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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

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Hearts [S. R] part 2

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

part 1!

summary: morning coffees become the special moments between you and Spencer, but you also discover that he may have more competition for his love than you expected.

N/A: I never thought this would be so well received and I honestly feel so happy! I am very grateful to all the people who requested a second part, I hope you like it and if you want to tell me something in the comments I will read it with pleasure!

people who might be interested: @c-m-stuff @no-soy-fer @synthsescape @bella-fics @cynbx

That morning Spencer came to his desk with coffee in hand and set it carefully to one side, the sight of his scrawled name looming large throughout.

Spencer <3

What did that mean? It was his name, that's obvious, but it was written with such a careful and clean line that it was very beautiful to admire and the heart drawn next to it was what didn’t quite add up in the whole thing. Reid knew that it was an ideogram used to express the idea of affection or love, so the most logical conclusion was that you were trying to communicate a feeling of that kind, but then he wondered: was it affection between friends? a simple show of affection, he supposed. Nothing further, surely it could not be anything else.

There were days when you and he barely saw each other, as the team had to go out to handle cases in the field and you stayed behind to do literally whatever you could do to complete your service hours, but every morning without fail you looked for him to deliver the long-awaited coffee. You were keeping your promise and for three days you arrived with two cups on the tray, one clean and the other labeled for him: Reid, Spence, Doctor R., all titles followed by a drawing of a heart. When Friday rolled around and you handed him what he thought would be his last cup, you decided to propose a deal.

"Today I was thinking that I could buy your coffee permanently, if you want” you exclaimed kindly, while you watched him from the chair that you had pulled to sit next to him. Some mornings when there wasn’t so much movement you would stay there to drink a few shots of your coffee and share a small moment of the day "It's on my way here and it's obvious that you like it"

“Oh, I… I couldn't even think about it, no. I would take too much advantage of you"

“You're going to pay me back, Reid. I'll just bring it” you laughed, watching him turn red to the ears while he drank a little to try to mask it.

"Then, I'd love to," he exclaimed with a tight-lipped smile. He was a little excited to continue having excuses to talk to you every day and, above all, to drink the delicious coffee that he had already gotten used to.

"Although I'm running out of ideas, to be honest," you said amused, because that day the cup didn’t have any inscription due to that lack of creativity. But as by the work of fate, an idea came to your mind, so you smiled from ear to ear while you took a black marker from your friend's desk and took the cup from his hand. Spencer looked at you carefully and curiously while you were writing and just when you finished Hotch called you from the other side of the tables "I have to go, don't miss me too much" you murmured, handing him the glass and then winking at the boy, who in response only awkwardly raised his hand.

Once you left, he looked at what you had written, less neatly than the other times, and felt himself grinning like a fool:

My fav agent and again that damn heart.

“Y/N”

"Yeah?" you asked, looking up at another of your fellow interns. You had a room where everyone could stay for a while to work on their own business, but on this occasion, curiously, only women had gathered at the table, there were about five of you in the entire building. Among them Jennifer, a girl you liked very much and with whom you could presume to have something like a friendship, and for some strange reason there was also Victoria.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Huh… yeah, I guess" you muttered a bit confused, and even though you didn't know the girl she smiled in your direction.

“Is that brown-haired guy you talk to every morning your boyfriend?”

“Spencer?” you asked, widening your eyes at the surprise with which the question had taken you. You expected her to ask what band you listened to the most, your favorite food, or some other stupid thing, but not that. Now all the girls' attention was on you, including Victoria's inquisitive scowl and Jennifer's amused look “I wouldn't say that”

"And do you think you can introduce me?" she said with more enthusiasm than she intended, and they all laughed collectively.

“I get second in line”

"Girls, girls..." Jennifer intervened and you knew that from that moment the topics of the internship would take a back seat “He may not be her boyfriend now, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want him to be”

"Jenn!"

"Am I lying?" she sneered “You smile every time you see him and you two look so in love whispering to each other every morning. Also, a week ago I saw you go out together at night”

"Jenn," you insisted, muttering to her in the hope that she would notice that you wanted her to shut up. It wasn't that you were ashamed of being associated with him, you just didn't want to spread wrong rumors that might embarrass him.

“How come he's already an agent? He looks very young”

“It's because he's a prodigy, duh. He’s as attractive as he’s intelligent”

"I imagine that being such a smart man he knows perfectly the weak points of a woman" another girl murmured, joining the conversation "If you know what I mean"

“For now we are just friends. That's all" you said trying to end the conversation, completely embarrassed that such a personal matter had ended up as the talk of all the female interns of the FBI. It was supposed to be a serious job and you guys looked like gossipy high school girls.

"Maybe he's waiting for someone better," Victoria said into the air, a venomous tone permeating every word.

"Anyway, if you give up, can you get me his number?" insisted the first girl. You nodded just so as not to break his illusion, but you knew very well that Spencer didn't use a phone beyond what was necessary for work.

Even though you yourself had told him that surely many girls liked him, you didn't expect that he really had admirers so close and to be honest a pang of jealousy invaded you. Victoria was the most obvious of them all, but you knew that being college girls they were more likely to admire the masculine charm of perhaps the youngest member of the FBI. They too were young and beautiful, but you chose to trust that you had the upper hand in winning the man's affections.

You tried as hard as you could to concentrate on your tasks, but now that his name had come up it was hard to think of anything but him. Spencer wasn't a very expressive guy, but you knew that he was comfortable with you or else he wouldn't seek you out or agree to talk to you like you did, although clearly that didn't ensure that he was attracted to you. Maybe he just saw you as a good friend.

At night, when you were about to go home, you tried to look for him so you could see him again with the excuse of saying goodbye, but you were surprised when you saw that he was talking to Victoria in an already empty section. Curiosity to know what they were talking about invaded you and you stood where you were, squinting your eyes to try to read their lips. Reid wasn't participating too much in the chat, you'd even say he looked awkward, but she was shamelessly flirting with him. Perhaps the sudden change in attitude that she had had was what your friend had missed so much and just when you thought of approaching to go save him from the situation, she stood on her toes and crashed her lips against his, leaving you standing just in your place and completely in shock.

You didn't expect her to dare to do something like that, but the reaction he had left you even more surprised, because, although it wasn't so favorable, he didn't seem bothered by the show of affection he had just received either. He just stood in front of her, looking her up and down as if he were analyzing her.

You didn't want to stay there any longer and almost instantly you turned around to walk out the front door, hoping that this had meant absolutely nothing to him and the next day you could look him in the face without feeling the jealousy boiling in your veins.

It was almost time for dismissal when Spencer remembered that he had a file to go through that he'd ignored all morning, and he cursed himself a little for leaving things until the last minute. His coworkers told him that he could finish it the next morning, but he knew that if he did that he probably wouldn't have time to drink coffee with you so he preferred to stay a little later there.

Little by little the offices emptied and when there was almost no one left, he finally finished, feeling the discomfort of the recurring pain in his back due to the bad position in which he sat. He put his things away, put on his coat, and slung his briefcase over his shoulder, ready to go back to his apartment, but a person got in the way when he was about to cross the hall. Due to exhaustion and seeing that it was a female body he assumed it would be you, but when he paid more attention, he noticed that it wasn’t even remotely possible that the ironed black hair was yours.

"Doctor Reid"

"Miss Evans" he greeted her, without losing cordiality, but not with too much emotion either.

"What are you doing here so night?"

"Job. There's nothing else to do around here at this hour,” he said without looking at her. But the girl was determined to get that one-night stand that she was sure you had, lie as it was.

“It's a shame, but I know a bar near here that you might like if you want to have a little fun”

“Bars are noisy and are one of the biggest sources of infection that can exist. Sweat, alcohol, and unknown fluids permeate the environment and it is very probable that the consumption of drugs affects not only those who consume them but also those who are close to them, so I prefer to decline your invitation" he exclaimed, hoping that this explanation would be enough to make it clear to this woman that he wasn't interested.

“So you're more of hanging out in the apartment? I have a lot of great things in mine, including a jacuzzi."

“Jacuzzies are unsanitary” he insisted. If he proposed, he would know that he would find a valid excuse for whatever plan she might suggest.

"What a killjoy, Agent Reid” she giggled, but he wasn't too amused by any of it. "Do you ever have fun?"

"I think my concept of fun and yours diverge a lot" he murmured, still not looking at her directly and ready to end the conversation.

Spencer was about to leave when she raised herself to his height and in a quick movement that caught him off guard, she smashed her lips against his. As she turned away from her the man froze completely in his place, looking at her from head to toe as if she were some strange natural specimen.

"What if I promise there will be more of that?" she asked, in a last-ditch attempt, faking a honeyed voice. He was going to respond when there was something that forced him to look in the direction of the exit door, where someone else was already walking. From the pattern of colored stripes on the jacket he knew it was definitely you and if it was you then you probably witnessed the entire exchange. He felt the urge to run after you to justify himself for something he hadn't even done, not knowing why he was embarrassed or worried that you'd seen that. “Come on, are you really going to say no to all this?”

"Listen to me, Victoria. I understand if having power over others gives you pleasure because you are the least noticed and recognized member of the family, or if you enjoy saying hurtful things to people to feed your own insecurities, but I ask that you please stay away from me and stop trying whatever you're trying. I don't like you, you're a bad person and I won't allow you to kiss me without my wanting it, or to make your sexual advances that won't get you anywhere. So again, I say don't bother me again” he said and without waiting for any answer he walked out of sight of her. Even if he had stayed, Victoria had her ego so hurt that she didn't think of anything to say back and instead she just let helpless tears fill her eyes, followed by a gesture of a tantrum.

When Spencer came downstairs he couldn't find you anywhere and the anxiety in his stomach only increased, wishing he had misrecognized the person who had left so it wasn't about you. The matter didn't keep him awake, of course, but when he noticed the next morning that you weren't at his desk, he thought it was reason enough to worry. Worse still when he noticed that you had left a lonely cup on the table, with absolutely no adorable titles decorating it. It made him feel so guilty, like he somehow knew that you were upset because you'd seen Victoria kiss him the night before and he wasn't worthy of your affection anymore.

Even Hotch noticed that he was more distracted than usual and although he had already seen your exchanges, he thought it would be better not to intervene in anything that had to do with young love. Being a cupid was a more difficult task than the one he already fulfilled at the BAU. So when night came and he didn't look at you anywhere, anxiety was already eating him to the ground, wishing he could have your phone number to at least comfort himself with hearing your voice. Going to your apartment was something he considered, but then it became unthinkable because he didn't even know how you would react.

Victoria became less of a concern as she seemed to get the message perfectly and every time during the day that he crossed her path she just looked away, totally offended.

But when the same situation arose twice, he felt that something was wrong and he wasn't going to endure a third time. It was then that Spencer left the house early that morning to stop by a bakery and buy a couple of fresh sweet buns, hoping that this time you were expecting him. But his disappointment was greater when he saw that once again there was only the bare cup of coffee.

"Didn't you see Y/N?" he asked Elle when he arrived, nervously fiddling with the paper bag he was holding in his hands.

“No, she just left your coffee and left, but I don't know where. She seemed pretty rushed”

Spencer inwardly cursed and sighed in frustration, until a few seconds later he caught sight of you on the other side of the building, carrying a stack of folders and talking on the phone. He didn't hesitate for a moment before running (at first, then he slowed down a bit as he remembered the incessant times Hotch had scolded him for it) towards you so he could finally talk to you.

“Y/N,” he said softly as he reached your side, and he took the bright smile you gave him as you turned to look at him as a good sign.

"Wait a minute" you mouthed, still answering the call you had on the line, and when you hung up you finally turned your attention to him "Hey, Reid. Good morning"

"I bought you this" he murmured, showing you the bag with food inside, and you almost moaned with happiness.

“Food is what I need most to survive the day”

"What are you doing?"

“Two days ago, your boss Gideon thought it was a good idea to make me his personal secretary. So right now, I'll do everything he asks me to do” you snorted, obviously exhausted by the work you had done and by the ones you surely would have to do.

It clicked in the boy's mind and then he understood that this was the reason you hadn't seen it, not because you were angry. Relief ran down the length of his spine.

"Really?"

“I don't even think that's legal, you know? I'm an intern, they don't pay me a penny and they take advantage of me like I earn the same as the fucking president” you complained. Until then he noticed that you were struggling to hold the papers and he decided to stretch out his hands to help you carry them, like a real gentleman "Thank you"

“Where should you take them? I'll accompany you” he offered. You led him through the halls to a file store that even he doubted he knew about, and explained that your job for the next several weeks would be to sort and categorize the case files for a more efficient process of future searches.

“I'm seriously thinking about giving this whole damn thing up and selling hotdogs in some park or whatever. I would be happier and I would earn almost the same” you joked, raising your arms to stretch your back a bit like a cat that had just woken up. The place was completely alone, silent and the lighting was so dim that it even looked gloomy “Did you get my coffees?"

"Yes, I did," he muttered, "I thought you were mad at me though”

"Why?"

"Because..." he hesitated for a moment if it would be wise to mention what he thought was the reason for your anger, until he realized that saying it out loud would simply sound absurd. There shouldn't be a reaction on your part to the facts “you weren't there. And you didn't write anything”

"Oh, I was in a hurry. I'm sorry,” you sincerely apologized. While you were talking to him you thought that you could start to categorize the documents that you would have just brought and you got to it, hoping that he wouldn't interpret that as a sign that you wanted him to leave; luckily Spencer rushed to your side to help you as soon as he could.

"Alright. I'm glad to know you're not upset."

"If I had known that you loved my notes so much, it would have taken me a few seconds" you smiled and when you turned your head you noticed that you were too close to him, or he to you, rather.

You were silent for a few moments until he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to know your opinion about what you had or hadn't seen that night.

"Victoria looked me up the other day," he said disinterestedly. You smiled victoriously for not having to be the first to mention it, even though the matter was slowly burning inside you.

“Oh, I know. I looked at you talking to her” you exclaimed bitterly, without taking your eyes off the files.

"And she too... huh..."

"Calm down" you interrupted him, taking a bunch that were already ordered and moving away from him to take them to a filing cabinet "I saw that too"

“It was so strange”

"It was pathetic," you said without any embarrassment. You finally looked up and noticed some fear in him, as if he thought you meant that he was pathetic "It wasn't even a good kiss"

"And what would one be like?" he replied without thinking. You stifled a laugh and looked at him kindly.

“That's not something I can explain to you, Reid. I would have to show you"

“Well…” he said, finally breaking away from your gaze and staring at you with those big beautiful hazel eyes.

You were surprised that he wasn't averse to it because you honestly didn't expect to achieve anything with that sentence, you just wanted to tease him a bit. Spencer kept looking at you in silence for a few seconds and you knew what that look meant, or at least you thought you did. Those pleading eyes only screamed one thing: show me. Kiss me.

You walked enough steps to close the distance and stand right in front of him, looking down at him with a smile of pure mischief.

“Well, what?"

“Nothing, nothing, I just… I thought you could enlighten me a bit on the subject. As unbelievable as it may seem, I am very uninformed about the standard of what is considered a good or bad kiss” he admitted. Even flirting he sounded like a walking book.

You weren't going to give him time to regret it so you took him by the lapels of his formal shirt and with a yank you pulled him to you. Spencer's breath caught at how sudden the contact had been, and you heard him release the trapped air over your lips, giving you the chance to deepen the kiss. At first he was tense, but after a few seconds you felt his shoulders relax considerably and that's when you slid your hands down the length of his neck until you reached to hold his cheeks. One of your hands left that position only to guide the man's hands to your waist and once you were in this way you took the opportunity to push your body against his a little more, with your torso attached to his. There was no mention of how the tip of your tongue experimentally flicked across his lips and made him sigh audibly.

Spencer nearly whimpered as the heat from your body left his.

“We just shared approximately 80 million bacteria” you blurted out, but he was too flushed and shocked to corroborate denying the information. Just to play with him you decided to give him another kiss, shorter and louder than the previous one "And you just had a good kiss"

You didn't wait for any reaction before separating completely and that made him come out of the trance he was in, still not believing what had just happened. He couldn't even say anything before your phone started ringing with a call.

"I'll see you later?"

"It's up to you," you said with a smile. Spencer nodded and not knowing what else to do he decided to walk out before he could embarrass himself "Oh, and Spence…”

"Yeah?" he answered, trying not to let you notice how it affected him that you called him that way.

“Do you remember the other day when I told you that surely hundreds of girls liked you?” you asked and when he nodded a couple of hairs got messy "Although I'm sure it's true, on that occasion I was only talking about me" you confessed. You couldn't ignore the ringing sound any longer or you'd lose it, so you picked up the hook and started a business conversation, but not before winking at him as a farewell.

Spencer came out of it trying to look as normal as possible, but he still couldn't figure out how he'd have the strength to work objectively for the rest of the day when he'd just gotten such a good kiss from the prettiest girl he'd ever met.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía

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cobragardens · 8 months

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5 Good Omens Timefucks that Haunt Me

Why is this here? Why is this line included? Is it just to add texture, to imply that larger world of corporate fascism of which Crowley and Aziraphale are subjects and victims and little worker bees? If so, why "They've started early" specifically? Why not "I wouldn't have expected that shrub to be the first to go" or "Aw, I liked that rock formation"?

Crawly doesn't make this comment in an offhand way: he sounds a bit taken aback and not thrilled that things have kicked off sooner than he anticipated. But it doesn't ultimately seem to make any difference to this scene, so why do we, the audience, need to know Hell started early?

This one I'm not as confident will turn out to be significant, because iirc it appears in the book, which was a complete story when written, and because it serves a narrative purpose: it puts Agnes Nutter in charge of the situation, not her murderers. By backfooting Witchfinder Major Pulsifer, Agnes startles him enough she's able to walk past him without Pulsifer seizing her and discovering the extra 80 lbs of gunpowder and roofing nails in her skirts.

But. Agnes Nutter's sense of time is Nice and Accurate, and she notices the witchburning party are late and remarks on it to herself before she says anything to Pulsifer. So assuming a few minutes to position Agnes, tie her to the stake, and read the charges and conviction against her, Pulsifer and Agnes' neighbors are 12-15 minutes later than they should be. Why?

If the book answers this question, I don't recall; the show does not. And again, it seems to make no ultimate difference to this scene.

I'm not saying this was even purposely included in S1 as a timefuck. I am suggesting that as Gaiman seems to be fucking with time or timelines in this story, even if he and Pratchett didn't plan it like this when discussing the sequel, a retcon is hardly out of the question.

As others have pointed out, Shostakovich's Symphony No. 5 is 45-55 minutes long. If you're listening to it on 78s instead of LPs because you are a CRAZY PERSON, it's going to take you more like 1 hour 5 minutes, because one side of a 78 holds, at most, 5 minutes of music, so every 5 minutes you have to get up and flip or switch the record.

Shostakovich wrote his 5th symphony in response to criticism in the state newspaper (possibly penned by Stalin himself) that his previous work didn't suck the Communist Party's dick hard enough--the kind of criticism that put him in danger of being sent to prison or killed. At the time it was first performed in 1937, Symphony No. 5 was considered a massive triumph, walking the line perfectly between Shostakovich's artistic standards and the Communist Party's demands of him.

The choice is symbolically significant, but it's a symphony, so whoever's censoring it isn't censoring lyrics or information. Again, why? Why is a 45-55-minute symphony only 21 minutes long? What did the time thief do with the 24-34 minutes?

Here's the rug that covers the portal to Heaven in Episode 1:

Here's the rug in Ep. 2:

Aziraphale does not change this rug for the party. We know this bc we see it in Episode 5 when Mrs Sandwich enters the bookshop and the party is in full swing:

Now here's Aziraphale moving the circular rug to expose the portal to Heaven:

But here's Crowley, putting the rug back:

Why are there two different rugs?

Every end credits track has the first line of "Everyday" embedded in it But after the line from "Everyday," at the end of Episode 4, the theme skips twice like a vinyl record, and then is stopped by whoever controls the turntable and restarted, with several seconds of music having been skipped over.

This is not the first time it has mattered to a character in Good Omens what we in the audience see and hear. I argue here that God asks Aziraphale what he did with the flaming sword She gave him in order to show us the audience who Aziraphale is. God also addresses us the audience directly in S1, not only narrating about characters omnisciently but speaking to us about Herself in first person.

Now we evidently have a second character who has gone meta and is changing what we the audience experience of this story, and--indications are good--the story itself.

#good omens #good omens s2 #good omens meta #good omens timefucks #good omens chronology #good omens discontinuity #good omens as metafiction

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sprinkler-ashes · 9 months

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the great war // aaron hotchner x reader

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

words: 5.5k

description: in which aaron hotchner thinks you’re hot-headed. inspired by the great war by taylor swift.

warnings: angst w/ a happy ending, one (1) steamy car makeout, cursing, typical cm violence depictions

a/n: long time no see, and i’m sorry about that. to make a long story short, summer was very awful on me; i had a breakup and am now back in school + drowning in work. I love this fic so much; it’s probably my favorite i’ve ever written and i hope you love it too <3 also!!! if you have a request for a fic to a song, please send it my way! taylor swift is my go-to, but i am open to any song request <3

you drew up some good faith treaties

i drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

you said i have to trust more freely

but diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

You should have known better than to date someone you worked with. No, actually, you should have known better than to date, of all people, your boss.

Date was a loose term.

You weren’t really sure when the lines between co-workers blurred into friendship and when friendship blossomed into early morning coffee dates and late evenings in the office together doing paperwork, and even later nights spent at dinner tables being hours deep into conversation. You knew it hadn’t happened out of nowhere. This thing between the two of you had been building up for years – years of pining.

There was a voice in the back of your head telling you that it was all too good to be true, but you pushed it back as far as you could. Besides, the two of you hadn’t even called it dating, but it sure did feel like it.

But it hadn’t felt like that in a really long time.

Aaron had put a stop to whatever was going on four months ago. He had given you some bullshit excuse that he was your boss, it was wrong of him to be doing whatever the two of you were doing with his subordinate — blah, blah – but you had stopped listening when your heart became so heavy you thought it was going to physically weigh you down.

You had been through breakups before, even some serious ones, but nothing had ever felt like this.

You tried to stop him, but he was also a man who had made his mind up; it was impossible to get through to him that you didn’t want to end it.

So you went back to work acting like nothing had happened. And it was about to be the death of you.

However, you were a professional. It’s not like the team even knew about you and Aaron. You acted the same as always when you were at work. No one suspected anything because no one knew what you were going through.

You didn’t talk to Aaron unless you had to. Truthfully, you hadn’t spoken to him for anything that wasn’t work-related since he basically dumped you on a random Wednesday evening for reasons you couldn’t fathom, but that didn’t mean you didn’t try.

In the beginning, you tried reaching out. You called, you texted him a couple of times, and you had even been so desperate one night that you sent him an email. Each time, you were met with rejection, and him saying something along the lines that both of you should just forget about everything.

So you did by cutting all contact. You thought to yourself, I’ll show him, but it really did nothing. If it bothered him, he never showed it.

It seemed like nothing bothered him until now. A whole whopping four months later.

“Not only did you blow our cover, but you walked into a hostage situation with no weapon to defend yourself; you didn’t even strap a vest on. You are lucky that no one died or was seriously injured.” Aaron wasn’t yelling – he was actually just slightly an octave below yelling – but it sure as hell sounded like he was screaming because his voice had never been like this towards you.

You frowned, not liking the way he was calling you out in front of everyone – in front of a group of people that you greatly admired and respected. ��What else was I supposed to do, Hotch? If I hadn’t gone in there, that woman would have died. I was trying to save her life.”

“Save her life?” he asked incredulously. “From the moment you burst through those doors, you put her in even more danger than she was already in. Not only could she have died, but you also could have.”

“Why are you giving me so much shit over this?” you asked, throwing your hands up in anger, not paying attention to the awkward glances your team was giving each other. “I’m not the only one who's done this, and I won’t be the last. I don’t care to risk my life trying to save someone else. I’m sorry that I blew everyone’s cover, but I won’t apologize for saving her.”

Aaron shook his head, his demeanor that was normally unreadable was completely gone. “You’re on probation, effectively immediately-”

“What? I, Hotch-”

“You will not physically assist in any cases for the next two weeks. You will still travel to cases, but you will work directly from the police department. You will not be allowed to go in the field.”

He kept talking, his mouth moving a mile a minute listing off all the things you were allowed to do and what you couldn’t do, but you couldn’t focus on anything he was saying. You were so tempted to slap your boss across the face and if it wouldn’t have technically been workplace harassment, you probably would have.

“Hotch, we’ve all made mistakes,” Derek Morgan said. “No one ended up hurt tonight. With all due respect, I think a two week probation is a little harsh.”

You wanted to thank Derek for sticking up for you, but you couldn’t form words at that moment. Your feet were on the move faster than you could even think as they took you to the SUV that you’d arrived in, not wanting to hear Aaron talk to Derek about you. All you wanted to do was get on the jet, leave the small Arkansas town you were in, get back to Quantico, and try to stop thinking about Aaron Hotchner.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t as easy as you liked to think.

You rode back to the hotel with Emily and JJ, who had let you sit in the front seat, and didn’t dare look either of them in the eye. Emily tried to make small talk to lighten the mood, but you could barely even think about anything other than your probation and the way that Aaron had talked to you in front of everyone. She eventually took the hint, and the three of you rode back to the hotel in silence.

You finally turned to Emily once the SUV came to a stop. “Do you know if we’re leaving tonight or in the morning?” Normally, if you finished a case late, you always preferred to spend the night in the hotel in order to get some rest, but there was nothing you wanted more than to just go home now.

“Uh, tonight,” Emily said with a grimace. “Sorry, I know you usually hate leaving immediately after.”

You shook your head. “Not this time. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to go home more than I do right now.”

Emily eyed you up and down, taking in your slumped, exhausted body. Her eyes flickered up to the mirror, catching JJ’s eye who was giving an equally worried look. “Do you want to talk-”

“Not right now, Emily,” you interrupted. “I’m going to pack my stuff up. Can you send me a text when it’s time to go?”

Emily looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn’t, sensing you obviously didn’t want to talk about it right now. “Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “See you guys soon.” With that, you were out of the SUV before either of them could unbuckle their seatbelts and on your way to the entrance of the hotel you were staying in along with the rest of the team.

Typically, you shared a room with someone, but luckily for you, it was your turn to get your own this time, which you couldn’t have been more thankful for when you swiped your keycard and finally got to be alone for a minute.

You knew that Emily meant well. She had been one of your closest friends since you had joined the team. You felt a tinge of guilt at how closed off you had been to her in the car when she was just trying to make sure you were okay. However, you really weren’t okay, and you really didn’t want Emily to know the full extent of what was going on.

