#I don’t know how they’d squeeze that in? but the fact that he asked Tommy to be his date

[freewayshark]

Oh shit wait wait wait oh shit has there not been any kind of significant Buck & Bobby interaction this season? I’m wracking my brain but other than tiny moments like Buck and Eddie rescuing him on the cruise ship and little bitty moments during the hand and Bachelor calls I don’t think there has been? So. Are we living in a world where the first big Buck & Bobby moment of the season has the potential to be Buck coming out to him? I’m going to faint

[hardly-an-escape]

sola fide | Buck/Tommy | 1170 words | rated T

tags: Evan Buckley character study, sick fic, mentions of religion, dirty jokes, established relationship, lgbtq identity

“Hey, uh, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you kind of a dumb question?”

“Of course.”

They’re posted up on Tommy’s couch, both with a weekend off at the same time for once. They’d planned to get out of the city, go for a long hike, maybe hit a winery somewhere. But Tommy’s been nursing a cold, so they’re taking it easy instead, and Buck likes that just as much as their adventures. So he’d made chicken noodle soup from scratch and brought over ginger ale and some of the violently red popsicles Tommy kept secretly stashed in the back of the freezer.

Buck’s quiet for another moment, gathering his thoughts.

“When did you know? That you were gay?” he says eventually.

Tommy looks up from the monster truck magazine he’s been leafing through.

“I don’t know that I can point to one particular moment,” he says, thoughtful. “On some level it was something I always knew about myself, even if I didn’t have the language to describe it yet. I guess… hitting puberty was kind of an awakening. Hearing other guys talk about girls we knew, or women in magazines, and realizing I just didn’t connect with what they were saying, like, at all. I guess there’s the fact that the first wet dream I had was about Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise.” He snorts. “That was a pretty big clue.”

Buck smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He realizes he’s twisting his fingers together in his lap and untangles them, rubs self-consciously at the tops of his thighs.

Tommy tosses his magazine onto the coffee table and takes one of Buck’s hands in his own, rubbing gently at the muscle between his thumb and forefinger. “What makes you ask?” he says gently.

“I dunno. I just.” Buck sighs. “I guess I’ve been feeling weird about it lately. Not – not this,” he adds hastily, “not us, not even a little. This is seriously one of the best things that has ever happened to me – you are one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, Tommy, I mean that.”

Tommy gives him a sweet little smile, one of the ones that’s just for him, and squeezes his hand.

“I just mean… this feels like such a big thing t-to not know about myself. You know, how did I make it into my thirties before it ever occurred to me, oh, you like guys, you might fall in love with a guy.” His voice rises in pitch a little as he picks up speed. “It makes me feel stupid, and – and out of touch with my own self. Like, what else is really obvious about myself that I haven’t realized yet, you know? Am I actually left handed? Am I secretly an Olympic gymnast? Am I some kind of Russian sleeper agent?”

Tommy squeezes his hand again. “I don't think it's that absurd to come to an important realization about yourself in your thirties, sweetheart,” he says. “I think that's a pretty normal thing, actually.”

Buck deflates a little. “Yeah. I know. I just... I've told you about my brother. That whole situation. Not knowing why I was born, never knowing that he even existed. I think all of this –” he gestures between them “– in a way it kind of reminds me of that? Like, here you go, Buck, here’s another big hole in your life that you didn’t know was there until someone tried to fill it.”

He catches Tommy’s smirk out of the corner of his eye and untangles their hands so he can give him a shove. “I know what joke you’re about to make, dumbass. Don’t even go there.”

“Okay, I’ll ask about filling your hole later,” says Tommy, deadpan, and Buck shoves him again, and for a minute their serious conversation devolves into the kind of ridiculous, juvenile wrestling match that Buck secretly loves, that he knows Tommy knows he loves. That reminds him they’re both strong and okay and in tune with one another.

They settle, eventually, with Tommy lying back against the arm of the couch, and Buck cradled against him, grateful that Tommy’s couch is wide and deep enough for them to press together, side by side.

Buck sighs again. Can’t help it.

“I knew a guy in the army. Jake,” says Tommy out of nowhere. “Very nice guy, not one of the assholes who joined up because he thought the uniform would make his dick bigger, you know? When we were in Afghanistan, he made friends with one of our interpreters, guy named Irshad. Mostly we didn’t get close with the locals, but those two – they really hit it off. Stayed in touch after we got shipped home and everything.” He shifts Buck slightly and absently kisses his temple. “When I saw Jake again, maybe a year after we were discharged, he’d converted to Islam. He said his friendship with Irshad had opened his eyes to something. To this faith. He said he felt like that something had always been there – like on some level, he’d always had that faith – it had just taken a while for it to be revealed to him.”

“Huh,” Buck says. He thinks about this idea for a while, petting randomly over Tommy’s chest and belly with one hand while Tommy’s thumb rubs gentle, firm circles in the meat of his upper arm. He likes it, he decides. He’s not a religious person himself, but faith feels like something… important. Fundamental. Feels like a Big Thing, the way sexuality is. It does feel better, he thinks, just to know there are other people who’ve discovered one of those Big Things as a whole ass grownup. He’s not sure how to phrase it. But it does make it feel better.

“So what I hear you saying… is that realizing I like dudes and getting into your pants could be considered comparable to finding God,” is what comes out of his mouth.

He can feel Tommy try to maintain his composure and suppress the snort that wants to escape. He does his best, abdominal muscles contracting under Buck’s hand, but the laughter wins out and explodes in a kind of barking cough that sounds, frankly, a little alarming. Buck sits them up and thumps Tommy on the back a few times, handing him the mug of honeyed tea that’s been cooling on the coffee table.

“Evan,” Tommy wheezes eventually, “I’m going to need you to never say anything like that again.”

“Sure, babe,” Buck says. “But just to be clear, does that mean you don’t want me to get on my knees for you?”

And Tommy is laughing again, and Buck feels so much better. Feels warm inside, because somehow, Tommy always knows how to make him feel better. How to take the disparate anxious puzzle pieces of him and turn the picture right side up so he knows how to solve himself.

(“Oh, my God,” Tommy gasps between coughs.

“That’s my line,” Buck says.)

read on AO3 >>>

[ninjatrashpanda]

The Other Shoe (Waiting for it to drop)

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round 2! Today's prompt is "Coming Out Scenes!"

Read it on AO3 here.

“I, uh, I think it’s time to face the music,” Buck whispered, tugging on Tommy’s sleeve. His eyes wandered over to his parents, who had watched him and Tommy like hawks throughout the entire reception, though Buck had a hard time predicting what they were thinking. On one hand, therapy had been going well, and while The Buckleys would probably never be the big happy family Buck had wished for as a kid, Mom and Dad were trying. They had been nothing but supportive about him being Connor and Kameron’s sperm donor last year, and Buck would be lying if he said he hadn’t felt a pang of appreciation when they had stood up for him against Chimney’s father and stepmother.

On the other hand, well, these were his parents, and old fears die hard. While they had apologized for how they had treated him and Maddie and become better, there was a little voice at the back of his head that told him they’d just be disappointed again. The fact that his mother hadn’t managed to get rid of the bewildered look on her face since he had dragged Tommy into Chimney’s hospital room didn’t help.

“Should I be scared?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Buck chuckled, though it sounded more like a nervous exhale. He stole another glance at his parents, then shifted his gaze to the floor, kicking at an imaginary speck of dust. “Nah,” he said, though he admittedly wasn’t even able to convince himself of that. “Not scared. Just... prepared.”

Tommy followed Buck’s gaze across the room, where Buck’s parents stood stiffly by a wall, half-empty champagne flutes clutched tightly in their hands. Buck knew they had been mingling just a few minutes ago, but he still couldn’t help but feel that they looked, well, out of place. While they were nothing but polite, they didn’t really mesh with anyone else, and always seemed a little awkward.

“They don’t seem like they bite,” Tommy observed, in that casual, dry tone Buck had grown to appreciate over the past few weeks. In an instant, a part of his anxiety evaporated and bubbled to the surface in a barely held back snort.

“Not literally, no.” Buck ran a hand through his hair with a shake of his head, the slight smile Tommy had brought to his face staying on his face. “It’s just... history, you know? They’re trying, and I get that, I do. But sometimes it’s like...” He trailed off with a shrug, struggling to find the right words. “It’s like I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Tommy nodded, his hand reaching out to squeeze Buck’s. Buck had told him the basics, how Maddie had practically raised him, how their parents had been neglectful and controlling. He vaguely knew about Daniel, too, though Buck hadn’t delved into the whole Savior Baby thing yet. The subject was…touchy, to say the least, and while he knew he had to breach it at some point, he wanted Tommy to have as neutral an opinion on his parents as possible. They were putting in the effort, so Buck figured they deserved that much.

“Well,” Tommy said, squeezing Buck’s hand again, a bit firmer this time, “if things get weird, you’ve got me for backup. Just say the word, and I’ll distract them with my fake mouth static.”

Buck couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh at that, which surprised even himself. Tommy had a knack for diffusing tension, and Buck was grateful for it. It was one of the reasons he had gravitated toward him in the first place. He tightened his grip on Tommy’s hand, drawing strength from the contact, before letting go and straightening up.

“Good idea. You’re renowned for your fake mouth static after all.”

“Damn right I am.”

They stood there for a moment, neither quite willing to take the first step towards the inevitable conversation. The reception was starting to wind down, (because the nurses were kicking people out now) so at least if this developed into a scene, not too many people would end up seeing. Chimney, now recovering well after the whole viral encephalitis debacle, was in high spirits, chatting animatedly with Hen and Karen. Maddie was close by his side, smiling brighter than he had ever seen, seemingly refusing to let go of her new husband’s arm.

The love between them gave Buck a tiny surge of courage. If Maddie and Chimney could find happiness after everything they had been through, then maybe things could work out with his and Maddie’s parents too.

“Alright,” Buck said, straightening his posture, bracing himself for impact. “Let’s do this.”

They crossed the room together, Tommy a step behind Buck, offering silent support. Buck’s parents straightened as he approached, their faces neutral masks. They clearly didn’t know how to react, and Buck could hardly blame them for that.

“Hi,” Buck said, forcing a smile. “You probably have a few questions.”

His mother’s eyes softened, but there was still a glimmer of uncertainty in them. His father cleared his throat, his grip on the champagne flute tightening just slightly. The atmosphere was stiff, and the air felt thick enough to cut it with a knife.

“Hi, Buck,” his mother replied, her voice wavering just a bit. Buck was actually (positively) surprised that she used his nickname, though he had to admit it sounded almost foreign in her voice. “Yes, we, uh…” She glanced at his father, who nodded, urging her to continue. “We do have some questions, but—”

“We don’t want to push,” his father interjected, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “We’re just… trying to understand.”

Buck nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. They weren’t throwing accusations and bad faith arguments around, so that was a good start. Still, Buck knew that they weren’t out of the woods yet. He hadn’t spoken about the big B yet, after all.

“Yeah,” Buck said, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit he hadn’t quite outgrown. “I figured. And, uh, it’s okay to ask. I know this is… a lot.”

He could see the moment his mother tried to put on a brave face, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We were surprised, that’s all,” she said. “When you came into the room with…”

She trailed off, her eyes moving over Buck’s shoulder to where he knew Tommy stood just a foot or two behind him. He took a deep breath. This was it. No going back. He had thought about it for weeks at this point, had said it out loud to himself in the mirror, but not to anybody else, not even Maddie or Tommy.

“Tommy.” He turned slightly, reaching out his hand out to Tommy, who took it into his own with a smile as he stepped up. “Mom, Dad, this is Tommy Kinard. He’s my date. He, uh… he’s the reason I figured out that I’m bisexual.”

The words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. Buck could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears almost deafening. He knew this moment was pivotal (one of the most important in his life, probably) and the weight of it pressed down on him like the world on Atlas��� shoulders.

His parents exchanged glances, and Buck could see an onslaught of emotions flitting across their faces: surprise, confusion, and perhaps a flicker of something that could be hope. His mother’s fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne flute, and his father took a small step closer to her.

Tommy, for his part, stayed by Buck’s side, his presence a quiet but powerful anchor. He gave Buck’s hand a reassuring squeeze, a silent promise that he was here, and that he wouldn’t leave. Buck was grateful for that; it reminded him that no matter what was going to happen, he wasn’t alone.

His mother was the first to speak. “Bisexual,” she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue. Her brow furrowed slightly, but there was no trace of anger or disappointment in her tone. Instead, she seemed...curious. “I…well, I didn’t expect that.”

Buck could see his father’s jaw tighten momentarily before he let out a slow breath. “Buck,” he began, his voice careful, deliberate. “This is…this is a lot to take in. But I want you to know that we’re listening. We’re trying to understand.”

Buck nodded. This wasn’t a rejection, not outright. But it wasn’t exactly acceptance either, not yet, at least. Still, it was something, and in this moment, something was better than nothing.

“I know it’s a lot,” Buck said, his voice quieter now. “And I don’t expect you to get it all at once. I only figured it out a few weeks ago, too. I just wanted you to know, because…because it’s who I am. And Tommy… he’s important to me.”

His mother’s eyes softened at that, and Buck could see her shifting, recalibrating her thoughts, trying to process this new piece of information about her son. “Tommy,” she said, as if tasting the name for the first time. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and there was something in her gaze that was almost…gentle. “It’s nice to meet you, Tommy.”

Tommy smiled, his usual confidence replaced by an almost shy nervousness. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Buckley. And Mr. Buckley,” he added, nodding respectfully toward Buck’s father.

Buck’s father gave a small nod in return, though his expression remained unreadable. “Tommy,” he repeated, his voice a bit more measured. “You’re… Buck’s boyfriend?”

Buck sucked in a sharp breath. Obviously that question would come up. He should’ve been prepared for it, but he wasn’t. He and Tommy hadn’t even really had that conversation. He’d certainly like for Tommy to be his boyfriend, he just wasn’t sure if Tommy was at that point yet. It had only been a few weeks after all. They had been on four dates, one of which was a complete disaster, and another that hadn’t even been a date at first, but an apology for the date that had been a complete disaster.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, his tone steady. “I’m his boyfriend. And I know this might be surprising, but Evan…he means a lot to me. I care about him.”

Buck’s breath hitched in his throat. He hadn’t expected Tommy to say it outright. He had expected a lighthearted “Not yet” or “We’re seeing each other.” That he’d gone right ahead… Buck’s heart swelled just a little bit. He squeezed Tommy’s hand a little tighter, grateful beyond words. Tommy’s answer made Buck just a little braver.

Finally, his mother spoke again. “I…I see,” she said, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. She looked at Buck, her eyes searching his, as if trying to reconcile the son she knew with these new things she was learning about him. “And you… you’re happy?”

Buck felt a lump rise in his throat. It was such a simple question, but it carried so much baggage. She wasn’t asking if he was happy with Tommy. She was asking if he was happy with himself, something that would’ve been absolutely unthinkable just three years ago.

“I am,” Buck replied, his voice growing more assured. “I’m happy, Mom. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

His mother’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision within herself. She reached out then, tentatively, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before she placed it on Buck’s arm. “That’s all we want, Buck,” she whispered, her voice wavering a little. “We just want you to be happy.”

His father, who had been silent for most of the exchange, cleared his throat again. “It’s…a lot to adjust to,” he admitted, his voice gruff but not unkind. “But if this is who you are, and if this man makes you happy, then…well, we’ll do our best to understand.”

Buck felt a surge of relief wash over him, so powerful that it nearly knocked him off his feet. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was something. Something good. It was yet another step toward healing their relationship, and for that, he was grateful.

“Thank you,” Buck said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for not, like, freaking out.”

His father gave a small nod, and his mother’s hand tightened on his arm, a silent reassurance that they were, in fact, trying. Tommy smiled and wrapped his arm around Buck’s shoulders, Buck leaning into his side almost automatically, enjoying the warmth of their connection.

His mother glanced over at Tommy, her expression softening further. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner before we fly back to Hershey, Tommy,” she said, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. “We’d like to get to know you better.”

Tommy’s eyes widened at the invitation, and Buck didn’t blame him. It was already unusual that Tommy had met his parents this early, but getting invited to family dinner? That was big. “I’d love to, Mrs. Buckley. Thank you.”

Buck’s father gave a curt nod, not quite ready to add anything further, but his stance had relaxed just a little. There was still a long way to go, a lot of conversations to be had, but in that moment, Buck knew they were moving in the right direction.

As the reception continued to wind down, Buck stood there with Tommy by his side, his parents before him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a cautious sense of optimism. The journey ahead would be challenging, there was no doubt about that, but they were all still here, still trying, and that was more than Buck could have hoped for when he first approached them.

As they exchanged a few more words, lighter now, less fraught with tension, Buck realized that this was what he had been waiting for all along. Not just acceptance, but the willingness to grow, to move forward together. And maybe that was enough to help the wounds of the past heal.

[milkacchan]

Some self indulgent peakyblinders x sister reader

Requests for the peaky blinders are open :) I'm only on S2 tho but we binging so 😈😈

Cw: Coming out, Panic attack

"Uh-" you looked around the room, everyone was hear. They stared curiously.

She called a fucking family meeting.

Of course she did, it was Ada. Ada fucking 'I think I can solve everything' Shelby.

"Go on then, spit it out." She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

"Ada," you hiss, glancing at her before returning your gaze to the boys.

"You have to. It'll help." She shrugged. "They won't care."

"You don't fucking know that. You have /no/ way of knowing that."

"Yes I do. I'm their sister."

"So am I!"

"Tell us what?" Arthur frowned, leaning against his chair.

"They won't care." She repeated.

"They very well fucking could."

"They won't-"

"And what if they do! Contrary to your belief, Ada, you don't fucking know everything. You don't make super bright decisions. Believe it or not, your brothers don't think the same way you do-"

"Care about what!" Tommy rose his voice to interrupt the commotion between the two of you.

"I don't want to marry a man! Okay...I don't," fuck. You took a deep breath. "I dont want to marry a man. I don't like men."

It was silent in the room. The boys sat in their respective chairs, polly stood in the corner. Your stomach sank. "Oh fuck," you whisper.

You were gonna loose your spot in the family, it was hard enough as it is to keep it with everything going on, they'd disown you, you were sure- christ you'd be on the streets. You were about to lose everything you held dear because your sister didn't want to wait.

