No, she had to hold her ground, and she could not do this if she lost control of her emotions. Though reining them in in Barrington’s presence hadn’t been easy for years; not since Cloudia had spoken with the Queen and learned that the man who was meant to be her father’s trusty friend might be her father’s murderer as well. “Because until I found it, I didn’t even know that Father had been an artist at all. You barely talk about him, Barrington, and are reluctant to answer any questions I have. Would you have answered me if I had asked or brushed me away?”

“I would have answered you,” Barrington said with slight hesitation, “simply to prevent you from locating that man. Aside from the fact that I have always disliked Oscar Livingstone, he is a serial murderer, Dia. Your father and I have blood on our hands as well, but there’s a difference between killing because you have to and killing because you want to. I have no idea what caused Oscar to snap and murder all these people, though I was never surprised that it happened at all. Nobody knows – or did he tell you? Did you ask?”

Cloudia shook her head.

“At any rate, I don’t think it’s even of importance,” Barrington continued. “He murdered people for years while he was working as a police officer. They raided his basement, and whatever they discovered there had been so gruesome, the Met never disclosed anything and locked up or destroyed all information. Do you understand how difficult it is to ensure that nothing ever seeps through? Cecelia’s husband was murdered, and while all information on his death was buried as well, she still managed to dig out a piece. Oscar was found out and convicted over five years ago, and his case was widely covered and is discussed to this day. Still, we know absolutely nothing about what was in that basement. Oscar is not just a serial killer, Dia; he is a famous one who was and is very likely protected by Scotland Yard. His crimes did, after all, taint the police’s reputation.

“Now, do you really want to associate yourself with such a man?”

“Yes.” Again, the word broke out of Cloudia with frightening ease. “There are not many people, it seems, that knew Father well, and even fewer that are willing to talk. It’s not just you, Barrington. It’s my aunts and uncles and Clifford too. Father’s other Aristocrat of Evil, Theresa Dale, is in the States and I have no idea how to contact her. Oscar is the only other living person I know who was close to my father – and the only one who is willing to help at all. Father apparently distanced himself from Oscar a year before his death, and Oscar does not know why. What if it was part of the reason why he was murdered? And even if it wasn’t, Oscar worked with Father for years. Any bit of information I can get out of him would be helpful, and Oscar was the Met’s best man. He would be very helpful with Watchdog work too.”

Barrington mustered her for a moment in silence before he sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair. “This is my fault entirely, I admit it,” he said. “I’m sorry, Dia, that I don’t talk about your father much but…” He sighed again. “But Oscar Livingstone? I understand your reason and I hate to say this, but he could indeed be helpful with your work. That does not remove the fact that he is a murderer and a criminal. He’s not a stable person and having been locked up in asylums for years must have worsened him. What if something happens to you, Dia? He does not have to hurt you directly to harm you. What if he starts killing again? I doubt the Queen will be happy about that; I’m sure she only allowed you to free him under the condition that you keep a tight leash on him. Oscar wouldn’t even have to kill many people; what if he only kills one? I can think of someone I’m sure he would love to disembowel.”

“Whom do you mean?” asked Cloudia, perplexed.

Barrington met her eyes. “The one who discovered his basement, of course. No one knows the identity of that person. Their identity is as well-kept a secret as the contents of Oscar’s bloody chamber. I would wager, however, that Oscar knows who opened that door and ratted him out to the police. Was it a servant? A colleague? An accomplice? A thief that broke into his house? Whoever it was, I hope they have already died. They might be feeling secure in England now that Oscar’s officially dead, unknowing that he is very much alive and might be plotting revenge as we speak.”

“He’s not going to kill anyone,” Cloudia insisted, though her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. What if? What if? What if he will? rang through her head.

“How can you be sure, Dia? Stare at him all day and night? Lock him up when you won’t need him? That might be a good idea, actually.”

“Why would he want to jeopardise his newly gained freedom?” she countered. “Getting revenge will mean his immediate execution if they find out it was him. Killing that person will promptly incriminate him; it’s too obvious a crime. And Oscar said he wanted to help me because Father was his friend.”

“Friend.” Barrington laughed dryly. “Did Oscar use this word?”

“It was ‘close acquaintance’ and ‘colleague.’”

“Still inaccurate descriptors, I would say.” He deflated against the backrest. “I… When I look into Oscar’s face, I gaze into the face of evil. Si never told me the full story of how he met Oscar; I only know he first met him while I was away on my travels. Do you know how confused I was when Si told me he knows someone at the Met who could help us get some information? I can’t even tell you what we wanted to know; the astonishment I felt back then erased everything else. Scotland Yard had only just come to be, and your father of all people already knew an officer? And not just from passing? It felt like a weird dream, a nightmare truly.” Barrington rubbed his face. “Si always had a terrible time making friends. That’s why he only ever made two: Tess and me, excluding Penny because he married her. And then he goes and makes another while I’m away and it’s the worst person on Earth. Of course, Oscar wasn’t already a murderer then, but he has always been a cold, shady-looking person. I voiced my concerns, only your father didn’t want to listen. He…”

Barrington took a deep breath. “I think that even if Si had genuinely liked Oscar – Heavens above, I cannot imagine that anyone does – he was mostly intrigued by him, weirdly drawn to him because he has always been drawn to odd things. And his curiosity might have clouded his judgement.

“What I want to say, Dia, is: Are you sure that you can trust Oscar Livingstone? Are you sure that he has not been lying and will not lie to you?”

#watchdog of the queen #main chapters #kuroshitsuji #cloudia phantomhive x undertaker #cloudia phantomhive #undertaker #an update! finally!#tumblr is being super messy right now >.<#anyway: I hope it's enjoyable ^^'

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legendofthefireemblem · 2 years

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Happy two month anniversary to me losing my mind over a german police show

Gender Frodo and Firstman Littlecrab... they are living in my head rent free...

#polizeiruf 110 #I did a hildes erbe rewatch and just noticed now #can you believe two months ago I still didn't know their proper names (because I ignored it when my friend brought it up ljdfgjdf)#also I noticed something new and different in this rewatch to rotate: Adam actually not driving back immediately to the police station #Vincent asking him if he was okay to drive payed off!!!#He even says finally when Adam walks in the room did Adam drive slowly??!!!#(okay I know the last part could be from Vincent's impatience for the interview but still)#Also when the psych consult mentions she'll break down Vincent looks at Adam like hello?? what does that mean??#ALSO both times Adam dramatically took off his sunglasses was to look at Vincent #I will never be able to forget the word sofort for the rest of my life #hildes erbe

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stariwrites · 3 years

Text

Part One

Red: An Underground Hero Deku x Crime lord fem! Reader

18+ Minors DNI or else I’ll revoke your kneecaps

Author’s Note: All characters are aged up and this fic is a monstrosity so I figured I’d split it up into two parts this is part one and I’ll link part 2 as well when I post it

Tw: fem dom, corruption kink, praise kink, biting/marking, club setting, dry humping, slight choking, alcohol is mentioned (Izuku doesn’t drink it) use of the pet name baby boy, semi public sex

Thank you to @chaos-night for beta reading, I appreciate it!!

For @yixxes I hope you like it!!

Do not repost or share

“None are known to be good, till they have an opportunity to be bad”-Benjamin Whichcote

Summary: From the day you laid your eyes on Izuku Midoriya you knew you were going to be drawn to him.

From the day you laid your eyes on Izuku Midoriya you knew you were going to be drawn to him. There was something about the way the college student stood in front of you with his arms drawn into himself as if he shrank far enough he would disappear. You couldn’t help but smile softly at him.

The man in front of you was impressive to say the least even though he didn’t look it. He was able to track your group for days without your people even knowing. He documented everything in notebooks he carried with him. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed the more he stared at you. He was trembling slightly, but his eyes never wavered. They held a fire behind them, one that you couldn’t even begin to describe.

“Midoriya, right?” you asked, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“What do you want with me.”

It wasn’t a question. Part of you grinned at the challenge. You had to give him credit, his voice only shook a small amount. Anybody else wouldn’t have been able to have the courage to do so, much less to you.

Standing up from your chair, you signaled to the guards on either side of the door to stand down when they tried to move closer, weapons raised.

“Do you know who we are?” you asked peering down at the streets below you. All Might was battling a water quirk user. You scowled at the scene before you, it was only a matter of time before he beat them to a pulp.

“I know,” he said slowly in an attempt to keep his voice level, “that you’re an organization dedicated to uprooting false heroes.”

Without turning around you gestured for him to continue. You watched his reflection in the window, he took a deep breath almost willing himself to talk once more.

“You took Endeavor down and made a deal with Stain.”

“Very good,” you clapped, turning back around to face him. He was focused entirely on you. ”Now do you know who I am?”

He didn’t hesitate, “The Woman in Red, heroes and villains alike haven’t been able to catch you. Nobody knows what your quirk is or if you even have one.”

You nodded to yourself, he showed promise. If you could use it to your advantage there would be no way your plan would fail. With his help you could uproot the fakest hero of them all.

“Tell me, what do you think of us Midoriya?”

It took him a couple of seconds to register what you said judging by the way his green eyes were transfixed on the destroyed All Might poster off to the side of the room.

“A reminder,” he jumped at the sound of your voice while his eyes fixed themselves onto you. “All Might isn’t the hero that everybody believes he is,” you watched his eyes widen at your words. Part you assumed it was from shock at the way you said them so carelessly, but there was something else there. It was swimming under the surface almost begging to be unleashed.

Before you could place it, he coughed and straightened his posture. He could’ve looked confident when he stood like that if he didn’t shrink into himself at the last moment. With the proper training he’d stand to his full size without feeling insecure.

“Why am I here?” his voice was softer than before, concealed. It made a vicious smirk cross onto your face. You couldn’t wait to help him unlock his true potential. The thought alone almost had you pouncing on him, but you refrained. You wouldn’t scare him away just yet.

You moved closer to him, allowing your nails to drift across the wood over your desk before using one of them to tilt Midoriya’s face closer to yours. He didn’t pull away.

“Because, Izuku Midoriya,” you refused to leave his gaze, “I want you to join Chimera.”

He gulped at the proximity, “And if I refuse?”

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped your lips. He was too cute for his own good. You flicked your eyes to his before locking them on his lips.

“Then, I guess I’ll just have to find a way to persuade you,” you emphasized the words by moving closer until your lips brushed against his. You watched as he unconsciously closed his eyes and leaned into it, but before your lips fully touched you turned towards the door.

You didn’t miss the pout that crossed onto his face when you broke away, but he missed the sadistic smile you wore as you gestured for the guards to file out. All you received in return was a nod from them until they headed out the door.

When it was your turn you held the door open, but before leaving you met his gaze one last time.

“I’ll give you two weeks to make a decision, until then I look forward to our next meeting,” you purred and leaned against the open door in a way that rivaled Jessica Rabbit, “Izuku Midoriya.”

After you spoke those final words you left with a laugh while he stood in the dark room wondering what just happened.

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“She wants you to join, huh?” Aizawa said from where he was perched on the rooftop. His eyes were scanning below, from the lights of the buildings Midoriya could make out the bags under the man’s eyes. It had to be a late night that was for sure.

Part of Izuku felt guilty pulling the man away from much needed sleep, but being an underground hero he needed allies and the only one with enough experience was Aizawa.

“What should I do?” he asked, moving out of the darkness and closer to the man. He watched the capture scarf blow in the wind slightly while he shivered. It was becoming colder even in Spring, he’d have to get warmer gear.

Out of the corner of his eye Aizawa seemed to notice because a soft smile slid onto his face, “I told you to bundle up problem child, but you never listen.”

Before Midoriya could say anything a jacket was flung his way, he jumbled it until he was able to hold it steady. Peering down his eyes widened with disbelief.

“Are you just going to stand there or put it on?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Stumbling out a yes, he wrapped the jacket around him and zipped it up. It was sleek, light fitting but also warm. Izuku couldn’t help but sink into the feeling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged, but wearing that coat he felt like he received the biggest embrace in the world.

A peaceful silence fell over the two of them while they stared out at the streets below. It was a quiet night, the only sounds were of the cars driving by and an occasional group of friends walking past. Their voices echoed off the buildings and were burned into Izuku’s ears.

He wondered what that was like, having friends. He knew going down the path he was on would be dangerous. He couldn’t have time for them if he was going to save people, especially since there was a chance they could become targets.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if his life would’ve been different if he’d had them when he was younger.

“I think,” Aizawa began, causing Izuku to fix his eyes onto his mentor. “That you should do it. You can get into their organization and gain intel, be a double agent of sorts.”

Izuku’s heart stopped. “Me?” he sputtered, “Do you really think I could pull something like that off? Half of the pro heroes have tried to take Chimera down and they’ve come up empty handed everytime! And besides the only reason I followed them was to bring the information to you!

How do you know I won’t end up like the others?”

“I don’t,” came the response. Izuku expected that to be it and for Aizawa to leave, but instead he turned to Midoriya and placed his fist on his protege’s chest, “But if there’s one thing I know it’s that if anybody could take down Chimera it would be you.”

Izuku focused his gaze onto the ground until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Aizawa shot him a look of genuine faith. “She went out of her way to try and recruit you. I doubt she’ll want to hurt you, but keep your guard up.”

With a nod of understanding followed by an “I will”, the man took that as his cue and began to walk towards the edge of the building.

“You don’t have to of course, but if you do, don't try to do everything on your own kid. You’ve got me. And it’s about time you actually started working on the front lines rather than behind the scenes.”

With that he was off, a sigh left Midoriya’s lips. He’d been told time and time again that he wasn’t cut out for field work. Not with college he was juggling as well as the fact that his lack of a quirk was always taken into account. He stared up at the sky, he couldn’t remember when he became like this.

He thought back to the earlier times where he constantly believed he could be a hero. He still believed, but it was subdued. Sad even, but he’d try. If he could take them down it would mean helping more people.

“I wish you were here, mom,” he said to the stars while tears began to slide down his face, “I’m a little lost right now.”

————————————————————————------------------------------

The two weeks seemed to crawl by. Izuku was getting restless. He knew his decision, but he couldn’t find Chimera anywhere. He checked every back alley, store, restaurant that the members usually went in and came up empty handed. Even when he did find the members and tried to follow them shouting wait or slow down it was like they’d disappear at the last second.

After running around for nearly three hours he found a bench next to a nearby park and took a seat. He tossed his head back, attempting to get all of the air he lost back. His clothes stuck to him uncomfortably while his forehead was making his hair stick to it.

They sure can run when they really want to, he thought in between puffs of air. He didn’t know how he’d make it through patrolling, especially now. He dreaded the thought, clutching his side at the reminder. He managed to take Muscular down but not without the villain getting a few hits in. It was worth it though, considering Koda’s smile once he was discharged from the hospital.

Yeah, he thought looking up at the sky with a serene smile. It had been worth it.

After catching his breath, he was about to get up from the bench until a person sat down next to him with a note. They didn’t look at Midoriya, instead they were focused straight ahead. The shades made it difficult to see their eyes, while their hoodie and jeans made them look like an ordinary person.

“An invitation,” the person grumbled out, “Don’t be late.”

Izuku didn’t watch them go, flipping the envelope over he noticed neatly scrawled out cursive. The envelope itself was red with a wax gold stamp. A chimera was in the center while the cursive was in gold. He didn’t open it until he was safe in his apartment.

His breath hitched as he read the words over and over again to make sure he had them right. Once he realized he did, he texted Aizawa on the burner phone they used specifically for underground work and buried his head in his hands.

“What am I getting myself into?”

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The neon lights bathed everybody into an ocean of colors. People were swarmed into the center of the room, dancing and grinding on anybody close to them. The bass caught in Midoryia’s chest as he navigated through the crowd. He glanced around, taking all the strobing lights in. The letter said to meet at The Tavern, but it never specified where.

After bumping into several people and almost being roped into dancing, he finally found the bar. He took a seat and checked his phone as he waited for his nerves to calm down. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to one of these. He thought back to freshman year when he first started out he’d gone to a local club to see what it was like only to realize he wasn’t really fond of it.

“Not exactly your scene is it?” a bartender asked, sliding him a drink. Midoriya looked up at the woman with a sheepish smile. She looked to be about his age, her short hair framing her face. Earphones were dangling from ears. Must be her quirk, Izuku thought with excitement. Her pierced brow was raised as she stared at Midoriya.

“Is it that obvious?”

She hummed for a moment, studying him before she nodded, “Nobody wears a shirt that says ‘Club Shirt’ on it. It’s an interesting pick.”

He flushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew he should’ve gone with something different.

“Yeah,” he said trailing off until his eyes landed on the drink.

“I don’t—”

Before he continued the woman stopped him, “It’s on the house, you’re waiting for her aren’t you?”

He was about to ask how she knew when you sat down next to him with a smile, “I see you’ve met Jirou, my most trusted friend.”

Izuku watched as the woman, Jirou’s face turned bright red. He almost thought he heard a don’t mention it before she went off to serve more drinks, leaving him with you.

He was nervous, that much was easy to tell with the way his eyes kept jumping from corner to corner. Poor thing you thought while his leg bounced up and down. Part of you cringed, he felt out of place.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

The sound of your voice over the music snapped his attention back to you. Taking his blank stare and furrowed eyebrows as a sign, you huffed out a laugh and repeated yourself. He joined in albeit nervously.

“It’s okay,” he said, stirring his drink with the straw, “You planned to meet here. I don’t want to cause any trouble,” he took a deep breath, “Boss.”