After hastily packing your things and grabbing a quick shower, you received a text from Emily that it was time to go. On your way down to the lobby to meet her, it was finally setting in that you were, quite literally, exhausted. You’d been awake since before daylight and a quick glance at the time shining on your phone reminded you that you had been awake for nearly seventeen hours.

You rode with Emily, JJ, and Rossi to board the jet, but ended up napping the entire short duration of the drive. Truthfully, you hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep until Rossi had nudged you awake.

When you were finally in the air, you allowed yourself to catch a glance at your infuriating boss who was still, as usual, in his suit with his tie and jacket discarded, writing in a file.

Probably writing me up, you bitterly thought to yourself. You knew you had done a not-very-smart thing, but by the time you figured out that the original plan the team came up with wasn’t going to work, it was too late. If you hadn’t darted through the door and startled the unsub, the poor woman who was taken hostage was going to meet a very similar fate that four other women faced.

You could admit that it was a rash, last minute decision, but you didn’t regret it. You saved a woman’s life and helped capture an awful man who would have never stopped if not caught. It felt like Aaron was punishing you for something that wasn’t the decision you made tonight. Two weeks on probation felt a little extreme to you.

Twenty minutes into the flight, Derek, Rossi, and JJ were already asleep while Emily looked like she was close to following. Spencer was nursing what you thought was his second coffee in the short time on the jet, a pair of headphones in as he watched something on the tablet he had propped up.

That left only you and Aaron sitting in silence.

This had been a particularly hard case that had to be solved in under seventy-two hours in order to prevent any more victims since you, with the help of Spencer, figured out that the unsub operated on stalking and kidnapping his victims on a specific schedule. Hardly anyone had gotten much sleep in an attempt to solve the case as soon as possible – hence why nearly everyone was asleep.

Aaron finally spoke after nearly fifty minutes into the flight from his seat in front of you after Emily and Spencer had finally drifted off, though you weren’t sure how Spencer was even sleeping considering he had downed two coffees. “You should get some rest.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said bitterly, keeping your eyes straight ahead. “I’ll be getting lots of rest in the next two weeks considering I can’t really do anything else on probation, so thanks, but I’m good.” The words were tumbling out before you could even comprehend what you’d said. In a normal situation, you’d be worried that speaking to your boss like that would result in its own consequences but considering you were already on probation, what was the harm?

He said nothing.

—

It was nine days into what felt like the most excruciatingly long probation known to man, and you still had five more days to go.

You had just gotten back from a case in Maine where you, unfortunately, barely got to do anything other than help out at the police station. In addition, you had to finish several online modules assigned to you by Strauss on safety in the field, which was, in your opinion, ridiculous considering you had been at the BAU for a good amount of time – long enough to know all about safety in the field.

“I think I’ve gone past the point of exhaustion,” Emily said as you came off the elevator as she stifled a yawn. “Is that a real thing?”

“Yes, my beautiful friend who I am so happy to see. That means you need to get home and rest.”

Penelope Garcia was there to greet you at the elevator, a warm smile lighting up her face as she gave Emily a hug then turned to you. “How are you doing?”

“I’ll be fine in five days when this stupid probation is over,” you told Penelope, watching her give you a sympathetic smile.

“I’m heading out, but you have my number if you need me,” she told you with a comforting pat to your arm. “Goodnight ladies.”

Penelope was on the elevator to leave as you and Emily, after waving off Penelope, filed off to your desks to pack up to go back to your apartments.

“Got a hot date tonight?” Emily asked jokingly.

You laughed and shook your head. “Haven’t had a hot date in a long time. What about you?”

It was true. The last date you had been on was four months ago with the man who also happened to be your boss and who also happened to be your number one enemy right now.

“Just with Sergio.”

You and Emily were already on your way out to leave for the night officially until you stopped in your tracks when you reached the elevator. “Ugh, I just realized I left my phone charger at my desk. You can go on without me.”

“You sure? I don’t mind waiting,” she said as she stepped into the elevator.

You nodded. “Go on; it’s late. Have a good night, Emily.”

A huff left your mouth as you turned back on your heel to walk back to your desk. Your hands grasped the charger laying under several files that you (probably) needed to look at, but tonight was not the night for that.

However, you realized it was definitely not your night at all when you tried to turn your car on, only to be met with a sound of spluttering.

“Not tonight,” you groaned, repeatedly trying to turn your key to start the engine, but the car never started, much to your luck. “Are you serious right now?”

Your car was by no means brand new, but it was a good car and not often did it give you problems. Except for tonight. Or in other words, the one night you desperately wanted to go home, take a shower, and go to bed.

You weren’t really sure of your options. You could probably call Emily. She couldn’t have gotten too far down the road. Maybe she could give you a ride since her apartment was on the way to your place. Another option was calling an Uber, but –

Your car door opening knocked you out of your train of thought. Your brain immediately went into fight-or-flight, and you chose fight as your hands instinctively reached for the pepper spray on your key ring.

“Hey! It’s just me.”

It was Aaron with his hands outstretched into a surrender position, his suit jacket hanging from the crease where his arm bent. “Why are you sitting in the parking lot in the dark with your car unlocked? Do you know how easy it would be for someone to-”

“Come up and kidnap me? Yeah, I learned all about it in my online safety training this past week as if I didn’t already know,” you sassed with an eye roll. “I think my battery is dead. I usually keep jumper cables in here, but I cleaned my car out last week and must have taken them out. I’m probably going to have to call an Uber.”

You didn’t know why you were telling him all of this. The small voice in the back of your head knew why, but you weren’t willingly to actively think about it. You had enough on your plate right now.

“I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Like hell you will,” you told him.

“You do know I’m your boss, and you technically can’t speak to me like that?”

“You won’t fire me. You'll just put me on probation.”

He paused, his eyes closing momentarily before opening them again and going back to his stoic demeanor as usual. “Let me drive you home, so I will know that you got home safely. Please.”

You wanted to say no, but it was late and getting a ride home from Aaron meant that you didn’t have to bother Emily or lose money on an Uber. The only thing you’d be losing, in your opinion, was what little dignity you had left when it came to Aaron.

It’s just a ride home, you told yourself in your head.

“Fine.” You had admitted defeat. “Give me a second.”

He turned his back to you and started to walk away from your car. When you knew for sure he couldn’t see you, you positioned the rearview mirror so you could see yourself in it. Before you could stop yourself, you attempted to fix your hair as nicely as possible and then took a moment to stop what you were doing. You scoffed at yourself and shook your head.

“What is wrong with me?” You asked yourself aloud. “He doesn’t care. Neither do you.”

However, after you grabbed your things, you did sneak one more look in the mirror before getting out of your car and locking it. You were glad when you took another look to see Aaron not looking in your direction.

You made your way over to Aaron’s signature parking spot, the same one he parked in every morning, and met him there, his hands typing something out on his phone until he noticed your presence.

Without missing a beat, he opened the passenger door for you. You wanted to tell your heart to stop when that familiar flutter came back like it used to all those months ago. You opened your mouth, but he stopped you before you could say anything.

“No need for a remark. I’m just opening the door for you.”

“I was going to say thanks.”

A ghost of a smile danced across his face as he shut the door. It was so quick if you weren’t paying attention then you wouldn’t have seen it.

Your eyes adjusted to the interior of Aaron’s car, déjà vu hitting you from the first time you were ever in his car. But you forced those thoughts back down with a grimace and a reminder of how that ended the first time.

With one hand gripping the wheel and the other holding onto the back of your seat as his torso turned, eyes watching behind as he backed out, you thought you were going to throw up. Not because you were sick, but because Aaron was so damn attractive in doing the simplest things like backing up a car.

“You can turn on the radio if you want,” Aaron told you. “Your cord is still in here.”

You bit your lip, eyes locking onto the green cord still plugged in. “I’ve been looking for that everywhere. I had to buy a new one for my car.”

Back when you were frequently with Aaron, and he was typically the designated driver when you went places, you often complained about the lack of music in his car. He only listened to whatever was on the radio. He had no CDs nor did he have an AUX cord, claiming something about never being in his personal car long enough to deal with music in it.

After that day, you put your AUX cord in his car the next time you were in it and controlled the music, often giving him a performance to your favorite songs in the car as he drove. Aaron never complained like a lot of guys would. Instead, he would watch you belt a heartbreak ballad with an amused smile.

But that was months ago. And things were much different now.

“I would’ve given it back to you, but it’s slipped my mind. Feel free to take it with you.”

The happy memories that the AUX cord brought back were pushed to the back of your head again at his words. He told you to take it because there was no point in it anymore. You two were done.

You didn’t plug the cord into your phone. You didn’t play a song. You sat in the terrible silence, wishing it wasn’t silent like before, but it was silent, and Aaron was acting like nothing was wrong.

Another awkward moment passed as he kept driving, the route to where you lived engraved as he had driven there many times. Aaron didn’t have to ask you where you lived because he knew. He knew from all the late nights he dropped you back off. The thought of all the previous times you’d been on this exact same drive under different circumstances made your head hurt.

“Why did you put me on probation?” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“You know why I put you on probation. You comprised the safety of yourself, the team, and-”

“I compromised the safety of myself, the team, and the victim, yes, I know, but you put me on a two week probation when I can name off countless times that others on the team have done worse and didn’t get put on a two-week probation,” you argued back. “I know I messed up, but at the end of the day, it feels like you’re punishing me for something.”

He nodded, his eyes staying trained on the road. “I am punishing you for something, and that something is compromising-”

“I swear if you say compromise one more time-”

“Compromising your safety and the safety of others.”

You didn't say anything. Your arms were crossed as you looked out the window and into the dark as objects moved past you, reaching closer to your destination.

Aaron spoke your name, but you didn’t want to look at him.

“What?”

“Look at me,” he said as the car came to a stop at a redlight.

You reluctantly looked over, not prepared to see him already looking at you. You swallowed, trying to keep your gaze on him.

“I’d rather you be angry with me than even thinking about the possibility of you getting hurt.”

You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to because he kept going.

“When I saw you run into that warehouse, it was one of the only times in my life that I have been so scared that I couldn’t think straight. I put you on probation because you did something reckless. All of us outside thought we lost you when we heard the gunshots. I know you and a few others thought probation was too harsh, but it’s important for you to know that if you’re going to storm a hostage situation, you have to communicate with us. The team cannot lose you,” Aaron told you, his eyes never leaving yours. “I can’t lose you. Understood?”

You were pretty sure that at this point your voice was gone. You simply nodded.

The light turned green, and Aaron started driving again, his eyes finally breaking contact. “Finish out your probation next week and then put it behind you.”

There were no more words spoken. It was silent. You didn’t know how to respond to anything he had just said to you.

Except you did have one question. You weren’t even sure if you wanted the answer to it.

“If you can’t lose me,” you started, fiddling with the sleeve of your top, “then why did you end things?”

“It was for the best,” Aaron said, breaking your heart all over again. “I’m your boss-”

“You being my boss didn’t seem to be a problem when your mouth was on mine every time you dropped me off from dinner.”

He didn’t seem to have an answer for that. You sat smugly in your seat waiting for him to say something.

“You want the truth?”

“I’ve only been asking you for the truth for four months now,” you shot back.

“I fell in love with you.”

Aaron said it so casually that you had to do a double take, your mouth slightly opening. Out of all the things he could’ve said, you did not in a million years think that would be it. Your heart was pounding, and there was a moment where you thought that you had imagined him saying that he fell in love with you, but he really did say it.

He continued. “I thought it was best to end what was going on between us because things would’ve only escalated, and I didn’t want people to think negatively about you. You’re a strong woman in a male-dominated field. You’ve worked hard to get to where you are. You should be taken seriously and unfortunately, going out with your boss doesn’t look good on paper. I hurt you, and I’m truly sorry for that.”

You hadn’t even realized it when Aaron had finally pulled up to the huge parking lot of your apartment building, which was surprisingly vacant for a Thursday night. The words he’d said were dancing around in your head. You hadn’t done anything wrong. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

Even after everything, all you really wanted was him.

“Aaron,” you said as you turned to him when he put the car in park, “I mean this with all due respect, but that’s not just your decision to make. I should get a say. I wish you had told me because for the last four months I’ve been going crazy with overthinking. That’s why it hurt so much when you put me on probation. I thought you were punishing me for something between us. Please don’t shut me out because I’m in love with you, and quite frankly, I don’t give a shit about what people say about me.”

“But people will talk about you-”

“So?”

“And there’s also Strauss-”

“Who we can deal with. I’m not afraid of Erin Strauss,” you cut him off again.

He raised his eyes before you spoke again. “Okay, maybe I’m slightly afraid of her, but that doesn’t change anything. You don’t choose who you fall in love with. If people want to talk about me for being in love, then let them. I just want to be with you, so please stop trying to protect me. I can handle anything.”

“Okay,” Aaron said after a minute. “Okay. If you want to do this, there is a lot to discuss work-wise.”

“That’s fine. I have a lot of time to discuss things. I’m on probation.”

Every other time you had brought up your probation, it had been with anger, but this time, there was only a grin on your face. Even though you were still mad about that damn probation, which was another conversation for another time, you figured you might as well make a joke out of it.

Aaron couldn’t keep a straight face. “Yes, you are for five more days. You still have one more module on safety in the field to complete.”

“Screw you,” you said half-jokingly.

“You wish,” he shot right back.

“You’re damn right I do.”

It was as if there was a shift in the air. You’d spent four months without him and in that moment you had decided you never really wanted to go another second without him. There was still a lot to talk about between the two of you, but for now, all you really wanted to do was kiss him.

Even when the two of you were “seeing” each other, or whatever it was, there wasn’t much physical affection. Aaron always kissed you before dropping you off at night, but it was always short, sweet, and simple. Tonight, you didn’t want short, sweet, and simple as your goodbye kiss.

“You should be getting in. It’s late,” he told you, but neither of you made an effort to move. In fact, it felt like you had only gotten closer. You could feel Aaron’s breath fan your face.

You leaned even closer, your face only inches from his. “You gonna tell me goodnight?”

Aaron never replied, only moving to close the small gap between the two of you, his lips pressing against yours in a way that almost felt desperate.

You were the one to take it a step further as your mouth opened wider and one of your hands slid up to rest on his shoulder. Aaron gladly took the hint. His tongue was in your mouth and before you could process it, one hand had moved to cup your face while the other rested on your thigh.

He pulled back for a moment, but only to mess with something under his seat. You gave him a confused look, still breathing heavily. “What are you doing?”

Aaron’s seat had scooted back further to open more room between him and the steering wheel, and you realized what he was doing now. He simply shrugged. “The console is in the way.”

With that, you laughed and maneuvered yourself across the center console that Aaron seemed to hate at the moment. His hands instinctively grabbed your waist in an attempt to help you move over and onto him – literally.

You took in your current situation for a moment. You were straddling Aaron Hotchner in his car in a parking lot. If you had told yourself earlier in the morning that this is where you would be, you would not have believed it.

His lips were back on yours before you could think about anything else, hands still gripping your waist while yours moved to his hair. You were pressed against him, your chest to his, and left no room between the two of you.

“This okay?” He mumbled as his warm hands snaked underneath your shirt, now resting on your bare hips. He pressed a kiss to your jaw while you nodded, a deep breath leaving your mouth. He smiled against your jaw before reattaching his lips again, but this time to your neck.

You couldn’t think of the last time you felt like this. Your body felt like it was literally on fire, and Aaron’s mouth wasn’t doing anything to extinguish that fire – only making it worse.

As much as you loved the hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, you cupped his face, guiding him back up to your lips. Your hands slid to tangle in his hair, earning you a throaty sound from him, which only encouraged you further as you smiled against his lips before going back to kissing him.

Aaron pulled back only a few seconds later, both of you breathing heavily in a hot and flustered state. “As much as I’m enjoying this, we probably shouldn’t get too carried away in here.”

“What? Car sex isn’t on your bucket list?” You joked.

He laughed as you leaned into the hand cupping your face. “You deserve better than a car the first time.”

“So what I’m hearing is car sex after the first time?”

Aaron gave you one of his rare grins, and it lit up your entire world. “You are impossible.”

“I’m just kidding,” you said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I really should be getting in the bed. My boss is making me come in at eight-thirty tomorrow for a meeting.”

“Oh really? He sounds very smart.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and with the help of Aaron, you moved back over to the passenger seat. “I will see you bright and early in the morning.”

“Looking forward to it.”

You gave him one last kiss before gathering your bag and opening the car door. “Goodnight, Aaron.”

“Goodnight,” he told you.

You shut the door and with a smile on your face, waved to him one last time before making your way towards the entrance of your apartment building.

However, before you could get very far, you heard Aaron’s voice calling your name. You turned around to see him with his window down.

“Did I forget something?” You called to him and watched confusedly as he shook his head.

“Your hair looked fine earlier. You didn’t have to fix it just for me.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch #i was half asleep when i wrote the second half of this so very sorry for any errors

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sillylittlestoryblog · 4 months

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Keeping me warm

Part 1

Trafalgar Law x Reader

Warning: None I guess. Maybe awkward writing because I wrote this at 3 am while I couldn’t sleep ( it was storming ) and english isn’t my first language. Plus I haven’t written anything in ages so pls don’t judge to much.

Summery: basically just fluffy and angsty thoughts while freezing. Idk lol (I need sleep)

If you however do enjoy this, positive words are great for anyone’s mental health. Have fun.

The howling of the wind was unbearable. The crew members sat close together in the dark cave. It had been two days since the raging ice storm. Of course, no one had planned to stay in this place for so long. But just the thought of going outside into the cold made even the bravest pirates' legs shiver.

After even the stubborn captain of the Straw Hat Pirates had admitted that it no longer made any sense, everyone realized that they would have to sit out this storm.

The cave came in handy. Together with the Heart Pirates, the Straw Hats had anchored on this winter island.

The Sunny had been through a lot and Franky had actually planned to get some material for repairs in the small fishing village. Since only a few days had passed since the last major battle and the Surgeon of death was still busy patching up crew members, his crew was more than happy to take a break. A few days off couldn't hurt anyone.

You remember how Nami had been upset, crying that she would rather have stopped off at a nice summer island or at a luxurious spa. A vacation wasn't often granted to the Straw Hats. You had comforted her and said that a bit of snow could certainly be fun.

And oh how wrong you were.

You regret your words of encouragement as you sat shivering between your friends. An icicle hung from Usopp's nose as he desperately tried to warm himself by the small campfire.

"I'm hungry," Luffy's voice penetrated the silence. He said what everyone was thinking. Sanji was still trying to conjure up something edible from the few remnants that had survived the avalanche. But even the usually so positive cook didn't really know how to help himself.

Bepo and Chopper had suddenly become the most popular crew members. Everyone was secretly hoping to snuggle up in their warm furs and perhaps sleep despite the loud storm.

The only one who seemed to be able to sleep without the warmth of the two was Zoro. Once again, you envied him for having the talent to sleep in any situation.

Your eyes glanced over to the other pirate crew. Captain Law was sitting on a rock, looking into the void. He also seemed to be cold, but tried to hide it. Under no circumstances could he show any weakness. That would only make the situation worse and ruin the group‘s mentality. He scowled at the other captain, who kept shouting for food and jumping up and down. How could he still have that much energy ?

Law just rolled his eyes whenever he thought of the strawhat.

His mind wandered again and he looked in the other direction as unobtrusively as possible. From his seat, he had a good view of everyone. So he could keep a good eye on each member of his crew. At least that's what he told himself.

He also wanted to keep an eye on you.

Trembling, you sat between Nami and Robin. The older one had taken off her dark cloak and wrapped it around the three of you like a blanket. It was a nice gesture, but it didn't seem to do much good. But at least you weren't as stubborn as some others. The cook had refused to lean against one of the other men, preferring to rather run off to the other corner of the cave on his own. He must have been freezing, Law saw him looking enviously at the floor where Zoro had been snoring quietly for hours.

Yesterday, the motivation had been a bit higher. Everyone was sure that the storm wouldn't last that long and that the sky would soon be clear again. But this was the Grandline after all. No one could really predict the weather conditions.

Brook had wrote a little song, strawhat-ya had bounced happily back and forth and the cooks of both crews had roasted fish over the campfire.

You had smiled from time to time.

A warm feeling shot through Laws body.

Your eyes had sparkled in the light of the fire and he had to turn his gaze to you again and again. You were so beautiful.

Before you became part of the friendly crew, it had always bothered Law to spend too much time with the Straw Hats. They were loud, inconsiderate and constantly meddled in other people's problems. Above all, the parties that the rubber man regularly announced were law's worst nightmare. Loud singing, food and booze everywhere and always the strangest of people. He would much rather be in his study or in a quiet library, hoping desperately to escape the chaos.

But this feeling changed abruptly after you became part of the crew. He spotted you straight away. He quickly noticed a new face. And what a face it was. He had wanted to talk to you all evening. But someone was always glued to you, if it wasn't Nami, the captain or Chopper, it was the annoying cook who jumped around you with hearts in his eyes. Asking you for company, mixing you special drinks or turning up with a hot soufflé in one and a bouquet of flowers in the other hand.

Law had been uncomfortable, but he hadn't dared to speak to you. Nico Robin had told him over dinner how much you liked to read and that had only increased his interest.

Yet he hadn't made any effort to talk to you. You probably hadn't even noticed him.

You had noticed Trafalgar Law immediately.

Of course you knew his Wanted poster, as well as the many stories about the captain of the Heart Pirates. Luffy was always talking enthusiastically about Tra Guy and the other Nakama usually had the best stories to tell. Franky once told you how intelligent Law was, when you painted one of the rooms on the Sunny together. Usopp told you how badass his powers were. And Chopper had raved to you about his medical talent.

Since then, you had often asked the other girls about him. With completely neutral intentions, of course.

That's why Nami and Robin weren't at all surprised by the way you looked at him when you first met. Nami had rolled her eyes and laughed: "You look at him like you're Luffy and he's a piece of meat." You had sent her a dirty look, but your body had already betrayed you. Your cheeks were warm and your heart began to beat a little faster. Robin had just giggled and left you two alone.

When you thought back to that evening, your face flushed again. You sincerely hoped that you hadn't made a fool of yourself.

In the cold cave, these thoughts were the only thing that seemed to keep you warm. Again and again your thoughts seemed to wander to him. A glance in his direction couldn't hurt, could it?

Cautiously and not at all obviously, you let your eyes wander.

Your eyes wandered over the body in the dark coat. How you wish you could put it on your own body now.

His dark hair peeks out from under the white cap he always wore. You had to remind yourself of Nami's words two days ago. Maybe she was right. On a warm island, you would certainly have had the chance to see Law without his hat. How much you would have liked to see all of his hair. And you also felt that his eyes were always shrouded in shadow.

Eyes that you wished you knew the color of.

Eyes that always seemed to avoid yours.

Eyes that could never lose focus while in a fight.

Eyes that just swept over your body.

Eyes that met yours all at once.

Your head quickly turned to the side. Was he looking at you?! Just pretend you were doing something else. Had Robin been talking to you? You desperately tried to get your friend's attention. You feel like you've been caught. The familiar feeling of warmth returns even stronger than before. Robin had definitely been the wrong choice for your excuse. She couldn’t have been talking to you, of course, if you hadn't wasted your time ogling Law, you would have noticed how Robin's dark hair had landed on your shoulder. She'd been sleeping quietly next to you for a few minutes.

Damn. Now you were sure. He had caught you. Cautiously, your gaze drifted back.

Law's gaze was also averted but his cheeks were blushed. And his gorgeous eyes had disappeared behind his cap again.

Law's chest was suddenly incredibly warm. Why hadn't he been paying more attention? Of course you'd catch him staring at you. Hopefully you didn't think anything bad of him. Nothing would be worse than that.

You were probably used to being stared at. The cook could hardly take his eyes off you three Strawhat ladies. But had Law just looked at you the same way? As he pulled his coat closer around him, he hoped fervently that his eyes didn't turn into hearts every time he looked in your direction.

With the most serious expression he could fake in this moment, he tried again.

But he hadn't expected your eyes to still be on him. Law was turning as red as a tomato. The warm feeling was everywhere again. And now he really couldn't be sure if his gray eyes hadn't turned into big hearts.

Because you were looking at him. And he looked back.

A small smile flitted across your face.

And Law awkwardly smiled back.

The cold and the storm were long forgotten. While the others were freezing and dreaming of warm summer light or cozy blankets,

two pirates were infinitely warm.

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece headcanons #nami #monkey d. luffy

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writingwithciara · 4 months

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18 (Part 2) ~Matt Sturniolo~

summary: back in la, things start heading south for y/n & matt while a little bit of jealousy drives y/n into the arms of chris

word count: 10.4k (longest thing i've ever written. holy)

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader, brief chris sturniolo x fem!reader

notes: i wasn’t sure i wanted to write another part of ‘18’ but i had an idea the other night and had to write it. wasn't aware it was going to fit with ‘18’ but i’m happy it did. insecurity, jealousy & swearing throughout. toxic matt & sweet chris. a few suggestive moments & allusions to sexual content, smut at the end. enjoy!

part 1 !

masterlist

as soon as y/n and matt walked through the door to the triplets house 3 days later, chris was attacking them with questions. matt ignored every single one of them and went straight to his room. chris looked at y/n hoping she had an answer but all she did was shrug.

“he was like that the entire plane ride. don't know what’s wrong with him.” she sighed and sat down on the couch. chris took the seat next to her and resumed the tv show he had been watching.

“he’s normally moody. wouldn't worry too much about him. he’ll snap out of it eventually.” chris took a moment to look at his friend. “did anything happen in miami that could’ve caused this mood?”

“not that i can remember. everything was great while we were there. and even after we kissed, everything seemed to be perfect between us.” y/n shook her head.

“you guys actually kissed?!?” chris nearly yelled, pausing his show and giving her his full attention. “i knew it. nick owes me 10 bucks.”

“chris, now is not the time to be thinking about that.” y/n sighed. “what if matt only said all those sweet things and kissed me because it was christmas? what if he only did it because my dad had just proposed to crystal and he was caught up in the moment?”

“y/n, i’m sure that’s not why he kissed you.” chris looked up at her with sad eyes. “he’s just being stupid right now. it will definitely blow over.”

“i hope you’re right because valentine’s day is coming up soon and i was hoping that matt and i would be doing something that day. something romantic.”

“if he doesn’t snap out of his mattitude soon, if worst comes to worst, i’ll be your matt replacement for the evening.”

“i appreciate the offer, chris. thank you.” y/n let out a small chuckle and looked at the tv.

“anytime.” he looked at his phone quickly before turning his show off. “it’s getting late and i'm heading to bed. nick is gone for the night so you can sleep in his room if you want. but you are more than welcome to come crash in my room if you don’t feel like being alone tonight.”