It was hard to breathe then, silence surrounded you and rang in your ears. The world was moving, you were sure.

"Hey," Tommy started standing up and walking over to you, "deep breath, take a deep breath."

The words didn't seem to register, instead your knees buckled beneath you. Tommy was there to catch you of course, and for a moment you reached out to grab his jacket, before desperately trying to push away.

Christ you didn't want it to start now. You shoved back a little harder.

"Finn," he grunted. Finn immediately knelt behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you back only slightly.

"Hey, hey now," he tried.

"Ada," Polly hissed, "why would you make her say that in front of them?"

"I was trying to help!"

"Clearly she wasn't fucking ready!"

"I'm sorry," you whisper out, when you've managed to clock back into the world long enough for coherent thought. "I'm sorry- I- I tried to change it, and fuck fuck-" you struggled to take another breath.

Tommy was still kneeling in front of you, scanning your face. You looked down at your skirt and picked at the fabric nervously.

"It's okay," Finn spoke, "you don't have to be sorry, it's okay. Nothin' wrong with ya."

"I don't-"

"Hush now," Tommy lifted your chin so you'd look up at him. "Nothing, and I repeat, nothing is wrong with you. We don't care, it doesn't change how we see you. It doesn't change the fact that you're our little sister, you understand?"

You nodded slightly, sniffling as your head fell foward to your brothers shoulder.

"I'll get her some water," Pol nodded curtly, pulling Ada with her into the next room.

"You thought we'd care?" Aurthurs voice came. He sounded dejected almost, he sounded sad. Baffled that you'd be so terrified.

You nod weakly, "I did," you mutter, the words muffled by your place in Tommy's shoulder. "Thought you'd hate me for it."

"But Pol knew."

"Wasn't by my choice. She caught me kissing a girl about a year ago."

"Where?"

"My room." You groan.

"The redhead? What was her name..."

"Her name was Claire."

"But Pol wasn't upset-" John frowned.

"Doesn't mean you wouldn't be."

"You're still our sister," John hummed, smiling slightly. "I mean- Ada married a communist, had a baby with him too. That's worse than anything you just threw at us."

You snorted. "I suppose you're right on that."

"You know we don't care right? Same rules apply, if she treats you wrong, she dies."

"Yeah," you mumble. "Sorry," you rubbed your face in embarrassment. It'd been years since your last panic attack, you didn't think you'd have another one again. "Didn't mean to uh- to freak out."

"No matter," he squeezed your cheek gently before kissing your forehead.

"I for one," Finn helped you stand. "Think it's good that we can talk about girls together."

"And that we don't have to worry about you getting pregnant."

"Arthur," Tommy hissed.

"It's true!"

"You promise you don't care? You're not going to kick me out?"

"Never," Tommy hums.

The chorus of your 4 brothers follow.

"Is uh- is that why you can't sit on a chair right?" Arthur asks, scratching his cheek.

"Yeah you have no idea how to sit on a chair right, an impossible task for you." John snickered.

"And the suits is that why you wear suits?" It's Finns turn now, he's moved from next to you to next to Tommy.

"Yes," you rolled your eyes. "It's actually common knowledge that biologically gays aren't able to sit correct. No, it's just uncomfortable to sit like Ada or Pol does all the time. And I wear plenty of dresses too, wearing one right now. But suits have pockets and I like pockets." You state, matter of factly.

"You do sit like a man though." Tommy smiled. "Leaning foward, legs apart, elbow on your knee."

"Oh fuck off Tommy, it's comfortable."

[waitineedaname]

"Accidently ending a phone call with your roommate with a casual ‘I love you’ seems like a very good reason to move out"

For benrey @ gordon?

“And can you pick up some oat milk while you’re there? I just realized I’m out.”

“Man, oat milk freaks me out,” Benrey said, pushing their shopping cart towards the dairy section anyway. “Like, do oats even have, uh. Others?”

“Others?” There was a beat of silence as Gordon attempted to figure out exactly what the hell Benrey was talking about. “You mean udders?”

“Yeah. Cow things.”

“Dude, that’s not how oat milk works.” Gordon’s laugh made Benrey’s cheap phone speakers crackle.

“Then how does it work? Huh? Mister scientician?” Benrey propped the phone between their ear and shoulder as they opened the fridge door to grab the brand of oat milk he knew Gordon liked.

“I don’t fucking know! I’m not a goddamn milk scientist.” Even through a phone call, Benrey could hear the smile on Gordon’s face. “They squeeze juice out of the oats or smush them into a paste or something. I don’t know. Stop making me think about how oat milk works, it’s going to make me not want to drink it anymore.”

“Cool, so I’ll buy milk with extra lactose then.”

“You will not, unless you wanna deal with me laying on the couch complaining all afternoon because my stomach hurts.”

“You do that anyway.”

“Fuck off, man.” Gordon’s tone of voice didn’t carry any bite to it. “Alright, I gotta go, I’m almost at the end of the queue to pick Joshie up. I’ll see you back at home, okay?”

“Mhm. Love you, bye.” Benrey hung up and shoved their phone back in their jacket pocket. They unfolded the shopping list and attempted to decipher the mix of their own chicken scratch, Gordon’s doctor handwriting, and the occasional misspelled request for snacks in Joshua’s six year old handwriting. Okay, they had to get those frozen chicken nuggets Joshua liked, another pack of seltzer, a can of black beans since Gordon was planning to cook dinner tonight-

Thinking about Gordon made them suddenly freeze in place as they realized what they’d just done. Did… Did they just say “love you” on the phone with Gordon?

Aw, fuck.

They’d been living with Gordon for a while now. It hadn’t always been an easy thing for either of them. When they’d been freshly respawned, both of them had been jumpy around each other at best, and at worst, they were at each other’s throats trying to kill each other. It took a long time and a lot of uncomfortable conversations for them to get to the point where they could interact without an unbearable amount of tension. From there, they were able to start rebuilding an actual friendship. Turns out, they got along a lot better when they weren’t in mortal danger. Who knew!

Living with Gordon involved a lot of rules, both spoken and unspoken. They involved stuff like “don’t ask weird questions about Gordon’s feet,” “if one of them gets too angry, walk it off instead of actually fighting,” and “no gross body horror in front of Gordon’s son.” It also involved shit like “please for the love of god don’t put empty juice cartons back in the fridge” and “don’t stain the carpets with Sweet Voice, this is a rental and that security deposit is worth getting back.” So far, Benrey hadn’t had too much trouble following the rules. They had been a security guard, after all; following rules was supposed to be their thing. Besides, they were a low price to pay to get to spend time with Gordon.

One of those early unspoken rules, however, had been “keep the flirting to a minimum.” That one had been a little tricky at first, but it had been necessary, especially back when they still weren’t on the best of terms. Benrey learned that when Gordon was already worked up, blowing a kiss did the opposite of diffusing the situation. This was news to Benrey. Who didn’t love a little kiss from their buddies? Lame.

That had been an early rule, though, and one that had kind of faded into the background over time. The longer they lived together, the more physically affectionate they both got, and a little domesticity is only to be expected when you share a household. It was nice. Comfortable.

And then Benrey had to go and say “I love you” on the phone. What the fuck.

That had to be crossing a line, right? Gordon was fine with some handholding and some cuddling and they’d make dinner together once a week, but this had to be pushing it.

Benrey went through the rote motions of buying the rest of their groceries without really paying attention, too busy panicking. There was only one option. They had to move out. This was fine. This was totally fine. They could just crash on Tommy’s couch until they find a place of their own because there was no way this wasn’t going to make Gordon freak the fuck out. As much as they loved fucking with Gordon, they’d learned there was the fun kind of freaking him out and the bad kind of freaking him out. They were fairly certain this fell into the bad category.

By the time that they were walking up to their apartment door, they were already mentally packing up all their things, resigned to their fate. They were so stuck in their own head that Joshua barreling into their legs when they opened the door actually startled them.

“Benny!” Joshua cheered, clinging to their jeans.

“Hey, li’l dude.” Benrey carefully tried to push past the kid without tripping over him on the way to the kitchen. Tragically, that’s where Gordon also happened to be.

“Hey, what took you so long?” Gordon asked, taking some of the grocery bags from them. “I thought you’d gotten lost in Costco again.”

Benrey grunted noncommittally and started putting away groceries instead of answering Gordon. Maybe if they didn’t look at him, they could avoid confronting whatever Gordon’s reaction was. Yeah, definitely, this seemed like a sustainable, reasonable decision to make. Yep.

“Dude.” Gordon’s hand suddenly appeared on their forearm. Benrey stared at it, then looked up at Gordon’s concerned face. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re putting carrots in the utensil drawer.”

Benrey looked down at their hands again. Oh. So they were.

“You’ve been acting weird ever since you got back from the store,” Gordon said, gently taking the carrots away from them. “Did something happen? You wanna talk about it?”

Benrey screwed their mouth up. No, they didn’t want to talk about it, but learning how to talk through things like adults was something they both had agreed to do. That had been a rule introduced by an exasperated Tommy, sick of mediating their bullshit. So, they sighed and looked away while Gordon put the carrots in the vegetable drawer of the fridge. “I was thinking about how I’ve gotta move out.”

“What?” Gordon stood up too fast and smacked his head on the freezer door. He swore loudly, and Benrey reached over to hand him a bag of frozen peas to put on the back of his head. “Thanks. But also, what? Since when are you moving out?”

“Uh, since now?” Benrey said, confused. Shouldn’t it be obvious?

“Why?”

“‘Cause I said I love you on the phone? Dummy? You, uh, a fucking old man got bad brain disease, not remembering things?” They said, defaulting to picking on Gordon to avoid focusing on anything else. Gordon stared blankly at them for a moment, then, against all odds, a grin spread across his face.

“Benrey,” He said, and Benrey decided he didn't like that tone one bit, “Are you embarrassed?”

“Whuh? No.” There was no way they could be embarrassed. That definitely wasn't what was going on here. Nope. Not a bit, “...Maybe.”

“Dude, you don't have to be embarrassed about that.” Gordon laughed. “Do you know how often I've said stupid Freudian slips? I called my sixth grade teacher mom once and wanted to change my name and move to Canada. I've been there.”

“It wasn't, uh… It wasn't too much? Not crossing a line or anything?”

“Nah, man. It was kinda sweet.” Gordon flashed him a smile and finished putting away the last of the groceries.

“Cool.” Benrey relaxed, letting go of the tension that had been building in their shoulders. “That's good ‘cause I was gonna fight you for custody of your Xbox.” Gordon snorted.

“Good fucking luck, you’re too much of a Playstation guy to win that case.”

The evening passed relatively uneventfully from there. Gordon enlisted Benrey’s help in cooking dinner, and Joshua eagerly told them all about the cool dinosaur facts he’d learned in class that day. They went through the easy routine of watching just one episode (which of course always turned into several episodes) of Joshua’s choice of TV, then Benrey helped wash up in the kitchen while Gordon put Josh to bed. Gordon joined them as they finished washing dishes and squeezed Benrey’s shoulder affectionately when they were done.

“Alright, man, I think I’m gonna head to bed early tonight.”

Benrey nodded. “Cool. I’ll be quiet.”

“Don’t worry about it. G’night, dude.”

“Night, Gordon.”

“Oh, and Benrey?” Gordon paused in the doorway of his bedroom and waited until Benrey glanced up at him. Gordon smiled. “Love you too.”

He shut the door before Benrey could respond, leaving Benrey to stare blankly at the door. They let out a groan, careful not to wake Joshua. Oh, Gordon was going to be the death of them.

[morganaspendragonss]

before we both lose this fight (3/?)

chapter written by my beloved @tarlos-spain and translated by me prompt: stumbling/staggering ao3 | 2.3k | hurt/comfort

Carlos was in and out all the way from the loft. He opened his eyes on the floor with too many people around him; he recognised TK stroking his hair and looking at him, but he was talking to someone else. Tommy, Nancy, Owen… Were his parents there too?

He woke up again on the way to the ambulance with TK at his side, holding his hand. Again he lost consciousness; again, he woke up inside the ambulance, TK sitting next to him. He was leaning over him and whispering something, but Carlos heard everything with an echo, as if he’d just left a nightclub after spending hours inside.

He closed his eyes; he’d give anything to not hear anything, the noises of the machines monitoring him making his head explode.

“How long?” TK asked Tommy without looking away from Carlos, and much less letting go of his hand.

“Three minutes,” Nancy replied from the front.

“Can’t you go faster?”

“I’m going as fast as I can; if I go any faster we’ll get into an accident and we’ll all end up in hospital beds. So, you decide, TK.”

“I’m sorry, Nance.”

“I’ll chalk it up to you being scared.”

TK smiled and she returned the gesture in the rearview mirror. 

Carlos came back to himself on a bed in the ER. The light was powerful even though it seemed they’d put him in a room with lower lights. Even so, the brightness hurt his head and his head. 

He had a line in his arm and he was wired up to a couple of machines which monitored his heart, blood pressure, oxygen levels, and probably something else that he didn’t know.

“You’re awake.”

Carlos turned towards the door. TK was standing there, but as soon as he saw Carlos watching him, he hurried towards the bed and sat at his side, caressing his cheek and leaning down to kiss him.

“What…what happened?” Carlos asked, trying to sit up, but TK rested a hand on his chest and he didn’t need to use much force to keep Carlos down.

“Carlos, don’t even think about moving.”

There was someone else around him now, a doctor, the same one who had attended him not two days before. By her expression, she didn’t seem very happy to see him again, or maybe it was just the face of someone who had expected it.

“I’m fine, Doctor, I’ve already told TK and the others.”

Carlos tried to sit up again, but this time he didn’t need TK’s hand, or anything else, to fall back, the nausea and light seeming stronger all of a sudden.

“I can see that, Carlos. Clearly they’ve brought you here to ruin your Friday night.”

Carlos groaned, a mix of how bad he was feeling and how much he hated being treated like a child. “Fine, I passed out, but it was only for a couple of seconds.”

“He hasn’t properly come to until now,” TK responded. It earned him a hard look from his boyfriend, but he ignored it and kept talking. “He had a nosebleed just before he lost consciousness.”

“Don’t exaggerate, TK. I didn’t lose consciousness, I was just tired and strung out because you were away and…”

TK rested a hand on his shoulder and looked at him for a moment to get him to stop, before finishing explaining what had happened.

“We’re going to carry out a few more tests to make sure there isn’t any brain damage we missed at first.”

Carlos wanted to protest, but when he felt the force with which TK was squeezing his hand, how nervous and scared he must have been, he didn’t say anything. TK had been through this before, but he was suffering a concussion.

Then the doctor told him to take it easy. Carlos felt bad for making TK go through this fear, so, as much as he hated his boyfriend treating him like a child and seeing his doctor looking at him with that ‘I told you so’ face, he let it happen.

Five hours later, Carlos was getting dressed. His CT scan results had come back five minutes before, all of them clear, except for the obvious fact he had a concussion. 

TK was helping him to button up the shirt his mother had brought a while ago as his vision was blurry so it was hard to see the buttons. The doctor had said it was to be expected given his history of concussion, and that it would pass in a few days.

“I can do it, Tee.”

“You think you can do a lot of things, and it’s because of that damn arrogance of yours and wanting to do everything yourself without asking for help that you’re here now.”

“Well, we have something in common then, tiger. You’re hardly one to give advice about asking for help.”

TK stopped what he was doing. “Are you going to let me help you or not?”

“I’m sorry, I…” Carlos brought a hand to his forehead, the pain having returned a while ago.

“Don’t apologise, just let me put your clothes on, and lean on me when you get out of the bed. If you feel nauseous or anything, tell me.”

“Alright… I will.”

Carlos rested his head on TK’s chest and let his boyfriend help him down from the bed. He felt good, if you didn’t take into account his slightly blurred vision or the nausea he was more or less used to by now.

Still, he couldn’t deny that he felt safer in TK’s arms, nor that it had been a scare to collapse on the kitchen floor — nor even that the hours he’d spent alone at home had been awful.

“I’m going to discharge you,” the doctor told him. “But I need you to promise me that you’re going to stay in bed for at least today and tomorrow, and that after that you’ll spend most of your time on the sofa, not doing anything.”

“I promise.”

“But I need you to honestly promise this time. The examination went well, but the nosebleed and losing consciousness — even if it was only for a minute — are your body warning you to slow down a little.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor.” TK stroked his boyfriend’s back; Carlos didn’t need to say anything for him to know he was tense. He knew his boyfriend just wanted to get out of there — he would have already started running if his brain had let him — and that he was struggling over not having control over his own body. “He has a lot of us around to look after him.”

“Control me, you mean.”

“Better they control you than another incident like that.”

Gabriel and Andrea took them home from the hospital. Carlos leaned on TK; he didn’t ask or say anything, he just rested his head on his boyfriend’s chest and closed his eyes to rest on the way back home.

Andrea watched them from the front seat. She was worried for her son, but she felt more at ease seeing TK there, holding Carlos in his arms and kissing his head. He was whispering something to him, something that was helping him to drift off.

“I’m going to ask Tommy for a few days off. She owes me for the last holidays and I think now would be a good time to take them and be with you.”

“Does no-one believe me when I say that I’m fine,” Carlos murmured, not opening his eyes.

TK smiled and kissed his head again. He loved being so close to Carlos; he could close his eyes and imagine that everything was okay, that they were in bed together, curled up on cold nights or naked, legs tangled, and without sheets to bother them in summer.

“Looks like your body is saying something different.”

“You’re mean, Tee.”

“Sure, I’m mean for wanting to take care of you.”

He scratched Carlos’s back, like he would with the dog they’d adopt when all this was over. And, in the same manner, Carlos made a noise not dissimilar to a puppy making itself comfortable next to its human.

Once home, Andrea convinced Gabriel to leave them alone. She knew her son and she knew that Carlos was stubborn enough to maintain he was stronger than he actually was, to the point where he ended up exhausting himself.

“I’ll come by tomorrow with food.”

“Thank you, Andrea, Gabriel. For everything.”

“No need to thank us. The two of you are our boys, so don’t worry about anything, and rest a little if you can.”

Andrea kissed TK’s cheek and Gabriel hugged him firmly, before they finally left.