You turned to him with wide eyes before waving him off as you leaned closer to the table, “You don’t have to call me boss you know,” you said nonchalantly, “Not even the guards call me that.”

He couldn’t help but stare at you in awe. How you were able to be so calm in a place like this was beyond him, but it helped him relax. With furrowed brows he focused back on his straw. The ice clanked against the glass, but he couldn’t hear it over the song playing.

“What should I call you then?”

Just like the first time you met, you used one of your fingers to tilt his head up, he could feel your breath mingle with his while his face turned a vibrant shade of red. He silently thanked the lights for making it almost impossible for you to see it. He watched as your eyes clouded over while a sinister smile fell onto your face. It made him feel small underneath it.

Before he could say anything, you leaned in close to his ear.

“I have a couple ideas,” your words sent goosebumps to ripple against his skin while his mouth felt dry. He wanted to know what they were, wanted to ask. What was going on with him?!

He didn’t have much time to dwell once he felt your breath ghost against his neck. It was warm and sent shivers down his spine. He briefly felt the touch of your lips against him, part of him hoped you wouldn’t pull away.

“Please,” he rasped before he could stop himself. Your lips curled into a grin, one of your hands snaked from the table to bury itself in his green hair.

“Let’s get out of here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

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The cool air of the outside clashed with the warmth from the club. Izuku barely processed your lips meeting only to find that in the next minute he was up against the brick wall behind the club. Your hands tangled themselves into his green curls causing him to whimper against your lips.

“Fuck,” you muttered, pussy clenching at the sound he made. You wanted to hear more, wanted him to scream. You placed your knee in between his legs, he instantly started to grind down on your thigh. He tried to pull away from you, but that only made you hold his curls tighter before letting him go. A string of saliva was all that left the connection until you wiped it away with the back of your sleeve.

Izuku’s face was flushed as he tried to catch his breath. Everything about you was intoxicating, especially the way you looked him up and down like he was your prey. He was still grinding against you, his puffs of air were visible in the night. It wasn’t until you touched his side that he flinched.

You pulled your hand away in concern, but he was quick to shush you with the way his lips latched back onto yours. He could tell you about the wound later, you thought. His lips were soft against yours, when you met for another kiss you opened your mouth. Catching the hint, he opened his mouth enough for you to snake your tongue into his mouth. Judging from the way he was grinding faster against you with broken moans you could tell he was enjoying himself.

You pushed him further into the wall, it was surely digging into his back by now, but he made no sound of pain. You made sure to avoid his waist, instead you grabbed a hold of his belt loops and yanked his lower body into an arch.

“Oh my god,” Midoriya groaned, tossing his head back against the wall. He needed more, you were everywhere, breathing into his neck, sucking and biting the skin there. Weakly he went to push you off.

“No marks-can’t ah-can’t ngh cover them.”

A grin casted onto your face. He was so cute like this, all sprawled out under you just as you knew he’d be. You kissed the skin close to his pressure point before staring directly into Izuku’s eyes. Your lips brushed against each other. His eyelashes fluttered as he went to close the space, but you held his neck with one hand and pressed him back.

“I don’t think so baby,” you whispered. Your voice lower in pitch. You didn’t miss the way his pulse jumped under your fingers. Your eyes widened in shock until you gained back control. This was more interesting than you thought. “Does the little hero like this, hm? You like being helpless?” To emphasize your words, you guided his hips with one hand and ground him against your thigh once more.

A high whine escaped his mouth before he could prevent it. He knew this was wrong, that he should stop this but the way your hand made him dizzy around him and the pressure against his cock caused his mind to become fuzzy. What Aizawa didn’t know didn’t hurt him anyway.

“Please,” he whimpered, meeting your leg. He wanted more--no he needed more. “I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything just please.”

“Such a needy little thing aren’t you?” With a huff you slowly stop moving. Tears sprang into the corners of Midoriya’s eyes as he thrashed in an attempt to bring some of the pleasure back, but you only moved your leg away. Broken no’s spilled from his lips and into the cracks of the brick wall. He’s a mess of babbles and pleas. You wait a second longer until you lick a tear from his face, starting at his chin and stopping just below his cheek bone.

He’s about to thank you when you send him a devilish smirk and drop to your knees in front of him. The sight alone causes him to reach his high. You let him calm down, rubbing his thighs through his jeans. You whisper soft encouragements that he can barely decipher.

Looking up at him you can see that his pupils are still blown wide while his chest is heaving up and down. Under the neon red light he looks perfect. You want to devour him, but you hold back. Soon he’d learn how to get hard just by your words alone, but first you’d have to train him.

It isn’t until he comes down from his high that he realizes what he’s done. Mortification falls over him faster than you thought from the way his face flushes even further. You wished he wasn’t in so many clothes, you could almost bet that the same would be found on his neck leading to his chest.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to, I tried holding it in but-”

Slowly, you rose to your feet and before he could stumble over more excuses you kissed his cheek whispering “Good boy,” into his ear. If Midoriya hadn’t just cum he would’ve from those words alone.

You laughed softly at his body’s reaction before breaking away from him fully. You don’t miss the pout that formed on his face when you stepped away. At first it was cute, but now seeing it after this made something snap. You quickly grabbed him by the jaw and traced your thumb over his bottom lip.

“Such a sweet little mouth, making all those pretty sounds earlier, but I think I have more uses for it rather than just pouting,” you locked onto his wide eyes. “Wouldn’t you say, Midoriya?”

He could only nod against you, completely trapped under your gaze. You had him right where you wanted him. “Well then baby boy,” you said detaching yourself once more. “Get to work.”

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Midoriya woke up in a cold sweat for the umpteenth time that week. He fell back into the pillow with a groan. It had been weeks since that encounter and he was desperate to do it again. He couldn’t escape the sound of your moans echoing in the night or the way your nails dug into his hair just right to send waves of pleasure zipping down his back. And the way you tasted, he craved feeling you against his tongue, drowning in you.

However now that he was officially part of Chimera after being tested the night after he was able to taste you, it had been pretty standard. There was nothing out of the ordinary, the organization ran just like how any other underground facility would. Midoriya had his own jobs that he had to handle such as keeping track of shipments and making sure nobody was caught. He didn’t have much to report back to Aizawa which caused the older man to worry.

Izuku huffed at the sound of his phone vibrating on the nightstand. Speak of the devil. Why couldn’t the man just leave him alone? He knew what he was doing and what he went there to do. Even if his mind was preoccupied with you, he would still put Chimera down first and besides you weren’t serious about him either.

Without looking at the contact he put the phone up to his ear. “Look Aizawa I’m fine I don’t need you checking up on me every second of every day so please just this once don’t contact me on my day off.”

Izuku expected to hear the gruff voice sigh into the other line and promptly begin telling Izuku why checking in is important because it could mean the difference between life and death which, being an underground hero, the lines tend to blur.

Instead, there was a delayed pause followed by a low whistle, “And he lets you talk to him like that? I’m impressed.”

At the sound of your voice, he instantly shot up from the futon. “Boss, hey um why are you calling?” His blood froze for a second. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?!” He tossed the covers off of him and was about to head to his dresser to change when his foot got caught in the sheets causing him to crash to the ground.

You heard the loud bang on the other line causing you to snort. There was a heavy sound of stomping followed by another brief crash that caused you to look out into the city with a smile. You were reminded in that moment that he was still a college student, so full of life.

“Nope, I was just calling to check in.”

Midoriya scowled on the other end of the phone. “You and Aizawa both. I’m fine if that’s what you’re wondering. I have all my body parts intact and none of them are broken,” he even wiggled his hands and sat back on the futon to swing his feet even though you couldn’t see him. “Thank you very much,” he said dryly.

You hummed, mulling over his response. Ever since he joined he’s been more sure of himself, capable. It was an accepted change, after all he needed to be strong. Especially if your plan was going to work. After all, the stronger they are the more fun to break.

“He and I are alike then. You do realize that there’s a very fine line between life and death, right? People like us have to stick together.”

“How are you both the same person?”

That question alone had you laughing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Midoriya, but I do have something you can do for me.”

He perked up at that. “What is it?”

“I’ll pick you up, how does noon sound?”

“Yes-” he said all too fast before coughing. “I mean yeah sure, whatever works for you.”

“Good, be sure you’re ready early, I always come on time.”

With that you hung up the phone and spun back to face your office desk. Phase one was complete, now you could move on to phase two. Leaning your head on the desk, you could feel rather than see Jirou’s eyes boring holes into your forehead.

“Why aren’t you worried about Midoriya?”

You cocked you head to the side. “Why would I need to be worried?”

“He’s working with Aizawa.” It wasn’t a question, but it didn’t need to be. You knew Izuku was working with the man for years before he even discovered your group, but that didn’t matter. You thought back to his confidence, how he was able to give orders and stand up for himself now, but still looked at you to make sure he wasn’t speaking out of turn. It caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach.

“Rest assured, Midoriya won’t be a problem. After all,” you said interlocking your hands on top of the desk. “I have him wrapped around my finger.”

tag list: @chaos-night @yixxes

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mummybear · 3 years

Text

Finally, I’ve Found You.

Words: 4938

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, ABO, Protective Sam, Possessive Dean, Claiming, Scenting, Dirty Talk, Orgasm Control, Hair Pulling, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, knotting....Think that’s it :)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Bingo Square: @spnkinkbingo - Free Space - ABO Soul Mates

Summary: When your protective Alpha best friend takes you to meet his family, things don’t go quite to plan. You end up finding something, or someone, you’ve been looking for your whole life.

Beta: @negans-lucille-tblr Thank you again babe! :D

Divider: @firefly-graphics

Being an Omega in this part of the world was nothing short of a nightmare - Omegas were treated as slaves and fuck toys for Alphas. When your parents had died, you were even more scared than ever before. Being left alone in this world was terrifying, you hadn’t told anyone, not until you’d met Sam Winchester. He was an Alpha through and through,” - at least, that’s what he let the outside world believe. To you he was your best friend, and your protector. He was a complete sweetheart, even when you knew it was hard for him not to give into his nature.

The most that he ever did was snap at you, but that was only when his rut hit particularly hard or your heat or his rut started before either of you were ready. Even then though, he would lock himself away, or he would lock you away and keep you safe, until those days passed. You wanted to want Sam in that way, and you knew he felt the same, but neither of you had ever been able to bring yourselves to do anything.

There were times you’d talked about it at length; the possibility of you being his, but you’d always come to the same conclusion. It wasn’t right, for either of you, and it wouldn’t be fair. You were worried though, because if Sam wasn’t supposed to be yours, then who was? And were they even half as sweet, hot and caring as your best friend? You only knew what you’d been told by your other Omega friends, once you found your mate, you would just know.

“You ready to go?” Sam asks as he walks into your room, with a big excited grin on his face.

“Sam, are you sure about this?” you sigh as you finish zipping up your suitcase for the weekend.

“Y/N, trust me! My family are going to love you.”

“You know I trust you, more than anyone on the planet, but I don’t know if It’s such a good idea. I’m not exactly special, I’m just like any other Omega,” you sigh as he takes the suitcase from your grip, and you hear him huff quietly.

“I’ve told you before, that isn’t how any of my family see it. Besides, you’re my best friend, they know how much you’ve been there for me. Even if you are a giant pain my ass. Now come on, stop complaining,” he winks at you over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes and follow him out of the door.

“Fine, but you better not leave me on my own,” you huff out, locking the door behind you.

Luckily the drive doesn’t take as long as you thought it might, and all too soon you’re pulling up to a gorgeous home, with perfectly kept lawn and two classic cars in the driveway. You wring your hands in your lap, feeling the nerves creeping up on you even more than you’d expected. You can feel the need to be sick pressing against the back of your throat. Sam must notice because seconds later you feel a big hand on top of both of yours, and you feel a slight sense of calm start to settle over you.

“Sam, I told you not to use those Alpha powers of yours on me,” you laugh slightly, feeling grateful that he doesn’t always listen to you.

“Y/N, you’re shaking and you’re breathing too hard. I don’t want you passing out on me, just breathe,” he smiles gently, the complete picture of calm, as always.

It takes a few moments, but you finally manage to get your breathing under control, and your heart stops racing.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t think that’s ever happened before,” you swallow thickly, climbing out of the car and following Sam as he pulls your suitcases out.

Sam looks you over and frowns, “now you mention it, I’ve never seen you like this. Did we work out the days wrong? Is your heat due or something?”

You think on it for a moment as Sam leads you to his parents house, and over to the front door.

“I, uh, no. I only had one a two weeks ago. You know I only have one a month, it can’t be that.”

Before Sam can respond the door is pulled open, and a grinning couple fill the doorway.

“Sam! It’s great to see you son.” The older man steps forward and embraces Sam in a tight hug, that Sam returns with a big grin. Before turning to the older woman and doing the same. It’s clear to see they’re his mom and dad. The family resemblance is beyond obvious.

“Mom, dad, this is Y/N. Y/N this is my mom and dad, Mary and John Winchester,” Sam introduces fondly.

“Great to finally meet you, Y/N! Sam has told us all about you,” John smiles warmly, giving you a quick hug which you return nervously.

“We really have heard so much about you, thank you so much for looking after our baby,” Mary grins, and pulls you into another hug.

“Now, come on inside you two,” Mary tells you both, moving aside so you can follow Sam into the house.

“Sammy!” You hear from down the hall, and you follow Sam further into the house, watching as Sam is embraced by a slightly shorter man with sandy hair. You smile at the display of affection. it’s so nice to see Sam surrounded by family, he’d always spoken about them, and you’re guessing this must be the brother he’d told you countless stories about, Dean.

Suddenly Dean looks up and his eyes lock with yours over Sam’s shoulder, you feel like a rug has been pulled from under your feet and you stumble back a little. Your heart thuds painfully in your chest, and you swallow thickly around the lump that’s lodged in your throat. You bite your lip as his nostrils flair and feel yours do the same as his scent hits you, and it’s like you can see his eyes darken before you.

Your words are stuck in your throat, until Mary comes to your side and wraps her arms around you, “Y/N? Are you feeling okay, sweetie. Do you need to sit down?”

Her voice sounds a little distant, like you have cotton wool lodged in your ears, but you hear her faintly all the same.

“Yes, please. Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” you all but whisper, tearing your gaze away from Dean, as Sam pulls away from him to come and stand by your side.

Mary and Sam lead you into the living room and help you get settled on the sofa.

“Are you okay?” Mary checks again, as she sends Sam away to help his father outside with the grill.

“Y-Yeah, I think so. I think I just need a minute, long drive,” you explain as you try and reassure her, and she nods in understanding.

“Okay honey, if you need anything we’ll just be outside okay?”

“Thank you, Mrs Winchester,” you sigh, leaning back against the soft sofa, and you let your eyes close for a moment. You feel her squeeze your hand and the sofa dips as she steps away.

You suck in a deep breath and your eyes snap open, as an unusual but tantalising mix of scents fill your nose. It’s like leather, spice, oil and something you don’t quite recognise. Then your gaze falls on the door you’d come through earlier, and on him.

You sit a little straighter and shift awkwardly in your seat.

“Hi, you must be, Dean. I’m Y/N,” you practically whisper as he walks further into the room.

He looks you up and down and licks his lips, his gaze heated, like he can see through your clothes and it makes you shiver.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart,” his voice is almost a growl as he talks, and he takes the seat right next to you, holding out his hand for you to shake.

You take his hand and your eyes lock with his, a complete calmness settles over you and you can feel yourself leaning into him. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he repositions his hand, so that his fingers are moving between yours, intertwining your hand with his own.

“Alpha,” you whimper leaning in closer, following his lead, until his forehead is pressed against yours.

“Omega,” he practically growls, scooting his body closer to you and breathing deeply, as his free arm curls around your waist tightly, almost possessively.

“There’s something about you… I don’t understand. I’ve never felt anything like this before,” you mutter, almost disbelieving, like if you say it too loud he’ll disappear.

“Neither have I, but I can smell it. I know you’re mine.”

He says it with such finality, and you want to believe him because, fuck, he’s perfect. Gorgeous, strong, great family. But beyond that you don’t know anything about him, you’ve literally just met, but something tells you that you can trust him, that he’s right, and you are his and he’s yours.

“B-But we’ve just met, Dean,” you stutter, as the hand gripping your waist slips just beneath your t-shirt and brushes your skin.

“Don’t care. You’re mine, I know you are. I can feel it, I can smell it, and I know you can too,” he growls as your free hand rests on his thigh to steady yourself.

“I can feel it, in every bone in my body, Dean. But we can’t,” you protest weakly, trying to pull away, but he holds your body tight against his.

He pulls back and looks at your face, “Is it Sam?” he huffs, and you can hear the unease in his voice, you can tell he’s forcing down a possessive growl.

“Why would it be anything to do with Sam? He’s my best friend, and that’s it. We both feel the same,” you sigh as he pulls away further, and you groan as your stomach rolls painfully.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ll let you rest, just pretend this never happened, okay?” he grits out, voice shaking as he backs away slowly.

“No, Dean, don’t. I didn’t mean you had to go!” you call after him, but before you can get up he’s already left, and you hear the back door slam closed.

Dinner had been really great, full of great conversation and stories of Sam and Dean when they were younger, not to mention the amazing food. It only made you more confused as to why Sam never cooked more often at home. But after ten minutes, something had changed with Dean, and he’d gone to eat in his room, claiming that he had to make a call for work.