“okay.” y/n grabbed her phone and followed chris downstairs to his room. chris sat in his chair and faced the bed.

“if you want, we can play some fortnite or something. shooting things might help take your mind off of matt for a while.” chris picked up his controller. “you up for it?”

“sure. why not?” y/n pulled his extra chair over and looked at the screen. “i wish matt was as easy to read as you or nick.”

“what do you mean?” chris opened the game and looked at y/n. “you think that i’m easy to read?”

“well, easier than matt. i can mostly tell what you’re thinking at any given moment.”

“okay. what am i thinking of right now?”

“you’re thinking that i'm a better fortnite player than you, obviously.” y/n smiled.

“wow. lucky guess.” chris rolled his eyes playfully and started a match. as they took turns playing, y/n’s worries about matt began to fade. she focused on taking out as many opponents as she could while chris watched in amazement. after a few hours of playing, chris pointed out it was nearly 4 am. “we should probably get some sleep. that jet lag should be hitting you soon.”

“you’re right.” y/n stood up and took her spot on the left side of chris’ bed. he quickly joined her on the right side and plugged both of their phones into the chargers.

“see you in a few hours, y/n.” chris yawned and quickly passed out after. y/n stayed awake for another half hour before she dozed off herself.

around 7 am, matt was in the kitchen getting some water when he nearly tripped over y/n’s suitcase. he thought she had gone home but realized how late they got back to la and went to check nick’s room for her. when she wasn’t in his bed, he began to panic. then he remembered that y/n and chris liked to play fortnite together. so he ventured down to chris’ bedroom and opened the door as quietly as he could.

chris' arm was placed delicately across y/n’s waist and she was snuggled up close to him, essentially being the little spoon to chris’ big spoon. matt swore he could feel his heart break at the sight. he slowly closed the door and headed back to his room, his thoughts taking over and keeping him from going back to sleep.

a few hours later, y/n stretched and looked behind her. at some point in the night, she and chris had moved into a cuddling position and although it wasn’t a rare thing, she felt guilty. part of her knew that if matt had seen them, he would be heartbroken and she couldn’t deal with that. she felt chris’ arm move slowly as he began to wake up. y/n turned to face him and smiled.

“good morning.” he returned the smile and removed his arm from her waist completely. “sleep alright?”

“yeah.” she sat up and pulled the sleeves of her shirt down to cover her hands. “i still feel a bit upset about the whole matt thing though. he keeps running through my mind and i hate that.”

“don’t waste all your energy trying to solve the mystery that is matthew sturniolo.” chris sat up and looked at y/n. “he’s my brother and i still haven’t quite figured it out yet.”

“i suppose you’re right.” y/n moved herself off the bed and grabbed her phone. “i should head back to my apartment soon and unpack. i'll stop by later though, okay?”

“yeah. alright.” chris grabbed a shirt and followed her out of his room. “um, do you want a ride home?”

“well seeing how you can’t drive and the only other person in the house who can is matt, i think i’ll pass.”

“i can ask matt & if you think it’s going to be awkward, i can come with you guys.”

“it’s fine, chris. i only live a few blocks away. i've made the walk before.”

“yeah but you never had to do it with a large, heavy suitcase.” chris pleaded with her and when she sighed, he knew she was about to give in.

“i hate when you’re right.” y/n went to lift her suitcase but almost fell over. “i really hate it.”

matt wasn’t as willing to drive her home as chris was hoping but he did it anyway just so he would have time to think without her around.

when y/n walked into her apartment, the first thing she did was facetime nick. his bright smiling face appeared and even though he reminded her of matt, y/n couldn’t help but smile back.

“hey. you back in la?”

“yeah. we got back last night and i crashed at your place. i was really sad you weren’t there.” y/n sighed and looked around her apartment.

“i know. but I’ll make it up to you later when you come back over.” he paused for a second after taking in her expression. it was pensive. “you are coming back over, aren’t you?”

“i don’t know, nick. things have been really weird between me and matt since we got on the plane.” y/n sighed. “i did promise chris that i would come back later.”

“then it’s settled. and if things seem awkward with matt, chris and i will act as buffers.”

“i love you, nick.” y/n smiled at her best friend. he didn’t even have to ask what happened or why it was all of a sudden awkward. he believed her wholeheartedly, without question.

“i love you too.” he offered her a kind smile. “so i’ll see you later?”

“yeah. about an hour or two. still gotta have a shower and unpack.” y/n glanced over at her suitcase and sighed. the memories of the trip filling every vacant part of her brain. “talk to you later, nick.”

“can’t wait.” nick smiled and hung up. y/n set her phone on the coffee table and headed to the bathroom. while the warm water washed over her, she thought back to the last day of the trip

matt and y/n were sitting with brooke and jackson on the lounge chairs around the pool. matt’s hand rested gently on y/n’s thigh as he talked to jackson. brooke was on the other side of y/n and she was observing everything matt did to show affection to y/n. she gently nudged her cousins shoulder and pulled her attention away from matt.

“what’s up, brooke?”

“your boyfriend is perfect. just thought i would let you know.” brooke beamed. “he’s hot, funny, sweet & most importantly, he treats you like an absolute princess. and an added bonus is he gets along with every member of our family. that's almost impossible.”

“he’s pretty perfect, i suppose.” y/n nodded and faced matt, only to find him already staring at her.

“hey.”

“hey.” y/n smiled and it felt like they were the only two there.

“when did you want to head back to the hotel?”

“after dinner. dad and crystal are making my favorite meal.” y/n played with the necklace around her neck.

back at the hotel that night, y/n was stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around her body when matt decided to walk right in.

“matt!”

“sorry. thought you were dressed already.” he turned around and left the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door. just as y/n reached for the handle, matt came back. “for what it’s worth, you look amazing.”

“matthew bernard!” y/n pushed him out of the bathroom and got dressed quickly. she got in her bed and faced matt’s direction. “i can never thank you enough for coming with me this week, you know.”

“you don’t have to thank me. it was a lot of fun.” he smiled widely and placed his phone down on the nightstand between the beds. “we’ve been sharing the same bed all week so why are you over in that bed?”

“not quite sure.” y/n glanced over at him. “instinct i guess.”

“well is it okay if i join you over there?” matt looked at her hopefully. she nodded and matt wasted no time climbing into the bed behind her. he cautiously placed his arm over her waist, doing his best not to put too much pressure on the situation.

y/n noticed his behavior and placed her hand over his much larger one, turning her head just enough to see the awkward half-smile on matt’s face.

“you okay with this?” matt whispered into her ear. y/n felt a shiver crawl down her spine at the thought of how close they were. instead of focusing on that, y/n began to play with the rings on matt’s fingers. she nodded in response to his question and felt him loosen up a bit. he got as close as he possibly could and placed a soft kiss just beneath her ear.

“matt.” her voice came out as more of a soft moan than the intended whisper. matt smirked to himself and placed more kisses on her neck, causing her to to pull her bottom lip between her teeth. the hand that was resting over her waist began to wander her body but matt stopped when y/n turned to face him.

“i’m sorry. i should’ve checked with you to make sure that was alright.” He began to stumble over his words so y/n shut him up with a kiss. as their lips molded together perfectly, y/n took matt’s bottom lip between her own, causing him to groan. something stirred inside y/n for the first time and her confidence took over. she climbed onto his lap and deepened the kiss as he held her hips tightly.

the kiss went way beyond the confines of their friendship and even though they had admitted their feelings the day before, it still felt like uncharted territory.

matt's hands moved from their place on y/n’s waist to just beneath the bottom of her shirt. or rather, his shirt that she had managed to steal from him at some point in time. his fingers danced delicately on the bare skin, causing y/n to shudder a little bit. matt pulled away from the kiss and raised an eyebrow.

“you alright?”

“yeah but your fingers are cold.” y/n hid her face in the crook of matt’s neck, gently placing a kiss there. she then rolled off his lap and pulled herself into him. matt didn’t question the sudden change. instead, he opted for holding y/n as close as possible and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “good night, matt.”

the water in the shower was nearly ice cold by the time y/n was finished. and when she got out, she realized that maybe part of matt’s sudden mood change was her fault.

she got dressed and headed out to her car. there were so many things she needed to talk to matt about.

when she got to the house, she knocked hard and waited. matt answered the door and silently let her inside.

“matt, can we talk?”

he ignored her question and headed to the kitchen. “chris is in the shower right now and nick still isn’t home. you're free to hang out here until one of them returns. i'll be in my room.” matt turned away from her and headed down the hall. but y/n wasn’t about to give up. she stepped between him and the door, causing him to sigh in annoyance.

“you can’t just ignore me, matt.” she followed him as he turned to head back to the kitchen. “we need to have a serious conversation and you need to stop acting like a child.”

“how am i acting like the child?” he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, sipping on the root beer he had pulled from the fridge.

“matt, seriously?” y/n mirrored his position and pinched the bridge of her nose. “this is ridiculous. you're ignoring me and acting like nothing happened in miami.”

“well that’s because nothing happened.” matt shrugged casually and looked at her.

“really? you're still going to act like this?” y/n scoffed. “matt, we had a really heated moment and then it was over. how can you say nothing happened?”

“because it didn’t.” he sighed. “look, you can live in your little delusion all you want but i'm sticking with the facts.”

“so what? the kisses meant nothing?” she grabbed his shoulder and forced him to face her. “tell me they meant absolutely nothing to you and i'll leave it alone.” she searched his eyes for an answer and when all she got was silence, she felt tears begin to fall. her hand dropped from its position on his shoulder and she took a step back. “silence is all the confirmation i needed. see you around, matt.” y/n grabbed her keys from the counter and began heading for the door.

chris had finished his shower and was on his way up when he heard the argument taking place. he froze on the stairs until he heard y/n’s voice crack. he could tell she was crying and he wanted to punch matt for the silence. y/n said goodbye and chris could hear her footsteps heading down the front stairs. he emerged from his spot and went after his best friend, not sparing a glance matt’s way as he followed y/n out to her car.

“y/n, stop what you’re doing. you are not about to leave in this state. i refuse to let that happen.”

“i need to leave, chris.” y/n leaned her head on the car door and sobbed. “how can he say that the kisses meant nothing?”

“well, he never actually said they didn’t.” chris pointed out, earning a glare from y/n.

“the silence was all i needed to hear, chris.” y/n turned to lean her back against the door. she slid down until she was sitting on the driveway. chris sat next to her and sighed.

“i told you my brother was an idiot, y/n.”

“chris, in case you haven’t noticed, i'm not in the mood for an i told you so.” y/n almost snapped until she saw his face. she hardly ever raised her voice and it was never towards him. “i'm sorry. i-i didn’t mean to yell.”

“it’s okay. you should let it out. get angry.”

“i am not going to take my anger out on you, chris.” y/n smiled and chris saw it.

“i got you to smile!” he clapped his hands together excitedly. “if you want, we can go to a rage room.”

“i think i just want to go to your room and play some fortnite.” y/n bumped his shoulder and stood up. chris took her outstretched hand and ushered her back inside. he took her keys from him and they both headed down to his bedroom.

from his own room, matt could her them laughing whenever they killed an enemy player. little snip-its of their conversation could also be heard and it caused matt’s blood to boil. he shouldn’t be feeling this way, considering how he had just treated y/n not even 10 minutes ago.

a few more hours went by before nick came home. at this point in time, y/n and chris were in the living room laughing at a stupid movie they picked. when y/n saw nick, she jumped off the couch and hugged him.

“oh how i missed you. really glad you and chris didn’t kill each other while we were gone or else i would be forced to live a life without my 2 favorite people in the world.” she squeezed nick tightly and chris joined the hug.

“it wasn’t easy because chris is very annoying.” nick chuckled. chris punched his arm and almost fell backwards. y/n caught his arm and smiled.

“easy there, chris.”

“guess you could say i'm falling for you.” chris shot a smirk her way at the exact moment matt emerged from his room. the air around the group suddenly became heavy and quiet.

“why are you looking at me like that?” he questioned. y/n was staring at her feet while chris sent a glare his brothers way. nick had a sense of what had happened but didn’t want to ask any questions so he just looked anywhere else. “fine. don't answer me.”

“wasn’t planning on it.” chris spit out. matt grabbed a can of root beer from the fridge and looked around the room quickly before turning his attention to nick.

“remember how we were going to film a vlog on valentines day since none of us had plans?”

“yeah what about it?” nick shook his head and looked at y/n.

“turns out i have a date that night so i will be unavailable to film.” matt smirked and y/n wanted to slap that stupid look off his face. the only person he should’ve made plans with that night was her. she scooted closer to chris without even thinking.

“really?”

“yup.”

“who with?”

“madi.” he turned and headed back to his room. nick stood in his spot, completely speechless. chris put his arm around y/n’s shoulder and rubbed her arm.

“what the fuck?” she muttered under her breath, her voice beginning to crack. chris removed his arm and stood in front of her while nick took his place. they were trying their best to comfort her but the gestures weren’t working. y/n felt like her heart had been ripped out twice in one day.

“that’s it. you and i are definitely making plans now.” chris pulled her in for a hug, feeling extremely protective of his best friend. “i promise to make that kid regret his choices today.”

“how do you plan on doing that, chris?”

“gonna do everything for you that he should be doing. i'll write you love letters and shower you with gifts all day.”

“you don’t have to.” y/n tugged at the sleeves of the sweater she was wearing.

“i know i don’t have to. but i want to. i promised you earlier that i would be your matt replacement for the night, remember?”

“of course.” y/n looked up at him and smiled. he always knew how to pull her out of the worst moods.

“kinda wish i had been here earlier so i would know the full story.” nick shook his head and went up to his own room. y/n and chris went down to his room and played fortnite for a few hours.

after what felt like the 50th round, y/n stood up and stretched her body. chris averted his gaze out of respect when the sweater she was wearing rose up a little, revealing the small sun tattoo she got with nick last summer.

“i should get going. thanks for making today a little better for me.”

“you don’t have to thank me. you’re my best friend and i was just doing what any good friend would do.”

“well you’re the best friend in the entire world, chris.” y/n smiled and ruffled his hair playfully. “i love you.”

“love you too.” he smiled widely before checking his phone. “wanna stay for dinner? i was going to order a pizza. pepperoni, your favorite. we could even sit in the living room and watch your favorite movie.”

“you had me at dinner.” y/n ran up to the living room and laid on the couch. chris lifted her legs and placed them in his lap. matt walked out of his room, saw the way they were sitting together on the couch and rolled his eyes before looking down at his phone.

“hey matt. i'm ordering pizza for dinner.” chris didn’t look towards the kitchen as he informed his brother of their dinner plans.

“okay cool.” matt glanced up from his phone long enough to see chris place his hand just above y/n’s right knee. they were always affectionate with each other and matt knew there was no attraction between them so why was this bothering him so much? “i'll be in my room facetiming madi. come get me when the pizza gets here.” he nodded in their direction and went to his room. he wasn’t going to be facetiming anyone. he only said that to get a rise out of y/n. and judging by the way he saw her tense up, he knew it had worked.

y/n waited until she heard matt’s door shut completely before speaking again. “chris, do you think matt likes madi?” her fingers played with the strings of her hoodie as she spoke.

“i doubt it. but who knows with him?” chris focused on y/n as she began fidgeting in her spot. she was laser focused on the strings.

“am i only good enough when we’re not in la?” she glanced up at chris and felt like crying. chris noticed her intake of breath and his hand began tracing circles on her thigh. slow at first but speeding up every 5 seconds. it was the most effective way to calm her down.

“stop talking nonsense. you're more than good enough everywhere, y/n. matt is just being ridiculous.”

“i think his sudden shift in mood is because of what happened on our last night in miami.”

“what happened on the last night?” chris raised an eyebrow as y/n dove into the story. she explained how they almost hooked up and why she stopped it. chris didn’t judge her. he understood everything.

over the next week, whenever y/n was over at the house, chris would make sure to hand her little love notes when matt was around. he also called her every pet name he could think of. and did the bare minimum of what a ‘boyfriend’ should do.

every day, matt observed their interactions and with each passing day, he started to regret trying to make y/n jealous of madi. he wanted to be the one to write y/n notes and he wanted to be the one she adored endlessly. but he was too blinded by his own jealousy to realize what he had given up.

it came to the point where whenever y/n was at the house, which was pretty much all the time, he would have to stay in his room until she ended up in chris’ room for the night or went home. 9 times out of 10 she stayed overnight & it almost made matt sick seeing her with chris.

at some point in their little charade, the love letters chris gave y/n to feel real. to him, at least. he knew that the way he was feeling was wrong but he was so mad at his brother that he didn’t care about moving in on his girl.

one night, while y/n was laying on his bed in his fresh love crewneck & scrolling through tiktok, chris couldn’t help himself. he ended his game and laid beside her. he moved a piece of her hair out of her eyes and carefully placed it behind her ear. this little action drew y/n’s attention away from her phone, causing her gaze to go elsewhere, meeting the blue eyes she adored.

“hey.” she smiled, causing chris to blush profusely. “that’s really cute.”

“what is?”

“the way you’re blushing. and all because i smiled at you.” y/n kissed the tip of his nose and smiled again.

“you’re the cutest human being alive.” chris tried hiding the blush that crept up on his cheeks but y/n noticed it and held his face.

“excuse me but do i look like a fucking mirror, christopher? because how can i be the cutest human being alive when you also exist?” she looked into eyes and smiled at him again.

that smile. that damn smile. it’d be the death of him at this point. if there was ever a moment of tension to do something that could potentially make or break a relationship, now would’ve been the perfect time for him to make his move. but he didn’t have any time to react as y/n’s lips quickly found his.

he was shocked at first but after a moment, he kissed her back, pulling her close. he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. y/n was now straddling him and the kiss didn’t break.

y/n deepened the kiss and ran her hands down his chest, causing chris to groan and pull away for a second.

“wait.” he looked at her. “i need to know something before this goes any further.”

“what?”

“are you only doing this to get matt jealous? or are you actually into me?”

“can we just not complicate things right now, chris? you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“yeah of course.”

“then let’s just go with that. no need to make things more complicated than they already are.” y/n looked at chris and bit her lip. he was a sucker for her, that’s for sure.

for the remainder of time before valentines day, y/n and chris began an arrangement that really stretched the boundaries of their friendship. they never slept together but they were both willing to do whatever they could to please the other. chris was never one to leave a girl unsatisfied so there were times their encounters lasted hours. and chris loved every second of it.

matt tried to drown out the noises he heard coming from downstairs each time but even through his headphones, he could still hear it somehow. whether it was the sounds y/n made or the way she said chris’ name, matt couldn’t get it out of his head no matter how hard he tried.

how can she sleep with chris when she wouldn’t sleep with me? he often thought to himself. it was a constant reminder that falling for his brothers best friend wasn’t a good idea.

when valentines day finally arrived, chris woke up incredibly early and decided to make y/n some breakfast in bed. just as he finished plating everything, matt came out of his room and eyed chris’ neck before scoffing and opening the fridge.

“happy valentines day, matt.” chris smiled and grabbed the tray of food before heading down to his room. when he entered, y/n was sitting up, scrolling through her phone. she looked up when she heard his footsteps come closer.

“what’s all this?” she smiled and inspected the tray.

“well, it’s valentines day. the day of romance. and since i agreed to be your matt replacement today, i thought it’d be nice to wake you up with something delicious.”

y/n took a bite of the french toast and moaned at the taste. “this is the best fucking french toast i have ever had.”

“you think so?”

“yeah. it’s delicious.” she kept eating while chris sat next to her. “so what’s the plan for tonight?” she asked with a mouthful of food.

“i was thinking we could stay in and i could make you your favorite meal.”

“you can make chicken cordon bleu?”

“no.” he chuckled. “what’s your second favorite meal?”

“i like cheeseburgers and i love your cheeseburgers.”

“if that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get tonight.”

“you’re the best.” y/n slipped on one of chris’ hoodies and walked towards the door. “i'm gonna go see nick for a minute but when i get back, i'm going to thank you properly for the breakfast.”

y/n left the room with a devilish smirk and headed up to nick’s room. she knocked lightly and waited before walking into his room. he was still asleep so she jumped up on his bed and tickled his nose. he quickly swatted her hand away and opened his eyes.

“let me sleep. you and chris are two floors below me and i could still hear everything that was going on down there.” he closed his eyes and turned away from her. “you guys are disgusting.”

“okay mr grumpy pants. i was just coming to wish you a happy valentines day.” she giggled, kissed his forehead and left the room. as she made her way through the kitchen, matt came out of the bathroom. he took in her attire and rolled his eyes. “what the fuck is your problem, matthew?”

“i just think it’s pretty funny that you wouldn’t sleep with me, someone you were supposedly ‘in love with’ but you’ll sleep with chris every chance you get.”

“well if you hadn’t been a jerk the entire time we’ve been home, you’d probably be the one who gets to do things to me. you’d be the one getting to leave these marks on me.” she rolled up the bottom of the hoodie and showed off the inside of her thigh. dark marks littered the skin there. matt clenched his jaw and stared at her.

“this is ridiculous.” he shook his head. “can’t believe you’re acting like such a whore.”

“fuck you, matt.” y/n shot him the finger and headed back down to chris’ room, slamming the door and causing herself to jump. “sorry, chris. didn’t mean to slam the door.”

“it’s alright.” he walked over to her and looked at her face. her eyes were welling up with tears and chris felt bad.

“i know i said when i got back from nick’s room that i would thank you properly for the breakfast, but can we just lay in bed, please?”

“of course. don't worry about it.” he ushered over to the bed and laid down with her, holding her tight. “are you alright?”

“matt’s an asshole.” she sighed, wiping away at the few tears that fell down her cheeks.

“what did he say to you?”

“he said i was acting like a whore.” she sniffled. chris shot out of bed and headed for the door. “chris, please don’t.” y/n fiddled with her fingers and looked at chris.

“i'm sorry but he can’t just say something like that and get away with it.” chris turned the knob and it was y/n’s turn to get out of bed. she hurried over to the chris and wedged herself between him and the door, gently placing a hand on his cheek.

“please?” she whispered lowly, on the verge of tears. chris crumbled and let her lead him back over to the bed. she played with his hair as they cuddled on the bed. it was clear they needed each other on a deeper level than just intimacy.

an hour later, chris noticed y/n had fallen asleep. he slipped out of her embrace and made his way up to matt’s bedroom. he knocked twice before matt yanked the door open.

“what do you want?”

“i want you to apologize.”

“i'm not apologizing to you.”

“no. you need to apologize to y/n for saying she was acting like a whore. last month, you were so madly in love with her and now you’re acting colder than you ever have. this is not the way you’re supposed to treat the person you love.”

“i'm over her, chris. she’s yours now. you can have your turn.” matt tried shutting his door but chris stopped it.

“look, matt. that girl is still hurting and she’s blaming herself for what’s happening between you guys.”

“then she should’ve thought about that before she started sleeping with you after basically rejecting me in miami.”

“she didn’t reject you, matt. and we’re not sleeping together.”

“oh please. save it, okay? i can not only hear you guys going at it in your room but i’ve also seen the marks you left on her. if those aren’t clear signs you’re having sex, then i don’t know what is.”

“it’s literally everything but sex.” chris ran his hands through his hair. “did you ever stop to think about why she didn’t sleep with you in miami? it’s because she was scared, okay? she was terrified that if she gave you everything that you would just turn around and hurt her. and you guys didn’t even have to have sex to do that. you’re killing her slowly, matthew. and honestly, i hate you so much for it right now.”

“don’t hate me for your girlfriends choices.” matt checked his phone. “now, if you don’t mind, i have a date to get ready for.”

chris stood in shock as matt closed the door roughly. why was his brother not understanding the situation clearly? it was driving him crazy.

instead of going back down to his own room, chris headed up to nick’s.

“nick, i need you to ask madi to be your date tonight.”

“what are you talking about? doesn't she have a date with matt?”

“yes but matt and y/n need to go on a valentines date. they're supposed to be together. not him and madi.”

“wait, i'm confused.” nick held up his hand and shook his head. “why are you trying to set your girlfriend up with matt?”

“she’s not my girlfriend.” chris ran his hands down his face. “her heart belongs to matt.”

“so? if he doesn’t want to be with her, then you gotta take a chance.”

“but he does want to be with her. you should’ve seen the way he got jealous when he thought i was having sex with y/n.”

“you guys aren’t having sex? then what the hell are you doing that makes so much noise?” he questioned, the realization hitting him a few seconds later. “oh. ew.”

“so, can you text madi or not?”

“i can try. but if she’s into this date, there’s not going to be a way to get her out of it.” nick began typing on his phone. within seconds, madi was requesting to facetime. nick answered it quickly and it didn’t take long for madi to start speaking.

“what are you even talking about, nick? i don’t have anything planned with matt tonight.” she raised her eyebrow and got closer to the camera. “why would he say that? oh my god. do you think he likes me?”

“no.” chris shook his head and turned to nick. “he’s an idiot.”

“i agree. why would he say he’s going on a date with madi if it’s not true?”

“because he was trying to make y/n jealous, obviously.” chris sprinted out of the room and almost fell as he took 2 steps at a time to get back to his room. y/n jumped back as he threw the door open, as she was just about to go looking for him.

“you look like you’ve been running laps around the house. what's going on?”

“change of plans tonight. instead of me cooking dinner for you, i'm taking you out to eat.” he smiled and looked around his room.

“okay. i'm not complaining, but why the sudden change?”

“just want an excuse to dress up.” he held her face gently and smiled widely.

“oh, how about you still cook for me and i'll still get all dressed up.”

“that sounds like a better plan.” he leaned in to kiss her and smiled when she kissed him back. “do you have something at the house you can change into?”

“yeah. it’s up in nick’s room.” she looked at him. “be right back.” y/n dashed out of chris’ room and went upstairs to nick’s room. she paused outside in the hallway when she heard nick and madi talking.

“so if he likes y/n, why doesn’t he just tell her? i mean, didn’t they just spend a whole week together in miami?”

“they did and from what i learned, something happened and it screwed up their relationship. i’m not sure what it was exactly, but matt’s been ignoring her since they got back and y/n’s been spending all her time with chris.”

“so, are y/n and chris together now?”

“no. well, i'm not quite sure. they might as well be.”

“but she needs to be with matt. maybe you should tell her that matt’s ‘date’ with me was never actually a thing.”

“no. it’s gotta be matt who tells her.”

y/n knocked on his door and looked at nick. “hey.”

“hey. how much of that did you hear?” nick turned towards her, still on the call with madi.

“almost everything.” she shrugged her shoulders.

“hey y/n.” madi waved with a smile.