He’d barely left Carlos alone for five minutes while he said goodbye to his in-laws, but it was long enough for Carlos to head to the kitchen. TK caught him leaning on the island where they ate every day, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy. He was gripping the marble with enough force that it seemed like a little more could break it.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

“You haven’t eaten anything in hours. I know you, you’re going to worry about me so much that you’ll forget about yourself, which means you’ll get sick. I’m just making a few sandwiches so we can have something to eat.”

Carlos busied himself again, though he kept his eyes shut for a few more seconds and groaned at the pain that was beginning to take over his whole body.

“How about I make them?”

“Cooking is my thing, Tee.”

“I know, but I don’t need to be a paramedic to know that you’re about to collapse. You’re too pale and, if you’re determined to contradict your doctor and not go to bed, you need to at least lie down on the sofa.”

“Let me just make these and…”

“I’m sorry, but if you’re not going to look after yourself, then I’ll just have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to bed.”

“You couldn’t carry me,” Carlos said, laughing.

But apparently TK had been serious, and before Carlos could say anything else, he was lifted with more strength that he realised TK had.

TK set him down on the edge of the island. “In case you forgot, I was a firefighter. I’ve trained to be able to lift an adult man.” He kissed Carlos sweetly, unlike how he usually did when he found himself between his boyfriend’s legs. “So, Mr. Reyes, this is your last chance. Either you go to bed by yourself or I’m carrying you there.”

“As much as I like the idea of finding out if you really could do that”—Carlos slid off the island and leaned on TK’s shoulder—“I’ll take your word for it and wait for dinner in bed.”

TK kissed him again and wrapped an arm around his waist; he hated seeing Carlos so weak and fragile, so he wasn’t going to let him walk on his own.

As soon as he was lying down, Carlos pulled on his hand and made him sit.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“I’m acting like a child and you must be sick of me already.”

“Babe, what are you talking about?” TK stroked his cheek. “This is the first time you’ve been hurt or sick since we got together; you’ve spent so many days not sleeping because you’re worried about me and what could happen to me. Are you going to let me take care of you now?”

“But what about you? You’re grieving; you still haven’t told me how you’re doing.”

TK leaned closer to Carlos, kissing one cheek, then the other, before moving to his lips. “I know my mom will understand. Right now, I can only think that she’s here, and if I think about how alone or sad I am for having lost her, I won’t be there for you like I should be.”

Carlos knew that Gwyn would understand something like that, but he wished he could be there more for TK. He wished he could tell him to lie down next to him and cry until falling asleep as he told him things about his mother. He would, were it not for the fact that the room was spinning around him and he needed to close his eyes and relax.

“Close your eyes, my love,” TK whispered. “I’ll be back in a minute with something to eat.”

Carlos couldn’t say no to that. He was exhausted, even if he didn’t want to admit it — when he opened his eyes again, not knowing how long had passed, TK was there with a tray in hand, upon which lay two sandwiches, a couple of bags of chips, and juice for both of them.

“Time to eat.”

“I know I’ve said this a few times already, but can you forgive me?”

TK sat next to him on the bed and left the tray to one side. “Like I said, there’s nothing to forgive.”

“But I’m treating you badly. I’m taking out all my frustration on you and…”

“I said it’s time to eat.” TK helped Carlos to sit up then put a plate with a sandwich on it in his lap. “My dad’s special recipe for when I was ill. It’ll make you feel better soon.”

“What is it?”

“Until we’re married, that stays a Strand family secret. I promise you’ll like it.”

Carlos smiled and pulled TK closer to kiss him. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you, you know that.”

“I do.”

Without taking his eyes off TK, Carlos took a bite out the sandwich. His smile grew; he couldn’t identify what flavour it was, but whatever it was, it was good.

When he’d finished, he lay back down and fell asleep again, so deeply that he didn’t notice when TK lay down to rest too.

[cocoswriting]

lee wilbur, ler techno? maybe smth where wilbur’s being chaotic so techno takes him down a peg? you dont have to tho— /gen

Chaotic Mf

Summary; Basically what the ask says; Wilbur was being chaotic/creepy and needed to be taken down a peg. [PLATONIC. DO NOT TAG AS SHIP.]

Warning(s); This is a tickle fic! If you don’t like that kind of stuff, then I recommend you just scroll past.

“You put ecosystems in jars?..”

“Yeah,” Wilbur responded casually, laying upside-down on the couch opposite Techno. He had his legs curled over the back of the couch and his head was dangling off the edge—it was a wonder how he hadn’t gotten uncomfortable enough to shift positions yet. Wilbur seemed to have a strange habit of never sitting correctly when he was in one of his “chaotic” moods, always finding some weird way to rest instead. “I go out and collect mud, rocks, soil, and I put them inside the jar.” he explained, and Techno scrunched up his face both in confusion and mild disgust.

“And... this is a normal thing?” Techno asked disbelievingly, flipping a page in the book he had in his hands, though it wasn’t as if he was paying much attention to the text anymore. Wilbur nodded happily from across the room, grinning as he opened his mouth to continue explaining, only to get cut off by Techno. “Wil, I don’t really care. I’m tryn’ to read right now.”

Wilbur huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting in fake dismay and staring at Techno almost expectantly, even though the piglin was very clearly no longer looking at him. “Well, you should care,” the brunet replied with a sassy tone of voice, sounding akin to an annoyed child. “I swear I’m not the only one who does this! Ranboo does it too, or at least he did...”

“Ranboo did that—?... No, Wilbur, really, just talk about literally anythin’ else. I do not care about your jar ecosystems,” Techno was already used to dealing with Wilbur’s chaotic moods. They’d come in at random times, last a couple hours, and then eventually he’d lose all the excess energy he had and go back to “normal.” So it wasn’t as if he actually expected Wil to stop when he was told to—Techno knew he wouldn’t—but he figured he might as well try to change the topic that Wilbur would ramble on about. Honestly, Techno just wanted to read his book. “Can’t you bother someone else? It isn’t that late, Phil and Tommy are still up.”

Wilbur let out a loud, dramatic sigh followed by a shake of his head and a couple tutting sounds. “You’re no fun,” his tone was playful, indicative of the grin that was on his face, despite his words suggesting otherwise. “But fine! I’ll talk about something else.” Wilbur rolled himself over on the couch, sitting upright and then standing up to make his way over to the man sitting across from him. Techno tore his eyes away from the book and glanced up when he realised Wilbur had approached, raising an eyebrow and glaring half-heartedly at the musician.

“What?” Techno’s voice sounded tired, more tired than usual, but bore no real malice as he impatiently awaited Wilbur’s response.

“Have you ever seen Doctor Who?”

“Oh my god,” Techno looked down and rubbed his temples, dropping the book beside him and running one of his hands through his hair, groaning loudly. He heard Wilbur’s shrill laugh at his reaction, which was shortly followed by the sound of shuffling as he sat down next to the piglin and crossed his legs, seemingly prepping himself to start telling whatever story he wanted to tell Techno about. “Please.”

“I already told Phil about this one,” Wilbur began, biting back another laugh at Techno’s long sigh which came straight after. “So, there are these things called ‘weeping angels—!” Wil was quickly cut off by a rough jab to his side. He managed to force back any verbal reactions he might have given to the sudden electric tingly feeling that spread all throughout his side, but he couldn’t conceal the very obvious flinch and curling of his lips.

“You good?” Techno asked, having removed his hands from his face to shoot his brother a concerned glance. Wilbur felt heat rush to his face, but he couldn’t tell whether he’d paled, or gone red. “Did you...” He shifted closer to the brunet, cocking his head to one side. “You flinched,” The elder stated quite obviously, expression a mixture of curiosity and interest.

“You caught me off-guard,” Wilbur quickly stammered out, a sheepish half-smile spreading over his face. Techno frowned—and it was clear from just that gesture that he wasn’t buying it.

Techno placed one hand on his side and left it there, unmoving. Wilbur didn’t flinch that time, but he wanted to, his flustered state having raised his hypersensitivity to the point where he wanted to squirm even just imagining that Techno might find out. “I was just tryin’ to shut you up, you needa’ tell me what happened or I’ll assume that you’re hurt,” Techno said, beginning to slowly rub two(2) fingers in small circles on Wilbur’s side. The last part of his sentence came off as more of a threat to his brother—he didn’t want to worry Techno, but at the same time, getting found out like this would be so embarrassing.

“I-I’m not—“ Wilbur was cut off by a quiet gasp, but not quiet enough for Techno to let slip. One of Techno’s ears twitched at the sound and he made a gruff huffing noise, now reaching down to tug up the hem of his brother’s sweater, exposing the bottom half of his side. “Hey, I’m not hurt, okAY—!” Techno, being the oblivious bastard he was, began to rub gentle circles on Wilbur’s bare side, which elicited a comical noise sounding like a mix between a squeal and a yelp from the man. As Wil managed to squirm away from the tingles, butterflies erupted in his belly when he thought; there’s no getting out of this now.

Silence filled the room for a couple seconds, the gears turning in Techno’s head before it finally clicked, and he couldn’t help the smug expression that formed on his face when he realised what Wilbur had been trying to hide. “You’re ticklish,” he emphasised the ‘T-word’, causing Wilbur’s face to heat up even more, and the fact that Techno’s hand still remained hovering just ever-so-slightly above his side, was not helping. “How come I didn’t know this before? You keepin’ secrets from me, hm?” Techno shoved both of his hands up Wilbur’s shirt and gently ran his nails up and down his skin, eliciting a few snickers along with squeaks and he tried to muffle his giggles.

Wilbur frantically shook his head ‘no’ and looked down, his hair falling in front of his face and (thankfully) hiding his bright pink cheeks. Tingles and shockwaves of tickly sensations shot up his sides, the feeling only increasing the longer Techno’s fingers lingered in the same spot. “Well— you’re definitely much quieter now,” Techno remarked, and Wilbur opened his mouth to give a sassy response, only for a loud squeak to come out instead as the gliding nails began to gently scratch at each side of his back. He arched forward but shifted backwards, resting his back against the armrest and laying down. Wil had hoped this would quell the sensations at least a little, but it only made them worse, the little scratches becoming rougher as Techno’s fingers got trapped. “This seems like a good way to take you down a peg whenever you’re in one of your ‘chaotic’ moods.”

“N-no—hohahahaa!” As Techno moved his hands up to Wilbur’s ribs, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. High-pitched giggles flooded from Wilbur’s lips as he wriggled and squirmed, throwing his head back as his hands switched between trying to protect the targeted spots and trying to push Techno away. It wasn’t exactly working out for him, and eventually he just curled up, hoping to drown out the tickles somehow. It only got worse once he felt Techno begin to drill his thumbs into the spaces between each of the bones. “NOHO! DOHohon’t dohoho thahahat, plehehehahase!”

As Techno gazed down at the giggling boy, he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t melt at the sight of his bright, carefree smile. “Why not?~” His tone of voice was still deadpan, but it had a sing-songy edge to it this time. If Wilbur had the guts to muster up insults at the time, he would’ve called him every name in the book just as revenge for the horrible teases. “Does it tickle too much? Surely you can’t be that ticklish, right?~” Every time the T-word was mentioned Wilbur felt the pit in his stomach fill with more butterflies, and his blush began to slowly spread out to his neck and ears. “It’s your own fault for bein’ annoyin’.”

“Ihihihi wahahasn’t beheheing ahahannoying!” Wilbur insisted, his giggles slowly increasing as Techno’s fingers danced their way up his ribs, heading for his armpits. But before they could reach the spot, he instinctively slammed his arms down to protect himself, blocking the offending hands just in time. It seemed that Techno took this defensive action as provoking, because his immediate response to that was to sigh disappointedly and start skittering around Wil’s neck and shoulders, causing him to scrunch up like a turtle and begin to wriggle side-to-side in a weak attempt at escaping the tickles. “Nohohoho! Fuhuhuahahack ohohoff— yohohou’re sohoho mehehehehahan!”

“Mean? This isn’t mean,” Wilbur could hardly make out Techno’s words anymore, considering he was much more focused on the shocks of tickles and his own embarrassment. But once he heard those words leave his brother’s lips, he couldn’t help but start squirming even harder on top of squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t process what the words meant in his state—but he’s heard that tone before. And that tone means ‘you fucked up’. “You wanna see mean?” Techno asked rhetorically and Wilbur began frantically shaking his head, letting out giggly little “nononono”s as he tensed, prepping himself for the inevitable attack that would come next.

“AAAHAA!” Wilbur shrieked as he felt Techno’s lips make contact with his tummy, quickly followed by an explosion of tickles as he blew a raspberry, shaking his head during it to make it even worse. Wil bucked, cackled and squealed, only for his hips to get held down and mercilessly drilled into by two(2) of Techno’s fingers. All of his nerves felt like they were on fire, and he felt everything—every last pinch to his hips, every raspberry that was blown, and it was almost too much for him to handle. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t loving it. “NAHAHAHAAA! TEHEHEHAHAHAHA—!”

Even after Techno ceased the raspberries, he still seemed fully intent on being as merciless as possible. He continued to drill right into the dip of Wilbur’s hipbone, using his other hand to rapidly squeeze his tummy, never letting up and never slowing down. Wilbur had completely given up on trying to fight back, his arms were too tired for that now and he knew it was no use, so instead he began using his hands to cover his bright pink face with. “Oh, poor Wilbur,” Techno began, a very obviously feigned sympathetic tone in his voice. “Being tickled is just such a hard job.”

“SHUHUAHAHAT UHUHUHUP!” Wilbur forced out through his hysterics, helplessly rolling his torso back and forth, attempting to focus his attention on literally anything else other than the tickles he was receiving. He couldn’t decide if he loved or hated it—it was unbearable and maddening, he felt like he was being driven up a wall, but at the same time he had to admit that he was having fun. He was soaking up all the attention like a sponge. It didn’t take much longer before his laughter became wheezy and strained, though, and he’d decided he had enough. “O-OHOHOKAHAY! STOHOHAHAHAHAP, THAHAHAHAT’S ENOHOHOHOUGH—!”

Techno listened straight away, ceasing the tickles and backing away as Wilbur curled in on himself, hugging his midsection while trying to rid of the after-tingles that still remained. “You alright?.. was it too much?” Techno asked, reaching over to deliver a couple, comforting pats to Wilbur’s head. He would’ve leaned away if it weren’t for how exhausted he was from all his laughter. “...sorry,”

“N-noho, noho... it,” Wilbur knew he should be careful with his choice of words there. He didn’t want to give away how much he’d actually enjoyed himself, but at the same time, he was well aware he’d likely given that fact away while being tickled. He supposed there was no point in lying—especially if it would risk making Techno worry over nothing. “...wahas nice.”

There was no response for a couple seconds, but then the silence was interrupted by a snort coming from Techno, and Wilbur instantly knew what he would have found amusing. But as Techno gently ran his fingers through his hair, practically soothing Wilbur to sleep, he found he didn’t care as much as he did before.

They should do this again sometime.

[amintyworld]

The Pig Led to Slaughter - Drabble for Griffin's Blog (Part One)

A/N: Hey guys so @griffintail does ask collabs with Lemon Anon on their blog. Their latest story (collab 6) didn't have enough angst so I decided to make some. This is the result. You should check out their collab for context since it is an AU of sorts. Don't want to? Here's the summary: Pirate Captain Dad! Technoblade with SBI+Fundy, Y/N Style. Hold on to your bootstraps, we're just getting started. >:) - Minty

TW: Suspicion, mention of murder, lying, mention of getting arrested, cursing. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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

It was early in the morning, the sun just peeking over the town’s buildings, that a loud knock awoke the blonde light-sleeper. Startled, he’d nearly fallen out of his own bed, muttering a few curses to himself. Untangling himself from the sheets, he stumbled out of his room. Three more knocks sounded from the door. Briefly, he was relieved seeing Y/N curled up in her bed with Tommy, fast asleep. At the very least, they didn’t get woken up.

Another three knocks - what could possibly be so urgent at this hour?

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” He grumbled as he descended the stairs, moving across the house toward the front door. Pulling the robe a bit more over himself, he begrudgingly opened the door. Still gaining his bearings from being abruptly awoken, it took the older man a minute or two for his brain to process the royal blue uniforms.

Navy. Shit.

Well, if he wasn’t awake before, that fact certainly slapped the older man into reality. Two officers, swords at their hips, looked at him sternly, almost as if they were sizing up how much of a threat he was. “Good morning, officers. How may I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you at this hour, Mr. Craft. There was a recent attack at sea…” The Naval Officer’s gaze slightly peers beside Phil into the house, almost as if looking for something. “Could we ask you a few questions?”

Despite how uncomfortable these two made him feel, Phil knew he couldn’t exactly turn them away. If he did, they’d just come back with more officers and take him to jail. No, he couldn’t risk it - he had Y/N to think about now. Technoblade trusted him with looking out for his daughter. It’s not as if he could simply pick up and move like he used to. Besides, they couldn’t have figured out any incriminating details about him… could they? He willed himself to calm as he opened up the door further. “Of course, come in gentlemen.”

The two soldiers scanned the room, moving through it, looking at every detail. Phil gained a little confidence as he slowly realized something - they don’t even know what they’re looking for. They're being too obvious about it, they wanted him to give them hints, reactions, anything. But sadly for them, he was smarter than that. A small smile appeared on his face as he moved to light a candle.

“I’m sorry for the state of things, I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

“No worries sir.” An officer dismissed with a small smile as Phil turned around, candle holder in hand. Phil moved over toward the couch, placing the candle holder on the table for a bit of light in the dark room.

“We can talk over here - can I offer either of you anything to drink? Coffee, tea...?”

The other Naval Officer, who was previously looking at the mirror with a vase of flowers in front of it in the doorway, spoke: “We’re fine. It’ll only take a few moments of your time, at most.”

“Of course.” Phil agreed, settling on one end of the couch. “You said there was an attack?”

The more friendly officer agreed. “Yes, a few days ago last I heard. A band of pirates attacked a cargo ship carrying the Kingdom’s trade. The captain hasn’t been much of a threat before, but since it was the property of the crown the King wants him captured. His name was Technoblade, I believe?”

“Technoblade…” Phil murmured to himself, acting confused. “What a strange name indeed.”

“He’s known to frequent this town for supplies, a few sources say you’ve interacted?”

“Well, I’m quite the merchant myself, I’m not entirely surprised - Though I can’t confirm for sure.”

“How so, Mr. Craft?”