You’re all now sitting in the living room, while Mary shows you photos of Sam and Dean when they were babies. When suddenly a wave of pain hits you from nowhere, and you grip Sam’s arm tightly.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” he asks immediately, and he looks really worried as he takes you in.

“No. Something’s wrong,” you whimper, wiping at your sweaty forehead with the back of your hand. Sam carefully helps you to your feet and you cling onto him tightly.

“Mine.” Comes a growl from the doorway, snapping everyone's attention away from you and towards Dean.

“Dean? What the hell do you mean ‘Mine’?” Sam questions defensively, putting himself between you and his brother, pushing your body behind him.

“Alpha,” you whine, reaching for Dean, and Sam has to hold you tighter against his side, so you don’t fall to the floor.

Everyone seems to be looking between you and Dean, before John groans quietly, “Fuck, I shoulda noticed earlier. Sammy you need to let her go, son,” he tells his youngest son gently, as he walks towards you and Sam.

Sam looks at his father as though he’s gone mad and holds you tighter.

“No way, clearly Dean’s lost his damn mind, he’s not going anywhere near her. I’ve kept her safe for years, but I didn’t think I’d have to protect her from my own family.”

Your eyes lock with Dean’s and you whimper as he starts to walk towards you, feeling the slick gathering between your thighs.

“Sam. Listen to me, Dean must be her mate. You said yourself that Y/N isn’t due a heat, right?” John asks calmly, stepping between his boys.

“Not for another two weeks, why? What the hell does that have to do with anything?!” Sam exclaims with disbelief.

“Well, your brother has literally just had his rut. So by rights, he was safe, unless…” John trails off, maybe hoping Sam is understanding.

“Sam, please. I need him,” you moan pathetically, as John growls at his eldest son warning him to step back, in an effort to calm the situation down.

“It must be another heat, Y/N, it’s the only explanation. You’re not thinking clearly-” you unintentionally cut Sam off, when a scream rips through your throat and you double over in pain, with Sam’s arms the only thing stopping you from hitting the floor.

Dean whimpers and looks around his father, locking eyes with his brother, looking like a scared puppy.

“Sammy, please. Let me help her,” Dean groans, running his fingers through his sweat soaked hair.

“No. I’m the one who looks after her, not you,” Sam growls defensively.

You’re starting to lose consciousness, and your eyes are heavy, sweat dripping from your forehead. You’ve never felt anything this intense in your entire life. Suddenly a smaller pair of arms wrap around you and help you sit back on the sofa, you look up at Mary, and she’s barely in focus.

“Honey, I need you to focus, look at me okay.”

“Can’t, Mary. I’m so tired,” you slur, feeling the sofa dip the other side of you.

“Doll, listen to me, you can’t fall asleep, you’re burning up.” Comes John’s deep voice from your other side, and you lean into him when he presses a cool rag against your forehead.

“‘mega, tell me what you need, let me help,” Dean whispers, carefully cupping your cheeks in his big warm hands. You force your eyes open, and you can see the pain in his eyes, and the tick in his jaw as though he’s clenching his teeth.

“Alpha, please. Need you, don’t go,” you beg desperately, reaching out and grabbing his shirt in your fists. Dean’s hands cover yours and he tries to hush you gently, and you notice that you’re both alone in the room now. Your legs are still like jelly, so when you try and stand you practically collapse into Dean’s arms.

You nuzzle at his neck and purr as his scent surrounds you, feeling your vision clear slightly as your lips press against his skin.

“Not here,” Dean growls, his voice deep, husky and thick with need as he scoops you up into his arms and carries you bridal style, putting a stop to your attempt to push his shirt from his shoulders.

You clench your thighs together as another wave of arousal grips you, and you feel Dean’s fingers tighten against your body as he carries you up the stairs. When you reach the second door on the left, Dean walks inside and then kicks the door closed behind him. He heads over to the large bed and lays you down carefully, before sitting down beside you, and brushing the sweat soaked hair away from your face. The familiar feeling of your heat coursing through your body is even stronger than it’s ever been before, and you can feel yourself curling around Dean as soon as he lays down beside you.

“It hurts, Dean,” you whimper, hooking one of your legs over his body as he wraps his arms around you and you find yourself rocking your hips against his thigh, trying to find some kind of release.

“Shh, sweetheart, just breathe. You’re makin’ it real hard to be a gentleman right now,” his voice is practically a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

You bite your lip as you look up at him, “I don’t want a gentleman, I want my Alpha. I want you.”

Dean’s arms tighten around you and you feel the growl in his throat right before you hear it, “Fuck you smell good ‘mega. I could smell you as soon as you walked through that door. Haven't stopped thinking about it since I first laid eyes on you.”

“I don’t understand how this all happened so fast, but I know you’re my Alpha, I can feel it,” you whisper as he cups your cheek and you feel relief flood your body when he pulls you into a kiss.

The kiss starts off careful and slow but quickly becomes more passionate, he gently pushes your hands back against the mattress, and you have to clench your fists to stop yourself from touching him.

“Stay there, baby, let your Alpha make it better,” he whispers against your lips between intense kisses that seem to be turning your body to liquid. Dean’s hands are exploring every inch of you, his touch is firm and a little rough, but it’s just what you need right now. You can’t help but moan into his mouth when he starts tugging at your clothes.

When he pulls away from your lips to look into your eyes, you gasp for breath, quickly realising only your panties remain. Dean hums in approval, cupping your breasts in his big hands and he gently flicks over your nipples with his thumbs, biting his lip as he watches your face for a reaction. You arch into his touch, desperate to feel more of him.

“Oh God, fuck,” you whine needily as Dean runs his fingers over your soaked panties.

Dean chuckles deeply, breath hot against your soft skin, and you shiver as he nips at your neck, “you want me to bite down just here,” he nips a little harder for emphasis, and you can’t help but moan as you struggle to nod. You arch your hips and moan his name as he pushes your panties aside, and he eases two thick calloused fingers inside your soaked entrance, slowly edging back and forth until they’re fully inside you.

“Mmm, of course you do, my needy little Omega. You want me to claim what’s mine? Want me to fuck you until you can’t see straight, and you’re coming all over my knot?” You can tell his instincts are taking over, his voice is deeper, and his touch is almost bruising, but in the best way.

Dean rips your panties away from your body with his free hand. You barely even feel the sting of them ripping, only the slight pressure on your clit as he pulls them up and off of you. Then he leans over you, and he starts to curl his fingers inside you, pressing his free hand to your stomach so everything intensifies as he picks up a steady pace. Then his hand shifts and his thumb presses against your clit, your hands immediately reach out, and you grab hold of the first thing you can. Your nails dig into his biceps as you hold on tight, feeling the muscle bulge and relax as he pushes towards release, the look in his eyes makes you want to give in to whatever he says.

There's just something about him being fully clothed and fully in control, while you’re naked and at his mercy that makes the Omega in you purr appreciatively.

Your stomach tightens and your pussy flutters around his fingers as he pushes you towards your first orgasm. You’re breathing heavy and writhing beneath him when suddenly he pulls his fingers free, and your body slumps against the bed, with a sheen of sweat coating your skin. You whimper as you look up at him, wishing you felt a little less pathetic, because you would kick his ass if he was one of the Beta’s you’d slept with before. But this is an Alpha - your Alpha.

Dean chuckles, leaning back as he starts to pull off his clothes, and you can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Oh my beautiful Omega, don’t make all of those pretty little noises right now. I promise I’ll make it better. But the first time you come for me I want it to be with my cock inside you, stretching out this tight little cunt.” You moan at his filthy words as he throws his shirt across the room, he’s perfect, and you can’t stop staring, unable to believe how lucky you are.

“Please, Alpha. I need to come so bad, wanna feel your knot.” The desperation in your voice is clear as you cling to the sweat soaked duvet under you.

His eyes lock with yours as a filthy and cocky smirk curls at his lips. You watch with bated breath as he pulls off his jeans and boxers, and his thick cock is freed from its confines.

“Hmm, am I your first Alpha, sweetheart? Your only Alpha? Is this the first knot you’re gonna take in that perfect little pussy?” Dean sounds far too pleased with himself as he asks those questions, but in the moment they only make you squirm more.

He strokes his cock slowly in one hand as he pushes his other hand between your legs, and his thumb circles your clit torturously slow. You don’t want to stop looking at him, but your entire body is shaking with need. You clench your thighs around his hand, trying your best to stave off your orgasm.

“Dean, please. I can’t hold it,” you whine desperately.

To your relief his hand falls away, and you suck in a breath, feeling the heat of his body pressed against you forces you to open your eyes.

“You ready?” he asks quietly, voice husky and thick with need, and you feel the wide head of his cock pressing against your wet entrance.

You can feel his thighs quivering against your own, it’s pretty obvious he’s holding himself back. You meet his eyes and swallow hard, knowing that you couldn’t go back now, even if you wanted to. You need him, you can feel it deep down.

“Don’t you want me on my hands and knees, Alpha?” you ask, voice breathy, and you shiver feeling his fingers digging into your thighs.

“I’m trying to take it easy on you here, ‘mega, don’t push me,” his voice has lowered to a growl, and you know you’re poking the bear, but you can’t seem to stop yourself, you need him to lose control.

You slowly drag your hand down his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch, and you hear him suck in a breath when your hand wraps around his thick length.

“I can take it, Alpha, want you to fuck me like you mean it.” Dean grunts as your hand moves over him and you turn your head to the side, showing him your perfectly clear skin, free of any scars and stroke your fingers down the side.

“When you claim me, right here-” you don’t get time to finish your sentence, because Dean has pulled out of your grip and his rough hands flip you over and force you on your stomach.

You barely have time to suck in a breath before he’s hauling you up by your hips. Dean spreads your legs and the head of his wide cock presses inside you slowly, but then his hips snap forward, and you scream in pleasure as you lose your balance. Your fingers curl around your pillow and your back arches painfully, as he pulls out almost all of the way and snaps his hips forward again. The grip on your hips tightens, to the point you’re sure there will be bruises left behind.

“How’s that, my needy little Omega?” he growls, wrapping his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back harshly. You can’t speak, you can hardly breathe.

“Ah fuck! Dean, please let me come!” you scream feeling your pussy spasm around his cock when he picks up a steady rhythm, deep and slow, and so hard you feel like your body is going to snap in half.

“Wait. I decide where I claim you, is that fucking clear?” he growls snapping his hips forward roughly.

“Fuck! Yes. Whatever you want, Alpha,” you whine obediently, impossibly close to the edge of a mind shattering orgasm. But even your body is refusing to disobey your Alpha.

“Mmm, good girl. C’mere,” he pants, tugging you back against him by your hair and nuzzling your neck. You don’t struggle, in fact, you find yourself relaxing against him.

“You wanna come all over my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Please, Dean, I need it,” you whine breathlessly, feeling his free hand roam your body slowly, as he cock continues to thrust into you teasingly.

“Then play with your clit while I fuck you. I wanna watch you fall apart, my desperate little ‘mega.”

The sheets are soaked beneath you both, his rut and your heat are in full effect now, and you know you’d do anything he asked.

You drop your shaking hand between your legs and start to rub circles into your clit, feeling your pussy clamp down around his throbbing cock. You cry out when Dean starts to pick up his pace, his thrusts are precise, rubbing perfectly against your g-spot.

“Ah! Alpha, right there!” you practically scream as he roughly tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side, exposing your neck and you feel his teeth gently tug at your skin.

The threat of him claiming you is enough to send you hurtling into the most powerful orgasm of your life. Your body shakes in his arms as he continues to fuck into you, your tight wet heat gripping him like a vice. You’re vaguely aware of the fact that Dean’s wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you pinned against him because you’ve gone limp in his arms.

“So sexy when you come ‘mega, such a perfect little pussy. You want it, baby girl? You want me to make you mine?” he grits out breathlessly. Your head is swimming as you feel another orgasm burning in your stomach, but his words are enough to make you moan in agreement. Dean chuckles, pushing the sweat soaked hair over one of your shoulders, “c’mon, ‘mega, need to hear you say it.”

You tilt your head to the side again and feel his tongue against your skin, “take me, claim me, Alpha. Wanna be yours.”

“Oh fuck,” he moans sucking hard at your neck, “gonna make me come ‘mega, gonna fill you up,” his voice is a broken rasp as he fucks up into you, his pace brutal.

He lets out an animalistic growl when his own release finally hits, and sinks his teeth into your neck, then you feel his knot swell inside you. His knot catches against your entrance as his cock pulses inside you, pulling another scream from you as your second orgasm shoots through your entire body. Gasping, you both crash down onto the mattress, with Dean’s body wrapped around you.

Your bodies shake against one another as Dean pulls his teeth carefully from your neck, and licks softly at his claim mark. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you take a deep shaky breath, as a feeling of being complete finally settles over you.

Dean presses kisses along your shoulder and brushes his fingers through your damp hair.

“Remind me to buy Sammy a house for bringing you to dinner,” Dean chuckles, his voice hoarse from your time together.

You giggle and lace your fingers with his, his hand feels so big against yours but it feels right.

“Just a house, huh?” you tease playfully.

He presses a soft kiss to your claim mark and he drags his teeth over your ear lobe, “mmm you’re right, maybe a mansion,” he whispers, every word punctuated with a soft kiss and roaming hands. You can’t help but be a little nervous, this is all so sudden. What if he changes his mind about you?

His cock slips free suddenly as his knot retracts, and he turns you in his arms, so that you’re facing him. The soft smile on his face is completely disarming, and you can’t help but smile back.

“I can practically hear you thinkin’, ‘mega. I promise we’re gonna figure all of this out.”

You sigh softly and lean in, kissing him for the first time in what feels like forever. When you pull away his intense green eyes meet yours.

“It doesn’t make any sense, but I trust you, Dean. You and me, it just feels right,” you tell him, and the emotion you’re feeling causes your voice to catch a little.

“That’s because it is. So, what do you say we get ourselves ready and go down to see everyone?, I think we have a little explaining to do, my beautiful Omega,” he whispers tenderly, cupping your cheek and presses a lingering kiss to your lips.

“Probably a good idea, Alpha,” you agree, feeling a blush come to your cheeks as your fingers graze over the claim mark on your neck. You weren’t expecting your life to change so drastically in a day, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

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Dean/Jensen Tags: @hobby27 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967 @screechingartisancashbailiff @maddiepants @spnfanfic-reblogs @holylulusworld @mrswhozeewhatsis @sonofabringmesomepie @deans-baby-momma @mrsjenniferwinchester @hhiggs @pisces-cutie @trina44sb @heartsaved @matsumama @adoptdontshoppets @beth-winchester21 @doctor-hp-mcu @mrspeacem1nusone @fanddoms4love @nihilismworld@noobwuvsj2 @lyarr24 @hearteyes-j2 @tatted-trina6 @deandreamernp @thoughts-and-funnies @weepingwillowphoenix

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novaiya · 3 years

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Simple Twist of Fate - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: In a saloon in Rhodes, you see a man with virility and vigor so strong it attracts you like a moth to the flame. You watch as he downs a shot of whiskey and licks his lips, not letting even a drop go to waste. You're gathering your courage, ready to approach him and see where it takes you. Will the fate allow the two of you to meet?

Words: 2,422

Tags: Smut, Oral (male and female receiving), F!Reader

A/N: I was brushing my teeth, and Bob Dylan’s Simple Twist of Fate came to my mind. The song made me think of a possible “missed connection” type of scenario between Arthur and you. Bittersweet. Blame it on a simple twist of fate. Link to AO3

Rhodes was the type of town to crash in, get drunk, wake up the next morning and never think of again. With just one saloon, that also operated as a bathhouse and a hotel, there wasn’t much to do except for gambling and drinking, the latter of which you were engaging in at the moment. You were leaning on the bar stock and picking on the label of your beer bottle when you saw, out of the corner of your eyes, a man join you at the other end of the bar.

“Can I get whiskey, please?” you heard him say.

The rough, yet warm sound of his voice called out to you, and you turned your head to get a look at him. With his broad shoulders, chiseled jawline and a full head of dark blonde hair, he stood out like a sore thumb among the rest of the patrons of the saloon. He was attractive, plain and simple, something that couldn’t be said about the other men in this town, with their receding hairlines or their red complexions from all the years of drinking or working out in the sun. You watched as he straightened out when the barman handed him his drink. The shot glass looked comically small in his comparatively giant hand. Your eyes never left him as you watched him bring the glass to his lips and drink the whole shot in one ago, his Adam’s apple going up and down as he swallowed the drink.

As if he could feel you staring at him, he turned his head towards you and gave you a polite smile. You smiled back before quickly turning your head back towards the beer bottle in your hand, once again digging your nails into the sticker that you have almost peeled.

He was even more handsome when you got a straight look at him. His smile seemed inviting, and you wondered if you should approach him. It’s not every day that you see men as attractive as he was and what’s the worst that could happen? If he turns you down, you could just take your beer to your room, sleep till the next morning, and leave the town the next day, along with the thoughts of the attractive stranger

The decision, however, was made for you when the object of your thoughts came to stand next to you.

“Hey there,” he said, leaning against the bar.

“Hi,” you said, instantly abandoning the beer bottle in your hand and turning your attention to the man.

He introduced himself, saying his name, and you did the same back.

“Can I get you a drink?” he said, looking at the empty beer bottle next to you.