“hey.” y/n returned the smile and looked back at nick. “i came up to get that dress i left up here. need it for my date.”

“it’s in my closet.” nick nodded towards the door and y/n walked in. nick was right behind her. “who’s your date tonight?”

“chris.” she reached for the baby blue piece of clothing. “instead of going out to a fancy restaurant, we came to a compromise. he's going to cook for me and we’re going to dress up as if we actually were going out tonight.”

“why are you still going on this date with chris if you know matt’s date with madi was never happening? i thought you would be happy.”

“why would i be happy about something matt lied about, especially after he basically called me a whore?”

“he did what?!?” both nick and madi exclaimed.

“not going to get into details. but he called me a whore earlier. well, he said i was acting like one because i was sleeping with chris.”

“but you’re not. does he know that?”

“no and let’s not tell him. he doesn’t deserve to know.”

“you two are incredibly stubborn and i hate it.”

“what are you talking about?” y/n turned to nick and eyed him.

“you and matt. one minute, you’re in love & the next it’s like you’ve never met before. why can’t you guys see that you’re supposed to be together?”

“we’re not meant to be together, nicolas. if there was any indication of that, something serious would’ve happened in miami.”

“what the fuck even happened while you guys were gone?”

“do you really want to know?”

“duh. that's why i asked.”

“okay, smartass.” y/n carefully set the dress on nick’s bed and looked at him. “it was our last night in miami. we were alone in the hotel room and we were cuddling on my bed and things started to get…intimate.”

“so you slept with him?”

“no. after a really steamy make-out session, it was over. that’s as far as we got.”

“who broke the moment first?” madi questioned.

“technically, he pulled away first. but he was only checking on me to see if i was okay with what was happening. his fingers were really cold and it made me shiver. but after that, the moment was over.”

“so let me get this straight. he touched your skin and it caused you to shiver. he then pulled away to check on you and the moment was over?” nick raised an eyebrow. “sounds like it might have been your fault, sorry.”

“nick, are you crazy? matt's the one who pulled away first. it’s totally his fault.” madi shook her head on the other end of the phone.

“it’s both our faults, i will admit.” y/n sighed. “and it sucks because i really, really liked him too.”

“then fucking tell him, dumbass.”

“nick, be nice.” madi scolded him. “it’s hard to tell a guy how you feel.”

“i am well aware.” nick chuckled then looked back at y/n. she was focused on the dress. the dress she bought for a party, hoping to get matt’s attention with the color since it was his favorite. she didn’t notice if it caught his eye. he had spent most of the party talking to some random girl she didn’t know but whenever she wasn’t looking, matt would look over at her.

“what am i supposed to do?” at this point, y/n was sitting on the edge of the bed. “i obviously still love matt. but now there’s the thing with chris. so no matter which brother i choose, i know i am going to break someone’s heart.”

“right now, you’re breaking my heart, y/n. i don’t like seeing you upset.” nick sat beside her and sighed. “i wish there was a better to go about life.”

“me too.” y/n looked at him.

“i've lived with them both my whole life and i know enough to tell you that no matter who you end up choosing, the other one will for sure get over it. neither of them hold grudges.”

“you’re right. now the only issue is trying to talk to matt without an argument breaking out.” y/n looked back at the dress. “and i also have to talk to chris. damn it.”

“you can do this, y/n. i believe in you.” madi grinned, happy to know she was helping a little. “i'll come by tomorrow to see you if you want.”

“that would be nice. maybe we could have a girls day.”

“yes that would be nice. in the meantime, good luck with the boys.” madi waved goodbye as y/n grabbed the dress and headed down to chris’ room to shower.

after an hour of getting ready, y/n took a look in the mirror. nick stood behind her and smiled.

“you are so gorgeous.” he rubbed her shoulders in a calming manner. he then quickly checked his phone. “well, it’s time to head up to your dinner. good luck.”

y/n took one last look in the mirror before heading up the stairs. chris turned away from the stove and whistled.

“wow. you look so good right now. well, you always look good. but tonight, you’re just…glowing.” he smirked and walked over to her. “ready to eat?”

“you bet.” y/n smiled and sat down when chris pulled the chair out for her. he hurried over to his chair and handed her the plate he prepared for her.

“enjoy.”

the two of them began to eat in near silence. the only sound they could hear for the first few minutes was the background music chris had picked out. after y/n finished half her burger, she looked up at chris.

“i really appreciate you, chris. you know that right?”

“yeah of course.” he set his food down and gave her his full attention. “this last week or so has been insane, right?”

“yeah.” y/n kicked her feet slowly. “can we talk about that, actually?”

“sure thing.” chris rested his head on his hands and let her do most of the talking.

“what we’ve been doing has definitely been fun. the most fun i think i have ever had.” she blushed. “and although i thoroughly enjoyed it, i think we should stop.”

“you’re not gonna believe this but i've been thinking the same thing.” chris let out a breath. “obviously, i will always care about you and i will cherish the time we spent together. but you and i both know that you’re supposed to be with matt.”

“this is why you’re the best, chris. you’re so understanding and you’re the sweetest person i know.” y/n reached across the table and took ahold of his hand. chris absentmindedly ran his thumb over her knuckles. "thank you for the most amazing 2 weeks of my life.”

“i should be the one thanking you.” he placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles and they both went back to eating. after their meal was done, y/n stood up slowly.

“guess it’s time to talk to matt.” she sighed and looked towards his bedroom. chris walked up behind her.

“good luck, y/n.” he kissed her forehead and headed down to his own room. y/n approached matt’s bedroom door and knocked lightly. while she waited, she thought of what she was going to say.

when he pulled the door open, he wasn’t expecting to see y/n standing before him. his eyes widened as he took in the way she looked. and when he saw she was staring at him, he quickly placed his gaze elsewhere and replaced the confusion with anger.

“what are you doing here?”

“matt, stop. you and i are going to talk and there’s nothing you can do about it.” she pushed him backwards and closed his bedroom door behind her. matt tried to protest but instead, she sat him down on the edge of his bed before taking a seat on his computer chair. the air grew thicker the longer they both stayed silent.

“well, you wanted to talk. so talk.” matt couldn’t help but let his attitude out in the moment. this caused y/n to roll her eyes but she started talking.

“look, i'm sorry about what happened in miami. i shouldn’t have just given up when the moment got a little too intimate.” she looked down at her lap and sighed. “truthfully, i was so scared. i know how experienced you are and i didn’t want to let you down with my lack of experience. i've never had sex with anyone and i thought that if i wasn’t good at it, you would stop talking to me. and as soon as i got off you that night, i regretted it. i was so stupid and i thought i was ready. even now, i don’t think i am. i'm still so terrified that i'll make a fool of myself and it’ll get spread around like a sickness.” y/n’s leg began to shake and matt watched as a tear landed on her lap. he wanted so badly to reach over and wipe it away but he wanted to be respectful. so he waited for her to go on. with a shaky breath, she continued her speech. “i hate that i drove you away. i hate that i loved you enough to introduce you to my family and then i threw it all away.” she shot her arm out to emphasize her point and it was then that matt noticed the necklace he gave her. it laid perfectly around her neck, only moving when she took a deep breath. “i’m so sorry i put you through what i did. i never wanted to hurt you and i only wish i could’ve explained why it happened the way it did.”

“you don’t owe me any explanation.” matt spoke. it shocked her to hear his calm voice again. he saw her head jerk up at it but he continued to speak. “i never should’ve gotten so pissed off that you wouldn’t have sex with me. that’s not who i am. if anything, i should be the one apologizing to you. you didn’t deserve the way i treated you and you most definitely did not deserve hearing what i said to you this morning. that was the lowest blow i could’ve dealt out and i'm so very sorry for it. i don��t think you’re a whore. you’re the farthest thing from it. i was just insanely jealous because chris was the one doing what i one day hoped to do. and i know jealousy is not an excuse but it was wrong. y/n,” he got on his knees and held her hands. “i am so fucking in love with you and i need you to know that. i may have dated other girls in the past but i have never loved any of them. you are by far the most kindhearted person in the world and definitely the most breathtakingly gorgeous. you could wear a fucking garbage bag and i would still love you. hell, i would love you even if you were a fucking worm.” matt met y/n’s gaze and smiled. “you look really good in this dress and i swear i meant to tell you at that party the first time you wore it but i was scared that you would just laugh in my face and call me stupid or something.”

“i do think you’re stupid. always have.” y/n nodded and smiled even with the tears cascading down her cheeks. matt chuckled and reached up to wipe them away, causing y/n to sigh contently.

“god, you are so perfect. i want everything with you. not just the sex. i want the stupid future with you. the one where we have 2 or 3 kids and a nice house in the suburbs where our kids can play safely. i want the late night conversations with you. fuck, i even want the stupid fucking rom-com shit with you. it’s always been you. there is absolutely nobody else and there never has been. god, you are it for me. you’ve ruined everybody else for me.” he looked up at her. “i just…i want you in every possible way. good and bad.”

“fuck, matt. i want you too.” y/n caved and pulled him in for a kiss. one he was more than happy to return. her hands went to his hair while his moved from her knees to her face. he craved every part of her. he detached his lips from her to place rough kisses trailing from her jawline down her neck. with every tug on her skin came a gentle kiss to soothe the pain.

matt stood up but y/n was not willing to break the kiss. thankfully, matt picked up with ease and she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her over to the bed. the strap of her dress hung loosely on her shoulder as matt kissed every part of her he could. her hands remained in his hair as his lips explored every part of her body.

y/n felt matt getting frustrated with the strap of her dress so she slid it off her arm entirely. he was more than eager to show how thankful he was for the simple action. and as he kissed her now bare shoulder, she took the opportunity to slip the other strap off as well. her dress staying in place only because of the position she was in. if she had been standing or even sitting upright, the top of her dress would’ve already slipped down to reveal the black lace bra she wore.

“fuck, matt.” y/n bit her lip as he kissed just above the top of the dress. she could tell that her being fully clothed was causing matt to grow impatient. “want me to take this off?”

“fuck. yes please.” matt groaned and watched with hungry eyes as y/n maneuvered herself in a way that was so sensual to matt. the dress came off and matt wasted no time exploring the new territory. there was a faint mark just above the top of her panties, next to her sun tattoo, that matt knew chris had left. he took it upon himself to bite the skin with a little bit of pressure. not too much to hurt her, but enough to make a new mark.

y/n moaned as he left a trail of sloppy kisses up the inside of her thighs, stopping every few seconds to make new marks over the ones chris left behind. the idea of his brother getting there first only made him slightly more aggressive. his kisses on her thighs halted as he made his way back to her lips. his hands held her hips as he kissed her. instead of fisting his hair, she dug her nails into his back, causing him to let out a quiet groan.

“fuck. keep doing that and i'm gonna be finished before my pants come off.” matt whispered in her ear. he placed a kiss just beneath her earlobe, exactly like he had that night in miami.

he retraced his steps and traveled back down her body, stopping when he was just above where she needed him the most. he looked up at her and she didn’t hesitate to silently answer with a nod. matt slid his finger in the waistband and pulled them down her legs. once they were off, matt placed a kiss on both of her thighs before diving right in.

as his tongue moved in all the right places, y/n’s left hand clung to his bedsheets while the right one grabbed a fistful of his hair. he groaned into her and picked up his pace.

“jesus christ, matt. not gonna last long if you keep that up.” she spoke with a strained voice as she tried not to be too loud. matt just smirked and pulled her as close as he possibly could. she threw her legs over his shoulders and he was suddenly able to hit a new angle.

y/n could feel her orgasm approaching as matt continued to devour her. when the knot began to take its shape in her stomach, matt slowed down, but only a notch or two. he was trying to make it last as long as he possibly could, wanting to savor every moment.

it wasn’t long before her orgasm reached its peak and she was releasing all over his tongue. matt was more than happy to clean up all her juices, making sure he didn’t miss a single drop.

“fuck that was hot.” y/n breathed out, releasing her right grip of the bedsheet.

“and we’re not even close to being done, baby. i'm just getting started.” matt smirked.

“what do you mean?” y/n was about to ask him again but ended up biting her lip as matt shoved two fingers inside. the moans came spilling out of her mouth faster than she could even process them. as he worked on pumping his fingers in and out of her, he kissed up her body and stayed on her lips. she could taste herself in the kiss.

matt inserted a third finger, causing y/n to bit his lip. he groaned and she almost came right then and there. but she held out. nearly 2 minutes passed before she felt the knot build back up.

“matt, fuck. i'm gonna-“

“i know. come on. you can do it, baby.” he placed a gentle kiss on her nose as she came all over his fingers. he licked them clean very quickly.

“this isn’t fair.”

“what do you mean, princess?” matt raised an eyebrow.

“i’m completely naked and you still have clothes on.” she managed to get out with strangled breaths.

“you’re not entirely naked, since your bra is still on, but i'm willing to level the playing field.” he kissed the top of each of her breasts before making quick work to rid himself of his own clothing. y/n eagerly took her bra off and bit her lip as her eyes travelled down his body. she had heard many stories about his size but none of them seemed accurate. he was definitely larger than the legends said and easily the biggest she had ever seen in her life.

“jesus, matt.” she continued to chew on her bottom lip as she took him in her hands. she began to pump him slowly, almost like she was teasing him. the precum leaked from the tip slowly and matt watched as y/n expertly moved her hand up and down. he was not able to last very long.

“y/n, i'm about to-“

“i know. come on, baby. let it go.” y/n looked up at him and bit her lip as he came in her hand.

“fuck, that was hot.”

“i’m not even finished.” she repeated his words from earlier and before he could even ask what she meant she was taking him in her mouth.

“oh god!” matt threw his head back and propped himself on his elbows so he could see exactly what she was doing. “wow. you’re doing such a good job at taking all of me. holy fuck.” he closed his eyes and without warning, he was unloading into her mouth. the sight of her swallowing it all was enough to make him come again but he knew better. he wanted to last as long as possible for her. he wanted the experience to be just as pleasurable for her as it was for him.

y/n placed a kiss on his tip and stood up. matt grabbed her waist and positioned her on his lap. before anything went further, he looked at her.

“are you sure about this?”

“yes absolutely. wouldn't have it any other way, matty.” she kissed him deeply and without breaking the kiss, he flipped them over so she was laying on his bed. he hovered over her and gave her another look, silently asking if it was okay, to which she nodded. matt lined himself up with her entrance and started moving slowly. he took note of the way y/n winced so he stopped for a second. “okay. you can move now.”

matt kissed her gently as he began to move at a faster pace than he ever had before. the way their bodies moved together so perfectly sent chills down their spines, but in a good way.

his thrusts were powerful and addictive and y/n dug her nails into his back, moving them up and down his back with every movement he made.

the sounds coming from their mouths were crazy.

matt began to slow his pace and his thrusts became sloppy, signaling that he was close. y/n was close as well, digging her nails in further and locking her legs behind his back.

“do you want me to pull out?” he asked timidly.

“no. need you to fill me up, matt.” y/n kissed his neck, making sure to prolong the orgasm. he released inside her at the same time she finished too. as matt pulled out of her slowly, he placed a kiss to her neck and grabbed a towel from his bedside table to clean up their mess. he also noticed that he left both of her boobs untouched the entire time.

“oh my. how could i forget to give you any attention?” he chuckled and placed a gentle kiss to each nipple. y/n looked down at him with most loved up look she had ever given anyone. “you doing alright, y/n?”

“i am doing absolutely perfect. thank you for asking.” y/n grabbed her clothes and placed them neatly in a pile on the floor before grabbing some of matt’s clothes and putting them on. she crawled into bed and matt joined her seconds later, throwing his arm around her and holding her close.

“fuck, that was the hottest thing i've ever seen in my life. easily the best sex of my life.” matt chuckled, his breath still a little shaky. “how about you? how are you feeling?” y/n looked up at him and grinned.

“well, lucky for you, i have nothing to compare the sex to so clearly it was the best of my life too. as for the other things, you’ll be happy to know you beat chris.”

“oh, really?” matt grinned smugly.

“yup. a landslide victory. one for the record books. gold medal performance.” y/n giggled as matt began attacking her with kisses.

“i'm so in love with you.” he stared at her face and couldn’t help himself as he placed a soft kiss on her neck. “so so in love with you.”

“i know. and i'm so so in love with you too, matty.” y/n whispered, causing matt to sit up straight with her still in his arms. he looked like he was suddenly deep in thought. “what’s going on in that pretty little mind, huh?”

“just thinking of how we can now have sex whenever we want now.”

“so, you have sex with me once and think you’re going to be the only one now?”

“oh i better be.” matt sounded offended but when he looked down at y/n’s face and saw her smiling, he started to laugh. “don’t say shit like that. are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“of course not.” y/n smirked. “i love you, dummy. why would i want to have sex with anyone else?”

“i'm glad i'm the only one.” he kissed her head. “i am the only one, right? like, you’re completely done your thing with chris?”

“yes. it's over between me and chris. now it’s just you and me.”

“thank god.” he smirked and leaned in to kiss her. y/n slowly climbed onto his lap and wrapped her around his neck, deepening the kiss. “you up for a round 2?”

“with you or chris?” y/n smirked playfully and kissed him passionately when he rolled his eyes. how could he think for even a second that she would want to sleep with anyone else? she was glad he could take a joke and she would forever be grateful for the way he loved her.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @carolinalikesthings

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader

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tlouxx · 10 months

Text

Electromagnetism

~ ellie williams x reader

——————————————————————————

part two <3

synopsis: you and ellie williams have been long time rivals. you are a physics majors at wellesley college, and you’re competing for the same spot in the prestigious dr. ramsey’s lab as ellie. suddenly neither of you can escape the other as you’re both trying to navigate your final year of college.

content: college!ellie, modern au, mean!ellie, academic rivals to lovers, slow burn, forced proximity, eventual smut, swearing, banter, just trying to intro ellie and reader rn

an: this is the first fic i've written! i hope you enjoy :) pls be kind

——————————————————————————

I want this year to be better. To achieve more. To get everything I have wanted. Well.. I want this to be the year I best Ellie Williams. It has been so frustrating to get second best to her no matter how hard I try. I study 15 hours for the exam. She studies for 20. I get a 98 on the lab report. She gets a 100. I can’t stand this girl. This year I have a fire under my ass. I’ll do whatever it takes to get the lab position with Dr. Ramsey, and I know Ellie is gunning for it too…

...

Day One - PHYS 302: Quantum Mechanics

Fuck. I know I'm going to be late. I had been up until 2:00 a.m. devising a plan for how I was going to handle all of the stress of senior year. Between tutoring, a full class load, and working on my thesis, I am going to have no life outside of school. Although, I’m kind of fucking it up already by waking up late for the first day of class.

…

I am sprinting through campus trying to navigate through the thick of the freshman class wandering aimlessly around. I have 1 minute and 39 seconds to make it on time before Dr. L locks the door. (She’s a bit famous for doing that). It’s mid august and hot. I can feel the sweat dripping down my back, and my bangs are clinging to my forehead. I see a shortcut to the physics building through the freshly landscaped garden. Dirt and mulch kicks up my jeans, but I don’t care. Behind me, I hear yelling. “Move out of my way!!” I look momentarily to see none other than Ellie Williams. Suddenly I don’t feel as bad about being late. She’s in her typical wardrobe of converse and a jacket too big for her, and she’s running toward me.

…

“Don’t you know she’s going to lock the door on us!”

“I know Ellie!” I scoff back. I book it knowing we only have 45 seconds left to make it on time. We’re both charging up the stairs. Ellie shoves me aside. I yell “Are you kidding me!” She simply laughs at me.

…

I’m following right behind her. I can feel the anger flood through my body. My cheeks are flushed, and I can feel my rage nearly leave my mouth. I know I’d only be stooping to her level. I see the door in my line of sight and feel the tension dissipate knowing we made it. We rush through the door with seconds to spare. All eyes are on us. I suddenly feel the anger leave and be replaced by embarrassment. I look around for somewhere to sit. PHYS 302 is a popular class with a majority of the seats being full. Ellie and I look at each other realizing there are only two seats left. Right next to each other.

…

We both glare at the other, but sit down knowing we’ve already caused a commotion by busting through the door at the last second. I’m angry. I’m irritated. This is exactly why I have to do better this semester. I know what I want, and I won’t stop until I see that smirk wiped off her face.

…

As class continues on, I glance over at Ellie. She’s diligently taking notes and hanging on to every word Dr. L says. I should be doing the same. This class is important to me, and doing well can help me guarantee my spot in Dr. Ramsey’s lab. I’ve been dreaming of doing my thesis with her help since freshman year. Right now though, I need to stop daydreaming about beating Ellie and actually do it.

…

I’ve always loved the atmosphere here at Wellesley. The campus is gorgeous and almost looks otherworldly at times. The blossoming pinks of the spring and the rich reds and yellows of the fall makes it look like a daydream. I have studied at nearly every picnic table out here. The sun is shining down on my face through the clouds. I look up and start to reminisce about the good times I’ve had here, but the heat is getting to me. I peel off my jacket before I enter my next lecture. I open the door to see Ellie Williams smirking at me.

…

PHYS 208: Intermediate Electromagnetism

“I didn’t think you’d be brave enough to take this class. Seems a little too… difficult for you.”

“Fuck off Ellie. You know I’m just as smart as you.”

“And I know how much it kills you that you have to work twice as hard to come close to me”

I laugh. “What kills me is that you think that’s true. I already know you studied for days for Dr. Ramsey’s final when I studied for a couple hours and got practically the same grade” I can feel myself getting flustered. I’ve been wanting to dedicate this semester to kicking her ass, and she can see it. I watch as her cheeks turn red. She knows I see her too. She turns back around in her seat.

…

The weight of the day feels heavy on my shoulders. I shouldn’t have said that to Ellie. Dina told me in confidence how much time she was dedicating to studying for the exam. I shouldn’t have betrayed her trust just to get back at Ellie. I don’t have much time to waste ruminating on actions. I have work in 20 minutes and a 15 minute walk there.

…

I work at the tutoring center on campus. I mainly help the underclassmen with the major prerequisite courses like MATH 205 and PHYS 100/107/108. It gives me a sense of fulfillment helping others. I know firsthand how hard these classes are. I probably wouldn’t have survived the first year without the help of the tutoring department. It’s part of the reason why I decided to work here making minimum wage. Plus it’ll make my application to work at Dr. Ramsey’s lab look better. I glance through the windows to get a glimpse of who I'll be working with this semester. I hope Dina and I get the same shifts like last semester. I’m sure you can guess who I see though. Ellie. Fucking. Williams.

…

I can feel my eyes rolling. I can’t escape her! Everywhere I turn she’s there. First both our classes are together and now she’s working at the tutoring center? This has to be some sick joke. I look up at her and smile. She looks away and sits in a nearby chair. I sit across from her waiting for someone to instruct us on what to do next. I do regret embarrassing her, but she started it. She nearly pushed me down the stairs just to get ahead of me on top of that too. Maybe I shouldn’t feel so bad, but my heart is still pounding as I look up at her again.

…

The tutoring center supervisor sees us sitting in silence together. She’s nice enough, but her wardrobe is stuck in 2013. I catch myself staring at her oddly patterned top. Ellie notices me staring and gives me a knowing smile.

“I’m so glad you’re both here! You and Ellie will be our main tutors on Monday, Wednesday, Friday for the core physics class. I think you two are already acquainted”

“Oh. I thought Dina and I would be doing that again.”

“Right. I thought you might say that, but with her new course load she’ll be doing Tuesday and Thursday instead.”

“I see.”

“You and Ellie are both top of the class! I feel so lucky to have you guys here.”

I smile and head down to the physics portion of the building.

…

Ellie is following behind me closely. I’m wondering if maybe she’ll apologize, but I doubt she’d ever do that. We both sit down at our respective desks. I look up at her again. I must’ve hit close to home with my comment. She’s helping someone with their MATH 205 homework. Ellie tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. She always wears it half up/half down. Despite our rivalry, I admit to myself that it looks good on her. Her complexion is soft and a spread of freckles paints her nose. She gives them a thumbs up as they leave, and they yell to Ellie, “You’re a life-saver!”

…

After a few hours of no students, I’m getting bored. I can sense the tension between me and Ellie. I think I should say something.

“Hey Ellie, I think I should apologize for earlier.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. I’m glad you finally are stepping up in this little game of ours. I needed a little extra motivation to step up my game so I can get the spot in Dr. Ramsey’s lab”

“God, I knew you were gunning for it too.”

Ellie gets out of her chair and steps closer to me. She creeps in closely. My heart skips a beat for a second. Fuck this girl will be the death of me.

She is only inches from my face. My cheeks begin to flush. The anxiety is bubbling up in my chest. My heart is beating so loud I think Ellie might hear it too.

“May the best win”

…

Oh its fucking on Ellie.

#ellie williams #the last of us #ellie x you #ellie x reader #dina tlou #rivals to lovers #ellie williams fanfic #tlou x reader #tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #college!au #college!ellie williams

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thedeviltohisangel · 3 months

Text

All The Things I Did (3): Don't Leave Me Alone

chronology: chapter 1 chapter 2 interlude 1 chapter 3 interlude 2

a/n: well well well. here i am again. not as sad as interlude 2 i promise. i put them in chronologic order up top for all the new fans of this fic. focusing on gale and cass this chapter. i've appreciated all the screams in my ask box (i will explain anything about spook x bucky i've got going on in my head whenever you want, shoot me a dm) and will work on more interludes this weekend. keep the prompts coming! good a good mix of current & post war bucky x spook. love you guys and enjoy this longer one in celly of the finale.

Of all the places for them to bump into each other, no one should have been surprised it was in the base library. It was small and quiet and didn’t have the nicest lighting. But it had plenty of books on plenty of topics and very few people ever frequented it. Normally, it was her place to unwind and seek solace. Breathe in the scent of the worn bindings and get lost for a few hours. Cass wasn’t sure if John even knew it existed so it only made sense that this is where Gale would find her first.

Gale Cleven had been in communication with John Egan since their first day of basic training. Had watch him fly and crash on occasion. Watched him flirt and dance and take girls home. Only a few times had watched him give a piece of his heart and never once had he watched it go anywhere. When he had sent him the unicorn to pass along as an apology to a bar owner in Greenland, John had written one line at the end that made him more confused than the figurine had. A little note at the bottom: P.S. I think I’ve found my girl.

Gale hadn’t known then, wouldn’t know for awhile, that Bucky had only seen her across the airfield when he had written that. Hadn’t even spoken a word to her. Had taken one look at the way every man on that base stopped and parted for her. One look at the way she navigated herself around the airfield while never looking up from the paper in front of her. John Egan had been gone like a freight train.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant Cooper?” She was in an armchair in the back of the library, curled up as much as her uniform would allow, thumbing through a book on Prussian history with two others opened and balancing precariously on either side of her and a stack of yet-to-be-read books piled on the floor. “I don’t mean to intrude. I just thought I’d introduce myself. Gale Cleven, friends call me Buck.”