Phil nervously laughed. “I’m afraid to tell you, gentlemen, that I seem to have misplaced my logbook. I’m planning on seeing the bookmaker on that in a few day’s time, however. My apologies.”

“No need, perhaps you can recognize him from the picture?” The other piped up, unfolding a piece of parchment to reveal a drawn sketch of his son. It was pretty accurate. Scarily so. It captured the fire-like determination in his son’s eyes that never extinguished. The scars were all in the correct places, even one close to his eye that Phil recalled he fretted over when Techno had arrived home at last, claiming that the blow could’ve blinded him.

Phil tensed slightly, and the more aggressive naval officer’s eyes flicked up to his. They bore into him. “Is there something wrong, Mr. Craft?”

Keep calm. Don’t give anything away. They need you.

Wilbur needs you. Fundy needs you. Tommy needs you. Y/N needs you.

Technoblade needs you.

“Pardon me, officers - just… lifelike, that’s all.” Phil put on his best smile. “Nearly gave me a fright.” He laughed a bit, and the officer holding the poster gave him a warm smile.

“No worries, sir. Just take a good look for a second - do you recognize this man?”

‘WANTED’ was sprawled across the top. ‘Armed and Dangerous’ is written at the bottom. Oh, and there was the reward for catching him. Phil saw so many zeroes he didn’t know whether to be proud or disgusted. After all, Phil couldn’t count the number of times, in the beginning, he’d told Techno how dangerous this business was, the number of pirates who got caught and put in prison or were victims of the gallows. He told him it was risky, he told him he could die.

But, he guessed, Technoblade always lived life to the fullest, a bit more on edge than others ever dreamed they would. It was a part of him Phil could never change. It was a part of him Phil loved. So, even though he wanted him to be safe, who was he to take that adventure-seeking spark in his eyes away? He was happy, after all. But now, reality began to seep in. Reality of Y/N growing up without a father, without her father. Before, Technoblade had nothing to lose.

Now? Now, he had everything to lose.

As the two officers looked to him for an answer, Phil swallowed the knot in his throat. He knew lying to a government official was a traitorous offense. He knew what would happen if they caught wind of the truth. But he and his sons… they were apples from the same tree, he supposed. Risk-takers. Liars.

For Phil… family always came first.

“No… No, I can’t say I’ve seen him.” Phil shook his head slightly. “Though I thank you both for the warning, I’ll definitely be on the lookout for him.”

A yawn sounded from behind him as someone descended the stairs. “Phil…?” Phil’s head snapped over to Tommy, who looked weary at the scene in front of him. The father could feel the officer’s gazes on him from just sitting there. He’d hoped that he could get the officers to leave before Tommy or Y/N woke up. At this point he hoped Tommy could stay as calm as he was, or he could risk undoing all the protection Phil had done to keep them from suspicion. “Phil, what’s…?”

“Oh, Tommy. I didn’t mean to wake you up this early.” Phil stood, noticing Tommy’s stiffened stance at the Navy, moving forward to gently place his hands on his youngest’s shoulders. He turned to the other two with a smile. “My son.” Phil could feel Tommy shaking with anger and fear. He squeezed the teen’s shoulders to help bring him back to reality before he boiled over. “I’m so sorry to put you in such a state when we have guests, I didn’t think it would take this long.” Tommy’s eyes flicked up to his, a silent message. Is this about Techno? Phil gave a slight nod. “Hm, yes I know you must be hungry… go on upstairs and get changed, I’ll try to make you some breakfast in a minute, I promise.”

Tommy’s shoulders relaxed as he awkwardly looked at the officers, standing down. “Uh… right. Right. I’m sorry… I…” He turned without another word, quickly climbing the stairs.

“Your boy okay?” The naval officer asked, eyeing the staircase.

Phil nervously laughed. “You’ll have to excuse him, he gets nervous around strangers.” He explained. “I really should be getting to making breakfast, is there anything else I can help you both with?”

The other piped up, reassuring. “I don’t believe so, Mr. Craft. We’re deeply sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

“No, please…” Phil answered. “This was quite informative.”

“Keep the poster as a reference and notify us if you see him in the area… don’t approach, he’s known to be unstable, sir - talking to himself.”

“I see.” Phil nodded as he led the two to the door. The voices were acting up again… something must’ve happened. “Thank you so much for letting me know.”

They both tipped their hats in respect. “Sir.”

“Sir.” The one behind him repeated. “Have a good day, Mr. Craft. We’ll keep in touch.”

Gods, Phil hoped they wouldn’t.

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

General Writing Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added/removed):

@bones-sprouts

@foolishcaptains

@benzel

[felidaefighter]

Our Metaphorical Get-Along Sweater

In which Wilbur thinks of Ranboo as an arch-nemesis while Ranboo is just There Vibing and also, Phil has adopted Ranboo, making for two very different siblings and a very interesting relationship

[Fluff, comedy, work in progress; every chapter will swap POV]

Chapter One: Brother To A Stranger

     Phil is usually a fairly reclusive person, and yet Wilbur finds himself parting from the fifth hug just this morning. “I’m just… so happy you’re home,” Phil says with a warm and loving smile, and Wilbur knows it to mean I’m so happy you’re alive again. “I’m glad to be home,” Wilbur affirms, and then adds, softly, “I missed you.” Phil immediately responds in kind. Wilbur may be an adult, but after thirteen years in hell and darkness, he thinks he’s earned a little bit of that “living at home with your dad” sort of life. He had showered the night before, for a very very long time, enjoying the feeling of rain that didn’t burn-- as much as that memory was more of Ghostbur’s than his. Phil hadn’t minded, though, so it was fine. He had changed his bandage and washed his clothes, and woke up just a little before the sunrise, sitting on the balcony to watch it. He and Phil had then shared a quiet morning. It was nice. Peaceful.

     “Ah, here comes Ranboo!” Phil said, as a passing glance out the window alerted him to the hybrid’s presence, and Wilbur groaned internally and really hoped he didn’t make a face. Ranboo was okay, Wilbur supposed. He was fine. He just also happened to oppose everything Wilbur stood for and everything Wilbur believed, and his adopted little brother and said brother’s best friend seemed to think he hung the stars in the sky, for some reason, and liked him better than they liked Wilbur. Which, fair. Wilbur hadn’t exactly made himself the nicest person before his death-- and he supposed during, for a time. So that at least was understandable. Ranboo was fine as a person, really. Wilbur just didn’t like him all that much.

     Ranboo knocked on the door and, of course, just like that Phil let him in. “Oh, hey Wilbur.” Ranboo said, apparently a little surprised. Again. Understandable. He’d only been there a day. “Hello, Ranboo,” Wilbur replied, voice even because he was being polite, he really was trying he swore, he wouldn’t let Phil be disappointed and he wanted to give Ranboo a chance-- or at least try to. “It’s good you’re both here, actually,” Phil said, with a look of sudden remembrance, “I wanted to introduce you.” Wilbur shot Phil a very confused look. Wasn’t it clear that they’d already met based on the way they greeted one another? “We’ve met,” Wilbur told Phil, and thankfully for now confusion overrode every other feeling he might have.

     Phil sighed and Wilbur’s confusion grew even more as Ranboo, apparently, knew more of what was going on than Wilbur did as the hybrid’s eyes revealed a look of sudden understanding. “Yes, but you’ve not been introduced properly.” Phil actually walked over to Ranboo’s side. Phil put a hand on Ranboo’s shoulder and Ranboo stared nervously at the floor. “Ahh how do I say this, how do I say this,” Phil muttered under his breath, and Wilbur was too incredulous to be impatient. “Right. Wil, a lot has happened since you were away and, well. This is Ranboo, my adopted son. That makes him your younger brother. Ranboo, this is Wilbur, your older brother. I really really hope you two are gonna get along,” Phil said, blunt-forcing the news with a nervous little cackle at the end. Wait. What.

     “What?” Wilbur asked aloud, bewildered, because there was no way he had heard that right. There was no way that even Phil had fallen for whatever sort of bewitchment Ranboo seemed to be capable of. But Phil was making that awkward grinning face that Wilbur knew meant he was being presented with the harsh truth, and Ranboo coughed awkwardly. “Yeah uh. Phil… adopted me a little after I moved in here. Don’t worry, it-- it doesn’t really change the living situation or anything, I still have my own house--” he gestured, the house very much inside the fence border of Phil and Technoblade-- “So I think it’ll be fine. Right, Phil?” He finished, glancing at Phil, who had started sorting his chests.

     Phil sighed again, settling himself. “Yes,” he agreed, “It’ll be fiiine. Ranboo’s hardly ever here anyway, usually out with Tubbo or gone mining,” Phil said, attempting reassurance. Wilbur took a moment to compose himself, shoving all of his current feelings into an overstuffed closet like a kid trying to hide a mess from their parent. Which worked well as a metaphor, considering the situation at hand. “Yeah,” Wilbur said carefully, “It should be just fine. I suppose you’re both right, between having a different house--” that was literally right next to theirs-- “And being gone a fair amount of time, I don’t think that’ll change anything up too much.” It absolutely, completely would. “Thank you for letting me know, Phil. Honestly I can think of at least ten different ways I could’ve found out and all of them are worse, so.” That part was true at least. All things considered, this was the best way to find out. But why did it have to have happened in the first place?!?

     “Mhm. Exactly, exactly,” Ranboo agreed, and at least Wilbur could take solace in the fact that he felt just as awkward about this whole situation as Wilbur and apparently Phil too did. Wilbur was always grateful for his father, but never-- and he did think he meant never-- had he been as grateful as he was now, as Phil broke the silence. “So, Ranboo, was there a reason you stopped by?” Ranboo lit up. “Oh right! Yeah, I was wondering if you had any golden carrots I could borrow? The farmers give you and Techno better deals-- I can repay you the emeralds as soon as I get back, too, since I have plenty.” Phil chuckled fondly as he opened a cabinet and handed some of the golden carrots to Ranboo. “Nah mate, there’s no need to do that. It’s fine, we have plenty.” Ranboo took the carrots with a soft thank you.

     Wilbur leaned back against the wall, content to listen and not participate for the moment, eyes narrowed and trying to gauge the situation and their interactions. Ranboo was nothing like him-- the polar opposite of him-- and yet, it was undeniable that these were the interactions of a father and son. “Sooo, adventuring or mining this time? I doubt you’re low on anything.” Ranboo perked up, clearly excited about whatever upcoming deeds he had planned. “Adventuring! I’ll probably be away for about a week, actually. I really really want to find an enchanted golden apple. I know I teeeechnically already have one, but it’s good to be prepared-- besides, I don’t think Tubbo has one, and he probably needs it more than I do.” Ranboo grimaced. “He’s a lot more accident-prone than I am.” Phil cackled. “That’s so true. Alright. Well, be safe, give the crows a holler if you need anything, good luck!”

     Phil patted Ranboo twice on the shoulder, and Ranboo headed out the door, calling “Bye Phil! Bye Wilbur!” as he left, Wilbur giving a short wave in return. The door closed. Theoretically, the morning could go back to being peaceful and nice. Only theoretically. Wilbur turned to Phil, baffled and, quite frankly, feeling like a whiny child. “You what?” He repeated, satisfied that Ranboo was out of earshot and maybe now he and Phil could properly talk about it. Phil just waved his hand dismissively. “Aghk, it’s fine. He was in a bad place, Wil, I took him in ‘cuz he had nowhere to go.” Phil smirked, allowing himself a brief cackle. “And not just because we blew the place where his old house was up. Anyway! I started looking after him a bit, we had a chat, and I officially adopted him. It’s fine, Wil, he’s way younger than you and I doubt you two are even gonna wind up interacting that much. Your first day here and he’s already gone for a week! You’ll be fine.” Wilbur wanted to huff and grumble and pout, but Phil, as always, was right.

     “But--” Wilbur started anyways, and was met with “No buts!” and a shoosh from Phil. Phil sighed, and came up to Wilbur, gently squeezing his shoulder. He spoke more softly this time. “It’ll be okay, Wil. I love you, nothing changes that. No matter what, you’re always my son. I’ve told you that.” Wilbur hated to admit it, but this soothed him deeply, and he relaxed into his father’s care. “Alright, Phil. I trust you. If you really think this… this Ranboo guy is alright, I’ll give him a chance. I mean, I promised Tommy I’d give him a chance, ‘cuz apparently he and Tubbo think he hung the stars in the sky or something--” Wilbur caught himself starting at bitterness, corrected his tone-- “But I meant it then and I mean it now. For you, Phil.” And how could he be upset with Phil, when that promise brought a warm smile to his face? “Thank you, Wilbur. That’s all I can ask.” Wilbur sighed, world-weary. It was going to be a long rest of forever.

-----

     Phil had gone downstairs to fix up the massive arena that he and Technoblade used for sparring. Wilbur would likely go help him later, if Phil wanted help, but for now he was glad for the solitude; something he was almost certain that he and his father had in common. Solitude wasn’t great, after far too many years sat in it, but because of that it was what he was used to-- anything more would likely be too overwhelming. Just the knowledge that he had a choice, though, and could wander or feel different temperatures or go to Phil, who would always always be there, was enough to ease his mind. And he needed both-- the solitude and peace of mind-- to try and figure out what in the world just happened.

     Wilbur supposed it made sense, in a way. He had been gone a very long time, after all, and Phil always had a bit of a soft spot that he had to find some outlet for, much in the same way that most normal people had to find an outlet for all their violent spots. What he couldn’t wrap his head around, was why Ranboo? Wilbur toyed with a yo-yo he had snagged from Phil (more accurately, that Phil just had lying around), grateful for the endless stimuli this wonderful world had to offer. There was clearly more to the story than what was immediately available, and it irritated Wilbur that he didn’t know. God knows he’d never be able to get a straight answer out of Tommy. Phil’s explanation would be brutally short and lacking any sort of detail-- Wilbur had always been the better storyteller of the family. His best bet was probably Ranboo himself, and that guy had memory problems! Wilbur figured he’d wind up needing to piece most of the story together himself, but that was fine. He wouldn’t mind a puzzle.

     Still, thinking it over with the few details he had been given, about Ranboo himself at least, Wilbur couldn’t really conceptualize it. And he definitely wasn’t any sort of jealous. Phil had never exactly been the mercy type, so he definitely wouldn’t have taken Ranboo in out of pity or guilt. The more he thought about it, the more baffled he was, and the more he concluded that maybe Ranboo did have some sort of supernatural bewitching powers. If his hybrid nature let him do enderman things, there had to be a possibility that his other half let him do bewitching things, right? Wilbur found himself tangled in his thoughts and, somehow, his yo-yo. With pleading, befuddled eyes, Wilbur looked directly at a crow on the windowsill, holding back soft, confused laughter. “Phil, I appear to have gotten myself tangled in a yo-yo. ...Help.” The crow, very helpfully, swooped down into the basement to inform Phil.

     Upon entering, Phil burst into laughter immediately, a sound that Wilbur had dearly missed but oh my god now was not the time. “Aw, mate, how did you even manage this?” Phil said, attempting to untangle Wilbur but having to pull away every few seconds for another bout of full-body laughter. “I Don’t Know,” Wilbur admitted, as Phil continued losing it, “I guess it’s just been a really long time since I played with a yo-yo, Phil.” Phil turned Wilbur this way and that, trying to figure out how it all looped together, muttering to himself breathlessly between laughs as he did so. “Oh you got the-- how did you manage to-- under your--?” A hoard of raucous crows joined them in the chaos. “--Ahhh, Wil!” Phil exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defeat and stepping back, letting out one big cackle; Wilbur chuckled a little too.

     Phil gave up and helped Wilbur shimmy out of his predicament instead, handing him the very sad, very knotted yo-yo for Wilbur to untangle on his own. “Try that first next time, but I’ll be up to help if you somehow manage even worse next time,” Phil said with a melodious, contented sigh, heading back down to the basement. “I will, I promise,” Wilbur said, soft smile on his face. Well, that was unintentional. But it had been nice, actually. More than anything, Phil deserved to be happy. Even if that meant having two sons, one of whom was the biggest, wimpiest pushover and yes-man Wilbur had ever seen. Wilbur groaned out loud. Seriously, Ranboo? Maybe age had finally made Phil senile. Wilbur and Ranboo couldn’t be more different-- how had they managed to both get the same dad? So maybe he was a little jealous. Whatever. Well, Wilbur thought with a decisive sniff, he’d still been there first, and he was older. He was definitely going to use that at every opportunity.

     Even knowing he had a few days to think about it, Wilbur realized pretty quickly that as far as a final conclusion went, that was about as far as he was going to get on any given day . No sense mulling it over until his head looked like the yo-yo string; he’d be fine, and it wouldn’t change things too much between him and Phil-- that at least had always been a given. He and Ranboo, though? Wilbur hadn’t thought his feelings on the hybrid could be any more conflicted than they already were, but apparently he now had a second sibling to deal with, and he hadn’t even chosen this one. It was going to be… strange. Very, very strange. But hey! Such is life! Full of surprises! Wilbur sat on the porch rail, watching all the uniquely patterned snowflakes, and slowly untangled his yo-yo string.

[julemmaes]

drivers license

Nesta Archeron x Cassian modern au

A/N: I didn’t think I would actually ever end this. When the song came out I knew I just had to write something for Nessian, so here it is. I gotta warn you tho, that this has a large backstory and that it’s pure angst.

warnings: abusive relationship, mentions of death, car accident

I’d like to dedicate this to my sweet and kind friend Dani, who can go fuck herself for making me cry while I was translating this and had NO RIGHT to do so. I hope you cry yourself to sleep with this one:)

Also, Sayo, Maizie, this has an open ending, it was the best I could do, sorry

Word count: 8,550

three years, four months and twelve days before

Tomas burst out laughing beside her, "Why on earth would you get a license?" he asked looking at her, "I can take you anywhere, you just call me."

Nesta huffed, putting her hands between her thighs to warm up against the freezing cold, "Because I can't always depend on you, Tommy." she leaned forward into the small cockpit to pick up the bag at her feet, "Plus, if I got my license, you wouldn't have to drive all these extra kilometres every morning and I could go wherever I want when you're not around."

She pulled out her phone, checking the message from her sister Elain warning her that she would be staying at her friend Lucien's house. She shook her head. She couldn't understand how it was possible that they weren't together yet.

Looking up at her boyfriend, she knew she'd said the wrong things when Tomas rolled his eyes, moving his hand from her thigh and bringing it to the steering wheel, "And why would you ever go anywhere without me?"