You accepted and he called the bartender, asking for two shots of whiskey. The two of you fell into a comfortable conversation that only two people who didn’t know each other and didn’t plan on could. You asked him what he was doing here, and he said he was just passing through. By the guns on his hip and the scars across his face and hands, you could tell he was lying, but you didn’t pry. You too had secrets that you weren’t planning on sharing with strangers, even as beautiful and captivating as him.

The conversation flowed as easily as the whiskey, and you didn’t realize how much time had passed until you looked around yourself, noticing that the saloon was completely empty, save for a few drunks sleeping at the tables and a couple of working girls chatting among themselves. A slight panic shot through you. Has your time with the mystical cowboy come to an end? You weren’t ready to bid him farewell just yet, so with a boldness that you rarely showed, turned around and said, “The night is still young. I got a room upstairs, we can continue our conversation there.” Your pronunciation of the word ‘conversation’ made the man smirk and with a southern drawl that you came to love after just a few hours of conversation, he said, “I can’t see why not.”

The walk to your room was silent, and you were afraid that in it your wild heartbeat could be heard, getting quicker and quicker with each step that brought you closer to your destination.

You barely had the time to close the door before he pushed you against it. His mouth was on yours in an instant, his hands on your hips and in your hair. Your hands reached towards his shirt on their own, haphazardly undoing the buttons and pushing off his suspenders. He helped you rid himself of his shirt, pushing it off and dropping it on the ground. Breaking the kiss, you had a chance, for a brief moment, to look him over. Your imagination did not do him justice, you thought, as your eyes roamed over his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and toned chest covered in light, short hair. You couldn’t believe all of that was hidden underneath a flimsy cotton shirt.

He noticed you looking and smirked. He reached out with his hand, running it down your check before placing his thumb on your lips. You parted them without thinking, letting him push his thumb inside and sucked on it. He could feel his face grow hot as you ran your tongue over his thumb, keeping your eyes on him. With his free hand he went toward the fly of his pants, popping open the button and pulling out his cock. He started stroking it slowly, keeping his eyes on you as you sucked on his thumb.

Noticing what he was doing, you took his hand in yours and pushed his thumb out of your mouth. He groaned, but his tone quickly changed when you went down on your knees, your face inches away from his cock. You pushed his hand away, replacing it with your own and started stroking him. You couldn’t believe what you were doing, especially with a man you knew only for a couple of hours, but something about him made you unable to think about anything except the pleasure he was going to bring you.

He moaned your name at the feeling of your hand on him, one of his own holding onto the door in front of him, the other in your hair. You started leaving open mouth kisses all over his dick, lubricating him with your spit before finally taking the head of his cock in your mouth, gently sucking on it.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, “knew you’d be good with that mouth as soon as I saw you wrap them pretty lips on that beer bottle.”

The sound of his voice, twisted with desire, moaning because of what you were doing was like nothing else you’ve ever heard, and you went to work, taking him deeper, wanting, no, needing to hear him again.

He started to move his hips, pushing more of his length in your mouth. He was big, bigger than anyone you had before, and you were having a hard time fitting all of him in your mouth, though you still tried.

Suddenly, after a few moments, he pulled back, a string of salvia connecting your lips and his cock for a brief second.

You pouted at the sudden loss, already missing the weight of his cock on your tongue. He must’ve sensed your disappointment and said, “Sorry darlin’, don’t want the night to end too quickly.” He extended his hand, helping you up to your feet before crashing his lips against yours once again, not minding the taste of himself on your lips. He turned you around and started pushing you towards the bed. The mattress gave out a soft squeak as the two of you fell on it.

“Let me return the favor,” he said, licking his lips and eyeing you like a predator.

He paved his way to your center with feather light touches, kissing and nipping on your exposed skin as soon he pushed your blouse off. You helped him pull down your pants, and they, together with your soaked drawers, went flying to the floor.

“Look at you,” he said as soon as he saw how soaked you were. “All from sucking cock?”

You bit your lip, slightly embarrassed, and turned your head to the side, hiding from his intense gaze. He smirked to himself, amused by your sudden shyness.

He ran a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness, before slowly, agonizingly so, pushing in. Long and thick, his finger alone was already too much for your needy body, yet you wanted more. You gyrated your hips, trying to get him to move or add another finger.

He bit his lip as he watched you squirm under him, the sight of your body, needy and burning making him wet his lip. He added a second finger, not moving his eyes from your face, watching for every sigh that escaped your lips, for every flutter of lashes. He picked up the pace, pushing his thick fingers in and out of your wet entrance, reveling in the way you twisted and turned under him, moaning his name.

Your lids were half closed as you took in the pleasures he was giving you. Each push of his fingers was driving you closer and closer to your desired destination. You were panting and sighing until you felt the warm envelope of his lips on your clit. Your murmur turned into a long moan, spurring the man to alternate between sucking on your clit and flicking it with his tongue. It only took a few more moments until your hold gave out, and you let the waves of orgasm wash over you like a tidal wave of the ocean, consuming you until all you could focus on was the man between your legs.

The sight of you overcome by such passion made the man want nothing more than to feel it too, and once your orgasm subsided, he crawled up your body, seeking your mouth once again. The kiss was passionate, rough and messy, your mouths devouring each other as if each was the much needed drink of water in the hot deserted desert. He took himself in his hand, and pushed into your sensitive, overstimulated heat. You winced at first, not used to his girth, but soon enough the slight pain gave away to ways of pleasure, and you circled your legs around his waist, motioning him to let go and find his own pleasures through your body.

His pace, calculated and deliberate, was slowly making you mad. The pull and push of his cock hit all the right places within you, and you wondered how you were going to be satisfied with anyone else after this.

After a while, his pace picked up, and you could feel that he was nearing his own release. His hand found your clit, and as he circled it, he said, “Let go for me, one more time.” His lips were on your neck, kissing down your throat, and after a few seconds all you saw was white as you came with a shout of his name.

You clawed at his back, feeling the need to hold on to something or else you would float away on the pleasures you were feeling. The feeling of your walls spasming around him did it for him and not a moment later he-

“Miss, miss,” the bartender waved his hand in front of your face, pulling you out of your daydream.

You shook your head, as if the reverie you engaged yourself in was a cloud you could shake off, and said, “Yes, I’m sorry?”

The bartender said, “Another beer?” and looked at the empty bottle in your hand.

“Ah,” you said and instantly went for the money in your pocket and said, “Yes, please.” The man took your change and your empty beer bottle, and came back with a new one not a minute later. You thanked him and instantly went for the beer, downing almost half of it right away, trying to calm the blazing heat inside of you. You tried to, nonchalantly, see if the man of your dreams was still there. You turned your head, looking as if you were fixing your hair, and noticed that yes, he was still here, still nursing a shot of whiskey in front of him.

You felt your face flush as you stole a glance over him; tall, handsome, strong. From his dark blonde locks to muscular ass, everything about him radiated vigor. For a moment, you felt bad for making the unsuspicious man a part of your sexual fantasy, but how could you not when just by standing there he was making you drench your drawers?

You decided, that there was no use standing around and blushing like a schoolgirl, and was about to approach the man (this time, for real), when the doors of the saloon opened and in went a man that just like the one near you, didn’t look like he belonged in this town. For a moment, he stood near the entrance and looked around the bar, as if searching for somebody, only for his gaze to settle on the blonde man at the bar.

“There you are, Arthur,” he said as he clapped his hand on the blonde man’s shoulder (Arthur, right?) “Come on, let’s get going, Bill is waiting outside.”

Without awaiting Arthur’s answer, the man with a dark black mustache went back out. Arthur didn’t follow the man right away, instead settling on finishing the drink in front of him. He placed the glass near his lips, and in one go, downed the rest of it. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, collecting a drop or two of whiskey that escaped the glass. He straightened out, and as he turned around to leave, gave you a polite smile and a nod. The act caught you by surprise, but you quickly collected yourself and shot him an equally friendly smile, nodding your head in return, trying to hide the blush that overtook your natural skin color. The whole act lasted no more than five seconds, but you found yourself replaying it in your head countless times as you leaned against the bar stock, fumbling with the beer bottle in your hand.

“Arthur,” you said under your breath, pronouncing each syllable with intention and care. You could now adjust your fantasy to include his name, you thought.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #Red Dead Redemption #rdr2 #red dead redemption fanfics #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfics #arthur morgan headcanons #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 x y/n #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption imagines

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anystalker707 · 3 years

Text

Bet?

Pairing: Frank x Reader Word count: ~ 1 800 Genre: Fluff / Smut Summary: (Y/n) suggests something new in bed - edging - and tries to convince Frank it's not as boring as he thinks. Kind of content: Restraints / Praise / Overstim / Oral / Fingering / Hand job / Edging

Requested by @angie-migel

Taking a pause from the tour is agonizingly terrible sometimes. All we want to do is to continue the tour as soon as possible, though we’re also equally eager to spend some time back home and visit a few people and places – something we’ve already done, actually, so what actually rests now is only wanting to get back on that bus. The break still lasts for four days now.

A sigh escapes my lips as I shift on the couch, my legs on Frank’s lap whilst we watch TV, mostly staring at the images of a movie we’ve watched a hundred times already and alone with our thoughts.

“Y’know, we could use this time to actually fuck because we can’t do that on tour.”

“I–” Frank furrows his eyebrows, looking at me. “How random.”

I chuckle, rolling my eyes. “I mean, yeah, but it’s not like it’s a bad idea, hm?” I nudge his thigh lightly – he shrugs, tilting his head. “We should, dunno, try something new.”

“What do you suggest?” He breathes, a hand placed on my leg. So he’s actually interested, hm?

“Edging.”

“Nah!” He pouts lightly. “It’s boring!”

Boring? I scoff. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, like…” Frank scratches the back of his head. “There’s not a lot of action going on. Just a person jerking off the other, not letting them come a few times and all that stuff. I think it sounds boring– It is boring.” I snort. “What?”

“Bet?” I can’t help but to grin.

“Bet,” he replies almost immediately. That’s going to be fun.

The TV is turned off before we can move upstairs; Frank sends me weird looks the whole time, apparently still not understanding how edging can’t be boring. Either he’s never done it or whoever did it to him, did a very bad job.

“Good thing you got me.” I chuckle – he hums questioningly, but I only give his ass a slap in response, making him squeal as we reach the last steps of the stairs. He curses under his breath, rushing when I threaten to do it again, a race that only comes to an end after he walks into the bedroom and sits down on the bed, looking at me with a grin. “Let’s see how long that attitude will last,” I challenge, seeing his grin drop a little. “Strip.”

Frank stands up, sending a glare my way as I probably spend a bit too long staring at his ass once he starts lowering his boxers. I look away with a chuckle, resuming rummaging through the dresser’s drawer for a tie, opting for a red one that’s good enough for the job.

“Lie down,” I tell him.

Frank follows the tie with his eyes whereas doing as told. The mattress sinks under my knees as I climb on it and straddle him, taking both of his wrists; he tenses up, compelling me to pause, but soon relaxes again and I carry on to tie his wrists together before tying them to the headboard, making sure the red fabric isn’t digging into his wrists too tightly.

“Is that needed?” he mumbles, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh, if it is!” I move off to the side then spread his legs so I can position myself between them, letting my hands rest flat on his thighs at first.

“Not gonna get rid of your clothes?” Frank looks at me. His Adam's apple bobs up and down with an audible swallow and he fidgets with the tie, though not uncomfortably, apparently.

“I don’t think you’re exactly understanding what’s going to happen,” I say softly, taking a hold of his cock to start with a few slow pumps. “It’s all about you, hun.” My thumb runs along the underside and, though not completely hard already, his thighs do twitch in response.

Nothing comes from Frank in return this time, though; he bites down on his lip and exhales, actually relaxing, so I spit on my hand before I can continue, snatching a moan from Frank this time. That’ll be good. I wrap my hands around his base, going up again by letting my fingers trace the veins along the underside, eventually reaching the tip and letting my thumb run around it.

“Fuck,” Frank breathes, pulling his legs up.

“Still boring?” I fondle his balls.

Air is caught in his throat, making him struggle a bit to answer, only groaning at first. “In comparison to other things we do? Yes, a lot.”

“Oh,” I say with fake amusement, earning myself a glare, but as said, the attitude doesn’t last long since he’s soon shuddering under another stroke, twitching in my hand as he’s finally completely hard. There we go.

I wrap my hands tightly around Frank, making sure to have most of his cock covered as I twist them around him, pleased with all the moans I snatch from him, only growing louder after I let my thumb sink in his tip and play with a spot right under the head. I don’t want to give him all of the best now, so I go back to only pumping, letting a hand fondle with his balls, letting my thumb occasionally press down on his perineum. It doesn’t seem so boring for him now, to be honest.

At some point, Frank’s practically doing all the work by himself, thrusting his hips up into my hand – I only occasionally change my grip to gather the precum from the tip and spread it over, hence the wet sounds slowly fill the room, sometimes disappearing under the pleased sounds coming from Frank.

“Fuck,” Frank whines, getting a bit too excited, so I wait for the exact moment to let go and hold him down instead by his hips. “I–” He never finishes the sentence though, breathing heavily.

My hands lower to his thigh, thumbs now sinking into the insides of his thighs. He is granted a pause so he won’t cum once I start touching him again, still, he gets close faster this time – a teasing I repeat two times before I can give him a proper pause, chuckling at his face. Looks like he’s ran a mile.

“So boring,” I mock.

“Okay, but– Fuck, let me cum!” Frank tugs onto the restraints, uselessly. “Please, it’s been enough, fuck.” A quiet cry comes from him and he starts to shift his hips around, which’s pretty much just as useful as the tugging. Amazing.

“No!” I shake my head, giving his thigh a slap. “I don’t think you’re in position to plead for anything right now and get so excited with things because, if I remember well, this is so fucking boring and has nothing much going on, so it’s not a big deal. Calm the fuck down.”

“Yes, boring!” he cries. “But I still wanna cum!”

“It’s just been half an hour, honey,” I say softly after a glance on the clock. “You can handle it for a bit longer, don’t you think? Don’t you wanna be a good boy for me? Look at where you’ve come so far. I think you can go on for a bit longer for me, can’t you, baby? You’re so pretty with your hands tied up above you like this.” I smile then press a kiss to his tummy.

Frank meekly hums in response, sighing shakily. “Alright,” he mumbles.

“Sweet.” I smile, rubbing his thigh softly to ease him – his skin rises under the touch, but he does relax, not fighting anymore against the restraints.

Enough has passed so I’m yet again wrapping a hand around Frank’s cock, this time working on avoiding all of the places and touches he likes the most, only pumping him in an agonizingly slow pace. He whines, but quiets down with my grip around his thigh tightening.

Frank’s anger slowly melts away each time I drive him over to the edge and pull away until an hour has already surprisingly passed by. The sounds escape his throat so easily, strings of wanton moans going past his lips even with the slightest movements in a way I can’t help but to watch him carefully each time I let my finger wander around his tip. He can’t even beg anymore, only babble and mumble incoherently among all the gasps.

It’s been enough, I believe.

I give Frank no warning as I start to pump him while fondling his balls, not taking it slow or anything this time, only jerking him off fast and not stopping at noticing he’s getting close. Frank’s fucking surprised when he’s finally coming, throwing his head back and tugging onto the restraints with a loud cry, thighs quivering.

Frank slowly gets down from his high with thighs twitching and chest heaving up and down and seems like he’s going to say something, but there’s only a gasp instead; I bend down to take him in my mouth at once, humming around him.

The oversensitivity has Frank whining, immediately bucking his hips up and, honestly, it’s always been something he’s into, so it’s no surprise he tries to move his hips to fuck my mouth, only to be held down so I can work properly.

Probably all the denied releases accumulated in a pleasure yet to be satisfied considering how he’s quickly hard again and moaning so fucking loudly at my cheeks hollowed around him.

“(Y/n),” he manages to cry out at some point, among all the poor mess he is in.

I press down on his perineum, letting my tongue circle his tip once and it doesn’t take long until he’s fucking coming again. Even with a bit of difficulty, I’m able to swallow it all after giving myself a pause and quickly continue with it all, making Frank fucking sob at feeling my fingers circling his entrance, lubed up with his own cum.

Frank’s thighs are pressed to my sides tightly, not too much as I sometimes give him a nudge, but he’s barely able to hold himself back anymore.

A couple of my fingers slip in and a few tapping around is enough to find his prostate. I only move my fingers a few times, eventually deciding to just press down against his prostate – he’s so loud and so high-pitched by this point, but the safeword never escapes his lips, only more and more moans until he’s fucking sobbing again at reaching his release yet another time. Now, however, I finally pull away, cleaning my chin as I swallow everything.

Frank’s chest still heaves up and down as he gasps for air, staring at the nothing as his eyes are still dark, pupils still dilated. While he calms down, I untie him, playing with his hair until he’s back to reality, blinking before his eyes meet mine.

“Boring?” I raise an eyebrow.

“I…” He breathes and swallows. “I’ll think very– very well now before… accepting any bet.”

#n*fw #mcr #frank iero x reader #frank iero #frank x reader #fan fiction #fanfic #mcr oneshot #oneshot #imagine #mcr x reader #my chemical romance #mcr fanfic #writing #fluff #sm*t

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fanficimagery · 4 years

Text

A Fangy Fetish

Imagine finally coming home to your family, only to realize there's something other about your little brother and his friends. But that's okay because you're not exactly the same as you were when you first left either. It's a surprising change, but one you're more than okay with after meeting Peter Hale.