“My friends call me Cass.” She shook his hand as firmly as she could, her right arm in a sling. “You know, John has a whole thing planned for us to meet. He’ll be heartbroken.” Him and Cass had spent the night on a blanket in the flowers, just like she had wanted upon her return. He told her all about his best friend Buck and that introducing her to him was almost like her meeting his sisters or mother. Joked that she needed Buck’s approval before he could take her on another date.

“We can work on our story. Let him still have his moment.” Cass smiled and motioned for Gale to take the chair next to her. She placed a notecard between the pages to keep her place before giving him her full attention.

“I’m sorry your first impression of me was when I got off that plane yesterday. I promise I’m not always that dramatic.” Gale laughed. The swelling in her eye had gone down slightly and there was color back to her cheeks. Maybe a couple of new bruises on her neck but he assumed his friend was more likely the culprit of those than the secret police.

“I barely noticed over the commotion of Bucky.”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she noted shyly. All of a sudden her fingernails were much easier to look at than Buck’s gaze.

“I’ve known Bucky, John, a long time. You’ve enraptured him, Lieutenant.” Gale hadn’t expected such a reaction either. Bucky had always been somewhat impulsive, sure, but always with a personal gain in mind. Win the bet. Win the girl. Win the game. But yesterday had been near primal. A base instinct to protect. To put himself in between her and those who would do her harm. It had come as natural as breathing.

“Your word choice is inspiring, Major Cleven.” Her eyes twinkled. She knew.

“Has he serenaded you yet? Then you’ll really be inspired.”

“I don’t know if that is what I would call it. I haven’t worked my way to that level of affection yet.” He thought back to the desperation in John’s voice when he called Cass’ name yesterday. Thought back to the venom that replaced it when someone got in the way of him reaching her.

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.” She ducked away from his gaze again.

“Don’t tell him I’m telling you this, but I’m pretty enraptured by him, too.” Gale reached over and squeezed her hand, locking the secret between them, and stood up to let her get back to her reading and to find the book he had come here looking for in the first place. “Cass? I’ve got a favor to ask. It’s kind of a big one.”

“Something wrong, Buck?”

“No. Just something that’s been on my mind since he left.” He mulled over the words for a moment. “He’s got a big heart. Does a good job at hiding it. I’ve been doing my best to protect it since the day I met him but if something happens to me up there…”

“You don’t even need to ask, Gale.” She would be his armor. Protect John Egan the way her soul had told her she should from the second she laid eyes on him. Had recognized the purity within him and felt the need to protect it. Cassandra Ann Cooper had been gone for John Egan the moment he stepped foot in England.

Gale nodded in appreciation. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” He walked to a shelf out of her sightline and Cass sighed deeply. She had faced down some scary people. But that interaction had her stomach in more knots than any of them. She had met, and talked to, and hadn’t made a fool of herself in front of, Major Gale Cleven. Cass smiled. John was going to be so happy when he found out.

----

The man in question was having a bit of a devious streak. Decided he was going to be early to pick up Cass instead of simply on time. Decided, after five minutes of waiting, that it had been too long since he last kissed her. Mary rolled her eyes when he came strolling in, thinking better of it when she opened her mouth to ask what he was up to.

“Mary, I swear if Major Egan is early, tell him I’m not ready.” He smiled as he heard Cass answer his knock.

“Too late, Spook. Let me in so I can see whatever potions you're brewing to look so goddamn beautiful.”

“Are you calling me a witch?” Her voice was closer this time. John pressed his palm to the door where he imagined hers was.

“I miss your face,” he provided simply.

“I have curlers in my hair.” Her mother had never let her father see her with her curlers in. Even after thirty or so years of marriage. Told Cass it took away the allure of femininity.

“Good. I’ve been imagining what you might look like in my bed in the morning-” He almost fell through the door when she opened it, her fist around his tie and all confidence choking off in his throat.

“No remarks like that in the hallway where anyone can hear you.” Cass sat back down at her vanity for the finishing touches of mascara and powder.

“Afraid they won’t find you so spooky anymore?” There weren’t too many artifacts of her life for him to look at. Photos of what she presumed were her parents and her siblings. A pile of letters with a return address in South Carolina. A jewelry box on top of her dresser.

“I don’t mind the nickname. I never had one growing up.” John stopped to admire her in the mirror as she pulled the curlers from her hair. He swallowed. It did look like he imagined she would be waking up next to him. How she would be after spending the night letting him worship her.

“Hey, wait on that for a second.” Cass put the tube of lipstick down and looked at him with a question across her brow. “Don’t want to mess it up when I kiss you.” She smiled and crooked her finger to beckon him forward, standing on her vanity chair as he got closer.

“So handsome,” she sighed as she took the opportunity of her newfound height to really take him in. She knows he would disagree but Cass found something ethereally beautiful about John Egan. The slope of his nose and the angles of his cheeks. The soft hair on his upper lip that she had found such joy in kissing.

“I’m glad you think so.” He started with just a quick peck, enjoying the look of annoyance on her face.

“That’s not worth holding up my lipstick application for.” John took that as a challenge. He felt guilty for only a second as he tangled his fingers into the curls at the back of her head and held her steady. John was trying to be mindful of the healing cut on her lip but she was pushing herself closer and closer and he had no choice but to give her more and more. It wasn’t slow. It was a spark spinning itself into a fire. An ember catching fire on all the things around it. He was a man starved for her oasis. She was a girl all too eager to tantalize him in the desert.

John slid his arms to wrap tightly around her waist, lifting her against his body and turning so her back was against the wall. Instinctually, she wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped into his mouth at the sensation. “Fuck, Cass.”

“John, we have to slow down.” She was enjoying his lips that had moved to her throat all much. Was so flushed with desire for him that beads of sweat were collecting in her collarbone. Cass unwrapped her legs from around his waist and John smiled with pride when her knees buckled ever so slightly.

“You’re right. Do this the right way. The slow way.” He straightened his tie and bent down when Cass reached up to fix his hair.

“Doesn’t have to be slow forever. Sir.” She knew exactly what she was doing when she said it. Relished in the way it made his eyes darken with lust again immediately. “We’re going to be late to dinner. And I already made a literally bloody first impression with Gale.”

“Come to think of it,” he noted as she expertly coated the red pigment around her lips, “it might’ve been more fun to try and kiss it off of you, Lieutenant.”

“There’s always later.”

He watched her hips sway to the Jeep, held her hand while he drove and smiled so wide it hurt when she slid across the bench and kissed his cheek. It all felt so normal. Felt like he was back home taking a girl to a movie and milkshakes on a Friday night. Felt like being with her was exactly where he was meant to be.

“Before you ask, no, we are not going back to the pub tonight.”

“Oh?” she asked as they drove right past. “Our memories from the other night incapable of being topped?”

“Just thought we would meet him somewhere nicer. This little bistro up the way a little bit.”

“John Egan, are you nervous?”

“Maybe.” She laughed but snuggled into his side.

“It’s very sweet that you love Gale so much.”

“Don’t tell him. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” Cass thought back to her conversation with Gale in the library. About the mushy heart right behind the very ribcage her cheek was resting against.

“You know, I’ve been told I’m good at keeping secrets.”

----

Gale watched from the window by the table as John’s Jeep pulled into view, smiling to himself as Cass held his friend’s and kissed him. Stayed close to whisper reassuring words and knock his nose against hers to seal the promise.

“Bucky you lucky son of a bitch,” he muttered. They held hands as they walked in and when she let go to shake Gale’s hand, firmer this time as the sling hadn’t gone with her dress, John had kept his hand on the small of her back. Looking back on it, Gale doesn’t think there was a moment the whole night they weren’t touching.

“Cass, this is the best man I’ve ever met, Major Gale Cleven. But I call him Buck.”

“Gave everyone else no choice but to call me Buck, too.” John pulled her chair out for her and pushed it in, sitting straight as a rod in his own until her arm locked around his comfortably. He visibly relaxed and kissed her forehead when she offered it.

The conversation flowed smoothly, John none the wiser the two of them had already met. Buck had her giggled over stories of a younger Bucky, taking her back to their days when they were first learning to fly. She asked about Marge and John noticed the way her chin dropped into her hand and she watched Gale with adoration as he spoke about the woman he had loved since he was a child. And would love until the day they died.

“She sounds absolutely lovely, Gale.” Cass reached across the table and squeezed his hand when his gaze turned melancholy for a moment.

“If you’re crazy enough to see it through with this one,” his chin jutted towards John, “I’m sure you and Marge will be thick as thieves.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad of a guy,” he spoke around bites of his dinner.

“John, you’ve got a little…” Cass motioned to the corner of her mouth to signal a bit of sauce was lingering on his. Without even really thinking about it, she used the corner of her own cloth napkin to dab away the offense.

“Better?”

“Perfect.” Gale could lose his stomach with the sweetness. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me to the powder room.” John stood as she left, watching her with a dazed smile on his face until Buck coughed.

“She’s something, Bucky. A real class act. Whip smart. Has you wrapped around her finger many times over.” John hummed around his sip of whiskey.

“I’ll keep wrapping myself around it as long as she’ll have me.”

“Yeah? I should tell you she’s too good for you.”

“You’d be right. I don’t deserve someone like her.” He swirled his glass pensively. “You know I love you and I love Marge and I love the little world you two build whenever you're together. I’ve always wanted that but kept getting in my own way. Chasing the immediate instead of being patient. Cass and I, it’s going fast because of this fucked world we live in. And I’m not getting in my own way because I’ve found a girl who won’t let me.”

“Watching you two, I think it’s real, John.”

“I think it is too,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “We’ve got to make it through this thing, Buck. I came here with nothing to lose but now I’ve got something I couldn’t stand to.” There was something desperate in his eyes. The same look Gale had seen yesterday when he was fighting the officer to reach Cass.

“Feels nice to have someone to live for, doesn’t it?” he teased.

“Nice, scary, like I’m being mauled by Meatball.” They both laughed in spite of the truth. “You think she’s smitten with me?” Gale rolled his eyes.

“I do.” Bucky nodded.

“Good.” Cause he thinks he might love her.

“Sorry for the prolonged departure.” She came back with a smile, John standing and kissing her gently. “Major, I just reapplied that.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Didn’t want to.

He watched her and Gale banter back and forth the rest of the night with a smile on his face. Cass was the first girl he was introducing to his best friend, wished it was under better circumstances. Wished he had met her somewhere the threat of not making it to tomorrow didn’t exist. That he could court her properly and take her to the drive in and canoeing on the lake by his parents house and listen to a ballgame on the radio in the summer. Wished he had the courage to tell her and Buck that he was scared of losing them both. That he had been up there once and would back up a hundred times more if it meant they could live in a safer world.

And one day, after all three of them had done their part to end this war, John will mention this dinner at Buck’s wedding. And Buck will mention it when John asks him to be their child’s Godfather. But they didn’t know what they would have to go through to get there. That John’s fear of losing them both will come true. And that he would almost lose himself in the process of getting them back.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfic #mota fanfic

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talesofesther · 11 months

Text

is it too late to call you mine? | ch 2

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: In Sebastian's prettiest dreams, you'd wear a gown of a color that matched his tie, he'd take your hand and dance all night until morning came. But those dreams felt like a farfetched reality. Would you even consider going with him? As more than a friend?

A/N: Right I lied before, we're gonna have one more chapter for this story after this one lol. Written for @spaceyaceface's HL Writing Challenge. Hope you guys like it. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 1 here

"One would think that with a library of this size, the school would have more books about this," you mumbled under your breath, brushing your hand over the cover of the thick book to rid it of the dust.

Hogwarts library had to be one of the most enchanting libraries you've ever been to; with its tall dark wooden bookshelves, high windows, spiral stairs leading up to the second floor, paintings, warm orange lighting, and desks and armchairs scattered about for each student to read to their heart's content—it all made you adore spending hours in here. It was common for Sebastian to join you, you'd both sit together and exchange thoughts about the books you've been reading until Madam Scribner had to kick you out so you'd be back in your common rooms before curfew.

Today, however, you were alone; skimming between stacks of books which were mostly forgotten and had a layer of dust covering them.

The Yule Ball was less than a week away, and it only just occurred to you that you didn't know the first thing about dancing. At least not the kind of formal dancing that one does at an event like this, with a partner.

You stared down at the book in your hands for a few long seconds before closing your eyes with a sigh.

Praying that the single book you managed to find would help you, you turned around to make your way to Madam Scribner's desk so she could check out the book for you. Once you rounded a corner, however, you bumped straight into something firm and warm, a startled oof escaping your lips as your feet lost their balance.

Only it wasn't something, it was someone. Gentle hands quickly took hold of both your elbows so you wouldn't end up falling to the floor. When you finally looked up, you were met with a familiar array of freckles and a dazzling grin.

"Picking up a new book? Without me?" Sebastian slowly pried his hands from you, his dark eyes giving a quick glance up and down before he laid one palm over his chest; "I'm wounded."

You chuckled, your knuckles going white around the book because of how close he was standing. "I'm not picking up a new book… Well, I am," you hesitated, "but you won't be interested in this one, I'm sure."

Sebastian raised a curious eyebrow at you, the golden candlelights of the library shaping the outlines of his face and highlighting the auburn of his hair to perfection. "Oh? And what book might that be?"

You bit at the inside of your cheek, not directly answering him but loosening your grip on the book ever so slightly. There wasn't a thing you could hide from him anyway.

Reaching a hand out, Sebastian tilted the book away from where you held it against your chest, coming to stand right beside you so he could properly read what was on the cover. And you could suddenly feel the warmth radiating from his body; his shoulder brushing yours and raising goosebumps on your skin while your lungs already lacked air. You could hate Sebastian for the obvious effect he has on you.

"Dancing techniques through the ages?" Sebastian read the title of the book out loud, and when he turned to look at you, the expression on his face was nearly comical, "are you even interested in that?"

You gave him what was half a smile and half a grimace, hugging the book closer to your chest again and taking half a step away from him. If you weren't so flustered you probably would've noticed the slight bit of hurt that flashed through his eyes because of your movement. "Yes?" You tried, and then groaned, "not really, but I kind of have to read it."

"Why? I don't remember us having any classes on dancing," Sebastian shrugged, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his pants.

"Yeah, I know, I know," you sighed, then closed your eyes as you spoke, much quieter; "it's because of the Ball."

"The… Ball? Why would you-" Sebastian cut himself off when he finally understood, he hesitated, his plump lips hovering for just a second, "oh, you don't-"

"No, I don't know how to dance," you huffed, feeling your cheeks immediately warming up. You avoided Sebastian's eyes then. There was really no reason to feel ashamed, dancing wasn't a skill everyone was expected to have. Yet, you couldn't help but feel at least a little self-conscious under the gaze of those dark eyes.

"And you expect to learn that from a book?" The smile could be heard clearly in Sebastian's voice; not mocking, at least not your lack of skill, maybe just your choice of a solution.

You glanced up at him again, raising your eyebrows as if to say; 'yeah, what of it?'.

An amused chuckle stumbled past his lips just before his cheek molded back to that smirk of his. "It's like learning to duel by reading a book about it. Doesn't work."

More often than not, Sebastian frustrated you to no end. It was just his luck that he looked damn good while doing it. "How else am I supposed to learn anything about it, Sebastian? The Ball is in less than a week." You argued, dropping the book on top of the nearest table as you grew restless.

Sebastian stayed quiet for a few beats, his lower lip stuck between his teeth as he apparently mulled over his next words. "I could teach you… If you'd like."

He refused to look you straight in the eye as he spoke, and you doubt you'd ever heard him sound this… timid. Hesitant. Changing his weight from one foot to the other as he picked at a loose thread on his sweater while waiting for your answer.

Sebastian was nervous.

"You know how to dance?" You were surprised at how your own voice sounded somewhat shy. The thought of Sebastian teaching you—his hands holding you close, guiding your movements; his body close to yours, personal space forgotten—made you feel all warm.

Sebastian hummed, his teasing smile making an appearance again, "you pick up a thing or two if you attend enough parties. I could teach you the basics at least, you won't be completely at a loss of what to do then."

You breathed in deeply, pursing your lips as you nodded. "Alright." It was a much better option than just reading a book about it anyway.

"Alright," Sebastian repeated after you, his throat working through a gulp, "meet me near the Undercroft entrance after curfew tonight."

"Not in the Undercroft?" You frowned.

"Not quite," his sultry voice kissed your ears, "no music in the Undercroft, after all."

── ·❆· ──

The hallways of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower were completely empty as you walked, the pristine tiles reflecting each of your steps. It was past 10 PM and the moon was high in the sky, you could only hope you wouldn't run into any of the ghosts… again.

Sebastian waited for you with his back leaning against the wall near the Undercroft, just as he said. His arms were crossed over his chest as his foot tapped the ground rhythmically. He perked up once he laid eyes on you, a gentle and sincere smile coming to his lips.

"Ready for some dance lessons, my lady?" He asked in an over-the-top courteous voice that got you endearingly rolling your eyes.

"As I'll ever be," you smiled softly then, feeling your hands growing a bit sweaty, "thank you for doing this, by the way."

Sebastian only shook his head, his own smile still playing on his lips. He avoided your eyes, "don't mention it," he told you quietly, before pushing himself off the wall and walking past you, "come on then."

You followed Sebastian up the stairs, trailing behind him until a gentle, familiar classical tune reached your ears. He lead you to the enchanted violins and cello that were constantly playing in the tower, and now you finally understood why he said 'not in the Undercroft'.

"I suppose it's close enough to what will be playing in the Ball," Sebastian gestured to the enchanted instruments.

You chuckled, taking half a step closer to him, "clever."

As the soft melody swirled around you, the air seemed to shift between you and Sebastian. Different from the usual commotion during the day, the DADA tower was entirely too calm tonight; dimly lit as it was bathed in various shades of golden coming from the candlelights that reflected against the polished floor, completely devoid of any presence save for you and him—what once reminded you of Professor Hecat's assignments, now felt like a private ballroom, tailor-made to hold this moment alone.

Sebastian cleared his throat. You wondered if he felt the shift too. "Right so, in a dance, you'll want to be as relaxed as possible, trying to move in sync with your partner," he told you, "I doubt that-" he hesitated then, words seemingly heavy on his tongue, "I doubt that Weasley is much of a dancer, so if you know a basic waltz it should be more than enough."

There was something about the way the candlelights shone against Sebastian's features, all soft and pretty, turning his expression into something akin to adoration. For you.

Your heart was suddenly in your throat. Sebastian's stare was almost too much. You'd gladly drown in that 'too much'. It holds you hostage, pierces like the afternoon sun.

"May I?" He asked, one hand outstretched, waiting for your permission to hold your waist.

You only nodded, not trusting your voice.

Sebastian looked as nervous as you felt, and you didn't want to dwell on why that was. Not now.

With a delicacy only you had the privilege of knowing, Sebastian placed a hand on your waist; the other finding your own hand so he could intertwine your fingers with his. His chest was a hair's width away from touching yours.

Your free hand came to rest on his shoulder then, as if your souls were always meant to be this entangled. You refused to look him straight in the eyes, praying that he wouldn't feel the shaking of your fingers when you squeezed his hand.

"Relax," Sebastian whispered, his voice so close to your ear that it sent shivers down your spine.

But the shaking of the syllables betrayed his own statement. Sebastian's hand on your waist tightened its grip, as his mind drowned in the possibility of you and him. Here, in this fraction of a moment, with your heartbeat following the rhythm of his own, the dream felt almost within reach.

You didn't know, but every minute with you was torture for him. Every minute you dangled something in front of him, something he knew was unattainable.

Every minute that you weren’t his was another droplet from his bleeding heart.

"What now?" you breathed suddenly, quiet as to not break the peaceful bubble around you, yet still startling him back to reality.

Several emotions were swimming behind Sebastian's eyes then, too many for you to put a finger in any of them. A soft blush formed under his freckles, barely noticeable against the faint candlelights.

But you saw it. There was a beat before either of you said anything, a beat where you just looked at each other, wondering whether the other person’s feeling the same way.

"Right, it's not hard," Sebastian straightened in his posture, adjusting your joined hands as he took one deep breath, "just try to follow me, slowly, from one side to another."

Surprisingly, Sebastian was quite a skilled dancer. At first, he did most of the work, guiding your body through each step and turn, getting you comfortable until you were aware enough to follow him quicker and on your own. And you found that it was easy to follow him; your feet, hips, and hands complemented his movements as if you were one.

You weren't sure how long it had been, all you knew was that Sebastian's hands were warm on you, your body feeling as light as a feather as you waltzed around the empty tower. Any tension any of you had felt before was long gone now. Sebastian's smile was soft and his chuckles were a music better than the one of the enchanted violins. Your soul moved in tandem with his and your bold hands pulled his body closer to yours.

If anyone were to glance, you two could easily be mistaken for the dancing ghosts that sometimes appeared around the castle.

"I think it's safe to say you're a natural," Sebastian said in between laughs, amused at the way you were dragging him around now.

You felt the squeeze of his hand on your waist, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine. "It's much more fun than I thought it would be," you told him, just a little breathless. "But I had a good teacher too, I suppose," you teased, tilting your head with a smirk.

You let go of his shoulder then, allowing him to twirl you around and then straight back into his arms. This simple night turned into a moment you'd be happy to live in forever.

Sebastian's own smile gets a little loose and gone when you do this—staying too close, smiling at him, touching—but you seem oblivious to it.

Whatever the future may hold, he was happy to say you were his; if only for this night.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 3 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Sebastian’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @auxiliare @arawai

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x f!reader #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy x reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #sebastian sallow fanfiction #my story

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mumms-the-word · 2 months

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Shadow Curse Events Pt. 3

The first 40 days

Hello, friends, and welcome to the third and final installment of this little series about the Shadow Curse in BG3. Part 1 talked about Ketheric's descent into Sharran worship and how he built his Dark Justiciar army. Part 2 detailed the events of the war between the Harpers/druids and Ketheric's army, a bloodbath that culminated in Ketheric's supposed death and a high-cost victory for the Harpers and druids.

With Ketheric's dying breath, he utters a curse and the shadow curse takes full effect within hours. That's what this post is about. There are two journals that give us a day-by-day breakdown of the shadows as they roll outward from town, Olam's Journal and Oliver's Diary. Using these (plus other materials, naturally), I wanted to construct a kind of timeline for the first 40 days of the shadow curse as it slowly took over the landscape.

Quick cw: some descriptions of madness and implied sexual trauma from one note left behind by a Reithwin citizen

As always, long post ahead, under the cut!

———

Dear Diary, Day 1: Nothing ever happens in this town. I'm ready to go to the Gate. If Mother won't let me, I'll run away myself. She says my lungs are too weak for the smoke. But how am I living at all, when all I do is milk the rothe? [mumms' note: I imagine this diary entry by Oliver was written before the battle, but during the siege. I can't imagine him writing "nothing ever happens" when a battle is actively taking place.]

Let me set the stage. It is the third day of the battle between the Harper-druid army and Ketheric Thorm. The Harpers have already tried to surrender, only to be denied by Ketheric, who joins the battle himself. The death tolls are astronomical and the citizens of Reithwin are either cowering and trying to survive the battle that rages outside their doors or fighting as part of a volunteer force. The tides have turned in the Harpers' and druids' favor as reinforcements for Dark Justiciars inexplicably stop coming (thanks to the mason's infernal deal). At last, some lucky Harper or druid strikes the blow that finally fells Ketheric Thorm. Ketheric uses his last breath to utter a curse on the land, the actual words lost to time, and dies. Together with other Harpers and druids, Jaheira assists in dragging Ketheric's body from the battlefield and sealing it inside the Grand Mausoleum. But the damage has already been done.

It's day one of the shadow curse.

Day 2 of Darkness I stood calm as Ketheric uttered his final curse and then withered. As my fellow Harpers dragged his putrid corpse from the battlefield, I allowed myself to feel relief, even solace. A wrong had been righted, an evil thwarted. Victory had come - but I had yet to know its true cost. The darkness shrouded the land like a vast cloak. It began as a chill, as if the Claw of Winter had gripped us. Within hours, every breath was a dagger piercing my throat. I hungered for air like a wolf hungers for meat - yet I could still get my fill, thanks to my armour. Would that the men and women of Reithwin had been so well-equipped. One by one they fell, only to rise as shadows of themselves, intent on extinguishing all light, and all life. The shadows hang less heavy in this place. It still takes some effort to fill my lungs, but better to expend effort than to unite with darkness. My traps should keep me safe - or at least, safe enough.

Olam, an aasimar Harper who eventually fell victim to the shadow curse as he was trying to find ways to reverse it, is our best record for the first day. According to him, the first sign of the curse was a chill, as cold as the Claw of Winter, a reference to the winter month of Alturiak.

Months in Faerûn have two names, a sort of "official" name and a common name. The second month of the year, Alturiak, is commonly known as the Claw of Winter, a month of deep cold that sets in after Midwinter (the day right before Alturiak 1). Given that Ketheric's speech to his troops suggests they're preparing to face winter, and the fact that Thisobald's notes tell us that Ketheric was poisoned by the Harpers in Elient, the month that contains the Autumn Equinox, it's safe to suggest that the battle happened in late autumn. A sudden chill as cold as deep winter would be very alarming, especially accompanied by an unnatural darkness.

So, first comes the cold, so piercing and uncomfortable it makes it hard to breathe. Then comes the shadows, a darkness that settles over the town and begins to spread. If you're in armor, if you've trained your body to withstand magical and physical attacks, if you're resistant to any kind of damage, if you're one of the miraculous soldiers who hasn't been horribly wounded and weakened, you have half a chance to survive the initial shadows.

The untrained citizens of Reithwin don't have even that half-chance.

One by one they fall to the shadows. One by one they rise again as twisted, changed, ravenous undead, "intent to extinguish all light, all life." We've seen what the curse does ourselves to Harpers like Yonas, or to other living creatures like the hyena or the goblin near the mountain pass entrance. The Harpers and druids who believe that they can put battle behind them at last are now faced with a new enemy—the undead, shadow-cursed husks of innocent (and perhaps not so innocent) citizens.

Image: An armored arm covered by black and green shadow magic reaching out.

Not just citizens, either. The shadows soon claim Harpers and druids too. The shadows do not discriminate.