It was her turn to roll her eyes, "I meant to go to the supermarket or the gym." then, she turned to face him, giving him a reassuring smile. She didn't want him to worry about her. "I don't like going to clubs at night, you know that. I wouldn't go anywhere like that without you, I know you're jealous."

At the time, the words had had positive connotations for Nesta. That overwhelming toxic feature of his character that he had always managed to sell her for something to hold on to like a precious treasure, "I'm jealous of you because you're mine, because I love you and I don't want anyone else to see you the way I do. You are only mine."

Nesta felt herself blush and looked out the window, "I love you, too."

"As you should," he flashed her an amused grin and his hand returned to her thigh, giving it a quick squeeze, "Now can you please drop this insane driving licence idea?"

She nodded, gritting her teeth. She didn't need her own car, she didn't need to move around on her own. Tomas was always available to take her wherever they went.

She relaxed against the seats, humming to the song that was playing from the radio and forced a tight smile on her lips, thanking life for finding a perfect soulmate for her.

If only she had known at that moment how effective his control over her was, she might have saved herself years of shock and pain.

three years and six days before

"Can you take me to Claire's bar before you go with the boys?" she asked wearily between the sheets.

Tomas had gotten up immediately after finishing and was already starting to get dressed. He had done it so quickly that when Nesta shifted her gaze to him, he already had his boxers and trousers on. "I can't." he simply replied, "And don't even think about getting a ride from your friends."

She groaned, pouting a little, "So I should just stay home and do nothing?"

He didn't even look at her as he slipped his shirt on, "I already told you, I don't like it when you ride with Emerie. That girl is a public menace and she can't drive at all."

She let herself fall backwards onto the bed, covering her bare breasts, "She doesn't drive that bad." she muttered.

Tomas scoffed, "But if she hit a pole last week."

Nesta chuckled, turning on her stomach and looking over her shoulder at him. He'd had asked her that morning if he could stop by before going to the bar with the boys, to hang out with her for a bit. They'd ended up in bed pretty much immediately - her family out with kin - and now, not even half an hour after he'd arrived, he was already leaving.

At the beginning of their relationship it had bothered her. The fact that he would go to her house for a quick fuck, during which she hardly ever finished, and then go out with his friends, leaving her at home. After a few months of being together, Nesta thought he was doing it so he wouldn't leave her alone all day. That he was doing it to show her that he could find some time to show her his love.

God how wrong she had been.

"What if I get the girls to come here?" she asked suddenly, when he was ready to leave.

Tomas sighed so loudly that Nesta wondered if he'd been breathless the whole time. When he looked at her, she knew she had angered him. He ran a hand over his face, looking into her eyes, "Why do you have to be like that? I asked you if you could please not go out with anyone tonight and you keep pushing and pushing." he exclaimed exasperated. Nesta immediately felt guilty, "If you care so much about seeing your friends, go out with them, but when they make you do something completely idiotic and stupid, don't come crying to me."

She shook her head, swallowing back tears at the tone of voice he used. He was right, why couldn't she stay home one night if he asked her without making too much fuss? Tomas had the right to ask her something like that and it seemed like she was just looking for an excuse to argue. She apologised, getting up to walk over to him and wrapped her arms around his body, kissing his taut jaw, "I'll stay home."

Tomas pushed her roughly away from him, planting a quick kiss on her cheek and leaving with a simple bye and Nesta was left alone that night. And the next one again and again, until Emerie stopped asking her out and the only times she could, was when Tomas was with her.

two years, nine months and twenty-six days before

Nesta's heart had stopped in her chest the second her father had called her from the emergency room.

Feyre had burst into tears when Elain, who had been beside her during the whole call, had warned her that their parents had been involved in a serious accident and that their mum was now fighting for her life in an operating room. Their dad hadn't gone into details, but he too was crying as he told her that it was something major and that they would have to hurry to get to the hospital.

Nesta hadn't thought two seconds about dialling Tomas' number and what she thought would be a short, hurried call had turned into a fifteen minute argument.

"I already told you I can't come, I'm at the arcade with my friends, call someone else," her boyfriend was telling her in an annoyed tone.

"Please," she breathed, "Please, Tommy, we have to go to the hospital. I don't know who else to call. The buses would take too long." tears flowed undisturbed down her cheeks, but her voice was controlled. She could hear Feyre in the other room crying in despair and Elain trying to calm her down in every way as Nesta tried to find a way to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

If only she hadn't let him talk her out of getting her license.

"Nesta, stop fucking bugging me, I said I can't. And the discussion is over."

She was about to retort that it was his fault, she was about to yell at him that he owed her, that he'd promised her that if she ever needed a ride, he'd be there for her, but the signal of the call ending rumbled through her phone and she screamed in frustration.

She couldn't call Emerie or Claire. She couldn't call anyone.

Tomas had made sure she had no one to call but him. And now Nesta was alone.

She had helped Feyre calm down, updated them on the situation and they had taken three buses, taking over an hour and a half to get to the hospital. And it didn't matter that they ran from each stop to the next. It didn't matter that they had prayed to every god in existence that their mother would be alive when they got there.

Because Adele Archeron was already dead.

two years, nine months and twenty-three days before

"Get out of my house!" cried Nesta, "Get out of my house and don't come back!"

Tomas was fuming with anger, his face flushed and the vein in his neck pulsing, "Nesta you need to calm down. You're not angry with me right now-"

"Yes, I fucking am!" she sobbed, throwing her arms in the air, "It's your fault!"

His gaze darkened, "It's not my fault your mother died," he whispered threateningly.

She shuddered as if he had struck her physically. She blinked, letting some tears fall, before whispering back, "Get out, Tomas, and never show your face again."

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, "And how are you going to do that without me, huh? How are you going to get around? How are you going to survive these days without me, without anyone?" he had moved so close that Nesta could feel his breath on her face, but she didn't pull away. He kept his gaze fixed in hers, "You're alone, can't you see that? You need me."

She held her breath, "I don't need you. I don't need anyone." she said through her teeth, lifting her chin up, "I'm going to get my license and I'll surely know how to take better care of my body than you ever did in our entire relationship."

When she saw that her words had the desired effect in the boy in front of her, who backed away a step and began breathing heavily, crossing his arms over his chest, she kept talking.

"That's what you've always been, a taxi driver and a sexual pastime," she spat at him.

Tomas remained silent, an angry grimace painted on his face. He turned to the door, grabbing the handle and then looked over his shoulder at her, a grin creeping over his face. "Have fun getting your license and dying like your mother."

And then Tomas disappeared and Nesta never saw him again.

one year, seven months and five days before

"Miss, are you okay?"

The driving instructor's hand rested on her shoulder and Nesta's head snapped in the direction of the woman next to her. She must have looked a lot more shocked than she thought because the woman cursed, "Honey, I don't think we should try to drive today."

Nesta wanted to nod, to tell her she was right, to yell that she couldn't do it. She didn't want to, didn't want to. She clenched her hands around the steering wheel, hoping to find a foothold, an anchor, something that would bind her to this world when her vision blurred and she felt her chest tighten.

She tried to breathe, but she couldn't get the air down, couldn't get her lungs to expand, couldn't-

"Girl, I think we'd better get out of the car," the woman murmured. She reached for the keyhole and slipped them out from under the steering wheel, keeping her gaze fixed on Nesta, who was struggling to focus more with each passing second. The instructor opened the door and walked around the car, opening hers, but Nesta couldn't move.

She closed her eyes, forcing her body to swallow oxygen before she passed out. When She did, the sound that came from her throat sounded like the one of an old man on the verge of death. She brought one hand to her chest, the other to her stomach when she felt she was going to be sick.

She unbuckled her seatbelt with some trouble with trembling hands, but as soon as she was free of the snake that was pinning her against the seat, she moved the woman who was now calling for help from other instructors and dropped to the ground on her knees, hurling up the lunch she had eaten a few hours before.

She didn't feel people's hands on her body as they helped her up, nor did she hear her father's voice asking what had happened. She didn't realise she was back home in her bed, didn't realise she had been there for days.

She could only imagine the fear and pain her mother must have felt the moment the car skidded on the ice and her father was no longer in control of the vehicle.

one year, five months and twenty-two days before

Nesta had taken some downers before going for her first drive. This time she had been confident that she would be able to drive for at least half an hour without any problems, that she would drive home in her own car, with her father beside her.

This had not been the case.

For the fourth time she had sat down, buckled her seat belt and done all the checks she had to do before starting, and then panic had taken over her body. It had assailed every fibre of her being and had squeezed her lungs and heart so tightly that Nesta had thought she was dying. She had jumped out of the car when she had felt the vehicle roar beneath her once she had turned the keys in the ignition and vomited again.

She would never be able to get her license.

the day

It had been almost three years since her mother had died. Almost three years since her problems had started, since she had realised what kind of person she was. What kind of person Tomas was.

She had spent the last three years of her life in panic, in pain. Every step she took, every word she said, every look she gave, cost her more than anything else.

Nesta wasn't living. This was not life.

She was convinced that her mother had taken her soul with her when she had left her.

Because Nesta was empty most of the time, drained of all emotion, completely anaesthetised and oblivious to the outside world around her at times. And then there were the moments, lasting seconds or moments or whole minutes of excruciating agony, when Nesta felt it all.

And that all threatened to crush her every time.

Feyre and Elain had somehow managed to overcome it. They had managed to go their separate ways and had left their sister behind, because she had wanted to be left behind.

And if Nesta had been lonely when no one had been able to take her to her dying mother, she had not yet known true solitude. Because when even your own family turned its back on you and left you alone to cry on the road of that path you were supposed to take together while you screamed and no one could hear you, only then would you look up and see Loneliness smiling at you as it held out its hand.

Now, sitting on the floor in one of the aisles of the university library, she was holding her head in her hands and trying not to fall asleep, with little result.

She had not slept that night, like the previous thousand, but unlike the other mornings, she had not been able to take her tablets and during the third lecture of the day she had risked falling asleep on the desk.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, opening them occasionally when she heard noises, but she must have fallen asleep completely at some point, because when she opened them again, her head was resting on the carpet and a hand was shaking her shoulder.

"Can you hear me?" a deep, concerned voice was asking. Nesta closed her eyes again and the grip on her shoulder tightened, "Can you hear me? Are you alright?" the boy demanded. She moved her lips, but no sound came out, "What an idiotic question, you're obviously not okay."

Nesta rolled onto her back, opening her eyes fully and looking up at the ceiling of the library. What was going on?

"Do you want me to go get someone, do you need me to call an ambulance?" the voice kept asking, sounding more and more concerned with each passing second. Nesta shifted her gaze to the person whose hand was on her shoulder and had started massaging it, applying pressure with its thumb. The movement harder than necessary, as if it was done to keep her awake.

The boy was handsome. Long hair held up in a tousled bun and the faint hint of a beard that hadn't been shaved in days covered the sculpted face of what might have looked like a Greek god. She couldn't reach his eyes that hers slowly closed.

Nesta was so tired.

"Hey, no no, open your eyes, stay awake," he shook her again, harder this time, and she groaned raising her left arm, "Sorry, I just need you to stay awake," he apologised, Nesta could hear the apprehension in his voice.

Why was he worried? He didn't know her.

"Can you tell me your name?"

She opened her mouth, trying to answer, but nothing came out and she looked up at him at that point. His dark eyes, a very common brown, stared at her glowing with emotion, but Nesta couldn't bring herself to care. She was having such a hard time staying awake, she just wanted to sleep, sleep, sleep.

"Alright, you don't have to answer, can you sit up?" he asked her then, after a minute of silence. She shook her head, letting it fall to the side, shifting her gaze to the floor again. He cursed and then removed his hand from Nesta's shoulder. "I'll call the ambulance."

Her eyes snapped to him so fast they sent a rush of pain through her brain. She moved her hand closer to him, resting it on his leg, and the boy snapped his head in her direction at the exact instant she sobbed and panic threatened to take control. She shook her head, taking short, laboured breaths, "No, no."

"Sweetheart I don't know what to do and I can't leave you here," he replied, putting the phone down and taking her hand in his. He glanced left and right, searching for anyone else. He sighed, returning his gaze to her, "If you can say a whole sentence without passing out and getting up I won't call 118. But, for all we both know, you could be having a stroke or a heart attack and we wouldn't know, and I'd rather you didn't die," he chuckled at the end of the monologue.

There was no trace of amusement in that sound though, nothing to suggest he was enjoying this.

Nesta tightened her fingers around his, "My name is Nesta."

She didn't know if she had spoken, maybe she had just thought she had, but the smile that appeared on his lips was answer enough to her doubts, "Nesta." he repeated, offering her a nod of his head, "I like that. My name is Cassian." he added. She didn't answer, but continued to stare at him.

"Can you by any chance tell me how old you are?" he asked after a while, arranging his bent legs underneath him.

Nesta sighed, closing her eyes, "Twenty-two."

Cassian gave her a little nudge with his knee, "Eyes open or I'll call an ambulance."

She obeyed, "How old are you?" she asked in a thin voice, so weak she was startled. She needed to sleep.

"I'll be twenty-four in a few days." he answered quickly, "Now a slightly more complex question, why did you faint?" he asked and the muscles around his mouth seemed to tense.

She shook her head, now much more aware of what was happening. Slowly she was returning to the world of the living. She removed her hand from Cassian's and felt as if he wanted to hold her for a moment, but he let go immediately and she thought she had imagined it. She pulled herself up into a seat, holding her head with her hands.

"I didn't pass out. I think I fell asleep," she replied, massaging her forehead. She grimaced and looked up at him.

The usual expression he'd had up to that point only seemed to grow worse and the worry doubled, "What do you mean you think you fell asleep?" then his brows knitted together and he leaned towards her, speaking in a lower voice, "I'm sorry if this seems a little inappropriate, but do you have a home?"

It took Nesta a while to realise what he was alluding to with those words, but when she did, she nodded, adding a faint, "I don't sleep."

His eyebrows shot up, "You don't sleep." it wasn't a question.

"I don't sleep." she repeated, resting one hand on one of the shelves and pulling herself up.

He nodded, looking up at her from below and pulling himself up in turn shortly after, ready to catch her if she fell to the floor one more time.

Nesta seemed to become aware of the situation they were in and felt her body stiffen suddenly and waited, waited for panic to assail her, for shame to take over. She waited to feel everything and too quickly, but her breathing did not change and her vision did not blur and Nesta thought she was dreaming at last, that she was sleeping so deeply that she could imagine a life where these things did not dominate her life.

When Cassian gave her a small smile, her heart missed a beat, "How are you feeling?"

She nodded and answered without thinking. Because everyone had been asking her the same thing for years. "Good."

He seemed to study her face for a few moments, then offered her an arm, turning to the strangely empty tables that stood in front of the entrance, "How about I buy you a coffee and then maybe take you to one of your friends?" he asked, "I don't want to intrude too much and ask if you want a ride home, but at least they could help you."

Nesta looked at him with a confused expression, "Home?"

The slightly more relieved expression that had begun to make its way onto his face fell away completely, replaced by an apologetic one, "Forgive me, I understood that-"

She quickly blocked him, "I have a home, I'm not homeless," he sighed, "But why would I want to go home?"

He looked at her as a second head had popped up on her shoulder, "Nesta," the way he said her name made her forget for a moment how messed up her life was, "you were sleeping on the floor of the library. You can't stay at the university, you risk accidentally falling asleep and hurting yourself. Are you narcoleptic?" he asked her suddenly.

She opened her eyes wide, linking her arm with his, "No." she whispered.

He chuckled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything, but it's not every day you find a pretty girl asleep on the floor. And I heard a thud, that's why I thought you fainted. I heard you fall," he glanced at her.

She still looked at him with wide eyes and didn't stop as he bent down to pick up her backpack and put it on his shoulder. Cassian turned another smile to her, "You there? Can you walk?"

She nodded and they spent the next few hours in the university cafeteria and sometimes Cassian would ask her questions that she couldn't answer, but he didn't force her to speak and seemed more than satisfied with the monosyllabic answers she gave him.

When she told him that she didn't know anyone there and that she didn't have a car to get home, he didn't comment on either, but offered to give her a ride and she accepted without hesitation.

And she accepted the next day when she met him after class on her way out of the chemistry building. And the next day when his car pulled up in front of the bus stop where she was waiting. And the next day again and again and again.

And suddenly Nesta was no longer alone.

three months and one day after

Cassian had been staring at her for so long that Nesta was beginning to wonder if he was dead. He sat so still, clutching the sandwich between his fingers as if the wind might have blown it away. She was also starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Not because her friend was staring at her, she was used to that, but because of the way he was doing it.

They had gone out for a walk in the mountains and had reached the top after more than four hours of hiking, but the landscape in front of them had erased any physical pain they had accumulated during the climb. They had sat on rocks at the summit and were now having lunch.

She was staring at the mouth of the Sidra, the point where the sea was darkest, but she couldn't chew with him looking at her as if she would erupt at any moment.

"For God's sake Cassian, what is it?" she asked exasperated at one point, fixing her eyes on him.

He didn't answer, but took a bite of his sandwich, furrowing his brow even more.

Nesta shook her head, urging him to speak. She huffed, pointing to the ravine below them with one hand, "I'll jump if you don't tell me why the fuck you look like a failed stalker."

Cassian chuckled at that, finally looking away and Nesta let go of a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"I wanted to ask you something," he began, shifting his eyes to the landscape, "But first you have to promise me you won't jump."

Nesta looked at him sideways, "That depends."

He opened his eyes wide, laughing, "Then no, I won't tell you what I'm thinking about."

She rolled her eyes, huffing, but let it go. She was used to this kind of conversation with Cassian by now.

"Okay, I'll ask," he said suddenly, startling her. Normally he would have laughed at having managed to provoke such an overt reaction in her, but he didn't and it made her worry even more, "But if you don't want to answer you don't have to and we can shut up or change the subject."

"If you put it that way, I'm already telling you I don't want to talk about it," she pointed out.

It was true. Cassian had gotten to know her in such a short time that it had shocked her at first. She still didn't understand why, not fully, but he had stayed and was still there and didn't seem to want to leave anytime soon.

He sighed, completely ignoring her comment, "Why is it that every time we drive it feels like someone is holding a gun to your head? What is it that scares you?" he asked to introduce the topic, "If I'm driving too fast or if it's something I do, you can tell me."