Trigger Warnings: Brief conversation about death, an abusive relationship and a brief scene of spiking one's drink. Author’s Note: Pls don’t ask about the title. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking XD

Passing up the welcome sign to Beacon Hills should fill you with glee since it's been forever that you've seen your mom and brother, but it merely makes you squirm in your seat since there was a good reason you had stayed away in the first place. And now- now you're meeting with them for the first time since you've changed and you're not sure how it should make you feel.

Your mom hasn't moved from your childhood home and as far as you knew your brother didn't have plans to move out until he had completed vet school, so it's not too hard to track them down. There's no vehicle in the driveway, but the opened curtains to the front windows showcase flickering lights from a TV being cast against the wall. Then cutting the engine, you tuck your hair behind your left ear and angle your ear towards the house to listen. After zoning out various noises, you can hear a TV show playing and your mother's familiar voice muttering obscenities when she sees something she doesn't agree with. There's no other voices or heartbeats so you figure your brother must be out.

Exhaling a nervous sigh, you pull down the visor and check your reflection in the small mirror being lit up by two small lights on either side of it. Then after making sure there's nothing on your face or at the corner of your eyes and mouth, you push the visor back up and then make your way out of the car. Walking up the steps to the front path and then the front path to the house porch, you nervously close the distance to the front door. You hesitate only a second before pressing the doorbell and then step back as you hear your mother pause her show and get up to see who it is.

The door opens and you can't help but smile when you see realization set in and Melissa McCall's eyes widen. "Y/N?"

"Hey, mom."

"Oh my god. Sweetheart!" She closes the distance between the two of you, arms wrapping tightly around you as you laugh and return her embrace. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"It was a split second decision," you tell her, letting her pull back and look you up and down to make sure you're really there. "Then I figured a surprise was in order."

She practically beams. "Come on. Come in," she says. "Oh I can't wait until Scott gets home. He's going to be so happy."

"Yeah, I can't wait to see Scotty either. It's been way too long."

Following your mom, you warily eye the doorway before stepping inside and the various scents of your childhood home make your chest ache with memories you had pushed to the back of your mind. Everything still smells familiar, even if there is a new underlying scent that makes you a little anxious and nose twitch.

"So what have you been up to?" She asks. The two of you settle in the living room and she's quick to turn off the TV in order to give you her full attention. "Catch me up."

"Well," you nervously chuckle, "there's not much to tell. School and work have kept me busy, and then there was this guy-"

"A boy?!" She gasps. "Tell me more."

"For a year," you tell her, your smile faltering. "I was with him for a year when I finally realized our relationship wasn't exactly healthy. The break was pretty amicable, but my trust in him was completely broken."

Melissa's mood immediately drops. "Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I'm okay now." Your mom looks so heartbroken all of a sudden that you can't help but scoot closer and pull her into a hug again. "Don't be sad," you chuckle. "It's part of growing up. If I didn't go through some stuff, I wouldn't be the person I am today. And let me tell you, I really like the person I am now."

Your mom sniffles. "Well if you're happy.."

"More than," you assure her. "I mean, I could probably use a little more fun between the sheets, but-"

"Y/N!" Melissa pulls back, shock etched into her features. "I am still your mother, young lady."

You burst out laughing, quickly leaning in to peck your mother's cheek. "I know, mom. Just wanted you to stop being sad. It worked."

A moment passes and her shoulders sag. She starts to laugh with you and you're so distracted by cheering her up that you don't hear the car parking outside or the steady heartbeat getting closer and closer. It's only when the front door opens that you freeze, your mom's smile widening.

"Hey, mom, whose car is out front?" Scott rounds the corner and you're surprised at how much your little brother has grown. He stares at you, eyes widening, before a very familiar and very missed crooked smile overtakes his features. "Y/N!"

You're laughing again as Scott practically rushes you, his arms tight around you in a welcoming embrace. He's warm, like really warm, and he has a very distinctive earthly smell. But that can't be right because as far as you knew the werewolf gene did not run in your family's DNA.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asks, squeezing you one last time before letting you go and then putting you at arm's length to look you up and down. He looks between you and your mom, smiling the entire time.

"Thought it was about time I came over for a visit." You shrug. "School is on break and my boss said I needed to cash in my vacation days or I'd lose them."

"I don't even know your boss, but I already love him. If he made you come home, he's okay in my books."

You chuckle, punching Scott lightly on the arm. You open your mouth to reply, but a frantic beeping reaches your ears. You and Scott look at your mom when she frowns, she then walking over towards the kitchen and picking up a beeper. She sighs and looks towards you and your brother, apologetically. "It's the hospital."

"Say no more," you tell her.

"Don't worry. Stiles will be stoked to see Y/N so we'll keep her busy for a while."

"Stiles?" You slowly smirk. "He still a little heathen?"

"Worse." Melissa snorts. "So much worse."

As Melissa gets ready for a shift that has been passed on to her, Scott convinces you to go surprise Stiles who's in town for the week. He hasn't stopped smiling the entire time he's set eyes on you, but every now and then you see his expression falter as he stares curiously at you before shaking off whatever it is and going back to his happy self.

The three of you head outside, you and Scott promising Melissa to be home in time for some breakfast before watching her drive off. You and Scott then climb into your own car, and he happily directs you towards the outskirts of town to a seemingly abandoned building.

"What is this place?" You ask, turning off your car and then climbing out.

"An apartment building. Friend of a friend likes his privacy so he bought the building. The only occupied portion of it is the loft at the very top."

"Nice," you quietly muse as you follow after him. But very quickly you come to a certain realization and stumble to a halt. "So he owns the entire building? Privately?"

"Well yeah," Scott says. "Why?"

"Oh no reason." You try to play it off, nonchalant. "I just- I rather not barge in without meeting the guy. Walking in uninvited is bad manners."

Your brother huffs. "It's just Derek. He won't care."

"Yeah, but I will."

Digging your heels in on this, Scott sighs. "Seriously, Y/N. Derek won't mind. You can wait down here all you want, but Derek won't waste his time coming down here just to tell you to come in."

"Can't you call him?"

Seeing your pout, Scott rolls his eyes but the amused little smile doesn't go missed. "Sure. Fine." He pulls out his phone and quickly presses the contact he's looking for. Phone then put on speaker, you flash him a small smile in gratitude.

"What do you want, McCall?"

"So I have a friend down here with me and she's really adamant that she gets an invite from you before we head upstairs. She says it's bad manners to just walk on in."

The guy scoffs. "Whatever. Come in."

Well that should do it. Hopefully.

"Happy now?" Scott puts his phone away after the call is abruptly ended and leads the way inside. "Now hurry up. I wanna see Stiles flip out." You follow him, briefly hesitating at the main door before exhaling silently in relief when you're permitted entry.

The metal, cage-like elevator gives you pause, but Scott promises it works just fine. So after settling inside and vowing to kill him if the elevator fails and falls, Scott presses the button for the loft at the very top of the building. Once stopped, you're then led towards a sliding metal door which Scott readily opens. Again you hesitate, but cross the threshold with no problem.

There are two men in the loft, one whose movements are very familiar and brings a smile to your face. The other one, the one with the dark hair and scruff, well it looks like he's scenting the air until his hardened gaze lands on you. But Stiles, who'd been preoccupied by tell him a story, immediately ceases talking to see what the problem is. And when his gaze lands on you, his jaw drops open and you can't help but snort.

"Holy shit. Y/N?"

"Goddamn, Stilinski," you muse. "You grew up in all the right places." Scott groans and you laugh when Stiles' awed expression turns a bit smug. From one second to the next he's moving and making a beeline for you, the two of you colliding in a hug which he rocks you side to side in. "It's nice to see you too, Stiles."

"How long are you here for? Dad will be happy to see you."

"Two weeks," you tell him as he pulls away. "And I can't wait to see Noah. It's been ages."

"I'm all for reunions," the guy who you're assuming is Derek says, "but why the hell would you guys let me invite a vampire into my home?"

Scott scoffs, Stiles freezes, and you frown at the new guy. This was not how you wanted the news broken to Scott. Your moment of anger, however, is overridden by the fact that there's no immediate denial of the supernatural from either your brother or his best friend.

"My sister isn't-"

"What are you?" You ask, cutting Scott off, glaring at Derek. "You smell wolfish, but so does my brother. Last I knew there was no wolf gene in our family line."

"Y/N, what?" Scott then asks. "You're not- tell him you're not a vampire."

Your gaze slides to Scott and you smile sadly at him. "I'm sorry. I can't do that." He tenses and Stiles takes a few steps back, and your heart breaks. "I promise to explain everything here in a bit, but tell me what's going on. Please. You don't smell human, Scotty, and neither does Eyebrows over there."

Scott gulps and nods, eyes filling with tears that refuse to fall. "Derek Hale comes from a family of werewolves. I'm sure you remember the Hale family before you left for college." There's a huff and you warily eye Derek as he rolls his eyes. Scott clears his throat and continues. "At the start of my sophomore year, I was bitten by a rogue alpha. I turned."

"Huh. I've never met a wolf that could turn someone with a bite."

"Never met a-" Stiles starts, only to stop and redirect his line of thoughts. "Wait, there are other types of werewolves?"

You shrug. "Well, yeah."

Stiles opens his mouth to retort, but Derek is quick to shut him down. "You can get your supernatural fix later, Stiles. Right now, Scott's sister has some explaining to do." By now he's nearly shoulder to shoulder with Stiles, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you.

The guy's gruff, but since he's not outright threatening you, you don't get defensive. "Um, I died about two years ago."

"You died?!" Both Scott and Stiles yelp.

Your lips press into a thin line as you nod. Scott frowns. "Two years ago is when you stopped coming home to visit."

"I-I had to." You glance at your brother as the first tear falls, but you're quick to wipe it away. "About a year prior to dying, I fell in love with a local. Everything was fine. I was happy," you say. "But as the months passed, I started to realize that there were blank spots in my memories. Some days I'd wake up with bruises I couldn't explain or wake up completely exhausted to the point that I couldn't get out of bed. No one, other than myself, realized something was wrong."

"What happened?" Scott quietly asks.

You sniffle, smiling sadly. "My boyfriend. He was a vampire, only I didn't know it until I was one myself."

"Why only after? Surely you could tell something was up when you were with him," Stiles says.

You shake your head, but it's Derek who says. "Vampires can manipulate the mind. It's one reason my mom wasn't very trusting of them."

"He's right. Our kind can compel people- make them forget something happened or plant memories that never existed," you admit. "As it so happened, my boyfriend was feeding off of me without my consent. And when he took too much, I would pass out and then wake up extremely weakened without a clue as to why. Most of the time he compelled me to think that I was fine- that nothing was wrong with me."

"How'd you figure it all out?" Your brother wonders.

You exhale softly. "I went out partying with some friends. On our way back, my friend lost control of the car and slammed into a tree. I died, but I died with vampire blood in my system." All three guys shift uneasily of learning about the ingested blood, so you quickly explain how it got there in the first place. "When my boyfriend was too rough with me, he'd feed me his blood since vampire blood has healing capabilities. The only downfall of ingesting vampire blood is that if you die while it's still lingering in your system, you wake up in transition."

"Which means you had to feed on human blood," Derek says.

"Yes." Stiles and Scott grimace. "I had woken up in the hospital morgue and found my way to the blood bank. It was- it was a clusterfuck," you admit smally. "I gorged, I cried, and I unknowingly compelled the doctors to make them think that I was fine and then fled the hospital as soon as I could. Fortunately for me, there was another vampire at school. When she realized I was newly turned and I told her what I knew, she felt sorry for me. And since I was a vampire myself now, all my compelled memories started to rush back. She helped me break up with my vampire boyfriend and then took me under her wing. She taught me how to control the bloodlust and introduced me to a witch who made me a piece of daylight jewelry so I'd be able to walk in the sun."

Scott and Stiles appear floored by your story, but it's Derek whose expression has yet to falter. "I have one question," he says. You nod, waiting. "Are you here to cause drama for Beacon Hills?"

"No. Never," you immediately answer him. "I honestly just came for mom and Scott. I didn't expect any supernatural to be here at all or even that my baby brother was part of it now too."

"Okay then." His stern expression briefly falters so he flashes a quick smile. "Then welcome home, I guess."

You huff a quiet laugh. "Thanks. I'm Y/N, by the way. Scott's older sister."

"Derek Hale, co-alpha to the McCall/Hale pack."

"Co-alpha, huh. Does that mean," you trail off and glance at your brother, smiling when his eyes flash red at you. "Cool. The werewolves I know can't do that. They're really only dangerous when they've transformed under a full moon. Other than that, they're as human as can be."

"I have so many questions," Stiles muses.

Derek huffs in amusement. "Don't bother. We have books on other breeds of the same species. I just never brought them out because, until now, vampires never stepped foot in Beacon Hills and we didn't have to worry about other breeds of werewolves." He turns and walks back to a metal table where various books are opened, and busies himself by browsing the pages. Stiles is quick to follow after him and pester him about these so-called books.

Scott steps closer to you, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans as he smiles sheepishly. "So you're fine?" He wonders. "You're not gonna fang out and drain us of our blood?"

"What?" You snort. "No. If I wanted to drain you or anyone else, I'd have done it when everyone was hugging me and my mouth was literal inches from your throats. I'm fine. You guys have nothing to worry about."

"But you drink blood?"

"I do, although I tend to stick to blood bags from a hospital. If I drink straight from the vein, I only take enough to soothe the thirst and then quickly compel the person to eat a snack or go home and nap."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

You pause. Scott stares at you, and even Derek and Stiles go eerily quiet after the question. You sigh. "Does it matter?" Scott shrugs and you hate you have to admit this. "Yes. My first victim was an accident. It happened when my friend was teaching me how to feed properly and I lost control. It happened twice more, but I was able to save those two individuals before their hearts stopped."

"Any on purpose?" Derek asks from his side of the room.

"A few." You gulp. "The moment a hunter learns you're a vampire, you're apparently fair game. If I have to take a life to keep my own, I will. Dying is not fun and I don't plan on doing it again any time soon." You notice Scott frowns at your answer, but Derek and Stiles hum before accepting your answer as appropriate. And not wanting to get into a discussion of right or wrong, you paste on a smile and change the subject. "So anyway, what else have I missed? Any girlfriends I should know about? Or boyfriends? I don't judge."

Derek snorts and Scott flashes you a crooked smile. "Actually, yeah. My girlfriend and Derek's are out right now buying some stuff to throw a party."

"Oohhh. Do these girlfriends have names?"

"Yeah. Malia and Kira," Stiles says. "Malia's my ex-girlfriend and Derek's long lost cousin, but now she's Scott's girlfriend. And Kira is Scott's ex-girlfriend who is now Derek's girlfriend."

"That is.. weird," you say, chuckling softly. "But cool, I guess, if you guys seem to have no problem with it."

"We're all pack," Scott tells you. "We're more than fine with it."

"And I'm actually dating Lydia Martin," Stiles says, "but she's super busy with school which is why she's not here."

"Lydia Martin?" Your nose wrinkles. "Snooty Martin?"

"Hey!" Stiles quickly reprimands you. "She's not so bad anymore. Not after finding out she was a banshee."

"Hold up. What?"

"Yeah. Lydia's a banshee." He shrugs. "Kira's a kitsune and Malia's a werecoyote."

"Holy shit. What the hell has Beacon Hills come to?"

"That's nothing," Derek says. "If you had been here all along, you'd have seen a lot more than just that. Beacon Hills is a beacon for crazy."

"Yeah. No shit."

What little tension that had been lingering finally vanishes and everyone shares a friendly laugh. But when a newcomer enters the apartment, it has your hackles rising.

"Ugh. Who let a bloodsucking fiend in?"

The elder gentleman that enters is rather attractive, but the scowl he's directing in your direction leaves you scowling back. "Aren't you a little old to be wearing v-necks?"

"And aren't you a little new to be taunting the big bad wolf?"

You hiss. "Do we like this guy?"

Without missing a beat, Derek says, "On occasion."

"Good." Then before anyone can blink, you use your vampiric speed to appear inches from the newcomer, grab him by the throat and pin him to the floor. Stiles and Scott yelp at your sudden movements, but you pay them no mind as you snarl in the wolf's face. "You don't wanna get on my bad side."

The wolf blinks in surprise and everyone seems to hold their breath. You see movement out of the corner of your eye, but since it's slow you don't bother to act on it. Instead, fingers gently touch your face before a thumb brushes on the underside of your left eye where you know small black veins are pulsing. "Beautiful."

You freeze and slowly ease up on the wolf. "What?"

He smirks. "If you wanted me on my back, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask." Derek, Stiles and Scott all groan. "Peter Hale, at your service."

"Y/N McCall," you hesitantly introduce yourself. Climbing off of him and steadily walking on your own two feet, you can't help but knock him down a peg when you see his expression. "And don't look too smug. The other Hale is hotter."

Meeting Malia and Kira was rather interesting, especially when you saw what they were face to face rather than just hearing about it. Seeing Scott and Malia shift almost left you speechless, but seeing Kira left you in complete awe. They had then asked to see you and Malia was the only one to not balk or make some sort of disgusted facial expression when you mentioned needed a bag of blood soon.

Over the next couple of days, Scott manages to convince you to explain to your mom about your new status as a vampire, as well as Noah Stilinski since both of them knew about the supernatural. And since Noah was like a father figure, you, Scott and Stiles got them together for a family dinner where you told them your story. Noah was angry and your mother was heartbroken, but both accepted you with open arms.