Halsin: Even in defeat, though, Ketheric turned to Shar. Not long after we sealed him away in his tomb, the shadow curse took hold. No one had seen the likes of it before. No one knew how to react…Then it started to claim all those within its reach. Those who had survived the battles now fell to the shadows - became part of the shadows. And worst of all…I lost contact with Thaniel. I wanted to try and find him, but we couldn’t stay. We would have all succumbed. When the Archdruid of the Grove - my predecessor - was seized by the curse, I had to lead the survivors to safety. That was my first day as Archdruid. An inauspicious beginning.

The Harpers and druids no doubt scatter, scrambling for light, caught flat-footed in a fight against the undead they must now kill, some of whom might even be their own allies, their own friends, and a darkness they can scarcely understand. As more and more people fall, more and more corpses reanimate. There's no use fighting. Their only real choice is to run.

Halsin, among the survivors, desperately tries to gather together druid survivors and rescue the wounded from the curse, going so far as to carry some on his back, according to unique dialogue with Jaheira. As they attempt to flee, the former Archdruid falls, seized by the shadows. Halsin is forced to leave him behind to ensure the survival of the other druids.

Halsin: It is an honour to see you again, High Harper. Jaheira: No need for titles. You may call me Jaheira, so long as you are content to be known as Halsin. And the honour is mine. Your stewardship of the Emerald Grove has made for something of a story among the circles. The apprentice who survived the shadow curse, and carried his masters home on his back. Who was raised their master in turn, and searches still for a way to save what was lost. [mumm's note: Halsin says he never met Jaheira, but this could be him being polite, or him referencing that he has seen Jaheira before, they've just never spoken or officially met.]

At the same time, he's lost contact with Thaniel. The spirit of the land has been pulled into the Shadowfell somehow by the onset of the curse as it spreads outward and begins to take over the landscape. Perhaps the Shadowfell claims others, as well, the moment the darkness falls over them, rather than transforming them into undead shadow corpses. We know this happens to Art, after all.

But Halsin doesn't have time to think about Thaniel, unfortunately. With the Archdruid dead, it is now his responsibility to look after the wounded and surviving druids and lead them to safety.

[This is an ancient notebook, whose ink is faded and pages are starting to crumble. It's not easy, but some words can still be made out.] Ketheric is finished, but it cost us the land. Darkness has fallen, corruption is everywhere. [...] ...chased by shadows, picking us off, druids and Harpers alike. [...] ...our wounded were safe, I returned, searching for survivors... [...] ...lost, but I found his shade. I put it to rest and took his glaive... [...] ...blade infused with shadow. I have locked it away, to serve as a reminder that even victory can taste bitter.

In the launch version of the game, the glaive Sorrow belonged to the old Archdruid. (In early access, it belonged to Halsin, but that is an entirely separate post.) Halsin's old notebook reveals the lengths he went to save the wounded, becoming the Grove's leader the very hour, the very minute that the old Archdruid succumbs to the curse. He doesn't stop to fight the Archdruid's shade. He must save whoever he can.

In town, others are trying to flee the curse as well. The first couple of days, it's all the citizens can do to stay ahead of the darkness and escape the shadows before they're taken. One person attempts to send word via a raven seeking help. The raven, too, succumbs to the curse.

[This letter is written on a scrap of paper. Blood and age have made it near illegible in parts.] HELP! A darkness has rolled into Reithwin, cutting us off on all sides. We’ve sent people through, but no one can make it more than a few steps before [the words are obscured by drops of blood.] This letter is our last hope. Send help - anyone, from anywhere, I beg of you. I will renounce our Lady Loss and kiss the Moonmaiden’s feet if that’s what it takes. Just don’t let the darkness take us.

It's nearing the end of the first day. Halsin has at last seen the wounded to some kind of safety and turns back, braving the shadows again to try and find the old Archdruid. He finds his shade and kills it, taking his glaive as a reminder, since the shadow-corrupted body must be left behind. With his duty at last done, Halsin departs the shadow-cursed lands to return to the Emerald Grove with the survivors. He does not return again until a century later.

———

Day 2 of the shadow curse.

Olam the Harper manages to secure something of a safe refuge in a hidden room of the House of Healing's morgue where the shadows hang less heavily. He sets up traps to deter shades and shadow-cursed zombies.

Citizens of Reithwin who haven't fled the curse on day one and are resilient enough to survive the first day are slowly succumbing, too. Some citizens seem to willingly give themselves to the shadow curse, or are taken entirely by surprise.

A couple on the roof of the House of Healing lay together, whispering poetry to one another as the darkness falls. Another couple lays curled up in their home, perhaps trying to hide from the shadows as the darkness presses against the doors and windows. Other citizens drag their feet, trying to pack up their lives and follow after more slowly. The result is the same for all of them. Death to the shadow curse, or the shades it creates from the dead. Their skeletal remains lay untouched for decades afterward.

———

Day 5 of the shadow curse.

Olam, sequestered inside the morgue, is simply trying to survive. The curse begins spreading outward, its borders expanding toward the outer reaches of the landscape.

Day 5 of Darkness The shadows ebb and wane. A torch flame is sometimes enough to burn them away, but no light can dispel the deepest of them. I called my familiar Corvin to my side, but he could scarcely take wing. Tomorrow I search, and not just for food and drink. I might find a scroll, or an artefact, or an arcane focus that can ward off this curse. Perhaps I might even find another survivor.

Olam is hopeful, but he is very likely the sole survivor of the shadow curse within the town itself. There are, however, survivors outside the town, some of whom are still trying to flee. Others, like Oliver and his mother, are forced to stay in their home as the shadows creep closer and closer.

———

Day 7 of the shadow curse.

Before Oliver held half of Thaniel's essence, he was a young boy (possibly a tiefling) on a rothé farm on the outskirts of Reithwin. He seems to have been born with or developed a chronic illness of some kind, as his mother worries about his lungs not being able to handle the smoke of Baldur's Gate (I assume this is a passing reference to some early industrialization of the city). But by day seven of his journal, the shadows have already started to spread outward toward his home.

Day 7: Ha, a strange fog is descending over our own town. Hasn't left in days. Getting hard to breathe. Mother is eating her words, saying we should head out to the city to stay for a while until it lifts. We go at dawn.

(I personally don't think the numbered days in Olam and Oliver's journals align, where Olam's Day 5 of darkness is also Oliver's Day 5 in his diary. I think it's more likely that they're offset by 2 or 3 days, with Oliver beginning his journal 2-3 days before Olam did, so Olam's Day 4/5 would be Oliver's Day 7, and so on. But for simplicity's sake, I'm just going to use both of their dates as if they were perfectly aligned.)

———

Day 8 of the shadow curse.

Oliver and his mother try to brave the shadows to head west to Baldur's Gate, but the shadow-cursed creatures are too dangerous. They turn around and take shelter in their home once more. They spend another several days protected from the curse, somehow.

I suspect it's Thaniel's lingering presence near the house that is saving them. But they couldn't possibly know that.

———

Day 14 of the shadow curse.

Oliver and his mother have given up hope for any kind of escape. The shadows are too dangerous. It's too late to leave.

Day 14: We tried to leave, but there are creatures from beyond the grave, skulking around the outskirts of our land. It's too late.

———

Day 18 of the shadow curse.

Everything is dead or undead. Everything except Olam, Oliver, Oliver's mother, and the animals they care for...for now. The town is still, as if suspended in time, but not quiet. Things stir in the darkness.

Day 18 of Darkness It's a particular loneliness, in these shadows. Corvin shows great affection when I call him, even as he suffers. Those few minutes are at least some comfort, for us both. It is remarkably still in here, and even stiller out there. I have found a few scrolls and books near the House of Healing, as well as some scattered artefacts, but they hold nothing for me. The only answers call out from within the House itself, where I dare not enter. I hear the moans of the anguished, the shouts of the cruel. There are those who make their home in the shadows, but I am no less alone for them.

Olam's hopes are dwindling. The shadows had taken the life of everything they've touched. Many shadow-cursed undead lie dormant, waiting for something to stir them back into action. Others have been reduced to shades and towering living shadows. Still others, like those inside the House of Healing, have been transformed. In particular, it seems as though the nurses, if not Malus himself, have become twisted undead versions of their living selves, something different than the average shadow-cursed corpse.

Because, you see, being transformed into a shadow-cursed being doesn't simply mean death and undeath. Not always. It also means a descent into pure madness as you lose your entire sense of self. Some victims choose to venture more into the darkness rather than fight it.

Shadow creature transformation is like this: I am standing in a tunnel with one way leading into light and the other leading into darkness. The tunnel glistens and stinks like a tube of rancid sausage. Everything slick with slime. I've got to get out of here. I know I do. But which way? Light or dark? Not day and night. The light is coming from the face of my grandfather, who used to squeeze my knee under the dining table with his bony fingers. His wizened, grinning face is the face life wears. It has flayed off his face and is wearing it now, lantern bright, in the light at that end of the tunnel. The dark though. The dark is absolute. No faces there. No old family trouble there. No bad dreams or memories there, well, well that's decided then isn't it! Sauntering now, striding now, running into the velvety black, embraced, bones snapping, body softening, silking, feeling the change, old life left behind, new life new me let's go yippee!

(There's also weird poetry about the shadows, if you're interested.)

The shadow curse is still Shar's darkness, and the allure of the dark's embrace is still there. Victims who lose their minds to the shadow curse as they turn into shadow creatures are drawn to this twisted idea of a new life (an un-life, really). As we see with Yonas, they're eager to bring others down with them.

Harper Yonas: There you are...come...join me...

Reithwin may be dead, and it may be still, but it isn't quiet.

———

Day 21 of the shadow curse.

In the outskirts, the shadows have possessed Oliver's rothé. They too grow mad, attacking one another and dying, only for the shadows to resurrect them again.

Day 21: The rothe are all possessed, knocking down their fence, battling and bashing one another to death... Dying then fighting again. The shadows are everyone... right outside our window. I can't see more than a few strides out. [mumm's note: I think "everyone" is supposed to be "everywhere" here.]

The darkness is only getting worse.

———

Day 26 of the shadow curse.

Nearly one full month since Ketheric's death. The shadows have grown darker and darker. In Oliver's cabin, he and his mother can only see a few strides beyond their windows. In town, where Olam continues to try and search for ways to end the shadow curse, the air has darkened from grey to black and grown so thick that breathing it in is like swallowing molasses or tar.

Day 26 of Darkness I called on Corvin yet again, but I cannot bear his torment. Nor can I bear my own. Grey has turned almost to black, and the air might as well be molasses or tar, so hard as it is to choke down. 'All beings should walk free of fear', I was taught. Oh, if only were I granted such a fine fate.

This is the last entry in Olam's journal. After days of trying to break the shadow curse, experimenting with various spells to push back the darkness or dispel the magic, after days of him and his bird familiar, Corvin, being the only living things he has encountered since the onset of the curse, Olam finally succumbs to the shadows. Perhaps he chooses to end his own life, or perhaps the shadows have crept into the morgue and at last killed him. Either way, his body, tainted and ruined by necrotic magic, remains sealed in his morgue hideaway for another century.

———

Day 28 of the shadow curse.

There are only two people still living in the midst of the shadows. Oliver and his mother remain unaffected by the curse, so long as they stay within their home. Oliver has no idea why the curse does not push into their house—it certainly has no issue creeping into every other home in and around town.

But I suspect Thaniel is at work. Given that Thaniel's spirit was torn in half by the shadow curse, perhaps the part that lay behind took refuge in Oliver's home. Perhaps that half is already in Oliver himself.

But Oliver grows restless. Though the curse has yet to take them, living with it is not easy. His weak lungs can't handle the shadow-thick air, even if it does not corrupt him immediately. He begins to contemplate death.

Day 28: I'm not dead yet. But I'm going to die here, aren't I? I can hardly breathe. Why does it not get into our house? Why doesn't the curse take us already. Day 35: I can't stand this. I've been trying to write a memoir of myself but it's still no good. I'm too weak to pen fine words. I am going to die unremembered, be what may. It's getting pointless to cower in here. There is nothing we can do about this all-encroaching dark. Tomorrow, I will walk out into the fog, and I will laugh. With love, a farmhand, forever to be unknown.

———

Day 35 of the shadow curse.

Olam is dead. Everyone in town is dead. Most people in the outskirts are dead. Except for Oliver, and perhaps his mother, and even Oliver can no longer handle the loneliness and despair of the shadow curse. Oliver plans to leave the safety of his home and give in to the shadows, rather than die a much slower death as the shadows continue to creep in.

———

Day 36 of the shadow curse.

Oliver opens his door and walks out into the dark fog of the curse. Some flowers still bloom, untouched by the curse or the shadows, just outside his doorstep. The corpses of the rothé lie inert in the darkness, having died twice over days before. Oliver likely doesn't linger on either detail. It only takes a few strides for the darkness to envelop him.

It only takes moments for it to change him.

Oliver as he was in life is gone, taken by the shadow curse. But some vestige of Thaniel keeps him alive, keeps them both alive. But the shadows have already done their damage.

Oliver remains near his home as the years pass, his laughter and his games turning ever deadlier as the curse strengthens and grows.

———

Day 39 of the shadow curse.

Halsin and the other druids have long since returned to the Emerald Grove. The mantel of leadership weighs heavy on his shoulders. He has sealed away the old Archdruid's glaive, tainted as it is with shadow magic, and begins to turn his attention to leading the Grove. A task he never asked for, and doesn't feel he deserves.

Jaheira has moved on to other adventures, working independently or with other Harpers. It will be another several decades before duty calls her back into the shadow-cursed lands, back to the site where she fought to maintain balance and put an end to a corrupted Sharran general.

The town of Reithwin and the surrounding landscape is dead. Dead, but not quiet. The shadows sink into the land itself, twisting the trees, slowly cracking the very earth apart. Shadows continue to stir, corrupting everything they touch. The unlucky undead that are not granted blissful oblivion shamble among the ruins of the town, between the remains of the battle. Their actions are twisted recreations of their living days, as nurses or as patrons of the Waning Moon. Their minds are all but obliterated.

The town settles into a pattern of hungry shadows on the hunt and undead corpses shuffling mindlessly through the motions. This pattern will remain undisturbed for a century or more.

———

Day 40 of the shadow curse.

Inside the Grand Mausoleum, behind the sigil-sealed doors, the crypts of the dead are not as still and silent as they should be. Something, someone moves in the darkness.

Ketheric Thorm, pulled back into the land of the living, stands at the foot of his daughter's sarcophagus. He wants to forget. He wants the darkness to swallow him whole. But it does not.

A bloated, fleshy hand reaches out in the darkness, and Ketheric hears an all too familiar voice, deep and resonant with dark magic.

"Let us refocus our efforts, General. In here, we have everything we need to bring her back. It will only take time."

Ketheric, having lost everything, agrees.

———

Okay, so maybe Day 40 was just me guessing/wanting to get creative. I believe Ketheric probably woke up, since he's still functionally immortal thanks to Aylin, relatively soon after the shadow curse was unleashed. But because he was sealed in the mausoleum by the Harpers and druids, he must have spent the better part of a few years, maybe even a few decades, trying to gather the strength to blow open the doors and leave.

He's been defeated, and Shar has likely withdrawn her blessings on him. His only power now is his immortality (probably). We know he doesn't build an army again until a century later, when he does so under Myrkul's command. So I imagine he probably spends many decades in the mausoleum, trying to forget, or (failing that) trying to resurrect his daughter.

Forgetting evades me in this infinite darkness. Balthazar is my own source of the barest comfort - the thought that, perhaps, she might be brought back to me. If oblivion can fail, what defence have we against death? None except its mastery. Balthazar's words have never felt more promising.

Somehow Balthazar finds him. Perhaps Balthazar was sealed inside the mausoleum too. But Balthazar promises to find a way to restore the one thing Ketheric wants. Ketheric doesn't desire vengeance. Ketheric doesn't want another army. Ketheric wants Isobel. And Balthazar, a powerful necromancer, believes he can deliver.

So the experiments begin. And fail. And fail. Thisobald, Gerringothe, Malus. The Thorm family members rise again, except they're twisted, grotesque, a little mad. Not how Ketheric wants Isobel to be. But they keep trying. Until at last, nearly a century after his defeat, after a century of struggling to forget and fall into oblivion, ignored by Shar, Ketheric turns to Myrkul. He agrees to become Myrkul's Chosen and do his bidding, in exchange for the one thing he wants most.

Isobel.

Melodia would understand, if she knew my aim. She too, I believe, would have turned to Myrkul under such conditions as these. Our darling will live again. What kind of man would I be if I didn't raze the world entire for her sake?

Ketheric at last renounces Shar to pledge himself to Myrkul. And Myrkul, unlike Shar, keeps his promise. The death that began the spiral into Sharran zealotry, that led to the shadow curse itself, is finally reversed.

After more than a century of death, Isobel wakes up.

———

So ends the three-part series about the shadow curse. What a ride. I'm so fascinated by this entire act/history because it feels like diving into war history or something. So thanks for following, if you followed all three parts!! Let me know what other deep dives you want me to do!

Tags for those who wanted an update! @fingons-rad-harp @stuffforthestash @cakenpiewhyohmy

#bg3 #bg3 discourse #bg3 meta #bg3 critical #halsin #halsin silverbough #jaheira #ketheric thorm #deep dive #long post #super long post #someone tell me why this was the easiest one to write

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delta-pavonis · 4 months

Note

Dream Journal Rescue for the wip game, please

WHOO! Thank you for asking about this one, Nonny.

For the 2022 Dreamling Secret Santa I took a risk and wrote something that can be very divisive in fanfic and in fiction in general: first person narrative. I wrote the first half of i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) as a dream journal that Hob used to record his dreams after they came back when Dream got out of the fishbowl in 2021. It draws both from the early comics and from the TV show in terms of events/timeline. This fic got significantly less attention than the others I had written at the time, but it was also the one I was most proud of that year (and that's with Eros in Pragma and Hypnopompia turtur in there!). I am still extremely proud of it because it is, for me, I think very poetic writing. However, the first version of i had a dream wasn't post-fishbowl, but actually started before the fishbowl. Hob still kept a dream journal, and it still started in first person, but the idea originally was that Hob would figure out that something had happened to his Stranger because of his dreams stopping. Which meant that they needed to have enough of a relationship/rapport by the 1910s that Hob would trust that Dream would not miss a dream "date" of theirs without very good reason. Hence, "dream journal rescue" as the name. I only have pieces of the fic, but I keep them because I still viscerally love what I did with i had a dream SO FUCKING MUCH that I want to return to that style at some point. If you have read i had a dream you will see the bits I took from this and transferred to that.

This is totally G-rated and starts before 1889, as Hob is anticipating that next meeting, and then keeps going into 1914. Here's what I have in that WIP file:

21 October 1885

I think I need to write these down. Olive suggested I start writing these down. She is usually right about such things.

Maybe it will bring some clarity to this… mess.

I’m in the White Horse Inn. (It is always the White Horse.)

The year is not obvious from the decor, which is a riotous mix of 1389 and 1489 and 1789. Delicate teacups and straw-covered floor and fireplaces with chimneys. Of course chimneys. But I know, in the way of dreams, that it is the day of our annual appointment, the next one, in 1889.

I shake my coat and hat free of the London morning rain. I am many hours before the time of our appointment. This my usual - I always arrive early. To ready the table and, more importantly, myself for our meeting.

But in this dream I enter the White Horse to find the Stranger already there. He looks exactly as he did in 1789. Which must say something about my imagination since he has always been in impeccable fashion specific to the era of our meeting.

Or perhaps it is because he looks at me with the same burning intensity that made our last appointment so spectacular. His eyes devour me, just as they did when we parted last, and I am absolutely helpless to resist.

I am sitting then, across from him, cups of tea and venison pasties between us. His beautiful pale fingers trace around the gilded edge of the teacup. I am speaking, words tumbling forth, I can hear the droning vibrations in my ears and throat, but it is not where my attention lies.

My attention is riding the wave in his coalblack hair. My attention is wafting the bob of his throat above his high collar. My attention is tracing the sweet pout of his pink lips. My attention is flying through storm-sky eyes.

He reaches across and

Fuck. I can’t write this.

[There are several attempts at starting entries after the previous one. None manage more than a sentence.]

[No attempts at entries are made after 1889.]

1 November 1898

I woke up still drunk and still in very rural Wales (note: never ever always maybe return for Nos Calan Gaeaf in the future) and found this old journal in the bottom of my trunk, so I suppose I shall once again make a valiant attempt to take dear Olive’s advice to sort out the dreams of my Stranger that ever plague me.

(I have heard tell of work by a man named Freud who claims dreams can be used to better understand someone’s psychology and potentially even relieve psychosis. He'd have a field day with me. May I never come within 400 miles of him.)

My drunk mind lacks creativity for scenery and so when I sleep this night I find myself in the same village square I was in only hours prior… however, I am back in time about 400 years? Long before the industrialization of the region, before the extermination of these old traditions by the expansion of “civilization.”

I have just won the silly harvest mare from the clutches of the other young men bringing the last of the harvest in, a horse-shaped horror made from the final stalks of grain reaped. I am now expected to try to sneak this rustling beast into the home where the bulk of the feast is being prepared by the womenfolk without one of them dousing me with washwater. If I succeed in getting into the kitchen unscathed I will win their finest beer and an honored seat at the feast-table. I am always up for new games.

(This is all Iwan’s fault for convincing me to accompany him home for the holiday yesterday and for me getting drunk while they all told me stories of the Old Days. Let it never be said that I abandon a friend in their time of need.)

I easily weave through the crowds of women and children, in their dresses and aprons and smocks, clothing I haven’t seen in centuries but are still as real as yesterday, and cross the kitchen threshold only to find the room empty. An empty kitchen except for the crackle of the hearthfire and my Stranger sat on a barrel in front of it.

The large fire paints him in oranges and golds and he looks warm and inviting in a way that I have never experienced outside of my mind. It is the moment I know for certain that this is a dream.

When he looks up to me he appears confused, brows drawn, lips parted.

I am the first to speak, although words do not come easily to me. “What…?” After our parting in 1889 I can scarce understand why I am seeing him before me now. Although nightmares of the night plagued me in the months afterwards, I had been blessedly free of any night-time visits from my Stranger for almost a decade now. It has been an unexpected boon after so many years of dreaming of him more carnally. I know these facts within the dream. “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t stand, cranes his neck back to look up at me, and I realize he has a low collar this night, lower than it had been even in 1489. I can see flame-gold arcing around the shadowed hollow of his throat.

“It is a Ysbrydnos.” He explains in perfect Welsh, as if I am some child. I do not question why I can so easily understand him despite my mediocre grasp of the language. It is a dream, after all. “Many call on me such nights.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes, ‘tis a Spirit Night and you a spirit.”

He tilts his head to the side, bird-like and distinctly not human. “Not as such. But I will attend the dreams of many who call me here this night.” The Stranger’s voice is just as rich and decadent as it is in person. This detail my memory - traitorous bastard it is - does not neglect.

“Of course. Even the version of you I make for my dreams gives non-answers and evasions.” I can feel my whole body hunch in defeat. I wrap my arms around myself, look to the floor. “Just why…” Even my dream cannot steady my voice. “Why does my mind show you to me now? Why this torment?”

“Ah.” Now his voice is choked and staccato. “You did not call me here yourself this night.” Perhaps he is surprised, or ashamed, I cannot tell.

Still, I want to scream. “After last time…” I grit my teeth and continue to stare at the floor.

I see the toes of his black shoes enter my field of view. His chest is perhaps a handspan from mine. “Do you truly wish to never dream of me?” This inquiry is a mocking echo of his usual question, but there is no mockery in his tone. “Given…" He shakes his head, unable to say the words. Say the words he should say: Given what I did to you… Instead he restarts the sentence, "It would be well within your right to request it.”

I sigh. He almost sounds remorseful. What a fantasy this is. How contrived. “No.” And if I ever doubted before that this was a dream the tiny bits of relief I see wash over my Stranger confirms it. His eyes soften minutely. His shoulders relax a hair's breadth. “This might be the only chance I have to ever see you again. And I would take the machinations of my mind, I would take delusions of your regard, over nothing.”

He hums, looking back to the fire as he takes a step away from me. I feel cold and bereft. “This dream is over.”

And then I woke up.

1 Nov 1898 I have not dreamed of him in six months. one year. three years. seven ten fifteen

25 May 1914

After almost 17 years I found myself dreaming of the White Horse last night and when I focused upon it in my mind’s eye I almost burst into tears.

Wait, Olive always said that this was more effective if I narrated as if I was reliving the dream. That I would get more details back that way.

I begin the dream standing outside the White Horse Inn and knowing that I am dreaming. It is the first time I have begun a dream this aware and therefore it is noteworthy.

When I enter I feel his presence before I see it. Through the doors in the back, to the private room that had been set aside for us in 1789. He is once again in front of a fireplace, standing this time, hands clasped at the small of his back as he looks down into the flames.

(Note: Ponder this pattern more later, that I associate him in dreams with fire.)

The door to the room automatically closes behind me and he turns. Despite the venue, he is dressed, as always, in the pinnacle of fashion. All black - of course - but a suit with long jacket and waistcoat and tie nonetheless. The ever-present ruby sits heavy and dark just below his throat.

“I did not intend the delay, Hob.” And doesn’t that throw me for a loop. I did not know prior to that moment that one could get dizzy in their own dreams. “I sometimes forget that time flows… differently… for you humans. But I did think on our last conversation.”

Thirty questions stampede through my mind at once. Everything from ‘Did he just directly admit that he is not human?’ to ‘Which last time?’ I throw all of these aside and instead opt for a cautiously lilted “And?”

A magnanimous wave of his hand and we are sitting, the same tea and sweets that were present in 1789 grace the table between us. I hold my breath. “Perhaps we can pick up, as much as we can, where we were in 1789 before the Lady Constantine interrupted us.” I am so taken aback by the turn this dream has taken that I cannot for the life of me think of what to say next. Luckily, my mind does not require me to as he continues. “I believe you asked my name.”

I almost fall over myself to give him leave to avoid it. “Only if you wish it.” Just don't leave again.

He smiles, something brighter than usual, and it feels like looking into the Sun. “I have a list of titles, which we can get to later, but the simplest name is Dream.”

I clamp down on the anguish that’s in my throat, but it still comes out as a high-pitched wheeze from between my teeth. “Dream?! DREAM?!?” I let myself slump boneless into the chair, impropriety be damned, and splay my legs out in front of me, hands over my face. “Oh fuck my mind and these GAMES. Why can it not send me sweet dreams of you? Of COURSE you are named Dream… you are a dream! Has my subconscious no creativity? Christ in heaven…”

“Hob!” He shouts. He has never shouted at me before. I look to him through my fingers, meet twilight-blue eyes. “My name is Dream of the Endless and I am the King of Dreams and Nightmares.”

Shock, bright white and violent, runs through me and I quite literally fall out of my chair.