Nesta looked at him. She looked at him and didn't say anything and he understood she wasn't going to answer, not at that moment at least, and they stayed in that spot on the summit for another hour in silence. Where she had time to think, to reason about how important Cassian actually was to her. About how much Cassian had done in such a short time, to bring her back to life.

They had just arrived at the car park, were stamping their feet on the asphalt to remove the excess mud under their shoes, when Nesta looked at the car door and stiffened. She felt his gaze on her body again, but she took a breath and got into the car, sitting down and letting the fear fade, letting the storm inside of her settle.

They were going to face a couple of hours' drive back to the city, more than enough time for her to be able to tell him-

"My mum died. In a car accident." she said in one breath as Cassian took a seat next to her.

His hands stopped around the steering wheel, tightening. He slowly turned to her, nodding slowly, "Yeah, I figured as much. I just didn't know how." she closed and opened her fists, keeping her gaze fixed in front of her. She took a deep breath and Cassian placed a hand on hers, "We don't have to talk about it now. But thank you for telling me, for trusting me."

She bowed her head, "If I don't do this now I might never do it again," she murmured.

"Okay," he indulged her, then intertwined their fingers, "I'll wait for you though, I don't want you to tell me this very second."

Nesta sighed, closing her eyes, "Alright."

"Alright." he repeated.

Twenty minutes passed before she managed to open her mouth again, "You know Tomas?" she asked, despite knowing full well that he had a clear and precise picture and idea of who the boy in question was. They had already talked about him several times.

Cassian just nodded, but Nesta didn't fail to notice that the muscles in his arm twitched.

"You already know how... complicated our relationship was," she murmured.

He scoffed, "Complicated is not the word I would use to describe your relationship." when she shot him a look, he turned red, "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt." he said settling back in his seat, "Please continue."

She straightened her back, "The day my mother died, I called Tomas."

"Of course," he replied, and there was no trace of sarcasm, Nesta noted, because anyone would have called their boyfriend at a similar time. He shifted his gaze to the mirror, slowing the car and moving into the right lane, letting a car that Nesta had noticed had been on his heels for a few minutes pass him. It had stressed her out more than she'd imagined, because once it had passed them, she was just a bit calmer.

"We didn't know how to get to the hospital and my dad couldn't pick us up. I asked him to take me there and he didn't, because he was out with some friends of his," she confessed, furrowing her brow, "I realised that day how much Tomas controlled my life. I realised that I had lost everyone because of him and how now I wouldn't be able to say goodbye to my mother because I didn't have a driving licence and I wouldn't be able to get there in time."

She felt emotion rise in her throat, but nothing like she had felt every time she thought about that day. And maybe it was because she was getting over it, maybe it was because of his hand on her leg moving his fingers to soothe her, she didn't know.

"There were months after Mum died when I couldn't even get into cars," she continued in a weak voice, "I only managed to do it after seven months, because we had to go on holiday and my dad didn't want to leave me home alone. He was afraid I might do something... reckless." she paused as they both assimilated the true meaning of those words and Cassian squeezed her leg, taking a deep breath, "After that trip I managed to ride in the car, not with a few worries, but I did it."

"I'm glad you made it," he told her, keeping his gaze fixed on the road. She looked up at him, smiling faintly and was surprised by that gesture. She didn't think she'd ever be able to talk about her mother without bursting into tears and yet here she was, smiling at her best friend.

"Me too," she said, "you may be less happy to hear this part."

"I'm sure I won't blame you for it, whatever it is," he said softly.

Nesta looked at him and couldn't find any indication that he was lying to her, so she continued, "The last time I saw Tomas, he wished I would die in the car like my mother had, three days after her death."

Cassian's head snapped towards her, his eyes wide and his lips parted slightly. He returned his gaze to the road immediately, seeing how Nesta had begun to shift her gaze from him to the road, but the shock in his features didn't seem to go away, "Please tell me you're joking."

She continued, without giving him an answer, "Since that day, every time I've tried to get behind the wheel, every time I've gone to driving school so I could learn, I've had a panic attack." she said, torturing the inside of her cheek, "A few times I've ended up throwing up everything in my body and I've never been able to do more than start the car. I've never been able to get my license and I have no idea how my sisters put up with it," she concluded.

Cassian remained silent for so long that Nesta began to think the worst. Maybe she had been wrong to tell him, maybe she had gone too far. Her father had told her once, that she tended to say too little or too much, there was no middle ground with her. Maybe she'd shared too much this time and now Cassian thought she was a fool and a coward. After all, it was only a matter of learning how to drive, even stupid people could do it and it certainly didn't take a degree-

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I can hear the gears in your brain moving and I know perfectly well it's not good," he said, squeezing her hand when she tried to pull away. He gave her a sincere look, "I'm sorry, Nesta," he whispered, "For everything you've been through and experienced. For not realising what the problem was sooner." then he grimaced, "I would have avoided doing two or three of the shits I did in the car when we first met, now I understand why you reacted the way you did." he said referring to when during the first few weeks he'd given her a ride home, he'd speeded at red lights or passed other cars on roads where they shouldn't have. "I'm sorry you had to have that asshole next to you. If I could just talk to him..." he trailed off, tensing his jaw. He breathed through his nose, watching her when they finally ended up on a straight bit of road.

His eyes blazed with a rage that Nesta had rarely seen in people, but there was more than that. Sadness, sorrow for the little girl she had been, for what had been taken from her. But not pity, never pity from the boy she had come to know and like, "I'm sorry."

seven months and fifteen days after

"Nesta breathe," Cassian was whispering to her, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hand, gripping the steering wheel in front of her.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head, trying to swallow air. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart about to explode in her chest.

"Yes, sweetheart, you need to breathe," he chuckled. The hand on her shoulder dropped lower, starting to caress her skin there, "Inhale." he whispered, inhaling through his nose, "Exhale," he blew the air out of his mouth. "Now together," he ordered her. When Nesta didn't, but only began to breathe more heavily, Cassian told her to open her eyes.

She opened her eyes wide, watching her boyfriend as he mimicked the air rushing in and out of her lungs with his hand, "Breathe with me," he told her with an encouraging smile. Nesta wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the next time he inhaled, she did so with him. And slowly, after a few minutes of Cassian whispering soft words of comfort and guiding her through the whole process, Nesta was able to regain full control of her body.

"Very good," he finally told her, leaving a kiss on her temple. She looked over the windscreen, "Are you ready? Do you remember everything you need to do?" he asked her, giving her more room to start, but still keeping a hand on her leg. She nodded, not speaking for fear of breaking the bubble she was in.

It had been a couple of months since Cassian had let her drive his car. Or rather, letting her have panic attacks in his car whenever Nesta thought she could make it.

And she had made it, a dozen times now. She never made it more than twenty metres before she'd slammed on the brakes and thrown herself out of the car to vomit, but the last two times she'd managed not to let the panic take her over and she'd managed not to lose control completely.

This time she felt she could do more. Cassian had positioned the car further back than usual in the car park of that abandoned neighborhood to see if she could turn when she got to the far end. She'd gone back and forth three times before, but the idea of having to turn put a different kind of fear into her.

"I got it." she muttered more to herself than to him.

She started the car, stepping on the accelerator and slowly lifting the one on the clutch pedal. The car started forward and Nesta let out a breath, feeling her heart beat in her throat.

"Slowly, like this..." murmured Cassian as they reached the end of the car park, "Now slow down a little and turn the steering wheel to the right, slowly," he explained to her. Nesta did exactly that and the car turned smoothly on the asphalt. She didn't even realise she had arrived on the opposite side of the car park until she had to turn again and again and she did it so many times that Cassian laughed beside her. When she decided she was tired and ready to get out and really breathe, she braked slowly, managing to stop without turning off the car. She turned the keys in the lock and then the car stopped roaring beneath her.

She turned to her boyfriend, a smile going from ear to ear, and whispered, "I did it." a laugh escaped her control.

Cassian did the same, nodding, "You did it!"

They both jumped in, banging their heads against each other's and burst out laughing, but the fun was short-lived as Cassian slid a hand to the back of her head and pulled her against him, kissing her and conveying all the love and pride he was feeling at that moment.

They had swapped places soon after and he had driven her home. Nesta had been about to ask him if he wanted to come in - by now her family was used to seeing him in the house around the clock, being that they'd been together for a couple of months - but his phone had rung.

"Mor?"

At the blonde girl's name, Nesta had felt that tinge of jealousy rise in her stomach.

Cassian had frowned, "Calm down, calm down, I can be there in a moment. Are you at your father's or your mother's?" he had glanced at Nesta letting her know he wasn't going to stop and she had smiled, leaning over to him and leaving a light kiss on his lips.

Mor always called at the most inopportune times and Cassian, no matter where they were or what they were doing, would drop everything, take Nesta home and run to her friend's house to help her with whatever problems she was having.

Before he darted off her street, he had promised her that he would call her that night when he got back home, but Nesta knew that wasn't going to happen. That's why she wasn't disappointed when she waited until midnight for his call and it didn't come, and then one o'clock and two o'clock, until sleep claimed her and she surrendered to it.

ten months, two weeks and eleven days after

"Are you serious?" asked Nesta, letting her hands fall from Cassian's face down her sides.

His silence let her know that yes, he was serious and that yes, he would leave in the middle of... what they were doing.

"Cassian this has to stop, it can't go on like this forever," she murmured, turning to pick up her shirt on the floor. When she turned back around, he was adjusting his crotch with a grimace on his face and Nesta had to call on all her strength not to yell at him.

"Nes, sweetheart," he began, with that hangdog expression he always had whenever they discussed this matter.

She lifted a hand to stop him, fixing her icy eyes in his dark ones, "I don't care to hear yet another excuse." she said through her teeth, tucking her shirt in and covering her naked body, "It's been months, months Cassian, that every time she calls you, for whatever reason, you just grab your shit and go and refuse to give me any real explanations." she hated the way her voice sounded, but she couldn't help it. He had stopped himself from dressing and was watching her carefully. "I understand that Morrigan may have some personal issues, I don't need to know what it is, but why she needs you, every time something happens to her, is something that doesn't sit well with me."

He sighed, running a hand over his face, "I need you to trust me, Nes," he reached out to her, taking a thin hand between his large, warm ones. Hands in which Nesta had found comfort over the past year. His eyes sparkled with love as they settled on her face, "I need you to trust me."

Nesta breathed softly, squinting her eyes, "I do trust you, Cass, but-"

"Then that's enough," he interjected, squeezing her hand. He leaned down to kiss her and she bent her head back, taking in the love she craved every second of her day. When he pulled away it was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over her, "I love you," he whispered.

He left the house without saying goodbye and Nesta was left alone in her room, her head still bent back and the phantom touch of his lips on hers.

one year, four months and eight days after

Their anniversary was just around the corner and Nesta couldn't have been happier.

Or so she pretended to be.

The last three months had been agonising.

Between her and Cassian things were flowing well. She could get into the car and have almost no reaction, and she could certainly now turn the steering wheel left and right and go more than fifty metres in reverse without skidding. Cassian had almost finished his classes and only had a couple of exams left before he could graduate and she was so proud. She had spent Christmas with him and his adoptive family and had had the pleasure of meeting his brothers, who had lived in another country for the last two years and planned to return to Velaris for good after New Year's Eve. She had never seen him so happy as when she had gone with him to the airport to pick up Azriel and Rhysand.

Nesta's only big, fat problem was a certain blonde girl.

Morrigan had managed to become so entrenched in their relationship that she sometimes didn't even realize it anymore. It was like having a daughter who needed attention every four hours or she would die.

Nesta was sorry that the girl was so miserable that she needed someone by her side so often, but it drove her insane that this person had to be her boyfriend. Especially when it affected the relationship and the dynamics between them.

Cassian was sometimes so tired that he would fall asleep in the middle of class and quite often Nesta had joked that she was the one who never slept, hoping to get the truth out of him once and for all, but she had never got anywhere.

However, when Nesta had snapped and he had tried to pin the blame on her, she had sent him away and explicitly told him it was over. Cassian had looked at her with his mouth wide open, had tried to apologise, blaming it on the lack of sleep, exhaustion, but they both knew it was all his fault.

She'd been sick for days on end, terrified that she'd lost yet another person in her life, but on the sixth day Cassian had come to her house and asked if they could go for a ride.

They had been out till four in the morning, laughing in the traffic, shouting the songs. He'd made love to her in that car, which was just a car like any other as much as it meant everything to the two of them. It had been the place where Nesta had learned to trust him, where she had confessed to him her every doubt, her every fear. It had been on those seats where they had first declared their love for each other.

He had sung her a song by John Legend, a song that promised eternal love even through the ups and downs of a relationship. He had promised her that he would stand by her even when no one else would. He had apologised to her for all the times he had run to Mor and promised her that it would never happen again.

If only Nesta hadn't believed him.

one year, four months and twenty-one days after

She opened her eyes the second the mattress moved beneath her, warning her that Cassian had woken up and was getting up. She smiled into the pillow, ready to roll over and pull him back down into the covers with her, but when she saw the time on the alarm clock placed on her nightstand, she found a very bad feeling twisting her gut.

She turned to her boyfriend, watching him as he moved stealthily around the room, picking up his clothes. When their eyes met, Nesta already knew what was going on. Cassian looked at her carefully and made to open his mouth, justifying why she was sneaking out of her house at 3:27am, but Nesta shook her head, bringing the blankets up to her chin and murmuring loudly enough that he could hear her, she said, "Get out and don't come back."

And Cassian did.

one year, six months and one week after

Nesta had woken up that morning with a dry throat. She'd gotten up, washed and dressed, and got into her car, driving out of the Archeron's driveway without so much as a hint of panic. She had driven for hours, dulled by pain and sorrow. When her mother had told her when she was sixteen that heartbreak wasn't easily mended, Nesta hadn't believed her. How was it possible for a person to be so foolishly taken in by someone that they felt so bad when they left you? It was too idiotic a concept for her to comprehend. She would never let someone get so attached to her that she would rip a piece of her heart out when they left.

God how wrong she'd been.

She hadn't seen Cassian in over a month and each day seemed worse than the last.

It was a different pain from the one she'd felt when her mother had died, but no less strong. No less heartbreaking.

She'd gotten her license only a week before and had driven so many hours since she'd had that stupid piece of paper in her hands.

Cassian had known. Cassian had known that she was going to have her driving test that day. He should have known she'd managed to pass it. It couldn't be any other way.

And she had hoped with every ounce of her being that he would text her. That he would call her and tell her how proud he was of her. Because Nesta hadn't cared about other people.

She hadn't cared that her sisters had prepared a dinner in her honour and that her father had almost cried when she announced that she had made it. She hadn't cared that her friends, the old ones she'd managed to regain and the new ones she'd met over the months, had been so happy for her that they'd given her half the gadgets that now hung in her car.

She hadn't cared about anything except what Cassian would think about seeing her driving the car alone, without his hand on her leg.

She'd driven past his house so many times, crying silently.

She'd visited all the places they'd been, that he'd taken her to when she'd been on the verge of breaking down each time.

Cassian had known her like no one else ever had, and that would never change.

Her mother had even told her once that breakups were easier when they happened because people stopped being in love. Nesta hadn't believed that either. Because how could it be less painful when you stopped loving someone, compared to when they wronged you and gave you a reason to leave? How could it be less painful when every little thing the other person did was no longer nice or lovable, but unbearable and irritating?

But Nesta hadn't stopped loving Cassian and never would. She hadn't stopped feeling the butterflies in her stomach fluttering every time he smiled at her when she woke up in the morning. She hadn't stopped loving the way he tied his hair back with whatever was in his hands in that moment. She hadn't stopped loving the way the lines of his tattoos coiled around his arms, his pecs.

She didn't realise she was heading for his house again, but when she found herself in front of it, she didn't carry on as she always did, she turned off the car and got out.

She was looking at the sidewalk, hesitant to take a step forward or get back in the car and run, never to return. To leave Velaris, to leave her mother and her family, to leave the university and rebuild her life in a city that wasn't made of memories and ghosts that haunted her everywhere she went.

Leaving Cassian.

She looked up at the house then, and took a breath. Two. Three.

Breathe with me, he'd told her.

You are not alone.

I love you.

Nesta, you're my soulmate.

One day I'll marry you.

You'll be the mother of my children.

There's no one else for me.

I'm sorry.

I don't know what I would do if you left.

Nesta took another steadying breath and stepped forward.

acotar tag list (if you wanna be removed or added just send me an ask or dm me)

@sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien29 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @ladywitchling @nahthanks @archeron-queen @sleeping-and-books @bri-loves-sunflowers @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @queenestarcheron @oop-theregoesgravity @perseusannabeth @simping4bookboisngrls @anne-reads @fantastypenguins @laylaameer01 @thalia-2-rose @darkshadowqueensrule @bookstantrash​

[tngrace]

Hoodies are for Comfort

Based off the promo for 2.08 & helped along by @moviegeek03 . Girl your support means everything & I hope this fic delivers everything you want 

GTHB Masterlist; Read on A03

Carlos was currently holding his boyfriend on the couch with the TV playing quietly in the background. TK was currently wearing his favorite grey hoodie and over top of that was Carlos’s zip-up APD hoodie with sweats and two pairs of socks. TK always insisted he likes Carlos’s hoodies better because they always provided more comfort. So Carlos had done his best to find one that would fit over the one TK was currently wearing, even though his hoodies usually swallowed TK whole. TK also had every blanket from the living room laid over him, and he was still shivering a little. Carlos hated it; he just wanted to warm TK up. 

“Hey, you still awake?” he murmurs as he cards a hand through TK’s hair being as careful as possible of the stitches in the back of his head. 

"Mmmm," TK hums softly as he leans back on Carlos more.

"Mmm is not good enough," Carlos teases as he kisses the back of TK's neck.

"Babe," TK whines softly as he burrows further in the covers and hoodies.

"I know. I'm sorry. But I can't let you sleep yet. That's what we promised the doctor when he released you. Otherwise you'd still be there."

"I know," TK sighs. "But I just wanna sleep and it's too cold."

Carlos runs a hand to TK's forehead. "You're pretty warm mi amor." Hr reaches for the thermometer on the side table beside him. He holds it to TK's ear and watches the numbers rise filling him with more relief. "You're right below normal," Carlos tells him, showing him the thermometer.