Being with your family and your brother's pack brings you a sense of calm that you haven't felt in a long while. You're easily accepted without question and it's like you've known everyone your entire life with how easily they talk with you. Peter, however, is a completely different story. While he's friendly, just like everyone else, he's a little too friendly. You were more than ready to return the teasing innuendos, but then Scott had to burst your bubble by telling you that he was Malia's biological father. Malia, however, is quick to assure you that she and Peter have a rocky relationship and that she doesn't care who Peter chooses to show affection to so long as she didn't have to see it or hear it.

You were hesitant to be so carefree and teasing with Peter afterwards, but the recent lack of male attention had you caving before the week was even over.

"So what happens if your daylight necklace is ripped off?" Stiles asks. It's now Saturday afternoon and everyone is at Derek's, making sure the loft is party ready for later that night. "Do you just burst into flames right then and there?"

"No." You snort. "It starts off as a sizzle and you have seconds to flee to the shadows before bursting into flames." Malia helps you position a keg into a large metal bin, Kira then filling the empty space around it with ice. "And my necklace is spelled. No one other than myself can remove it so I don't have to worry about someone ripping it off."

"I'm not gonna lie, I kind of want to see you burst into flames."

"You're an asshole."

"Actually, I kind of want to see it too," Malia says.

Stiles beams, pointing at Malia and nodding. "See! I'm not the only one."

You glance at Kira and she sheepishly smiles, not even attempting to deter her pack mates who want to see you purposely set yourself on fire. A moment passes before you sigh. "Fine, but you better get me a blood bag or I'm sinking fang into someone's vein."

Stiles is quick to scramble for the kitchen, no doubt making a beeline for one of the few blood bags Derek had tossed into the back of his fridge. You groan but chuckle nonetheless as you look around for the perfect spot and then find it in the corner of the loft just right by the overly large windows. Then settling in the corner with your back against the brick wall, you exhale deeply before carefully reaching behind your neck to unclasp your necklace. Grimacing, you look forward and hold your necklace out for someone to grab. Kira hurriedly steps forward and takes your necklace with gentle hands.

"Jesus Christ. I can't believe I'm doing this." You shakily raise your arm, hand reaching towards the sun rays before your fingers curl into a fist. You sigh, nervously chuckling as you shake your hand out. "Okay. I can do this. It's just a little fire and then I'll heal."

Stiles, Malia and Kira are all eerily silent as they watch you. You're grimacing before the sunlight even touches you and then your whole face is scrunching up when you feel the sizzle before hearing it. Kira gasps and your eyes don't even have to be open to know what they're seeing. Unblemished skin darkening before slowly glowing like burning embers. Seconds later the smoke starts and against your better judgment you hold your ground. At least until you feel your hand igniting in flames and then you're quickly bringing your arm close to your body and patting the fire out.

"Ow, ow, ow." You utter. "Fuck! Give me the blood!"

Stiles is staring at you, wide-eyed, before Malia rolls her eyes and grabs the blood bag from his hands to toss at you. Catching it with one hand, you nod at the werecoyote before dropping fang and biting directly into the bag. At that, Stiles gags. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

Pulling your fangs from your snack, you mutter, "Pussy," and then go back to draining the bag.

Stiles gasps in mock offense as the girls chuckle. Your hand had immediately healed after your first gulp, but you drain the bag anyway since you're going to be around a lot of strangers later on.

The loft door slides open and immediately all three wolves wrinkle their noses.

"Why does it smell like burning flesh?" Peter asks. No one says anything, but their eyes slide to you knowingly. You sheepishly smile as you hide the blood bag behind your back. Peter's eyes narrow. "What did you do?"

The heaviness of all their stares makes you squirm. "It was Stiles' idea!"

"Hey!" He barks. "Don't forget about Malia and Kira." Both girls frown at him in betrayal, but he merely shrugs in return. "If I'm going down, I'm taking all of you with me."

All three werewolves sigh, rolling their eyes. Scott and Derek bring in the delicate black lights that need to be fixated around the loft, and the buckets of neon paints. Peter drops whatever was in the brown paper bags he was holding and then saunters towards you. He spots Kira holding your necklace and snatches it from her hands. You subconsciously press your back into the corner, but Peter merely smirks as he unclasps the necklace in his hands and holds it out, waiting to place it around your neck.

"Come on, sweetheart. We don't have all day." Your eyes narrow at his teasing smile and you step towards him so he can put your necklace back on. And since you're facing him, refusing to give him your back, he reaches around you to clasp the necklace at the back of your neck. Then letting it settle against your throat, he untucks your hair from the chain and then gently cusps the sides of your neck in his hands while his thumbs brush along your jawline. His smile drops. "Don't do that again. If Stiles wants to see a fire, let the moron set himself ablaze."

"Hey! I heard that."

You blink in surprise at Peter before he takes his leave, only to see the subtly surprised expression Derek is sporting and the sour expression your brother can't help but show. Malia is indifferent to the exchange, Kira looks rather amused, and Stiles is just put out because he was called a moron. Nothing else is said on the matter, so you quickly flee the corner of shadows and get back to work.

- - - - - - - - - -

The party has only just begun by the time you send Malia and Kira on their way. You had painted both their faces with wolf-like features- Malia in blue and Kira in orange. You had also painted markings along their collar bones, and swirls and floral patterns up and down their arms. They were prepared to wait for you, but you insisted they head on out and that you'd join them soon enough.

You're left alone in Derek's bathroom, bowls of paint and paintbrushes scattered along the counter top as you determine what you want. Eventually you settle for neon green skeletal features, jagged teeth painted over your lips. You outline your neck and collar bones, and then stand there while you fan yourself so the paint will dry.

The faint sound of creaking catches your attention and you immediately glance towards the doorway. Peter stands there, leaning against the door jamb. "Love the handiwork," he says. "Are you taking any requests?"

You faintly grin at him. "No because then that puts the pressure on me to give you exactly what you want. But if you want me to paint you a surprise, then I'm your girl."

"Hmm. My girl. I think I like the sound of that."

"Of course you do." Your eyes roll, but the quirk of your lips tells him you're amused rather than annoyed. "Now get in here. I'll try and make it quick." Peter pushes off the door jamb and walks in, getting up close and personal to your back. You think he's trying to make you squirm, but you merely frown when you realize just how much taller he is than you when you stare at him in the reflection of the mirror. "Well this isn't going to work," you mutter. Pushing the bowls of paint and paint brushes aside, you turn around and hop onto the counter. "There. That's better."

"So much," he says while stepping into the space between your knees.

Snorting, you let the remark slide and grab his face in your hands. Turning his face this way and that way, you hum as you determine what you're going to paint for him. "Wanna match?" You ask. Then without giving him a chance to answer, you grab the bowl with green paint and a paintbrush. "We're gonna match, but you're only getting half a face because I really need to get out there and dance."

Peter fights off a smile as you grasp his chin with one hand and then quickly dip a paintbrush into the green paint with the other. The moment the loaded brush touches the center of his forehead, however, he schools his features so you have an unwrinkled canvas. The left side of his face gets the skeletal treatment, but when that's done you can't help but dip three fingers into purple paint and drag them down the unpainted side of his face.

He grins afterward. "Does this mean I can mark you back?"

"I don't see why not. Just nothing on my face."

Peter carefully coats his entire hand in pink before he looks at you, eyes darting up and down as he determines where he's going to mark. He smirks and then gently wraps his hand around your throat. He leaves it there, squeezing just so, and you gulp beneath his hand.

"Ooohh. Don't threaten me with a fun time." His eyes flare blue in response and you can feel your own eyes change in return as he drops his hand and slowly leans in. You put a hand on his chest to stop his progression. "Seriously, Hale. If you mess up all my hard work before anyone has a chance to see it, I will rip your jugular out."

Peter growls and you quickly lean in to snap your fangs right in front of his face. He shudders and you chuckle lowly before nudging him back and hopping off the counter. After all, you had a party to attend.

- - - - - - - - - -

The party has a bit more people than you'd expected there to be and even Derek seems a bit surly over how any people are in his home. But the DJ is amazing, the drinks are flowing, and the strobe lights are flashing in tune with the beats.

Everyone is lit up, whether it be their clothing or because of the paint, and you readily slide into the dancing masses. You don't seek out anyone in particular, choosing to dance on your own or anyone who sidles up to you in order to have a good time. But the second they get too handsy for your liking, you're shoving them off and moving on.

You're dancing, swiveling your hips and laughing with a few females who were all too happy to have you join them. You turn around, putting the girls at your back when your hands slide up your neck to gather your hair and hold it up off your neck before letting it fall once more. Your eyes somehow manage to find Peter, but the once teasing wolf looks anything but teasing. In fact, he looks rather pissed. And that- that just won't do.

Pushing through the bodies, you eventually make your way towards Peter from behind and tiptoe so your chin hooks over his shoulder. "So who are we killing?" You muse.

He tenses, but upon realizing who it is he's quick to relax. And without missing a beat, he says, "Two o'clock. Apparently this young man, if you can even call him that, has made the mistake of spiking a drink in hopes of giving it to one of the young ladies here. Fortunately, every female he's tried to pawn it off on has been smart enough to not take the pre-made drink."

His words immediately sour your mood. "Well that just won't do."

Before Peter can stop you, you're falling back onto the balls of your feet and practically skipping towards the guy Peter had been murdering with his eyes. A smile here, a touch there, and whispered promises of a good time goes a very long way and it doesn't take long to have the guy following after you. Then as you're about to pass up Peter with Troy (that was the guy's name, the one who was looking to roofie some poor innocent soul) following you, you flash Peter a wink and mutter follow me just loud enough so that he could hear.

You manage to avoid the rest of the pack as you lead Troy out of the loft and into the hallway, manhandling the all too eager dude-bro against the wall. He's a pretty decent looking dude, but his smug aura and tendency to roofie his potential hook-ups is a major turn off. So you tease him with a pretty smile, leaning in so your lips are just centimeters apart.

"Forgive me. I hope I'm not interrupting."

You pull back, turning half way and grinning at the intruder. There stands Peter, looking like he's not sorry at all. But Troy- Troy is annoyed. "Fuck off, man."

"Well that's no way to talk to your betters," Peter drawls.

"Yeah I gotta admit," you say. "That was a dick thing to say."

Troy glances between you and Peter, scoffing. "Whatever. I can find another girl to get laid by back in the party."

He goes to push off the wall, nudging you out of the way, but your hand lands in the middle of his chest before shoving him back into the wall. "I think not." Then meeting his gaze, you smile cruelly as you say, "Do not make a sound."

Troy's mouth opens as if to tell you off, but not a peep comes out. His eyes widen and Peter chuckles as he saunters towards you. "Huh. Having a vampire around could come in handy."

"So says the werewolf," you muse. Troy struggles against your hand, but he's not going anywhere. Not even when he raises a hand to strike you because Peter reaches out with lightning quick reflexes and catches his wrist. You smirk before looking at Troy. "Now that wasn't very nice. I was just going to let you go after scaring you a bit, but now.."

"Now," Peter says, "I think it's time we give you a taste of your own medicine. Let you know how it feels to have something taken from you without your consent." Troy's eyes widen even more while you and Peter snicker at the spike of fear in his scent. "Y/N, will you do the honors?"

"With pleasure." You stare at Troy, willing your features to change right before his very eyes and hissing when your fangs elongate. He renews his struggle in order to get away, but with your strength and Peter's he's going anywhere. "Now this is going to hurt like hell," you coo. "I want you to feel the fear of every girl you ever roofied just so you could get your dick wet."

Your smiling façade drops as you snarl, opening your mouth wider as your head rears back before you lunge forward and sink your teeth into Troy's neck. You feel him stiffen in pain, struggling even more to get away as you harshly drain his life's essence through the wound in his neck. But the second you feel his struggle lessen, you pull back and lick the corners of your mouth.

Peter chuckles darkly as you pat Troy on his cheeks. "Perk up some, will 'ya? I hardly drained an artery."

"Uh, sweetheart? I don't think he can talk."

"Oh. Right!" Catching Troy's gaze once more, you say, "You can make sound again, but you're never going to speak about what just happened. You're going to forget that monsters exist. All you need to know that if you ever see my face or his face again," you compel him while gesturing to Peter who's now standing over your shoulder, "then you're going to remember something terrible happened but you're not quite sure what. You'll just be deathly afraid. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good. Also, you're never going to spike another drink ever again. If you ever just THINK about taking anything without the person's consent, you're going to get violently ill and remember the pain in your neck from when I sunk my teeth into it. Got it?"

"Y-Yes."

"Awesome! Now, run along. You're no longer welcomed here."

Troy blinks rapidly, his mind clearing briefly as the compulsion sets in. When he sees you again, and then Peter at your back, his eyes widen before he scrambles to the side and rushes for the elevator. You laugh and wiggle your fingers in a mocking wave. Then the moment he's in Derek's death trap of an elevator and is descending, Peter's crowding you against the wall as he dips down so his hands can grab the back of your thighs and lift you up.

Your legs automatically wrap around his waist and you have a split second of being surprised before his mouth is pressing against yours, tongue licking into your mouth a couple of times, teasing yours, before teeth pull on your bottom lip as he retreats. You groan, hands finding purchase on his shoulders before sliding back and up, and settling at the nape of his neck. "So, uh, violence really does it for 'ya. Huh?"

"You have no idea." Peter leans in once more, nose brushing against yours and leaving you anticipating his next bruising kiss, but he merely presses his lips softly against yours. You whimper and he smirks. "Now, now. Patience is a virtue." You growl and he chuckles. "Trust me. The last thing we need is to get carried away in the hall and-"

"Oh gross. Seriously, you guys!?"

Peter sighs as you jolt in his hold. You're already staring wide-eyed at your brother, so Peter slowly lets you down before bringing you into his side and slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Yes?" He drawls.

Scott wrinkles his nose. "You guys good out here? Stiles said he saw you leave with a stranger and Peter looked a little too happy about it."

"It's fine," you assure him. "Just some guy trying to roofie himself a quick lay." Scott bristles, but your too calm demeanor keeps him from asking questions. "If you're wondering, I just scared him a bit and then sent him on his way."

"Y/N!" He says. "He's just going to go out there and do it again."

"Please," you scoff. "Do you think me dumb, brother? I obviously compelled him."

"She did." Peter smiles. "And it was marvelous. You should have seen it."

"I don't know. It seems to have gotten the both of you amped up so I assume it's something I'd have disapproved of." You and Peter both smile innocently at Scott, and he rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Either rejoin the party or go somewhere else. Don't have sex in the hall. I have to walk through here."

As Scott disappears, you hum and nudge Peter with your hip. "Well would you look at that. You got the alpha's permission to defile his own flesh and blood. Wherever shall we go?"

"I've got a condo downtown."

"Too far. My car is downstairs," you say as Peter chuckles. "We can take the edge off first and then head back to your place."

"Finally! A McCall whose choices I can get behind."

"Are my choices the only thing you'd like to get behind?" You smirk at him, winking, and then start heading towards the elevator. "Lets go, Mr. Wolf. I only have less than a week left in Beacon Hills and I'd like to find out exactly how rough a wolf like you can get."

#peter hale x reader #peter x reader #peter hale imagine #teen wolf imagine #peter hale #scott mccall #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #fanficimagery #imagine

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thisbeatchachinglikemoney · 3 years

Text

So Far Away (part 3)

Part 8 of the Boys with Luv series

Pairing: Reader x BTS

Summary: Everyone finally makes up... kind of...

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, some triggering PTSD episodes

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @fic-recs-by-moon, @luvtaeha, @aretha170, @xicanacorpse, @kookieebangtan, @fangirl125reader, @seoul9711, @channiespup , @lindsayjoy444, @fairygirl18, @black-rose-29

AN: The last part of the first part of the series. GOT7 are not a band in this btw. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and what you think of the series so far :) I purple you guys!

Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Y/N POV:

My knees felt weak and my palms were sweating. I knew Yoongi could feel it as he held tightly onto my hand, quickly walking us through the park towards the exit. His jaw was set in determination, his grip on my hand borderline painful, but I knew it was because he was scared... I was too.

If He had managed to find out where I was, I was never going to be safe. I knew I needed to tell someone, but who would believe me. I had no proof, and the bruises and cuts He had left on me had faded.

We arrived at the van that was waiting outside for us and Yoongi helped me in before settling near the back. He pulled me onto his lap and wrapped his arms around my waist. My heart was racing. I knew he could feel it under his arms.

My stomach churned as I let my thoughts run away with me. What if He finally got to me and took me back to His house and never let me leave or have contact with anyone? What if He actually killed me this time? What if I killed myself? I wasn’t going to be strong enough to make it through.

“Jagiya, your heart is racing. You need to calm down.” Yoongi said gently. I shifted in his lap so I was sitting sideways. I rested my head on his chest as I sighed, playing with my fingers.

“I’m scared, Yoon.” I whispered. “I don’t think I’ll be able handle it again if He takes me. I really don’t.” I felt him stiffen underneath me, knowing that he knew what I was talking about.

“Don’t say that.” Yoongi said, stroking my back. “Please, don’t say that.” He sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You are the strongest woman I have ever met. You will get through this. And even if he does take you, which he won’t, I will not sleep until I have you back in my arms again.” He vowed. “But that will never happen because he will not be able to get near you. I promise.”

I smiled faintly at him and leaned against his chest. “Just don’t let me go.” I said.

“Never.” Yoongi said. “I love you. I will never let you go.” A small smile crept onto my face as he froze, realizing what he had just said.