And then I wake up.

26 May 1914

I do not think I have ever been more wrong about something in my long long life.

Fuck.

My Stranger is Dream. He lords over dreams and nightmares. They are his Domain, his Kingdom.

F U C K

I knew that he was something Other. But this. This.

We met again last night, in my dreams. I don’t need to work at this anymore (thanks for trying, Olive) because he asked me last night if I wanted to remember this, remember meeting him. Apparently he has some manner of control over such things.

I told him yes. Of course I said yes. But I think I want to continue to keep track of what has happened, what will happen, in my dreams, here in this journal. If only so that I have something to refer to later when I have absolutely zero confidence that this is real. Some proof that I haven’t gone completely barmy.

Last night we talked. Just talked. It was in a liminal space, barely distinct as containing a floor and walls and chairs. All monotone, in blacks and greys and faint whites. It still reminded me of the back room from 1789.

He - Dream - told me so much. More than he had ever said to me in one go ever before. He told me some of his other names: Lord Morpheus (or just Morpheus), Prince of Stories, Oneiros, Shaper of Forms. He has a kingdom, home to dreams and nightmares alike. They are not only his citizens, but he creates them. Creates!

I have so so many questions.

But I must parcel them out carefully. Each answer is a treasure I will hoard.

I returned his generosity with words of my own.

#Dreamling #Pavonis writes #another dream journal fic

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inkbyajm · 7 months

Text

of kindling sparks

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tropes: fluff, slow-burn

warnings: 11 year age-gap (reader is 23, joel is 34)

word count: ~6000

author’s note: so this chapter as well as the next one basically serve as one long exposition before the main story (aka the prequel). i realise this is lengthy as hell but i needed to flesh out the relationship between joel and the reader for the upcoming chapters to hurt, you know?

(p.s. there's mention of joel carrying the reader. i know some people might be put off by this, but joel is quite buff. i mean the man works in construction, i promise he can handle carrying an adult for less than a minute)

————-　❈　————-

The air was getting chillier, the change of seasons not going unnoticed. (Y/N)'s focus was razor-sharp as she drove through the streets of Austin, making sure to take in the ever-changing leaves on the trees she passed by. As an exchange student, it wasn't cheap to be renting a car, and the money her parents were generously providing her could only last for so long. She desperately needed another source of income. Her prayers were answered the week prior when she stumbled upon an advertisement near the exit to her university. It was for a babysitting job with a decent pay and convenient working hours. She wrote an email to the address written on the poster:

Dear Mr. Miller, Is the babysitting job still available? I'm a student currently on an exchange program at the University of Texas. And while I haven't had prior experience in babysitting, I used to be an assistant teacher in a kindergarten. I'm very good with children and at keeping them alive (this is a joke, but I am pretty responsible, my mother can attest to this). If there is any need for it, I can also cook and clean up after each visit. Thank you for your consideration and I hope to hear from you soon!

Sincerely, (Y/N) (L/N)

To which, much to her surprise, she received an answer shortly after:

Dear Ms. (L/N), Yes, the babysitting job is still available. It's for my 12-year-old daughter Sarah. And while I appreciate all that you have to offer, there's nothing much to do but keep her alive, so your skill would be useful here. You can come by our house on 1411 Sullivan DR any day of the week after 5pm, we'll go over the details then. If you're still interested, you'll be able to start right away. See you soon!

Best regards, Joel Miller

After half-an-hour of driving, the house finally came into view. Just as she parked the car in the vacant driveway, and before she went to meet some stranger she hoped wouldn't turn out to be a creep, the girl gathered her wits and courage with a clasp of her hands, a deep breath, and a firm nod as if to say 'There's no going back now, and if I die, it is what it is'.

Her three knocks on the door were followed by a long pause which made her believe she had arrived either at the wrong time or the wrong house. But as she was about to turn around and flee in embarrassment, out came a middle-aged man with disheveled hair.

"Hello. Is this the Miller's house?"

"Yes, hi! I am so sorry I kept you waiting. (Y/N), right?" he said, wiping his hands on a rag.

"That's me."

"Great. I'd shake your hand, but mine are a bit dirty. Please, come in." he stepped out of the way to let her walk further into his home.

It was decently spacious and cozy, which temporarily put her at ease. They walked through the living room into the dimly lit kitchen. It smelled of spices and garlic.

He gestured around, "Welcome to our humble abode. Pardon the mess, I didn't exactly have time to tidy up," While it wasn't exactly messy, they could benefit from an extra set of hands. "You said you weren't from around here?"

"No, I'm quite a long way from home," (Y/N) said, taking a seat at the dining table. "I wanted to see other places, gain a bit of independence. Austin was one of the first to accept me, and since it seemed like a fine city to live in, I packed up my things and arrived at the beginning of summer."

"I'm Texas born and raised myself. Wouldn't dream of living anywhere else. How old are you exactly?"

"Twenty-three, sir."

He proceeded to rummage through the fridge that was almost full. "Alright. Would you like a beer, then? And please, call me Joel. You're making me feel old."

"Right, Joel. And sure, I'll have one if you do."

Joel handed her a cold bottle as he sat down across from her. She was familiar with the brand, they served it at the bar she worked at part-time on weekends. For the next hour-and-a-half, the two discussed (Y/N)'s life, her studies, Joel's job as a contractor, and Sarah. At some point, the attacks on 9/11 came up, unpacking the nation-wide terror they had brought. She recalled the panicked calls she received from her parents, begging her to come home. She had to explain that she was alright, that there was nothing to do about it now, and that she couldn't leave the city when she had already formed ties and taken on responsibilities.

Just as Joel was getting into another anecdote from Sarah's childhood, they heard keys jangling in the front door as it opened and shut.

"Speak of the devil. Done playing already?"

A soft voice rang through the house, "Yeah, I'm really tired." Then a pigtailed girl stopped abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen. She was wearing a soccer kit, carrying both a purple backpack as well as a blue duffel bag.

"Sarah, this is (Y/N). She's gonna be your nanny from now on."

The little girl hesitated at first, then gently approached the table and extended her small hand for her to shake. "Nice to meet you." she said with as much courage as she could muster, earning a smile in return.

Getting up from his seat, Joel kissed his daughter's head and told her food was ready, which prompted the child to run upstairs to her room. Feeling like it was her cue to leave, (Y/N) followed suit and slung her bag on her shoulder.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? I'm not much of a chef, but I have to admit I make a mean chili." said the man, pointing at the steaming pot on the stovetop.

The smell of a homemade meal was making her mouth water, but she hadn't known them for long enough to get comfortable. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I should really get going. I have some reading to finish before morning."

The two made their way back to the front door. "Alright, then. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, yeah?"

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Miller- Joel, sorry." she corrected herself, waving him goodbye as she swiftly got into her car and began the drive back to her apartment. She hadn't even begun the job, yet (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy about her small success.

————-　❈　————-

A couple of months had passed and (Y/N) was really enjoying her new gig. Sarah turned out to be the sweetest girl the young woman had ever had the pleasure of knowing. She wasn't fussy or troublesome, was very well-mannered, oh-so-friendly and kind, and a fan of using sarcasm here and there, which seemed to be something she picked up from her father. Joel, too, was accommodating to the new addition of their little family. (Y/N) could sense, however, that he was somewhat more reserved - closed, even. It was harder to get to know her employer, but she didn't mind, these things took time.

Leaning against her car, the young woman read her copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' for the 4th or 5th time. Something about it brought her great comfort, especially during the colder months. The festive season was quickly approaching and she wasn't sure if gifts would be appropriate so early-on in her employment. She had zoned out for so long, she didn't have time to register her name being called nor a pair of arms swiftly wrapping around her waist.

"Hey, kiddo." she laughed, hugging the curly-haired girl back.

She let go and stared up at her babysitter with her big round eyes. "Did daddy send you to pick me up?"

"No, I just finished classes and thought I'd swing by."

"What are you reading?"

(Y/N) turned the book to show the cover, "Pride and Prejudice. It's an old book."

"What's it about?"

"Uh- well, it's about a lot of things, but mainly it's the story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy who have to overcome their differences to end up together. Hence the title."

"That sounds kind of interesting."

"Yeah, but it takes a lot of hatred and pettiness to get there."

The little girl shook her head in disapproval, "Adults. Why do they have to complicate things?"

"Alright, wise one. Get in before you get cold."

The car ride gave them more time to bond. They sang to Sarah's favourite songs and talked about whatever was on the little genius's mind. It was a unique experience for both of them, two feminine energies collided, something each of them longed for dearly.

At home, (Y/N) spent a significant amount of time helping Sarah with her homework: a bunch of English grammar exercises, essay writing, as well as some algebra. Following their arduous work, the girls decided they deserved some fun and made creamy pasta (one of Sarah's favourites) for dinner. Whilst waiting for the patriarch to come home, they got comfortable on the couch to watch 'Mrs. Doubtfire'.

Unsure if she should speak during the movie, Sarah poked her babysitter's arm. "Do you have siblings?"

"I don't, no. Why do you ask?"

"I don't have any either. Do you ever get lonely?"

(Y/N) wasn't sure where these questions were coming from, but she decided to entertain them anyway. "I used to, growing up. Though my parents did a very good job at making sure I felt loved at home. I miss them a lot, but I'm happy here too."

There was a long pause as Sarah was visibly deep in her thoughts. "I never knew my mom," It shouldn't have shocked the young woman, she assumed Joel and his wife had separated after noting the absence of a maternal presence in their home, but it still came as a surprise. "Daddy said she had her own reasons and that they both agreed for me to live with him."

"Adults always have their own reasons for things, even if it may seem dumb. I'm sure it was a very difficult decision to make for her and that she loves you very much."

"I don't think about her often anymore. My dad can be busy, but he does a good job. He comes to every game, takes me to fairs and carnivals, helps me with school projects. He's also extra cool on vacation."

Something about her remark pulled at (Y/N)'s heart. "I see. He seems like a really great dad." The girls went right back to watching Robin Williams dance around while doing chores, as if they hadn't just touched on a thought-provoking subject.

It was almost 11pm and Joel was nowhere to be seen. Instead of letting the girl pass out on the couch, (Y/N) let her hold onto her back as she carried the sleepy child all the way to her room. Making sure all was right, she put her to bed, closed the window, turned on the night-light, then made her way towards the door.

"You're really cool," Sarah said sleepily with her eyes closed. "I hope you stay for a long time."

No compliment in the world could compare to a kid's heartfelt approval. "I hope so too, sweetie. Good night and good dreams."

Walking back downstairs, the young woman took one look around the house and decided she could pass the time cleaning up here and there. She started by tidying up the living room: folding the throws, fluffing up the pillows, putting the board games back on the bookshelf. Then she moved onto the kitchen where she took the trash out, scrubbed the surfaces clean as silently as she could, put the leftover pasta away, and washed the dishes. Satisfied with her work, she went back up to Sarah's room to leave a glass of water by her bed in case she got thirsty in the middle of the night.

In a house that was dead silent, she heard heavy footsteps. In a short panic, she grabbed a pair of scissors that were lying on the desk and crept up closer to the door. The steps were agonisingly slow and calculated. The woman felt like she was in a slasher movie. Babysitters always die first. The only indication she had of the intruder's whereabouts was from the shadow that was created by the light from the kitchen. This is what you get for not turning on every single light in a house where you're all by yourself. One of the most important rules in horror movies, she thought. The shadow approached closer and closer to the door, and just when she hoped the distance was close enough, she leapt out of the room and went straight for the stranger. Unfortunately, her blow was blocked and her body pushed up against the wall. In a blink, she realised what had happened.

"What the hell, Joel?" she whisper-shouted.

"(Y/N)? What are you still doing here?"

"Doing my job. Couldn't let Sarah stay all by herself with no indication of when you'd be back. That would be irresponsible of me."

He let go of her arms, lazily rubbing his face. "You're right, I'm sorry. I got held up and my cellphone died. I'm so exhausted, I completely forgot you were here."

"It's all good, I didn't hear you arrive either," she paused, noticing the blood running down his left hand. "Oh my God, Joel, you're bleeding!"

He looked at the wound like he hadn't even felt it until then, "Oh, this is nothin'. I had worse accidents at work."

"Still, it could get infected. Please, take a seat in the kitchen, I'll be right back."

She went straight to the bathroom to fetch the first-aid kit. It was essential to know where it was, what it had and how to use everything as someone who had to watch a small human being. She went back downstairs to start working on Joel's injury.

"I'm so sorry. I was so caught up in my own mind, I thought you were an intruder, and it was the only weapon at hand-"

"Please don't apologise. It was my bad, really. I should have announced myself," he spoke as he watched her gently clean the cut with a saline cleansing wipe. "Can't blame you for doing your best to defend yourself. Takes courage."

(Y/N) realised that upon closer inspection, her employer was quite handsome. Dark messy hair, a somewhat upkept beard, broad build, crow's feet that indicated how often he smiled, as well as nose wrinkles that indicated how often he frowned. She carefully applied medical tape to close-off the wound and went to put the kit back where it belonged. On her way down, she noticed him looking around in slight confusion.

"Did you…clean the house?"

"Oh, you know, just lightly tidied up. I'm not a fan of leaving the places I stay at messy. Kind of a habit," she noted the silence and her hands instantly became cold. "God, I'm sorry. Again. I- I didn't even ask if you were okay with me touching your belongings, I got-"

"No, you're good. You're good. Don't sweat it. It's just that," Joel chuckled at her need to be so polite after months of working together. "You didn't have to do this. I can't ask you do to things that aren't part of your job description."

"I know. And I don't mind. Really. It's not like I'm playing Cinderella day and night," she said as they shared a laugh. "My job is to take care of a kid and the environment plays a big role."

(Y/N) picked up her bag, ready to leave for the night, "See you on Monday, Joel."

He reached out to touch her shoulder, then just as quickly removed his hand as if she had burned him. "Uh- do you- are you- um," She looked at him with furrowed brows, it's almost as if he was…flustered? "What are your plans for Christmas? Or, you know, holiday season? If you celebrate anything at all-"

"I won't be able to fly out to see my family this year, so I haven't made any other plans yet. Why do you ask?"

The man scratched his neck sheepishly, only then realising how long he had kept her standing on his porch when it wasn't exactly warm outside. "Would you like to celebrate with us? Sarah would be ecstatic to have you."

Warmth blossomed in her chest at the sudden invitation. So gifts are appropriate. Noted.

"I would love to celebrate the holidays with you guys. But only if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

"Excellent, then I'll be here."

"Great."

"Good."

They stared at each other for way too long, the nanny realised, bearing the slightest of smiles. "Well, then. Good night, Mr. Miller."

He shook his head at her teasing tactic, "Drive safe, Ms. (L/N)."

There she was again, driving back to her apartment, giggling to herself like a maniac and for what? They invited her to celebrate a holiday. People did that all the time. Office workers, family members, casual friends, new and old lovers, it was truly nothing exceptional. But to her it felt different and she couldn't tell if it was because Sarah liked her enough to want her there or if it was because it came from him. Christmas was three weeks away. Three. Weeks. Away. Gifts. She needed gifts. What would she give them? What did they like? It came to her that she didn't know them that well, which meant she had some investigating to do in the little time she had left for shopping.

————-　❈　————-

When Christmas finally came, (Y/N) simply could not contain her excitement. She thought long and hard about the presents she would give the Millers, and while they may have appeared simple, she hoped that they would be appreciated. She personally wrapped them up in brown paper and decorated them with stamps, ribbons, and tags, firmly believing in the art of gift-wrapping. Austin had yet to see snow, she didn't think it would ever happen, yet the city was nevertheless bursting with festive spirit. Various lights decorated the trees and bushes in public parks. People hosted diverse markets in the streets where they sold artisanal goods and delicious foods. (Y/N) had gone ice-skating with the Millers a couple of weeks prior. Joel was as bad as she thought he would be; Sarah, however, was a natural. They enjoyed a lively Christmas parade that same day.

After parking in front of the house that was very tastefully decorated with her help, the young woman made her way towards the door, her homemade chocolate tarte in hand, and knocked, taking a second to register a male voice she did not recognise. The door swung open to reveal a man not much older than her, wearing a plaid shirt and dark blue jeans.

Looking her up and down, the stranger gave her a smirk, "And who might you be?"

"Hands off the babysitter, Tommy!" she heard Joel yell from deep inside the house.

"Ah, the famous babysitter!" he exclaimed, opening the door further. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

It smelled of oven-roasted turkey, of cigarette smoke, and of pine from the christmas tree. She found all of them moving about the kitchen: cutting vegetables, setting the table, washing the dishes. She felt like she'd arrived a tad too late.

"Can I help with anything?" she said, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"Nah, everything's good to go," Joel replied as he scrubbed the remaining pots, "(Y/N), this is Tommy, my brother."

Said brother took her hand and placed a tender kiss on the back of it, "Very nice to meet you." Sarah couldn't hide her look of disgust if she tried.

"I didn't know Joel had a brother."

"You didn't tell her about me?" Tommy asked in exaggerated disbelief.

"Was I supposed to? Didn't know I was running a datin' agency."

"Thought that was part of the deal when we agreed to be each other's wingmen."

"Mm, don't recall us ever doing that."

"Well, we did. Spiritually. When we went to Buddy's Place? It was just around the time when Cat-" Tommy's monologue cut short with one sharp glare from Joel. (Y/N) could practically taste the tension emanating from him. Not a big fan of reminiscing the past, she noted.

"You know what, it's no problem. It's the perfect occasion to get to know each other, eh?" the younger brother flashed her a smile. They sure had impressive genes in this family.

Once the eldest Miller was done cleaning, all three adults cracked open a few cold ones to start off the evening. Tommy had the brilliant idea to teach Sarah a few card tricks, peaking their guest's interest.

"What are you teaching a 12-year-old cards for?" (Y/N) amusedly asked. Sarah seemed excited, she was one of those kids who loved to learn, it didn't matter what it was.

"First of all, every member of the Miller family knows how to play cards, we start young. And second, if not me, then who?" He made a good point. Tommy was, after all, the fun brother. "Wanna join in? I'm told I'm a great teacher."

She caught onto the subtle flirt and found herself wanting to return the energy. He was tall, he was dark, he was handsome. He smelled of cigarettes and beer with a hint of citrus notes. Not bad with kids but he wouldn't want any of his own anytime soon; very friendly, which for him also meant outgoing, ballsy, and prone to getting into trouble; charming to the point that he might seduce a few dozen women in one night; funny enough to make people like and maybe even trust him. She didn't mind flirting, but that was the extent of her intentions, and something told her Tommy Miller felt the same way.

They spent some time watching as Tommy performed the most outrageous tricks seen to man, to which his sole excuse was "I'm a bit rusty". He also tried to teach Sarah the art of cheating which, much to his disappointment and sorrow, his niece refused to take part in for moral reasons. (Y/N) noted the elder Miller's absence and excused herself from the oh-so-riveting demonstration of a disappearing card to go look for him. After searching the kitchen, his bedroom, as well as the garage, she stepped outside with a throw blanket and found him sitting on one of the patio chairs.

"What are you doing here? You'll get cold." he said, glancing at her from the side.

"I'm tougher than I look," she answered, nevermind the blanket tightly wrapped around her frame. "Came to keep you company."

"Who said I need any?" She sensed a hint of a playful tone.

"I don't know, you look awfully lonely sitting next to that empty chair." This earned her a light chuckle as she sat down. He didn't look very warm with one hand in his jacket pocket and his collar lifted up to his chin. She proceeded to awkwardly move her chair closer to his and slowly, as if dealing with a wild animal, reached out to wrap the throw around both of them, thankful that it was big enough for the job.

Sensing how still and tense he was, (Y/N) felt the need to talk to lighten the mood, "So, do you always sit outside all by yourself? In the dark? And in complete silence? Brooding-"

"I get the picture, and no," he took a sip from his bottle. "Sometimes I like to sit in my car."

He was capable of humour, which was a refreshing discovery after countless weeks of being formal. She understood wanting to define clear boundaries between employer and employee, but when she was essentially tasked to bond with his child and regularly invited to family activities, the lines naturally blurred, and her curiosity intensified.

"Who's Cat?"

Joel was silent for a second, then let out a reluctant sigh, "Cat was…a girl I knew way back when I was young."

"You're talking like you're in your 50s."

"I'm 34 to be precise, but fine, back when I was younger," he said grumpily. "We dated for a bit, then we didn't. That's how it went with most women I met."

"Oh, is this a Casanova situation?"

"No, more of a 'not ready to commit to a kid' situation," The silence that followed was loud, (Y/N) didn't want to make a sound, afraid he'd realise what he was doing and shut himself off. "I was 21 when Sarah was born. She's the joy of my life, I don't know what I'd do or where I'd be without her, truly. But...it was hard back then for a single dad with a newborn. Never went to college, had to take on side jobs to sustain both of us. My love life wasn't exactly a priority, and when the opportunity presented itself, they fled as soon as they heard the mention of a child."

The next question was risky, but she couldn't think of anything else, "So you haven't dated since your younger days? Not even the hot single moms in your area?"

This made Joel laugh heartily, a sound she loved to listen to, something she wanted to hear more often. "Not really. I mean I've flirted here and there, but Sarah and I are good the way we are now. She's my priority, and I want to make sure my partner's good to my kid too, you know?"

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened to Sarah's mom?" (Y/N) probed further, "Sarah told me-"

"Nothing happened. She left and that was that." The wall was back up. You pushed your luck.

Luckily for them, Sarah called for everyone to play cards. Which was then followed by board games. What they discovered that evening is that (Y/N) was either incredibly skilled at them or simply unbelievably lucky. She and Tommy got on well, making innocent physical contact here and there, high-fiving each other, sharing a lot of laughter, too much laughter for the man that sat across from them. Joel wasn't jealous, he was never jealous, but the sight didn't make him feel happy either.

After a while, the oven beeped, indicating that the turkey was ready. The four of them prepared the table with bowls of salads, bread slices, side-dishes, making space in the centre for the bird accompanied by roasted vegetables. (Y/N) joined in their prayer before they dug into their food. They shared all sorts of life stories: Tommy's time in the army, the most frustrating clients Joel had ever had, more embarrassing anecdotes from Sarah's childhood, funny and dramatic events that occurred while (Y/N) was on vacation. The young woman then brought out the tarte she'd made for the occasion, much to everyone's delight. It was as silky as she hoped it would be, tasting notes of coffee in her chocolate dessert covered in walnut crumbs. The ambience was relaxing, they sat under the dim light of the scented candles dispersed throughout the kitchen, bathing in the sounds of laughter and utensils scraping against the food on their plates.

When all was devoured, they moved the party back to the living room and Tommy decided it was time for presents. Sarah received hers first, which turned out to be a collection of CDs of her favourite musicians from Tommy and a skateboard she'd wanted for a long time from her dad. She hugged each of them very tightly, already excited to put both of her new belongings to use. Then it was Joel's turn to unwrap a brand new wallet gifted by his brother (apparently, he had complained about his old one he owned for more than a decade) and a second-hand guitar from Sarah that she acquired from a friend's cousin then paid for a cleaning by a professional with her own pocket-money (with a little help from uncle Tommy). Tommy received a steel lighter from Joel, who claimed the custom engraving – a hand-drawn cowboy hat on the front and T. Miller on the bottom – was Sarah’s touch. Just when everyone thought they were done, (Y/N) cleared her throat, calling for their attention, whilst dragging her bag closer to where she sat on the floor.

“I brought gifts of my own.” She declared and pulled out a box and gave it to Tommy, whom she'd met only hours ago. “I’m sorry, I took this just in case someone else would be here, but I wish I had gotten to know you sooner to customise the present to your taste- “

“Oh my sweet God,” he muttered, staring at the large crystal bottle of whiskey. “This is one of the fanciest kind around, it ain’t fuckin’ cheap either!”

“You’re lucky Tommy here is a whiskey connoisseur.” Joel said from his laid-back position on the couch.

The younger brother engulfed her in a warm hug soon after, “You got my taste just right, sweetheart, thank you.”

The room was silent as she extended a purple envelope to Sarah, who sat across from her. It didn’t seem all too exciting. The kid in question opened the envelope, eyeing her babysitter, who herself seemed a bit nervous. The silence in the room was suddenly broken as the 12-year-old squealed her hardest squeal, forcing both Millers to cover their ears.

“It’s two VIP tickets to the Halican Drops concert in Houston next year!” she exclaimed, launching herself at the now grinning woman. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“How’d you get those? I thought they were sold out.” her father asked, clearly having gone through the struggle of standing in long queues to make his daughter happy.

It was difficult to breathe with a prepubescent child sitting in your lap as she held you in a death-grip. “I have an old friend who happens to work at the venue.” she replied, accepting the kiss on the cheek from Sarah who sat back on the ground, practically buzzing as she stared at the pieces of paper in her hands.

Lastly, (Y/N) got up to stand in front of Joel as he looked up at the object she extended in complete surprise.

“You really didn’t have to- “

“Just open it.”

So he did. What he found inside was a Prussian blue knit scarf.

“I noticed you never wear one, and it’s pretty chilly out, so I figured I’d knit you one myself. Finished it just in time a couple of days ago. The color looks flattering on you.” she explained, blushing deeper and deeper with every word. She failed to notice that he, too, was heating up.

“Well, I’ll be damned. This woman can bake, she can knit, she’s smart, and she plays cards like a pro. I mean what can’t you do?” And while she knew Tommy was teasing, she couldn’t help but redden even more.

“I’m pretty proud of my mixing skills,” she added, making him pause with a face that read ‘no way’. “I’m a bartender on the weekends.”

She had barely finished her sentence when she yelped as Tommy scooped her up and over his shoulder. “That’s it! I’m taking this one with me. It was nice to see ya, big brother!”

(Y/N) squealed and wiggled around as much as she could to try to get him to let her down whilst Sarah did her best to save her friend by clinging to one of her uncle’s legs in protest. It was one chaotic scene unfolding in front of Joel, who had not moved from his seat, still staring at the scarf in his hands as he ran his thumb over the soft wool.

After all that excitement, the household members spent a few more hours watching ‘Home Alone 2’ and ‘Jingle All the Way’, DVDs Joel had bought earlier that week. During the viewing, he caught himself glancing at the woman curled up against the arm rest less than a few feet away from him. She remained completely oblivious, amused by the tomfoolery happening on-screen. He left the room for a moment to dispose of his empty bottle in the kitchen. On the short way there, he realised he was slightly tipsy. While he was rummaging through the drawers, he heard someone come up behind him.

“Looking for this?” he turned around to see (Y/N) holding up the bottle-opener. She walked up to the counter and opened the bottle in his hand, brushing her cold fingers against his warm ones in the process.