TK nods as he relaxes more into Carlos. "Can probably sleep for a little bit," TK murmurs.

Carlos let's out a soft sigh. "Ok short nap. I'm waking you in an hour," he says as TK gets comfy, being careful of the bruises and stitches. Carlos tucks the blankets around him more, and sets an alarm to wake TK in an hour. He softly keeps his hand moving through TK's hair as TK falls right to sleep.

Carlos softly kisses his head as he thinks back over the most stressful twenty-four hours of his life.

When he'd gotten the call from Owen that the entire paramedic team was not responding and appeared off grid going on an hour and half, he'd felt worried. When he'd broken away from his dad with the excuse of a case even though he'd just clocked out, he thought they'd find them quickly. Only he discovered the empty parking garage, and TK wasn't answering his calls, texts or SOS messages.

They reported it like they were supposed to, Grace having already alerted her supervisors the paramedics weren't responding. His entire precinct was on the case, even some of his off duty friends coming in to help. The 126 team still descended on the parking garage as one unit, but split off into pairs to looks for their missing members not wanting to be left out of the search for their family. Judd declared he was going with Carlos, having taken on the captain role for Owen who was equally distressed he couldn't reach his son. Paul took Owen leaving Marjan and Mateo to team up.

Carlos nods knowing Judd is right, so they stop for coffee and a sandwich. Judd makes the comment trying to fill the silence and distract Carlos about wrapping TK in bubble wrap and never letting him leave the station again, and Carlos can't help but agree. He thought the medic job would be safer and he wouldn't have to worry about grey hair just yet. But TK, as always, is proving him wrong. "Hey, isn't your dad a Ranger?" Judd asks.

After three hours of looking and tracing every step they could think of with no luck, Carlos was at his wits in. Judd was making him take a coffee break, despite his instance to keep going. "Carlos, you're not gonna be any good to him if you don't take a minute for yourself. Believe me I wanna find him just as bad, but he's gonna need you in top shape."

"Yea. Why?" Carlos asks confused at the change in direction of conversation.

"Just thinking he might have some pull somewhere we could use."

Carlos nods as he thinks it over. It doesn't take him long and he's pulling out his phone making the call. He gives his dad the short version and agrees to wait for him at the coffee shop. "He doesn't know about us," Carlos tells Judd quietly not meeting his eyes.

"I know. TK told me. I won't tell your secret Reyes, but I hate to be the one to break it to ya. If your dad is anywhere as smart as I image he is, he's going to figure it out. You're not gonna be able to hide that emotion," Judd says gesturing to his face.

Carlos nods knowing Judd is right. They sit in silence for a few more minutes before he sees his dad's truck pull up behind Judd's. "Could you give me a minute with him? I'll tell him, then we can go."

"Course," Judd nods as he heads out to his truck, nodding at Carlos's dad as he goes. Carlos tells his dad the truth, that one of the missing paramedics is his boyfriend and that he'll explain more on that later, before he tells his dad all the case facts they know. "We'll find him," Gabriel says squeezing Carlos's shoulder. Carlos does his best to hold back the tears, but one does escape.

They leave the little coffee shop in Gabriel's truck as Gabriel makes some calls. As they drive around Carlos explains things to his dad, Judd having decided to follow them so Carlos could speak freely. He hates the pained look on his dad's face when he explains why he lied and how long he and TK had been a couple, but thankfully he doesn't press Carlos for more than he's willing to share just yet.

It takes another 2 hours before TK's phone location comes back on; it takes another 30 minutes for them to get to the location. Carlos and his dad go in guns drawn not waiting for backup having gotten a text Nancy covertly sent from TK's phone because his was the only one not busted. The rest of the 126 arrive not long after them. Tommy and Nancy appear unhurt, but shook up and terrified. When Nancy told Carlos that TK was in the freezer, he panicked. He opened the door and saw TK slumped against the wall passed out with blood on the back of his head. Thankfully he hadn't been in there too long Tommy informed them, but long enough his body temperature had dropped, and he had stopped shaking despite the cold.

Gabriel shooed Carlos into the back of the ambulance with the promise to talk to Andrea for him and to check on them soon. "Thanks Dad" Carlos says trying to hold back his tears as he climbed in the back with his boy. It took several hours in the ER for TK to get stitched up from being pistol whipped Carlos learned, and for his temperature to come up enough for them to be released. He had a concussion, six stitches and several bruises on top of almost severe hypothermia. They're discharged about eight am with strict instructions to take it easy and return if TK's symptoms worsen.

Carlos let's out another soft sigh as he kisses the top of TK's head glad his boy is safe in his arms once more. Today, well yesterday at this point, had been one of the scariest of his life. He didn't know what he'd do if he ever really lost TK. He knows he needs to call his parents too; needs to properly talk to them about the new bomb he just dropped on them, but he can't bring himself to do it just yet. He feels emotionally drained, but he can't sleep either, fearing something will happen to TK while he's asleep.

"You're thinking too much," he hears murmured as TK tries to burrow closer. Even though his temperature is almost back to normal, he can't shake the cold feeling.

"Sorry cariño," Carlos whispers as he adjusts to TK's wiggling. He tucks the blankets around him more, and before he can ask TK if he's ok, there is a knock at his door making him furrow his brow. He silences his alarm to wake TK, even though TK woke on his own, thankfully. 

"Who the?" He questions not happy about the interruption.

"Probably dad," TK sighs knowing Owen has asked for hourly updates, which he thought was a little ridiculous. He knows his dad wants to talk about his and his mom's previous behavior, and try to make amends, but TK just isn't ready to deal with his parents’ problems yet.

Carlos rearranges TK on the couch before he goes to open the door. Carlos is extremely shocked when he opens it to see his parents standing there. Gabriel is holding a crock pot that Carlos is almost positive is full by the smell, and Andrea is holding a rather large bag.

"Mamì? Dad?" Carlos greets as he opens the door wider at Andrea's expectant look.

"Carlitos," she smiles patting his cheek as she walks by.

"Don't try and argue with her mijo," Gabriel says heading for the kitchen when he sees the argument forming on the tip of Carlos’s tongue.

"Don't you dare," Andrea says to TK when she sees him trying to sit up and uncover. "I hear you've had a rather rough day TK. So please stay put," she says as Carlos stares on with the most adorably confused face.

She turns to her son next, "Well Carlitos not even a hug again?" She questions with a grin reminding them of the farmer's market day.

"Mamì," he groans but he does hug her. "What are you doing here?" He finally asks.

"Manners mijo! I raised you better than that," she scolds making TK giggle a little as Carlos blushes. He does finally make his way back to the couch to help TK prop up more as Andrea pushes him that way. He sits beside him, TK understanding Carlos is not comfortable with a lap full of boyfriend in front of his parents.

"Your dad explained everything that happened," Andrea starts as Gabriel joins them, and they finally sit across from the boys. "So I made your favorite Chile Verde for you two and brought a surprise," she says with a large grin as she finally digs into the bag she carried in.

"You really didn't have to go through all this trouble mam," TK says as Andrea starts pulling out a gorgeous quilt. He sees Carlos's eyes go wide and is slightly confused.

"Nonsense," Andrea says carrying the quilt over to the couch. “And you don’t have to ‘mam’ me even though it’s sweet,” she grins at him. Carlos still hasn't said anything, and it's really stressing TK out. "Besides I wanted to. Chile Verde is Carlos's favorite soup, and it will warm you right up. This will too," she says tucking the quilt around TK atop his mound of blankets. "This was Carlos's favorite, especially when he was sick. His Abuela made it when Gabriel and I got married. Carlos always told me he wanted it when he was older. His sisters all have one picked out as well, and I figured now would be a good time to give it to him."

"Mamì," Carlos finally chokes out his eyes filled with tears. TK sneaks a hand out from under all the blankets and lays it on Carlos's knee giving it a squeeze.

Andrea moves over and cups Carlos's cheek before kissing his forehead. "Shhh mijo," she whispers as she wipes his tears, hearing everything he can't say just yet. "We love you, and that's all that needs to be said right now," she whispers hearing her husband agree.

Carlos nods and let’s his mama hug him tight. He feels TK squeezing his knee. “Gracìas Mamì,” he murmurs as she moves back to sit by Gabriel. 

They stay a little longer, getting to know TK, which helps Carlos keep him awake a while longer. The soup is absolutely delicious, and TK praises Andrea for passing her culinary skills on to Carlos. When they see both boys on the verge of crashing from exhaustion, they decide to head back to the ranch. Andrea makes them promise to come out for Sunday dinner soon as well as call if they were to need anything in the coming days. Carlos promises they will, and promises to have dinner even sooner with just his parents so they can talk like they need to.

Once he sees them out, he helps TK up off the couch to go to bed. TK insists on taking the quilt because it is super warm and will look amazing on their bed. They curl up together, TK finally feeling warm and happy and Carlos feeling exhausted enough to sleep. Things might not always be perfect, but they'll always have each other and their family.

[wizkiddx]

honeymoon morning

Honestly I apologise in advance bcos this is pure sickening, god awful fluff. It’s shit bit fluffy af and warmed my cold heart of stone a little ahah. Kinda imagined that its actress!reader too, but doesn’t acc have to be (oh and for the purposes of the story also married Haz off to the readers best mate). On a real, really didn’t excute the idea the way I wanted but hey-ho. T x 

Summary: the morning after the wedding and there are some beans to be spilt in between all the happiness

The best morning of her life. Y/n knew it would be just that. I mean, it already was - she woke up in the arms of the man she loved, that she could now call her husband forever and ever. Tom looked glorious; still asleep as he lay on his back, slightly tilted toward her side and his arm outstretched as if he was waiting for her to come back to bed and join him. Even unconscious, Y/n still wanted to please him in everyday possible so she did just as he wanted. Tiptoeing from the doorway on their ensuite, she pulled the cord of the white silk robe slightly tighter round her stomach. Before she lay down next to her husband, she smiled gently and pulled her still wet hair to one side, smelling like apples of the hotels free sample shampoos. As if rehearsed, as soon as she settled on the white pillows, ontop of Tom’s outstretched arm, he rolled almost ontop of her, throwing his other arm over her side and squeezed. Y/n couldn’t repress that little giggle his actions illicited, making the brunette around her groan and mumble something incoherent meanwhile pressing his head further into her hair. 

Which made him pull back and slowly blink awake with a scowl. Her hair was still wet. 

“Hi husband” She grinned, loving the way his scowl at being awoken morphed into this shit eating smile. 

“My beautiful wife huh?” Tom tucked a clump of damp hair behind her ear before letting his palm rest on her glowing cheek and just staring into her seemingly ever changing eyes. No matter how many times he looked into them, Tom always managed to see something different and exciting in them. Something else to fall deeply and helplessly in love with. 

“Yesterday was…”

“Everything.” Tom finished off for her, before pressing his lips to hers as she shifted to lean over him. 

“Uh-huh. But now it’s today. Which means… you gotta get up!” She eventually got to the point, sitting up and therefore avoiding his second attempt to meet lips, once again making him pout. 

“Is it too much to ask to just spend a day in bed with my wife?” His wife. Boy did that sound like music to her ears.

“Yes because everyone is waiting downstairs for us at breakfast!”

“They can wait there till tomorrow for all I care.” Indignantly, Tom closed his eyes pretending to go back to sleep.

“And… because I got you a marriage present.” That got his attention. Eyes flying open, as he pushed himself up so he was sitting against the headboard of the big four poster bed, Tom looked quizzically at his wife. His wife. 

Giggling at his oh-so-predictable reaction, Y/n leaned off the bed to pickup the small gift wrapped box on the floor.

“Y/n you really shouldn’t have I didn’t know we were doing this-“

“Oh shut up and open it would you?”

“Unless this is a toy for… you know, then you really should have.” Even half asleep, Tom still had something on his mind.

“Tom! Just open it before you ruin the moment anymore.” She wasn’t really mad. She was smirking and jokingly rolling her eyes at his idiocy. He was her idiot though. With a confused look, Tom followed her instructions, carefully unwrapping the silvery gift paper to reveal a navy blue velvet box. He looked up momentarily to question Y/n, who just gestured for him to open it. Going at a painfully slow speed, he lifted it up to reveal an old and tattered watch. It had a cracked glass front yet Tom could still see the ‘Rolex’ logo branded onto the face of it. 

Not going to lie - he was confused. Y/n knew he already had multiple nice watches he wore regularly. All of those were in better nick than this. 

“I umm-“

“It’s an old Rolex. I thought you could do it up like your dad did for you.” She whispered, with this massive smile just because she knew Tom still didn’t understand.

“Oh I er… I mean I could I’m not sure-“ Tom stammered, she seemed so proud of herself, yet he couldn’t really understand why and didn’t want to disappoint her. To be fair him being a bit slow wasn’t an uncommon thing, Tom would hold hid hands up and admit he wasn’t the smartest. Whereas and completely unknown to most people, Y/n was really really clever, I mean she was nearly going to be a doctor. That was one of the things Tom absolutely loved too, the way she would be able to make leaps and figure things out the average person would just stare at confused. So fair to say, she was used to explaining things to him. 

“You know your Dad gave it to his first born on their eighteenth, your eighteenth birthday. And I thought you could do with all the 18 years because I dont fancy you as a professional watch-fixer.” Tom was still absolute clueless, waiting for more of an explanation. 

“18 years?” The number seeming a bit random but oddly specific to Tom.

“Well you know… 18 years from now when your son or daughter turns into an adult. When they aren’t our little baby anymore.” She whispered, taking his hands in her and pressing it against her ever so slightly bloated stomach. 

And then finally it clicked. His eyes grew impossibly wide, pressing lightly on her silk-clad stomach as he sat forwards.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Tommy we are going to be parents!” She smiled whilst nodding, totally enamoured by the look of sheer joy on his face. 

“This isn’t a joke right?”

“No I swear to you. 12 weeks yesterday.”

“You’re serious? We’re going to be parents?” Y/n just nodded in response this time, before instantaneously Tom’s lips were on hers, pouring all the passion and love and excitement that he could on her. After a few moments they pulled away, yet keeping their faces impossibly close.

“I love you”

“I love you and… well I love them too.” Y/n was so in love with the man in front of him. He just was going to be the best Dad in the world and there was no-one she would rather start this journey with. In complete honesty, yesterday the first thing she’d wanted to do when she saw Tom standing at the altar was tell him. It had been impossible, the last weeks of keeping ‘shtum’. But she’d only found out when she noticed she was 3 weeks late on her period, by which point Tom was away filming. They’d agreed that so they both had a quality honeymoon, to finish any backlog of work before the wedding, so it was a 8 week holiday with just the two of them. It had also made the reunion that much better, having been apart for almost 2 months before the wedding. 

“You want to see them? I had the scan really early yesterday morning?” It was an unnecessary question, as soon as Y/n even mentioned it Tom bolted up like an excited puppy. With a knowing laugh, Y/n then slipped her hand under the pillow to produce the little white card and offering it to him. Tom took the card, while with his other hand pulling her flush with his chest so she was sitting half on his lap. Slowly Tom lifted the front of the card, to reveal the black ultrasound print. For all he knew that could be an ultrasound of elephant dung; but the fact that he had it on good authority it was his wife and baby, Tom swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful. Knowing he was more than hopeless at this, Y/n took him through slightly different blobs on the picture, demonstrating the head, an arm, a foot. 

“Why didn’t you tell me though? You had to do this by yourself?”

“By the time I found out myself you were already in new york and… well its not something to say over the phone is it?”

“Y/n as perfect as this is, you could’ve sent me a text for all I care. I wouldn’t have let you do this on your own! Have you been sick or-“

“Not technically on my own… don’t be mad but Y/f/n was there when I took the test, she was the one who said I should.”

“I should’ve guessed that to be fair” Tom rolled his eyes playfully, of course Y/f/n knew they were basically joint at the hip. She probably sensed it with her best friend powers.

“And yeh mornings aren’t very fun but thats supposed to ease now we’re over the first trimester.”

“I-fuck I don’t know what to say… I just love you.”

“And that is all I’ve ever wanted.” She whispered against his lips before they connected once again. It was just so full of gentle, care and love for each other. The moment was just perfect… until her phone rang. 

Y/n pulled away, receiving an almost whine from her husband, reaching to answer her phone. 

“Hey… yeh yeh I know we are on our way, just had some news to spill… I think he’s happy yeh-“ she giggled, as she watched Tom gently pull back the sides of her robe to reveal her belly. At only 12 weeks, she was barely showing at all but now Tom looked he didn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed last night. “-… I’m not sure let me check hang on” Y/n spoke into the receiver again, Tom already knew the moment it rang it would only be Y/f/n. Only she would have the audacity to interrupt the couple the morning after their wedding. 

“Tom so… I kind of made arrangements just incase, because this is a pretty good time just because everyones here. But I figured you might want to keep it a secret for a bit when its just us that know?” He looked toward the window, apparently deep in thought, before turning back to her. 

“I’m spoiler king right? Might be safest to tell them before I explode.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeh course, you know I can’t keep a secret, one look at Haz and he’ll know something is up”

“Actually he might already know too-“

“WHAT”

[crystalirises]

i am completely in love with your harry potter au, got any more crumbs? maybe some young georgebur falling in love? maybe some george x revivebur reunion?

(2/2) oh also I have this hc that not only did wilbur trust george with the hufflepuff cup horcrux just like bellatrix, but that he also made george's wedding ring into the ring horcrux (yk the one that poisoned dumbledors hand? except this one wouldn't be cursed obviously) so george would always have a piece of his husbands soul with him wherever he goes :,( <3 this is way to romantic in my head considering the fact that you have to murder someone and literally split your soul in half to create a horcrux🤦

hello! So this might not be exactly what you wanted cause I kinda like...

You know when you want to write but you're like... nah, I'm tired?

Yeah I'm currently going through that XD. My second year in college is starting next week so I've been busy with enlistment of classes and stuff. I did do something about this (along with other stuff cause I couldn't help myself and someone else asked before if I could make like a second prompt for what happens to Fundy after he got obliviated).

So yeah, this is like ten parts of drabbles that take place in this AU. Sorry if this isn't what you wanted. I'm very sorry.

Fair warning, some parts are dark cause... Georgebur are the villains and well they win and this is a Harry Potter AU, y'all know the villain, y'all know what his agenda is.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31985884/chapters/82666897

I. First Meeting

“You’re all bark, Mr. Soot.”