“Yoongi oppa,” I said, taking his face in my hands. “I love you too.” I leaned up and kissed his lips gently. “Thank you.” He tilted his head at me in confusion. “Thank you for taking me in and not rejecting me. Not all people like you would have done that for someone like me.”

“I love you, so much.” Yoongi said. “And I think I knew that the moment I laid eyes on you and felt our bond. And I’m not saying that because of it. I’m saying that because you made me feel the same way I do with the members. You make me smile and laugh, which is hard for some people to do. It feels like you complete me.”

“You complete me too. All seven of you.” I replied as the door to the van opened, making me jump and freeze.

“Hyung? Are you here?” Jimin called as he hopped into the van.

“Yeah, we’re here, pretty boy.” Yoongi called back, nuzzling his face into my neck. “Did you round up everyone?”

“Yes, they’re all here.” Jimin replied, making me look at Yoongi.

“All of them?” I asked feeling even more scared. I could not face Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung right now. Not at all.

“It’s okay. They’re all sorry for what they did. I still haven’t forgiven them though.” Yoongi replied. I nodded slowly and rolled my eyes at him.

“Of course you haven’t.” I murmured, making him tickle my sides.

“Yah, what do you mean by that, hmm, baby girl?” He said, his dialect very strong.

“I mean that you haven’t forgiven them because you’re stubborn and want to make them work for your forgiveness. You forget I know you very well, Min Yoongi.” I replied, touching my finger to his nose. I turned as Jimin approached and sat next to us as the others all found their seats in the front two rows.

“Hey my beautiful princess. You okay?” Jimin asked, leaning down and pecking my lips as he pushed my hair out of my face.

“Yeah, I guess so.” I replied, taking his hand in mine. “I just want a quiet night in with lots of cuddles and some movies. Oh, and lots and lots of ice cream.” I requested.

“That we can do. But first, you have to speak to Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung and sort everything out. They are also your soulmates.” Jimin bargained. I pursed my lips slightly, looking up at Yoongi who nodded.

“Okay.” I agreed. “But I don’t want a massive argument.”

“There won’t be.” Yoongi reassured me. “Is everyone here now?”

“I think so, hyung. Is my carrot okay?” Jungkook called from near the front of the van where he was snuggled next to Namjoon. Hoseok and Jin were with Taehyung near the middle.

“Carrot?” Yoongi frowned, looking at me. I whined and covered my face with my hands, not wanting to have this conversation right now.

“I’ll tell you later.” I replied making him nod and peck my cheek. “Yeah, I’m fine Kookie oppa.” I called back, making him flash me his bunny smile before he settled back in his seat.

After a half an hour drive, we arrived back to Yoongi’s apartment. Home. Yoongi helped me out of the van and together we walked up to his apartment quickly while the others gathered their things.

“Get changed into something comfy.” He said gently. “Do you want to order takeout?” I nodded as I rifled through my drawers to find some sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Yoongi oppa, can I have a hoodie please?” I asked, beginning to undress myself. He hummed and nodded, walking to his closet and grabbing one out.

“Okay, when I bought you that set, I knew it would look good, but fuck, jagiya.” He groaned when he turned around to pass me his black hoodie that had the word ‘Damn’ written on the front. I flushed red and moved to pull on my sweatpants, but he moved forward and grabbed my wrist, stopping me. “Just let me look at you.” He said, holding onto my waist. His eyes travelled down my body hungrily.

“Yoongi...” I whined as he leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my sternum. “We have other people here. We can’t. Not right now.”

“I know.” He said, his forehead resting against my chest. I ran my hands through his hair, the smell of his shampoo and cologne reaching my nose.

“So can you let me get changed please? I don’t really fancy having this conversation in my underwear.”

“It’s so sexy though.” Yoongi huffed. He pulled away from me. “Get changed, quickly, because I don’t know how much longer I will be able to control myself.” I quickly pulled on the hoodie and sweatpants and we left the bedroom and entered the living room.

Hoseok and Jimin were cuddled together on the armchair while Namjoon, Jin and Jungkook were sprawled over each other on one of the sofas. Taehyung was lying across the other one, his eyes closed and foot moving to the beat of the music playing on the TV. Yoongi cleared his throat, making Taehyung sit up straight and Namjoon, Jin and Jungkook pay attention and look at us.

“I think three of you here have something to say.” Yoongi said slowly, making Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung hang their heads in shame.

Jimin stood up off Hoseok’s lap and approached me, kissing my lips gently. “I’ll see you soon, okay.” He said softly. “Kook, Jin hyung, let’s go. Give them some space.” Jin and Jungkook stood up and followed Jimin out of the room, dropping swift kisses to my lips.

“So...” Namjoon said awkwardly as Yoongi sat down on the armchair, pulling me onto his lap. “We’re your soulmates, then.” He said slowly.

“That does change anything you said about her, Namjoon ah.” Yoongi said sternly. “Properly apologize, the three of you.”

Much to my surprise, it was Taehyung who spoke first. “Y/N-ssi, I should be the first to apologize. It was me who told Yoongi hyung to reject you when I found out. I know now that that was unacceptable for me to do and it was not my place to make that decision, but I was just scared and jealous. Scared that Yoongi finding you would throw off our entire relationship dynamic and jealous that he would most likely spend more time with you than me. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like an outsider. I understand if you can’t forgive me. What I have done and said is inexcusable.” He said, dropping to his knees in front of me.

“I-” I looked at Yoongi, who gave me a comforting smile and rubbed my hip. I did feel bad for Taehyung; it was me who took Yoongi away from him, but he could have voiced his feelings earlier and we wouldn’t be in this mess. “I accept your apology, Taehyung-ssi, but what you said about not only me but also Yoongi is something that I cannot forgive that easily. But I am willing to get to know you and spend time with you while I take the time I need to fully process what has been said and done.” I said slowly.

“I understand. Thank you.” Taehyung smiled and returned back to his seat.

“I’m sorry that I made you feel scared and unwanted.” Namjoon spoke up.

“And me too.” Hoseok agreed. “We were both being selfish and unwilling to give you a chance.”

“And we were protecting Taehyungie.” Namjoon added. “We didn’t know if you would be a saesang or not. We wanted to make sure everyone was safe. But we know now we should have given you a chance and that is something we both really regret.”

I nodded and hummed. “But if you were scared of me being a saesang, why would you let Yoongi be alone with me?”

Namjoon and Hoseok looked at each other before turning back to face me. “Yoongi was adamant that you weren’t, so we thought it would be best to allow him to spend some time with you and if you turned out to be a saesang, then...” Namjoon trailed off and hung his head, not making eye contact with Yoongi.

“Then what, Namjoon?” Yoongi asked carefully, his voice laced with a slight hint of venom. I could tell Yoongi had not heard this part of their story before.

“Then we hoped it would have taught you the lesson that you should listen to us.” Namjoon admitted. “Yoongi hyung, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I was just angry.”

“Angry enough that you would allow me to be hurt if it came to it?” Yoongi was seething. “And just to think I was starting to forgive you both.” He gently pushed me off his lap and stood up, stalking over to Namjoon. “How could you ever think of doing that to not only one of your best friends, but also your boyfriend!” He yelled and raised his hand over his head, making me flinch.

Jimin POV:

We were listening in on the conversation just to know how it was going. We could hear voices starting to become slightly raised, so I was ready to go out there and take Y/N away so she wouldn’t begin to have any flashbacks to what had happened to her. I moved out of the door to watch her carefully and see how she was acting and reacting to everything.

I watched as Yoongi pushed her off his lap to walk over to Namjoon. I could tell he was about to yell and I knew that was one of the things that could potentially set Y/N off.

“Where are you going?” Jungkook asked me in a hushed whisper.

“There’s about to be an argument and Y/N will not be able to handle the yelling.” I replied, walking further away from the door. And that was when Yoongi shouted, and raised his hand over his head, and Y/N, my sweet, beautiful princess, flinched away from him. “Shit.” I said under my breath and quickly made my way into the living room. “Come on, princess.” I said, wrapping my arms around her and leading her away from the argument.

“Where are you taking her?” Yoongi asked, turning around, his eyes flaming with anger.

“You’re scaring her.” I said shortly, taking her to one of the bedrooms to calm her down. “You can come and see her once you have calmed down.” I looked over my shoulder and saw Taehyung curled up on the sofa, his hands over his ears. He hated it when people shouted in anger and he would only resort to it himself if he really had to. “Taehyungie, come on.” I said softly, holding out my hand to him. He looked up and almost ran over to me, taking hold of my hand like it was his lifeline.

When I turned to look at Yoongi, I saw his eyes filled with guilt. “Y/N, jagiya, please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He reached out to touch her but she flinched away from him again, making him take a step backwards and cover his mouth, regret filling him.

“You can come and speak to her once you have properly calmed down and thought about what you were going to say.” I said coldly. “Sort this out first.” I gestured between him and Namjoon. “I’ve got you princess.” I whispered in her ear as I lead them both to the bedroom.

Jin looked up when we entered the bedroom, noticing Taehyung’s tear-stained face, and Y/N’s blank stare. “What the hell happened?” He asked, his eyes glancing between the two of them worriedly.

“Yoongi shouted.” I replied.

“Shit. Tae baby, come here, come to hyungie.” Jin said, opening his arms. Taehyung let out a choked sob before hurling himself towards Jin, dissolving into tears. Jin began to calm him down as Jungkook and I tried to break Y/N out of her own mind.

“Princess, you’re okay. You’re safe.” I said as I sat down on the bed, sitting her down between me and Jungkook. She was silent and remained staring into space.

“Carrot?” Jungkook pushed her hair out of her face. “Jimin hyung, she’s saying something.” He said, noticing her lips were moving.

“Princess, what are you saying?” I asked gently. All of a sudden, she screamed and began to cover her face with her hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.” She begged as she sobbed.

“Princess, you’re okay.” I said again. “Listen to my voice. You’re here with me, Jungkook, Jin and Taehyung. We’re all here for you. We will keep you safe.” I said. “Come back to us. Please. I can’t bear to see you hurting.”

“It’s not working.” Jungkook said, panic filling his eyes. “What should we do now?”

“Ummm...” I wasn’t sure what to do. I racked my brain, trying to remember if Yoongi had told me something about how she would calm herself down. “She used to dance to calm herself, but she can’t do that now.”

“Sing to her, hyung!” Jungkook said as he got the idea. “Let’s sing to her.”

Y/N POV:

I was back in His house. No, this was not possible. I had left him. I was with Yoongi now. Unless... that was all a dream. A nice, peaceful, cruel dream. It must have been. Why would an idol like him be soulmates with someone as broken as me? Why would I be lucky enough to have seven soulmates? I looked down at myself. I was wearing a familiar red cocktail dress. He was nowhere to be seen.

“Ah I knew that dress would look beautiful on you.” A voice came from behind me, making me jump. I gulped as I turned around and saw Him stood in front of me. He scoffed. “Is that how you greet your boyfriend on your anniversary party?” He asked. He moved closer to me and raised his hand to slap me across the face. “Now, greet me properly, you dumb bitch.”

“Happy anniversary, Jackson.” I said quietly. He grabbed hold of my jaw, his fingers digging in hard.

“Hmm, happy anniversary to you too.” He kissed me, instantly slipping his tongue into my mouth. “Now go and greet our guests and offer them some refreshments.” He ordered, smacking my ass. I nodded and left the room to go to the kitchen, grabbing the tray with the champagne flutes.

I walked over to the first group of people, realizing them to be some of Jackson’s friends from work. “Hello, thank you so much for coming.” I said with a smile. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“Ah, hello darling. Thank you for the invite.” One of his colleagues, Yugyeom, said with a smile. “Happy anniversary to you and Jackson. He was very excited about your present today.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be a very good present.” I smiled, as they all took a glass. “I’ll see you all later at dinner.” I bowed as I walked away to the next group of people. Soon the glasses of champagne were replaced with red wine as dinner loomed nearer.

“Y/N, come here a second.” Jackson called me over. I carefully walked over, ensuring I did not trip and spill the red wine on anything otherwise it would stain and Jackson would get mad at me. “Is the dinner ready to be served yet?”

“The cook said it would be another five minutes. They are just plating everything. They’ll come and ring the bell when it’s time for everyone to be seated.” Just after I spoke, one of the cooks came out and rang the bell, indicating it was time to eat. “It’s ready now, I guess.”

“I didn’t realize.” Jackson rolled his eyes and pushed past me, causing me to spill the red wine all over his white suit jacket.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Jackson, it was an accident.” I said quickly. He grabbed hold of my wrist and squeezed tightly.

“You will put down that tray and then follow me upstairs. Say you are going to help me with my jacket if anyone asks.” He said slowly, his eyes blazing with anger. I nodded timidly and set down the tray, following him out of the room.

Upstairs, he took off his jacket and turned to face me, clicking his knuckles as he tilted his head to the side, watching me like I was his prey. My heart began to hammer in my chest as I glanced up at him.

“I didn’t say you could look at me.” He said, making me look down at my feet. “Get on your knees you little bitch and apologize for ruining my expensive suit!” He shouted, shoving me down.

“I’m sorry for spilling wine on your jacket, Jackson, I am clumsy and lost my footing on the way back to the kitchen. I will make sure it never happens again. Please don’t hurt me.”

“You’re damn right it won’t.” He said. “Now...” I heard his belt unbuckle and him pull out through the loops in his trousers. “You’re going to take your punishment and then you’re going to stay up here. You don’t deserve to eat. You need to earn it.” I heard him fold the belt and felt him pull down the straps of my dress.

I yelped as the belt hit my shoulder. He was holding it with the buckle in his hand, but I knew that would change. There was another hit, and then another. He continued until I was begging him to stop.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.” I cried. He just scoffed and paused while he readjusted his grip before hitting me again, this time with the belt buckle. I felt it rip my skin open as it made contact and felt the hot blood trickle down my back. He hit me another ten times before he threw the belt on the bed and knelt down in front of me.

“Now, stay up here and don’t make a sound. I’m going to lock the door behind me so you don’t even try to get out.” He grabbed hold of my hair and pulled me up, making me cry out in pain. “Go do whatever you want with yourself. I don’t care.” He threw me into the corner of the room, leaving me crying and broken. I curled up in the corner, letting the tears roll down my face. I wasn’t going to be able to last much longer in this environment. I had to try and get out, whether that be I run away or end everything.

Why did my mind have to grace me with such a cruel yet calming dream? Why could I not be there? I knew that was how I was supposed to be treated in a relationship, but there was the fear of no one wanting me ever again with all my emotional baggage.

I let my brain drift away and shut down slightly to drown out the pain of the wounds on my back. I could hear faint voices, singing one of my favorite songs that would calm me down.

허공을 떠도는 작은 먼지처럼, 작은 먼지처럼 날리는 눈이 나라면 조금 더 빨리 네게 닿을 수 있을 텐데

눈꽃이 떨어져요 또 조금씩 멀어져요 보고 싶다 (보고 싶다) 보고 싶다 (보고 싶다) 얼마나 기다려야 또 몇 밤을 더 새워야 널 보게 될까 (널 보게 될까) 만나게 될까 (만나게 될까, ooh-ooh-ooh)

추운 겨울 끝을 지나 다시 봄날이 올 때까지 꽃 피울 때까지 그곳에 좀 더 머물러줘, 머물러줘

Translation:

Like the tiny dust, tiny dust floating in the air Will I get to you a little faster If I was the snow in the air

Snowflakes fall down And get farther away little by little I miss you (I miss you) I miss you (I miss you) How long do I have to wait And how many sleepless nights do I have to spend To see you (to see you) To meet you (to meet you)

Passing by the edge of the cold winter Until the days of spring Until the days of flower blossoms Please stay, please stay there a little longer

“Y/N? Can you hear me?” I heard someone call out to me. It sounded like Jimin. Was my brain really tricking me again?

“It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.” I murmured to myself.

“No, princess, this is real. We are real.” Jimin said gently. “Come on, come back to me. To us. You’re stuck inside your mind. Just listen to my voice.” I could feel a hand on my shoulder and voices talking to me. My vision began to become fuzzy and then clear. I was back in Yoongi’s apartment. This was real. That was just a memory. A horrible memory.

“Jimin.” I cried out before dissolving into tears in his arms. “It was him. It was Jackson. I was back with him. I didn’t mean to spill the wine. It was an accident.”

He pulled me onto his lap. “You are okay. You’re safe. I’m here with you. Jungkook is here with you. Jin is here with you. Taehyung is here with you. We’re all here with you.” He rocked me gently from side to side, his hands rubbing a soothing rhythm on my back.

“Please don’t let him hurt me again.” I sobbed.

“Hey, shh, don’t cry, princess.” Jimin said, his voice cracking slightly. Was he crying? “I can’t stand it when you cry.” He admitted. “It breaks my heart.”

“Sweetheart, can you tell us what happened?” Jin asked, taking hold of my hand.

“I...” I sniffed, rubbing my eyes. “I’m not sure what happened. All I know is Yoongi raised his voice and made an action like he was about to hit something and then I was back there.” I took a deep breath to try and calm myself down. “It was strange. It was like I was reliving the past with no memory of what happened during that time, but I remembered all of you. I thought this was all just a dream.”

“This is not a dream.” Taehyung said gently, still keeping his distance. “But I’m slightly confused. Who’s Jackson?”

“Jackson is my abusive ex who I had run away from the night I met Yoongi.” I replied. “I don’t really like to talk about him because he caused some of the darkest moments in my life.”