“You’re cold.” he commented bluntly.

“Yeah, my extremities get cold easily. That’s why I walk around in gloves and thick socks as soon as the temperature starts dropping.”

She threw away her own empty bottle and swiftly turned around to walk back into the living room, when she felt his hand wrap around her wrist ever so gently.

“I didn’t get to thank you back there. You know, for the present?” he spoke softly, giving her a rare smile. “It was real nice of you.”

She noticed the way his pupils were slightly wider than usual and his stance that seemed to swing back-and-forth ever so subtly. “Joel, are you…are you drunk?”

“It takes a lot more than a few bottles of IPA to get me there. I’m just fine.” he whispered, for what reason she wasn’t sure, then unexpectedly walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn’t leave her to contemplate her next actions for too long because he emerged not even a minute later, holding his right hand behind his back.

They found themselves standing closer than they should have, but neither of them seemed to care as Joel revealed the mystery object.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

It was the most beautiful edition of ‘Jane Eyre’ she had ever laid her eyes on. Red leather hardback with golden accents all over it, including the fore-edges, it looked like something out of a royal library.

“How did you know?” her question was vague, but she knew he knew what she meant.

“Sarah told me about the books that you like, said you haven’t read this one in a long time.”

Her warm embrace came to him as a surprise, but in the state of mind he was in, not only did he accept it, but it felt good, it felt right to hug her back.

“It happens to be one of my favourites, so thank you. Really. For all of the things you’ve done for me so far.”

The two held onto each other for longer than needed until Tommy’s call brought them back to reality. The other Miller eyed the returning pair suspiciously as they took their respective places on the couch and went back to watching the movie in comfortable silence. Only he noticed the red book in her possession and fought hard to stop himself from smiling.

Later that night, after all the dishes had been washed, the leftovers put away, and the only child put to bed, Tommy reluctantly sat in the back of the cab Joel had called for him. I am not fetching my brother from a jail cell on Christmas Day, he'd told him. When he walked back into his home, he saw a sleeping figure on the couch, covered by one of the throws.

He went into his bedroom and took no more than 10 minutes to replace all of his linen with fresh ones from the closet in the hallway. He wasn’t going to let his guest sleep on a couch, especially not under a row of windows or next to the entrance door. Carefully picking her up, and she was one deep sleeper, he made his way back to his bed to lay her down on the new sheets.

My extremities get cold easily.

He changed his usual blanket for a thicker one then grabbed a pillow and went to make his bed downstairs. He picked up the scarf lying on the coffee table once more and unfolded it entirely, only then noticing the tiny initials embroidered in grey into one of the ends – J.M. Upon an even closer inspection, he realised it smelled of vanilla and flowers.

————-　❈　————-

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

tags: @elliaze @joeldjarin

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you

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agentsofmarvel · 1 year

Text

some of my favorite agents of shield fun facts (season 3 edition) (part 1!!)

season one & two fun facts are on my page!! this may be the last season i do though :)

- the little tagline they used in the writers room for season two was “what will i become?” to reference skye’s new powers and learning about her family, coulson’s new position as director, and other character changes. in season three the tagline became “what have i become?” showing the characters evolution into season three and onwards.

- many of the writers also said that the season focused on emotional balance between characters. it was focused on the emotional connection between may & andrew, daisy & lincoln, coulson & rosalind, and fitz & simmons.

- after being taken by the monolith at the end of season two, elizabeth got no confirmation that jemma was alive and she still had a job playing her until being brought back for season three months later.

- the writers were a bit unsure of mack’s character evolution after season two but when they saw henry simmons acting they immediately saw “leading man material” and began to discuss him as a possible director.

- they had a “skye jar” in the writers room when writing season three because everyone kept forgetting daisy and writing skye.

- apparently jed & maurissa’s newborn guest starred in the first episode [03x01] sometime during the opening scene with joey. i watched the episode on Disney+ and i couldn’t find her though, maybe y’all can! [the bts picture i found has her in a blue stroller, dm me for the pic if you want!]

- the inhuman lash is played by matthew willig, a former NFL offensive tackle. he was chosen because not only his huge stature but his previous acting work. he had to take 4 hours in the makeup chair daily for the role.

- the character rosalind price was created to give coulson a role other than “the surrogate father”. both the writers and clark wanted to give him a romantic role. however, when they talked about her to the costume department they described her as a “female coulson”.

- as skye was written as the “eyes of the audience” in season one and bobbi was the same for season two, the writers created the character of joey gutierrez as the eyes of the audience of season 3 with inhumans.

- the writers created the relationship between daisy introducing joey into shield/inhumans to mirror coulson introducing skye into shield back in season one.

- joey’s character was supposed to be a more permanent character in the following seasons but actor who plays him, juan pablo raba, had just booked another show and he couldn’t do both.

- according to the costume designers, they describe coulson’s season three look as his “bad ass civilian look”

———

i am working on more season three facts rn, but i wanted to post some now!! also i wanted to take this time to show my support for the writers currently on strike (some of which wrote the scenes we love in aos!), they ask so little for the amazing work they do and i hope they get what they deserve in the near future !!

#agents of shield #aos #marvel agents of shield #clark gregg #phil coulson #melinda may #ming na wen #skye agents of shield #daisy johnson #chloe bennet #elizabeth henstridge #jemma simmons #leo fitz #ian de caestecker #henry simmons #alphonso mack mackenzie #alphonso mackenzie #Joey gutierrez

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molly-ghuleh · 7 months

Text

Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 6

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: Even though you have finally begun to translate Elizabeth's diary, you still need context. A visit from the archivist answers some questions but raises even more.

Word count: 4.6k

A/N: Helloooooo! Thank you all again for your extraordinary patience in the long wait for this chapter. It isn't the most eventful (nor am I the proudest of it) but things are definitely happening, and I think you all will enjoy where it's going!

P.s., the identity of the archivist was inspired by the lovely @writingjourney <3

Warnings: Nihil being a bad dad (again), descriptions of anxiety/panic, descriptions of afab people being seen as objects

AO3 / Chapter 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Secondo thinks that abdicating the position of Papa might be the best thing to ever happen to him.

That’s not to say he disliked being Papa. Quite the opposite, really—holding the scepter, wearing the crown, and hearing the title were all a generous ego boost. But the aspect he loved the most was that he could promote the tenets of the Lord Below how he wanted, how he felt was most effective. He was the mouthpiece of Satan, the proprietor of His word and the bridge between his unholy flock and the fires of Hell.

But that’s about it. He loved the glory, sure. He did not like the man that the Ministry molded him into. Once he stepped down, it was hard to look himself in the eye without cringing. He was supposed to hold the power for Satan, not the Clergy, and certainly not for Sister Imperator.

Just about the only thing he has to thank that woman for is the time he’s gotten back after “stepping down.”

Secondo has always been interested in the archives, ever since he was a boy. He would sneak around the Abbey in Rome into places he shouldn’t have been and see things he probably shouldn’t have seen, and keep everything he saw to himself. Having the knowledge of secrets he wasn’t supposed to know made him feel important, like he held some power over the Clergy if he decided to open his mouth.

So when he'd stumbled upon a dim room towards the back of the library at the tender age of eight, he thought he’d found the Library of Alexandria. Wall-to-wall shelves of thick leather bound books, stacks of tightly-rolled parchment and linens depicting unholy scenes. An old wooden table holding a desk lamp and a magnifying glass. A single lone lamp that, when he’d pulled the chain to illuminate it, had emanated a click so loud that he thought he’d be caught for sure.

He’d been so disappointed when he realized he couldn’t understand any of the books or scrolls or linens. They were all written in a language unfamiliar, which he knows now to be Latin. But at eight years old, his primary focus was to learn the unholy scripture, to serve Satan in his duties as an altar boy, and to make his father proud.

That last point… he never did accomplish.

But he did eventually learn Latin, so that he could read what was in that dim room. He’d learned to shimmy the lock open (the Roman Abbey is ancient, it wasn’t a difficult task) and sneak in, absorbing as much information as he could.

Secondo learned about rituals that haven’t been done in centuries. He read prayers and psalms that had been forgotten with time. He found drawings of long lost artifacts and relics shrouded in mystery. Each new bit of knowledge gave him that rush of adrenaline that could only come from forbidden things.

When he was old enough, he was allowed into the archive room. Of course, no one had known he’d already spent countless hours there. His father wanted him to know his family history if he were to take up the helm of Papa one day. You need to know what is in your blood, his father had said. Just as Primo does, and just as Terzo will.

Secondo had wanted to ask, what about Copia? But he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want his archive privileges revoked as soon as he’d gotten them.

The first thing he’d done was find his family tree. Who came before him? Who was Papa before his father, and before his father’s father? How far back did the Emeritus bloodline really go?

It was in the family tome that he first discovered the words Primus Motor. Up until a specific time, every Emeritus heir had been conceived by a woman with the title Prime Mover. Then the women proceeding them had lost that title, with seemingly no pomp or circumstance. Nearly a thousand years ago, the title had been dropped and forgotten. The final Prime Mover, it seems, had been a woman named Elizabeth.

When her diary had been found in some random basement room of the Abbey, Secondo immediately requested to be the archivist in charge. She was his ancestor, and the last Prime Mover on record. Her diary must have an explanation, or some insight as to what exactly a Prime Mover is. There were Prime Mover rituals outlined in those books he’d found as a boy, sure. But none ever explained what the significance was beyond “the chosen maternal body.” It all sounded rather dehumanizing.

But Sister Imperator had told him to keep that fact a secret. She’d brought in a translator to decipher the diary without telling her the whole story. So, he wasn’t terribly surprised to learn that you’d requested to speak to him, or that when he finds you in the restricted room, you look like a deer caught in headlights.

“Papa,” you say, standing to greet him formally. You bow your head out of respect and give him your name. “I can be out of your way, if you need—”

Secondo simply puts a hand up to stop you. “No, sorella. I am here to speak to you about the diary, as you requested.”

Your eyes go so wide that he almost laughs. “Wh-what?” You swallow. “Forgive me, Papa, I didn’t know that you are the archivist who evaluated Elizabeth’s diary…”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Secondo asks.

“No! No,” you scramble, shaking your head slightly to align your own thoughts. His intense gaze pins you to the spot, and not in a good way. Not a bad way, either, but… not in the way Copia’s gaze does.

Determined not to make a fool of yourself, you steel your nerves. “It’s not a problem, Papa. I apologize. I have only… the highest member of the Clergy I have ever met until I arrived here was Bishop Beaumont. I still find myself a bit overwhelmed, sometimes.”

The corners of Secondo’s painted lips tick up at your admission, but he makes no mention of it. “No matter. What is it you wished to discuss?”

You sit and turn your notebook around so Secondo can read the translation of the first line. Today I was chosen to be Papa’s Prime Mover.

“I was wondering,” you begin, “if you might be able to tell me what a Prime Mover is.”

After reading the translated line, Secondo leans back. “I do not know much,” he answers gruffly. “But I do know that it was an esteemed position. Something to do with continuing the bloodline. However the title of Prime Mover is no longer used.”

“How come?” You ask.

“I do not know.”

You hum and look down at Elizabeth’s diary, like it might speak the answer to you itself. Something to do with continuing the bloodline? “Sister Imperator told me that you estimated this diary to be about five hundred years old,” you say. “Is there a reason you chose that number?”

At Secondo’s silence, you meet his eyes again to find that his brows are furrowed and his jaw is set. His lips form a tight line, deepening the clefts beside his mouth. “I only ask because it may help with context,” you offer, defending your question. Your chest flutters with nerves again. You hope you haven’t somehow angered him… he’s quite intimidating.

Secondo’s mind turns. Sister Imperator hadn’t told you that he was the archivist, and she’d told you a different number than the one he’d estimated. She asked him to keep Elizabeth’s status as the last Prime Mover a secret. It seems odd, like she knows something that she wants neither you nor Secondo to. He finds himself annoyed that Sister wants to keep something shrouded in such unnecessary mystery.

“Sister Imperator has given you the wrong number,” he says after a moment of tense silence. “I believe it is nearly a thousand years old.”

“A thousand?” You gape. For a volume that’s a millennium old, it’s in remarkably good shape. You’d thought the same when you believed it was just five hundred years old.

Secondo nods. Whatever reasons that Sister Imperator has for wanting to keep the diary a secret, he doesn’t know. But if he can do anything to learn about his family and its history, or if he can spite Sister… he’ll take that chance. “Elizabeth is the last Prime Mover on record. I do not know why the title was dropped, and I do not know why it is supposed to be such a secret.”

Oh. Yes, you understand. Papa must have his reasons for disliking Sister, and you have your own. If you can contravene her in this small way, a secret kept between an archivist and a translator, you will. You’re slightly ashamed that the thought makes you a little giddy, but not ashamed enough to not do it.

“So,” you guess, “you’re hoping that this diary answers that?”

“Correct,” Papa nods again, and stands. “I ask that you keep me informed, sorella.”

“Of course, Papa,” you say with a polite smile.

He leaves the restricted room and you’re left alone with Elizabeth again. Only this time, there is a new clarity between you and your subject. Your gaze drops down to the pages of jumbled letters, wondering.

Papa Secondo had said that the position of Prime Mover was esteemed. If it had been, why was it dissolved? Perhaps it wasn’t dissolved at all, and it was only forgotten? And… the position is related to the Papal bloodline, so surely these Prime Movers would have been the mothers, right?

The answers lie in front of you, waiting to be translated. Elizabeth herself beckons you with her slanted script, saying, read me. Hear what I have to say.

And how you want to focus. How you want to spend the next weeks painstakingly deciphering letter by letter, word by word until you find these answers which will sate your curiosity. But, damn it to Hell, all you want to do is find Copia and tell him what you’ve found out. You want to tell him that you’re still here, that Sister Imperator had agreed to let you stay after your dramatic, last-minute discovery. You want to ask him all sorts of questions about what he might know of Prime Movers or his ancestors. You want to watch the excitement bloom in his eyes as it always does when you speak about the diary.

You have your reservations, though. Going to Copia on anything other than Ministry business feels like you’re overstepping your position. Who are you to assume that you’re important enough to him to just pop in?

In those moments in the gardens, and in the chapel, though… it sure felt like you were. He had looked at you like you were. In the gardens he was Copia, and you find within yourself that you’d rather be sent back to Liège than see Copia as only Papa again.

~~~

It’s been two days since Copia has seen you. Two full days since he’d watched you half-waddle down the Sibling corridor, soaking wet and shivering and covered in mud from the knees down, and he can’t focus on anything whatsoever.

There’s some official bulletin or another on his desk, awaiting his signature to distribute it out to the rest of the Ministry, but he can’t bring himself to pick up his pen and sign it. Not for a lack of caring—the bulletin is actually quite important—but because he’s conjured up this beautiful picture of you in his head, and he’s afraid that if he moves he’ll lose it.

You must be busy. You’d told him you had an idea about the cipher on your way up the hill out of the gardens, and if he hasn’t so much as gotten a glimpse of you around the Abbey, it must have been a breakthrough. He knows how frustrated you’d been, how determined you were to figure it out, as you’d said. I want to stay and figure it out.

Another part of Copia’s mind, the part he doesn’t want to listen to but that is so very loud, tells him that perhaps your idea had been wrong, and Sister Imperator had sent you home. Maybe the reason he hasn’t seen you is because you’re not even here anymore.

So, he keeps still, his eyes unseeing as he stares into nothing but his own mental image of you. If you’re really gone, at least he has this. You might not be gone, but he’s almost scared to go looking for you because he might find that you are. As it stands, you are Schrödinger's Sister of Sin. Here, and not.

His, and not.

“Al diavolo questo,” Copia grumbles to himself, pushing himself up from his chair. He rounds his desk, sending a few loose papers (including the bulletin he’s supposed to sign by the end of the day) to the floor, and swings open the door to his office. He turns left, towards the library. If there’s a chance he can see you, rather than his limited mental image of you, he’d be foolish not to take it.

His footsteps are determined, bringing him quickly down the stairs to the main artery of the Abbey, and across the wide hall towards the entrance to the library. His breath picks up and his heart pounds in his ears like he’s sprinting. By the end of this agonizing trek to the restricted room, he just might be.

He takes the stairs to the right of the library entrance two at a time. Usually he would smile and wave to whichever Sibling is working the front desk, but not today. The guilt he feels is quickly squashed by the pressing need to either see you or not see you. It feels like it’s eating him up, not knowing.

Copia has tried to be patient and give you time, if you are still here. He knows that what happened between the two of you in the chapel was a lot, all at once, and even if nothing had been said explicitly, you must know. You must.

For a moment, when he reaches the top of the stairs, he wonders why it is that he feels so strongly for you, so quickly. It’s as if Satan himself deposited you on his doorstep, just for him. As if Satan had kept him from sleeping that night, so that you could run right into him outside the restricted room door.

He rounds the corner to walk further into the library, into the shelves of romance books (which, he admits, is rather serendipitous placement). His heart thuds against his sternum when he sees the little square window in the door illuminated. Who else would be in that room with the door closed but you? Who else would have any reason to spend more than five minutes in there, aside from you, or Secondo?

Copia loves his brother. He really does. But he hopes to Lucifer that it isn’t Secondo behind that door, or he might punch him simply for the fact that he’s not you.

He reaches the door, and pauses. His hand rests on the brass doorknob, but doesn’t turn, because what if you are gone?

No, no. You aren’t gone. You can’t be gone.

He turns the handle and pushes the door open on squeaky hinges. There you are, sitting at the desk you always do, head tilted up to see who is at the door. Your brows are slightly raised, your shoulders are hunched—you must be tense from sitting over your work all day—and your finger is placed against that grid of letters as if you had been in the middle of decoding a word when he walked in. The light of the desk lamp attached to your station casts your skin in a warm glow.

If he thought his heart would calm when he saw that you’re still at the Abbey, he was mistaken. Just the sight of you here, that slight hint of heat in your face illuminated so plainly by the desk lamp has his chest vibrating with relief. At least his mind quiets, the tempest of thoughts and questions finally calming after a long, sleepless two days.

“Papa?” You ask, after a long moment. You sit up a bit straighter and tilt your head. The slight crease between your brows returns, and Copia wishes he could kiss it smooth again. “Are you alright?”

Your voice seems to break Copia out of whatever reverie he’s stuck in, because he finally blinks and his jaw closes. “I— eh, yes, I’m alright.”

You slowly stand from your desk and round it, but keep a respectable distance between you and Copia. “You don’t seem alright,” you say. “Copia… what’s wrong?”

It feels like a weight off his shoulders to hear you call him by his name. With you, he’s not Papa. He doesn’t want to be Papa, not to you, not when you’re looking at him like that. “I thought you might have been gone,” Copia breathes, his voice just above a whisper. “I thought she might have sent you back.”

“She didn’t.”

“Good, that’s… good.”

You and Copia stare at one another for another moment. The air is thick with something unspoken.

“I figured it out,” you say. Then you add, “the diary,” because you both know that there are two things you had to figure out. The diary, and… this.

You’re still working on whatever this is, and Copia is still staring at you.

“Copia,” you say with an awkward little smile, “why are you staring at me?”

His own lips curve into a smile. “Sorry, cara mia. I’m just happy you’re not gone.”

“Me, too.”

“So, eh… what is it that you figured out?” Copia asks, blinking a few times in rapid succession. His heart still hammers in his ears.

You round your desk again to turn your notebook over and show him. “She’s clever. Every word requires a new key, which is why we could only decipher one word using her name,” you explain. “Every decoded word is the key to the next one.”

Copia leans over to read the notebook. You have it flipped open to the complete translation of the first line, and his eyes scan the sentence a few times. “Prime Mover?” he asks, looking back up at you.

“I don’t know, either,” you tell him.

He hums in response, his gaze falling back towards the diary and your notebook.

“When were you going to tell me that your brother is the archivist, you ass?”

Copia’s head whips back up, afraid that you’d be actually angry at him. His mouth opens, prepared to defend himself because how would he know that you were planning on speaking to his brother? But he sees your wry grin, and the protest dies on his lips. Instead, he releases an airy laugh and his shoulders drop. “Ah, yes… I suppose I should have mentioned that.”

“Sweet Satan, I made myself look like a fool,” you laugh. “I’m not used to Papas and Cardinals walking around yet. Every time I see one I nearly fall over.”

“You don’t seem so intimidated by me,” Copia says, half relieved and half worried. “What, am I not as scary as Secondo?”

“Not nearly as scary, no! He could stare someone to death,” you say through a chuckle. “That, and when you and I first met, you were wearing sweatpants and rat slippers.”

Copia smiles fondly, though you don’t catch it. “So you’re not starstruck by me, tesoro? I’m hurt.”

“At first I was!” you defend yourself. “But somewhere after that I guess I just… forgot.”

“Forgot to be starstruck?”

“Forgot that you are Papa.”

Oh. Oh, Copia could kiss you, you sweet thing. He doesn’t ever want to go this long without seeing you again. It’s all he can do to stop himself from walking over to you and sweeping you up in his arms and kissing you silly. His hands itch to hold you but you aren’t ready for that yet. So he says instead, “I don’t want to be Papa with you.”

Your heart rises to your throat. “You don’t?”

“No,” Copia says softly. “I don’t.”

You have to fight off the smile threatening to stretch your lips. You don’t want him to be Papa with you either, but you don’t know what you do want him to be to you.

You do know that you want him to kiss you. You do know that the thought of leaving the Abbey without resolving whatever this is made your heart ache, but that talking about whatever this is would make it real and that terrifies you. You do know that falling in love with him means you have something to lose. It’s not quite that, not yet, but… it could be.

Copia can see your mind working itself in circles. He knows that you’ll talk yourself out of it—whatever it is—if he doesn’t intervene. “Tesoro,” he calls to you, pulling your focus back out from inside your head. When he’s certain you can see him and not just through him, he takes a slow step forward and gently reaches for your hand. The white linen of your gloves, worn while you handle the diary, is a stark contrast to the black leather of his. It slips against his glove and settles into his palm like your hands were crafted for him to hold. Sathanas, your hands are perfect. You are perfect. “Please… tell me you know. Tell me you feel it.”

Your eyes are wide when they meet his own. “I know,” you whisper. Your voice is shaky with the weight of speaking your feelings, making them real. “And I don’t.”

His thumb rubs circles on your knuckles. “Cara… you know. You must.”

“I…” you swallow dryly. “I do, but it’s… it’s scary, Copia. It’s happening and I have no control over it and…”

“And?” Copia whispers. He takes your other hand, stepping just close enough that you can feel his breath ghost across your cheeks.

“And I will have to leave,” you respond. Your eyes burn with unshed tears that you desperately try to blink away. “As soon as the diary is done, I will have to go back.”

Copia looks at you for a silent moment. His eyes search your face, noticing all the details he hadn’t noticed before. This is the closest he’s ever been to you. A tear rolls down your cheek and he reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb, but doesn’t return his hand to his side. It cradles your face like you’re something precious, and to him, you are.

He gently tugs you closer and wraps his arms around you, holding you against him. You tuck your head under his chin, savoring the smell of him, the comfort of his embrace and the warmth of his body through his suit. “It will be alright, carissima mia.”

You shut your eyes and two fat tears escape as you do. Your body shudders with a repressed sob.

Copia simply holds you closer, fighting back tears of his own.

He’d nearly forgotten. Of course you would have to leave again, once your project was done. Just because you’re here now, doesn’t mean you will always be here.

Maybe there are ways to have you stay. Maybe if he asked Sister Imperator, she would find a place for you here, doing translation as your sole duty. But can he keep you away from your home, when it’s so obvious how fond you are of it? How could he ask you to stay, knowing you would miss Marseille the whole time?

Copia squeezes you tighter. “Will you do something for me?” He asks so, so softly. One of his hands strokes the back of your head, drawing you closer into his embrace. “Come and work in my office with me, yes? Just for a little while. Or a day or two, maybe. I hate that you’re all alone up here.”

“I can do that,” you say, and draw away from him slightly so you can look at him. You’re sure you must look a mess with your eyes puffy and nose running. But standing this close to him, clutching the fabric of his shirt like it grounds you to the world, you can’t bring yourself to care. “But I need permission from Papa or Sister Imperator to remove the diary from this room.”

Copia smiles. “Well, I have good news, then,” he says with a quirk of his brow. “There’s a Papa right here. Perhaps you should ask him?”

“Right, yes, I forgot,” you laugh. “Papa, do I have your permission to take Elizabeth’s diary out of the restricted room?”

Copia laughs back and his breath is warm on your cheek. “Yes, tesoro, you have my permission. Only if you bring it straight to my office.”

“Of course, Papa,” you nod, smiling.

“Bene! Let me help you with your things.”

Copia steps away and releases you from his grasp to help you gather your materials. For a brief moment you’re disappointed, but your cheeks warm at the thought that maybe he might hold you again in the safety and comfort of his office. Maybe you might gather the courage to allow yourself to feel the feelings you’re desperately trying to suppress, and maybe he might feel them back.

But, you chuckle at his charming urgency to help you. You work on wrapping Elizabeth’s diary in its linens, and placing it in a wooden box you retrieve from a small shelf in the corner of the room. You still wear your white gloves.

“Shall we?” Copia gestures to the open door once you’re both done preparing to leave. His eyes shine with mirth and something you might think was affection if you weren’t doubtful to a fault.

“We shall,” you reply. He lets you slip past him and out the door, then falls into step beside you as you make your way down the curved staircase.

~~~

March 27

Today I was chosen to be Papa’s Prime Mover.

Mother said it is a gift from Satan to be chosen. I am to conceive the next Papa, and continue the bloodline with the blessing of the Olde One.

Truthfully, I am frightened. Mother said that it is now my only duty. She said it is an extreme privilege to be a Prime Mover and to carry the blood of Emeritus inside me. But I did not get a say. I was chosen, and that was the end. Papa did not even tell me himself, it was Mother. She said it is better to hear the good news from the mouth of the fairer sex, from the woman who did her duty as I must.

Fairer sex. I must laugh at that. Fairer sex, and yet I must be a vessel for Emeritus blood at the whim of Satan. Fairer sex because I am beautiful but better to be seen and not heard. And yet I am expected to carry and birth the most powerful man in the Ministry, a power that no one else has. To ‘fairer sex’ I bite my thumb.

There is to be a ritual tomorrow night, to solidify my role as Papa’s Prime Mover. I am horrified. Mother said that a woman can only hope to be so lucky as to be Prime Mover. Must I pray to be a bred heifer? What of me? What of my own wishes?

I believed the Dark Lord to be wiser than this. I believed he would not ordain any sex to be lesser than the other. I believed in his doctrine of free choice, of fairness and civility, after having been cast down for disobeying. My faith wavers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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