“He sounds horrible. I’m glad you got away and found us.” Taehyung said.

I smiled at him. “I’m glad too.” I turned to look at Jungkook who was sat facing the wall. “Koo? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Jungkook said, wiping his eyes quickly with his sleeve.

“No, you’re not.” I got off of Jimin’s lap and knelt down in front of him. “Why are you crying?”

“I was scared we had lost you. I was scared you had gone to a really dark place and were not going to be able to get out of it. It was so painful to watch.” He said quietly. “But you’re okay now, so I’ll be okay too.” He leaned down and kissed my lips gently. “I’ll always be okay if you are okay.”

“Thank you.” I smiled. I turned and saw Taehyung stood there awkwardly still. It was strange. I looked at him and in that moment I understood why he had said everything he had said. He was just scared and wasn’t sure how to deal with it, like I was. He dealt with his fear in a way he saw best, as did I, even if we were both wrong. “Tae.”

He looked at me and hummed. “What’s wrong? Do you guys need some privacy because I can go if you need me to.”

“No, Tae, I just wanted to say that I forgive you. I understand why you did what you did. You were like me, sort of. We were both scared of the situations we found ourselves in and the ways we dealt with it, no matter how bad they seem now, were what we thought was right at the time.”

“Do you... do you mean that?” He asked. I nodded, causing a boxy smile to form on his face. “Thank you. I’ll be the best boyfriend ever!” He pulled me into a hug, his tall frame completely enveloping mine.

“I think you have a few other competitors for that title.” I laughed, making him shrug.

“I don’t see them as competition.” There was a knock at the door, making us move apart.

“Who is it?” Jin called.

“It’s Yoongi. Can I come in? Please, I need to see her.” I heard Yoongi’s muffled voice say from behind the door. Jimin looked over to me. I looked between him and the door, trying to decide what to do.

“I...” I trailed off. He did shout at me and cause me to have a flashback for the first time, but that was not his fault. “Let him in.”

“Are you sure, darling?” Taehyung asked. I nodded.

“I have you four, don’t I?” I said. “My four protectors.”

“Your four protectors.” Taehyung confirmed, hugging me from behind and resting his chin on the top of my head. I sat down on the bed and Jimin looked at me once more before opening the door.

“Princess.” Yoongi came over to me and knelt in front of me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you scared. I honestly didn’t know.” He said. His eyes were red and puffy. I could tell he had been crying.

“You caused her to have a flashback, Yoongi hyung.” Jimin said curtly.

“No.” Yoongi sat down on the floor in shock. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m such a terrible boyfriend. You should just reject me as your soulmate right now.” I looked at the other four, silently telling them to leave us alone. Jimin looked unsure, but allowed Taehyung to pull him out of the room.

“Yoongi, it was a mistake. You couldn’t have known. Even I didn’t know.” I said. “This is not your fault. It’s mine for having such a broken mind that it can’t even deal with a simple argument.” Yoongi looked up at me with a frown.

“Don’t you ever, ever say it is your fault. None of this is your fault. Don’t you ever say that, jagiya.” He said sternly, holding my hands.

“I forgive you, Yoon.” I said gently. “I will always forgive you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, jagiya. I’m so sorry.” He said, leaning up to connect our lips.

“Where are Hoseok and Namjoon?” I asked.

“I sent them off to get pizza and lots and lots of snacks.” He said. “You said you wanted a movie night, and so I’m going to give you the best movie night ever.” He flashed his gummy smile at me, making me fall in love with him even more, and feel the safest I have ever felt in my life. All of them did.

#sub!reader #sub!taehyung #sub!jimin #sub!jungkook #switch!jin #dom!yoongi #dom!hoseok #dom!namjoon #so far away #soulmate au #bts x reader #bts ot7 #Poly BTS #bts poly #btspolyau

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justmypartner · 3 years

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Just the Time

Summary: Part 2 to my fic Overtime. When Jay finally acquires the perfect ring for Hailey, he can’t decide on a plan to propose. However, his plans may need to shift when Hailey catches him in a lie.

Writer’s Note: Hi everyone!! I hope you are all surviving hiatus okay! I never thought I’d actually make a part 2 to Overtime (my first fic ever!), but that Upstead proposal had me feeling some type of way. So, in the spirit of proposals I thought it would be a perfect time to write part 2. You don’t have to read Overtime to know what’s going on, but it does provide additional context! As always, thank you so much for reading!!

“It’s perfect,” Jay said as he admired the beautifully dainty piece of jewelry that was finally his and soon to be Hailey’s. An uncontrollable smile came across his face thinking about finally giving it to her, and he knew it was going to be a hard secret to keep.

“I’ll go get a box for you,” the woman behind the counter told him with a friendly smile before disappearing into a back room.

It had been a long few months of saving money and taking overtime shifts, but he finally had enough to buy the ring. It wasn’t a fun or easy journey. He was working normal Intelligence cases, then putting on his old patrol uniform and working night shifts any time they came available. The first gig he and Hailey did together. She thought it was his idea of an unorthodox date and she jumped at the opportunity to see him on patrol, but when he continued to pursue overtime gigs without her, she began to question why he was so desperate for money. He was able to come up with an excuse that he wanted to do some modifications to his truck. Luckily, she wasn’t invested enough to question him further, but the extra work was beginning to wear him down and this did not go unnoticed by her. Seeing him continue to take the gigs despite how exhausted he was, led her to question his intentions once again. He was only one paycheck away from finally having enough money to pay off the ring when she suggested he slow things down for a while to recover from the heavy load he had taken on. He agreed and her skepticism began to cool back down.

The drive home was spent with a hundred ideas circulating in his brain about the proposal. He’d been trying to come up with an idea since he picked out the ring, but his indecisiveness stood in the way of any real plans. Their one year anniversary was coming up, and he knew he wanted to propose then, however, he just wasn’t sure how. Proposing after just one year together may be too soon for any normal couple, but they weren’t any normal couple. He spent years loving her, wasting time burying his feelings, but now he was done wasting time. She was his future, his forever person, and he wanted to make that official.

The ring was perfect, he just needed a proposal that matched its level of unique simplicity. He knew her, and he knew she wouldn’t want anything too traditionally girly or extravagant, but he also knew she deserved something special. Not something cliche like popping the question in a restaurant or hiding the ring in the bottom of a champagne glass. It needed to be deeper than that and it needed to represent them, he just wasn’t sure what that would look like. His brainstorming was cut short when he pulled up outside of their building. He eyed the ring resting on the seat beside him, and he knew whatever idea he came up with wouldn’t hold a flame to the happiness he’d have when he finally slipped that ring on her finger. He didn’t want to bring the box up to the apartment on the off chance she would accidentally come across it. She was an elite detective after all. So, he locked it in the glove compartment of his truck and made his way upstairs.

“There you are!” He heard her call out from the kitchen as he opened the door. The smell of coffee and waffles filled the room, and he smiled to himself, knowing her weekend routine like the back of his hand.

“Hi, beautiful,” he told her, making his way around the counter to leave a peck on her lips.

A frown came across her face when he pulled away as her eyes traveled down to his empty hands before making their way back up to his face.

“I thought you said you were going to the store?” She questioned, her brow furrowed as the words left her mouth.

It took everything in him not to express the panic in his mind. In the excitement of finally getting the ring, he forgot to actually go to the store, the errand he told her he was running when she questioned why he was quietly escaping the bed earlier that morning.

“I- well I got out the door and Will called saying he needed my help. He locked himself out of his car, so he called me for the spare. By the time I got over there, I figured it would be too late to go to the store, so I just came back here. I can go out after work,” he told her, leaning forward to leave another light kiss on her lips. He was grateful for his experience in undercover that allowed him to think of an excuse on the fly.

She nodded, but she wasn’t fully convinced of his story. She grew up in an environment that had her consistently questioning the truth behind what she was told by her loved ones. She never felt the need to do that with Jay, something she found comfort in. But in that moment, she noticed a familiar hesitation in his voice that made her uneasy. He also seemed nervous, and she wasn’t quite sure why. Yet, she trusted him, so she decided to let it rest. She knew if it were important enough, he would tell her whatever it was when he was ready. Jay was just relieved that she didn’t press him further.

They had breakfast together before heading into work. It was a strange day. They hadn’t been called onto a new case all morning, so they spent the day catching up on paperwork. It was the type of day that had Adam climbing the walls, but everyone else was grateful for the rare quiet. Particularly, Jay, who took advantage of the quiet by conjuring up proposal ideas in his head.

By the end of the day, they were all dragging, running off of coffee and pacing the bullpen floor between their bouts of paperwork.

“Alright, everyone is coming out to Molly’s tonight. I don’t care if you already have plans. Cancel them. After this slow ass day, we’re popping things off tonight,” Adam announced, shoving himself away from his desk and rising from his chair the second it was six o’clock.

After heading out of the district, they all made their way to Molly’s to meet Adam’s wishes. Adam was already there when Jay and Hailey arrived, sitting next to an amused looking Kevin who watched his friend challenge a bunch of Squad 3 guys to a drinking challenge.

Jay settled at a table near the back as Hailey made her way to the bar to get them drinks, leaving a kiss against his temple and sliding a hand across his back before stepping away. Will was at the bar, engaged in a conversation with Herrmann when she walked up.

“Hey Will,” she said, nudging her shoulder against his as she stepped up to the bar.

“Hey there,” he replied back with a smile, bringing his glass to his lips.

“Two beers please,” she said to Herrmann in a sweet tone before settling on the barstool next to the doctor.

“So did you end up finding your keys?” She asked, remembering the story Jay had told her earlier that morning.

“Uh, what?” Will questioned, sending her a look of confusion.

“Your keys? Jay said he had to meet you this morning to give you the spare…” her voice trailed off, a feeling of suspicion building up in her stomach at Will’s clueless expression.

“Oh… yeah…” he let out as his eyes travelled over to his brother across the bar. “Yeah, I found them in my locker at work. Late shift last night, must have just blanked,” he admitted unconvincingly. Hailey’s eyes narrowed at him, and she bobbed her head slowly as she began to officially question why the two of them were lying to her. Herrmann set the drinks in front of her on the bar, and she thanked him, sending a departing nod to Will before making her way back over to Jay.

“So, Will found his keys,” she said, setting the bottles on the table between her and Jay before sliding onto the chair across from him.

“Wait, what?” He asked, causing her to raise a questioning brow at him, anger rising in her chest. He looked at her and then over at Will, confusion still forestalling his understanding. Then it hit him. His cover from earlier.

“Why are you lying to me Jay?” She questioned straightly, a steely tone in her voice.

“What? No, I-“ he paused. He couldn’t lie to her again, but he also couldn’t tell her the truth without ruining the surprise. He sighed in defeat. “Look right now, I can’t tell you where I was. It’s nothing bad. I promise. I just can’t tell you and need you to trust me,” he pleaded.

Her lips folded together, and she nodded in annoyance before rising from her chair to walk away.

“Hailey, wait,” he said, grabbing gently at her arm before she could make her way past him.

“No, Jay. I don’t do lying and you know that. Whatever it is, good or bad, you could have just said you couldn’t tell me yet and I would have respected that. Instead, you lied, but don’t worry your brother did too,” she shook her head with frustration. Suddenly, an eerie feeling of déjà vu brought her back to the many times as a kid when her mother would cover her father’s stories and excuses with even more lies. “I’m going home,” she told him, tearing away from his grasp.

“Let me at least drive you,” he said, a softness in his eyes.

“No, I’ll call a car,” she said before walking away and out to the street.

Will must have noticed their interaction and was making his way over to his brother.

“Dude, what the hell is going on?” He questioned, sliding into the chair Hailey had just fled from.

“I picked up the ring this morning and had to lie about where I was so she wouldn’t find out. Now, she’s pissed,” Jay said, taking a large swig from his bottle.

“Why don’t you just go tell her?” Will questioned.

“I want it to be perfect. She deserves something special, and I haven’t had the chance to figure out what that is yet. Now is just not the time,” he admitted.

“Or now is just the time. Jay, no matter how you ask that girl, she’s going to say yes a million times over. There may never be a perfect time or place to ask her, and if you wait too long, it may be too late to get the answer you want. Don’t ruin this thing you’ve got because you’re too stuck in your head. The two of you are meant for each other, I know it. So don’t overthink it. Just do it,” Will shrugged, bringing a hand to Jay’s shoulder as he tried to talk sense into him. Jay nodded at his words, rising from his chair to go chase after her.

“Hailey,” he called out as he caught sight of the blonde waiting at the corner.

“Jay, I’m really not in the mood,” she breathed out, her body still facing the street.

“Hailey, please. I just need you to trust me.”

“Jay, you know I trust you,” she said, twirling around to face him. “I’ve trusted you from the day I met you-” she got out, and suddenly it clicked in his head. He knew exactly where and how he wanted to ask her. He pulled out his keys, clicking the lock for his truck before grabbing her hand and pulling her towards it.

“Jay, what are you doing?” She protested, pulling away as he tried to drag her towards the truck.

“Hailey, please. Cancel your ride and get in the truck, we have to go back to the district,” he said, continuing to pull her with him.

“The district? Jay, what is going on?” She frowned, planting her feet firmly when they reached outside the passenger door of his truck.

“I’m going to tell you everything, just get in the truck.”

She eyed him, crossing her arms as she stood her ground.

He stepped closer to her, hunching over so he was eye level with her and bringing his face inches away from hers.

“Get. In. The. Truck. Please,” he whispered. She gave in, shaking her head in annoyance before climbing in. He leaned forward, stealing a kiss from her lips, eliciting an eye roll and a reluctant smile out of her.

“For the record, I’m still pissed at you,” she said.

“Hopefully not for long,” he teased before shutting the door.

Back at the district, he turned off the engine, jumping from the driver’s seat and running to her side of the truck to open the door.

“Jay. What are we doing here?” She questioned. He brought a finger up to his lips in response before offering her a hand to get out of the truck. Once she was out, he reached in, grabbing the ring from his glove compartment before putting it in his pocket and shutting the door. He grabbed her hand, leading her into the building and up the stairs into the district. He held tightly to her as he dragged her upstairs to the bullpen, the baffled look on her face growing the deeper into the district they went. Finally, he pulled her past the desks, through the dark hallway, and into the observation room. He turned on the low light and shut the door, moving to lean up against the glass as he eyed her perplexed and annoyed face across from him. He took a deep breath.

“This is not at all where I imagined we’d end up tonight,” he admitted, a slight smile on his face.

“Then why are we here?” She mocked, now equal parts annoyed and curious by his actions.

“You know to anyone else in the district, this is just a lowly observation room. A horribly lit, tiny little room they probably don’t even think twice about. But to me? To me this room…it’s special,” he said, taking a beat as his eyes circled the room before finding their way back to her.

“Three years ago we stood in this room as completely different people. You were with someone else, I was just beginning to come out of a bad place, and everything was just… different. But you said something to me that day that changed my life forever. I was in here beating myself up over a case, one that you backed me up with when I gave you no reason to, and you told me you trusted me from the day you met me. Same way you did tonight. You said that if you were to follow someone blind, you’d follow me. Well, that was the moment I realized I was in love with you, and every day since then, I’ve loved you Hailey Upton,” he said, tears filling his eyes as he smiled through his words. “Every moment with you since then, to the moment we kissed in that bar, to now, you have filled my heart in ways I never knew could be filled. A few months ago when you and Kim were working that UC case in that bar, there was a brief period of time when I thought I had lost you. That night, I decided I didn’t want to feel that way again. I decided I wanted to be with you forever. We’re better together, and the same way that you told me you’d follow me, I’m going to follow you… for the rest of my life,” he said, pulling the ring from his pocket and dropping to his knee.

“Hailey Anne Upton, marry me,” he breathed out. It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a command, it was a heartfelt plea that felt so natural falling from his lips. He watched as tears welled up in her eyes and a smile grew across her face. She stepped forward, cupping the sides of his face in her hands before nodding.

“I’ll marry you, Jay Halstead,” she affirmed as tears spilled out from her eyes. She kissed him hungrily, following his lips as they pulled back and tugged at hers. He stood, grabbing her up in his arms without breaking away, gently lifting her feet from the floor. Eventually, they pulled apart and she took in the sight of the ring for the first time. It was so perfect, and though she wasn’t much of a jewelry girl, she loved everything about it. Jay took it out of the box and slipped it onto her finger before wrapping her in his arms and twirling her around.

“Is this why you were working overtime so much?” she questioned, her glossy eyes continuing to spill out tears as he planted her back on her feet. He nodded.

“So you’re not actually doing modifications to your truck?” she questioned with a laugh, still trying to catch up to reality.

“No,” he laughed. “And this morning I never intended to go to the store. I was picking this up at the jeweler,” he laughed, playing with her hand that rested in his as he spoke.

“I’m sorry for lying. I never meant to hurt you, can you forgive me?” He questioned. She looked down at the ring on her finger and then back up at him.

“I guess,” she teased sarcastically, with a sly smile before rising on her tip toes and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

As Jay held her in his arms, he knew his brother was right. It was just the time, and he was surprisingly glad he didn’t have to wait until their anniversary. All of that overthinking would have never led to a moment more perfect than that one. Taking her back to that place he realized his love for her, a place that was so uniquely them wasn’t anything he could have planned without the spontaneity of that night. The ring was on her finger, and they were going to be each other’s forever, nothing could have been more perfect than that.

#upstead #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #upstead fic #justmypartner fics #collection of Em’s fics

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