He stopped, one foot already at the top of the stairs. Wilbur threw a careless glance back.

And, oh, he was glad he looked back. There were many students within Slytherin, and he only recalled the most interesting ones. George Lore had always been very intriguing. “How so?”

“You’re charming, but I’ve seen your… skills. You’re not very sharp.”

Wilbur laughed, moving back down the stairs to where George waited. He’ll show him sharp.

.

.

.

.

.

II. Expelled

“George Lore, the only man I will ever love, I believe this is where we part ways—”

“Wilbur, please keep your mouth shut and assist me with my luggage.” Of all the replies, Wilbur did not expect that. He glanced behind George where a bunch of suitcases waited eagerly to board the boat that would lead them back to the train station. Wilbur was stricken. When they’d expelled him for the murder of some… honestly, he wasn’t quite sure who he had murdered - some nobody mudblood, that was all… one, he had expected George to track him down just for the sake of lecturing him on his stupidity. Yet it seemed, that wasn’t the case. “Well, Wilbur? What do you say? Do we head home to your family’s manor or to mine? Either works for me.”

“Love, as much as I would love for you to stay at my home, what are you… huh?” George rolled his eyes, huffing before finally placing his bags on the boat, muttering on how useless Wilbur was and how he really was just charms and good looks. Not to be upstaged, Wilbur immediately took over, carrying George’s heavy bags onto the boat despite his confusion. He bit the bottom of his lip, watching as George stepped on board, sitting down as he waited for Wilbur to get his own bags into the boat. “Don’t tell me you’ve snuck out. Think of your grades, love, you care so—”

“I care more for you than some school who accepted those filthy mudbloods in the first place.”

Wilbur smiled, “And that’s why I love you. Whoever I killed, they had it coming.”

.

.

.

.

.

III. Isolation

George was growing tired of the same dingy walls.

He never thought he’d end up in Azkaban, but fate tends to surprise you.

They trapped him in there, thinking that the dementors would drive him to the brink of madness.

He’d be damned if they were to devour his happiness. His husband was dead, and so was their son. There was no happiness in his mind, and he could not bring himself to hope. Hope meant food for those damned abominations. He’d keep his thoughts and his emotions kept under lock and key. He won’t let them take what was left of what he remembers of Wilbur and their child.

He refuses to lose them again. Not again.

.

.

.

.

.

IV. Loss

He wasn’t an orphan, but now he felt like he was.

Fundy rushed out of the house, hands wet with sweat despite the cold and rainy weather of London. His bag dragged across the pavement, his shoes splashing against the murky puddles. He didn’t dare to turn back, he couldn’t. Dream and Sapnap would be devastated if they knew what he had done, but Fundy couldn’t stay and endanger his parents any longer. He loved them, they were the best parents a kid could ever ask for. But Sally and Jared Salmon would be better off thinking that they never had a son and that their lifelong dream was to move to the Netherlands. Fundy walked faster, scared that he’d turn back the longer he stayed near the house.

He could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, but Fundy knew he needed to be strong. Sapnap and Dream needed him to be strong. They’ve all lost too much. He won’t cry until the war is over.

Who knows? Maybe he’ll actually like living in the wizarding world.

He just wished it didn’t have to come with the cost of his parents forgetting he ever even existed.

.

.

.

.

.

V. Wedding Ring

George found it to be quite amusing, honestly.

You would think that the Order would know better. Incompetent fools, all of them.

He admired the ring on his finger, a small smile on his face. When they’d dragged him away to Azkaban, they had given him the mercy of leaving the wedding ring that Wilbur had proposed to him with. It was hilarious, if only they had known that they had been looking at a horcrux.

His husband’s horcrux. He shook his head, gazing over at the man who stood at the head of the war table. A map of Hogwarts laid on the surface, his husband’s focused gaze nearly covered by his curly, dark chocolate brown hair. He’d join in on the brainstorming once Wilbur had gained a bit of a plan. While George did adore his husband… he was more the charms than the brains.

For now, he keeps a part of his love’s soul close to his heart.

.

.

.

.

.

VI. Knitting Habits

He’s never held a knitting needle before in his life, but he can’t say that knitting wasn’t fun.

“I never thought I’d see the day. You’re getting old, love. Should I get you a rocking chair too?”

George threw a ball of yarn towards Wilbur, eliciting a laugh as it hit Wilbur directly on the face.

“Ever the humorist, Wil. It would be funny if it wasn’t coming from a man who literally came back from the dead and looks decayed.” He sighed, leaning against the wall of the alcove. Wilbur was still mulling over their plans, a crease in his forehead. “I’m making a scarf for our little son.”

Now here’s to hoping that Fundy would like it. George did do it with the colors of their family.

.

.

.

.

.

VII. Home

He trembled, the effects of the spell washing over him like a pile of snow.

George was whispering into his ear, but Fundy couldn’t hear him over the sound of his own breathing. Dream was dead, Sapnap got hit by a crucio spell, and George was taking him back to be tortured all over again. He continued to shiver, tears pouring past his cheeks no matter how hard he tried to keep himself from crying. The world around them melted back into existence, but all he could feel was his heart beating loudly in his chest and the arms wrapped around him.

“Shh, shhh, you’re alright, sweetheart.”

His captor pulled him along, keeping an arm wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him every now and then each time he tried to put a bit of distance between them. He was led inside a room, and from the way it looked, Fundy could tell it wasn’t an ordinary guest room. It felt too lived-in, too personal. George led him to sit on the edge of the bed, gently petting his messy and dirty hair.

“It’s alright, Fundy. You’re home with dads now.”

.

.

.

.

.

VIII. Scarf

Fundy scowled, the scarf somehow tight against his neck despite it practically falling off.

He felt George adjust it back around him, fussing over him like he was a child and not some captive that they’ve been keeping locked inside their room. Fundy knew he wasn’t the tallest, his best friends already joke - well, they used to - about it, but George was just a foot taller and still he somehow felt even smaller. He huffed, moving away until his back was against the wall of the alcove. George didn’t make a move to follow him, simply sighing before turning back to Wilbur.

He buried his face against the scarf, trying to bring himself comfort.

If he tried hard enough, he could catch the faint scent of ash and black licorice. Sapnap had worn the scarf at some point during the battle since he thought it looked comfortable to wear. Fundy had given it to him since he didn’t know where it came from and it had been too big for him.

What he’d give to go back to that time, instead of clinging to the fading scent of his best friend.

.

.

.

.

.

IX. Very Dark Blue Eyes

There was a stranger in his room.

Fundy nervously fiddled with the end of his scarf. His wand was still on the nightstand where he had left it, and the stranger was blocking his way. He’d barely seen anyone for the past few months aside from his dads, but he could already tell who the stranger was. The stranger was his age and had long black hair falling past his shoulders. Fundy knew he was a Halo immediately.

“Holy shit… Fundy! Finally, I’ve been scouting the fucking grounds for hours! This place has terrible security, well except for the wards but they were easy to break.” The stranger rambled on and on, each word striking Fundy with more confusion. He wasn’t sure why he was acting like they knew each other. Fundy had no friends - aside from his Uncle Tommy but Uncle Tommy was awkward around him - so he wouldn’t know the stranger, especially since they were a Halo of all things. The stranger moved closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I missed you!”

“Who are you?” He moved away from the stranger’s hold, avoiding the stricken look that the stranger was giving him. Fundy scowled. Of all the times to leave his wand where he couldn’t reach it. “I know you’re one of those… Halos at least. Now, how did you get inside my room?!”

“Fundy…” Very dark blue eyes gazed at him, hurt dancing in their stare. “It’s me, Sapnap…”

.

.

.

.

.

X. You’re a Wizard, Fundy

The letter came at some point during the night.

His mama had asked his papa if he’d enrolled Fundy in a faraway school by accident, but papa had said that he hadn’t. They were whispering about it during breakfast, throwing glances at him every so often as though they didn’t want him to hear. He pretended not to care, attention focused on his breakfast. Mama and papa weren’t arguing, but it almost felt like they were. He hoped that their conversation would be over soon, but it continued even after Fundy finished his breakfast. He left his plate on the table before walking out of the dining room and into the hall. Mama and papa didn’t seem to even notice that he had left. Now to find what was the problem.

He found the problem all too quickly, his scavenger hunt cut short by the fancy letter that had been left on top of a table in the hallway. Fundy held the letter in his hand, the paper coarser than most that he’d felt. He knew he shouldn’t be snooping, but his mama and papa never talked about something so incessantly, at least not something about him. He snuck back into his room, the letter clutched in his hand. Maybe he’d failed his entrance exam at the school his parents were enrolling him in? He pouted, but he’d studied so hard for it and it had been so easy for him!

Fundy didn’t know why his hands trembled as he tried to pull the letter open. Mama had folded it back to the way it had been, and he couldn’t really see the trace of ink at the back. A part of him wanted to hide it away, maybe then mama and papa would stop worrying about it. He didn’t know why, but a part of him felt like something was about to end the moment he opened the letter. He took a deep breath. He could handle long hours of studying, even though his mama and papa said it wasn’t healthy for him to stay up so late. He could handle what was inside the letter. With shaking hands, he opened it, scanning the life-changing words that were meant for him.

If he only knew what that letter meant at the time, then maybe he would have just burned it.

[honalele]

Death and Blame

(this is set just after Tommy’s death in the prison. i wish that cannon c!tubbo had more time to deal with it)

Ranboo was about to head inside when he spotted Tubbo sitting out on the bench again. That was the third time this week he’d refused to come inside after dark. Ranboo climbed into one of the nearby rowboats and made his way over to the iceberg.

“Hey.” He said as he pulled up.

“Hey.” Tubbo replied. He was holding a handful of pebbles and tossing them around Tommy’s memorial.

“What’cha doing out here.” Ranboo asked as he stepped onto the island.

“Thinking.”

“Hmm.” Ranboo stood awkwardly by the boat. It was freezing out now that the sun had gone down. He wanted to check on Michael and go to bed, but he couldn’t just abandon Tubbo out in the cold. “How about we go inside?” He asked.

“I’m good.” Tubbo responded as he tossed more pebbles. Ranboo sighed and took a spot on the bench next to Tubbo.

“I know you miss him, and it’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to want to cry about it.” He said. Tubbo stopped throwing pebbles. His gaze never wavered from the memorial.

“I’m not sad Ranboo.” Tubbo said. Ranboo didn’t believe him. Every day Tubbo sat out alone on the bench listening to music. Every day Ranboo found him out here. There was no way he was ok.

“How can you not be sad? I’m sad and I haven’t known him for nearly as lo-”

“Don’t tell me how I should feel.” Tubbo interrupted, his voice louder and darker than before. Ranboo watched as Tubbo’s hands turned into fists. “Everyone thinks ‘oh poor Tubbo why aren’t you sad?’ Well I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that everyone’s been lying to me? Maybe it’s the fact that Sam is still in charge of that place? Maybe it’s because that guy is still alive? Maybe it’s because my best friend is dead and there’s nothing I can do about it? I don’t know!” Tubbo threw all of his leftover pebbles at the memorial. Ranboo stayed silent. Tubbo needed this.

“I’m pissed off! This shouldn’t have happened!” Tubbo paused and leaned back on the bench. “It’s not fair. He died alone in that prison Ranboo. I didn’t even- I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” Ranboo looked down at his hands and tried to hold back his own tears. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep crying over Tommy. “You know, he was my best friend for a long fucking time. We went through so much shit with Dream, and Wilbur, and Schlatt. I thought it was over. I thought that we’d both move out here and get away from all the chaos.” Ranboo looked over at Tubbo who was staring up at the sky. He watched as Tubbo’s face darkened. “But Tommy just had to visit that guy one last time.” Ranboo wasn’t sure what to say to any of this, but he knew that it was good for Tubbo to finally be talking about it.

A long period of silence swept over them. The tired waves crashed against the shore. The wind whistled and bit at the tips of Ranboo’s ears. He hoped that they’d go inside soon.

“I’m going to find him.” Tubbo said, finally breaking the silence.

“Find who?” Ranboo asked. Tubbo bent down and picked up a stray pebble. He aimed for the memorial and threw it.

“The guy who caused the explosion.” Ranboo’s heart stopped. The pebble bounced of Tommy’s engraved name and fell to the ground. “I’m going to find that guy, and I’m going to kill him.” Ranboo felt like someone was squeezing his throat. His fingers twitched and his stomach felt sick. His head began to pound, as if something were trying to force itself in. Ranboo clutched his chest as the air in his lungs turned to water.

“Ranboo is something wrong?” Tubbo’s voice sounded distant and echoey. Ranboo looked up at the diamond sky and a vision blinked amongst the stars. It was a smiley face. Ranboo’s heart raced and the pounding in his head got louder. Panic crawled up his throat and into his mind, completely suffocating him.

“Ranboo?” Then Tubbo’s voice brought him back. Ranboo’s hands were shaking and his breath was catching up to him. “Are you ok?” Tubbo asked. Ranboo swallowed down the panic and tried to calm himself down.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He prayed that the lie didn’t show in his voice. “We should go inside. It’s too cold out here.” He got up from the bench and walked over to the boat.

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up.” Tubbo said. Ranboo didn’t want to leave Tubbo alone, but he couldn’t stay. He needed to go somewhere secluded to try and calm down. “And Ranboo.” Tubbo called before Ranboo could leave. “Be careful.” He said while staring at the memorial. Ranboo swallowed the lump in his throat and answered Tubbo with a quiet, ‘ok’ before rowing himself back to shore.

[waitineedaname]

It was Tommy Coolatta’s birthday, and Gordon Freeman was shaking in a Chuck E. Cheese bathroom.

He hadn’t planned to end up there. He hadn’t planned to be in many of the places he’d been in the past… god. Week? Weeks? Month? The realization that he couldn’t remember how long he’d spent trying to escape Black Mesa made him grip the cheap tile of the bathroom countertops and shake even harder.

He’d tried to make it through the party as long as he could, he really had. He’d danced with Bubby and Coomer and tried his hand at the arcade machines and eaten what pizza he could stomach. But it was just… so much. He wasn’t sure how the others could party like that after everything they’d gone through. Everyone coped differently, he supposed.

He should probably go back out there soon, for Tommy’s sake. It was his birthday, after all, and after everything Tommy had done for him, he owed it to him to at least celebrate with him. He just… needed a minute. Maybe none of them had even realized he’d left yet.

“Mr. Freeman?”

Damn.

“Hey, Tommy.” Gordon offered Tommy a weak smile, though he could see in the mirror that it was more of a grimace. “Sorry, man, I’ll be back out there in a second. It was just… a lot.”

Tommy nodded, a sympathetic look on his face. “Do… Is it okay if I join you?”

“What? You don’t have to keep me company dude, it’s your birthday. Don’t stop having fun on my account.” Gordon tried to wave him towards the door, but Tommy was shaking his head before he’d even finished his sentence.

“No, I… It’s a lot for me too. The-” Tommy gestured vaguely as if searching for a word and failing to find it, “All of it.”

“Oh.” Gordon blinked. “Then, yeah, pull up a chair, I guess.”

Tommy gave him a small smile and shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned his back against it and let out a sigh that Gordon echoed.

They stood there in silence for a while, Gordon doing his best to get his shaking under control. With anyone else, he might have felt awkward, but this was Tommy. Tommy had been the one to practically carry him through countless tunnels and vats of questionable liquid when he was delirious from blood loss. If there was anyone he trusted to not judge him for having a breakdown in the bathroom, it was Tommy.

The metal of the HEV suit clinked against the linoleum of the sink, and suddenly it struck him how much he wanted this thing off.

“Hey, uh,” Gordon spoke up, clearing his throat. Tommy hummed in acknowledgement, “You’ve read a bunch of manuals, right? Did you read the HEV suit manual?”

“Uh, yeah!”

“Think you could get this thing off me?”

Tommy’s eyes widened like he’d only just realized how long Gordon had been wearing the suit. “Oh! Yeah, I can- I think I can do that.”

Tommy approached him slowly, as if approaching a skittish cat, then became more confident in his movements when Gordon gave no sign of flinching away. He began working on the back of Gordon’s chestplate first, slender fingers working deftly on the bolts and buckles that held it together. It was slow work, but with each piece Tommy lifted off him, Gordon felt he could breathe easier. A literal weight was lifted off him, and it only made him more aware of the ache deep in his bones. Every few minutes, there would be a loud noise from the main entertainment area of the Chuck E. Cheese; Gordon would flinch away from the sound, and Tommy would freeze in his movements, but then they would hear Coomer’s loud laughter or a snide, muffled comment from Bubby, and they would relax and resume their work.

After what felt like eons, Tommy finished unclasping the last buckle on Gordon’s boots, stepping back to let him toe them off himself. The HEV suit was a pile of orange rubble surrounding them, and Gordon suddenly felt exposed in nothing but his socks and the dark jumpsuit he’d been wearing under the suit. He felt like he could stand up straight without straining for the first time in weeks, and the feeling of the overpowered Chuck E. Cheese air conditioning seeping through the sleeves of his jumpsuit left him feeling flayed raw. 

Tommy was staring at him with an unreadable look on his face, hands flexing and unflexing in a nervous stim. He reached out a hand, hesitated, then laid it on Gordon’s left forearm. Gordon’s skin burned under his touch. When was the last time he’d felt someone else’s body heat?

“Can…” Tommy’s voice was quiet and sounded as fragile as Gordon felt, “Can I hug you?”

Gordon didn’t trust himself to speak around the lump the size of a tennis ball in his throat, so he just nodded. Tommy outstretched long arms, and the two of them fell into each other. 

Gordon’s whole body felt like it was buzzing right down to his core. He was lightheaded as everything hit him in that moment. All he had gone through. All he had survived. The fact that he was out, and he was alive. The fact that this was the first time he’d touched someone and felt it on his skin since he’d dropped Joshua off at his mom’s the week of the test. And it was Tommy who got to hold the title of the first person to hug him in far too long. Tommy who had been kind to him even when stress was making them all snappish, and who had made jokes with him when things felt grim. Tommy who had been the only one he trusted when everyone else left him for dead, Tommy who fought by his side so loyally and who removed that horrible suit with such impossible tenderness. 

Gordon pressed his face into the shoulder of Tommy’s filthy polo shirt that smelled like sweat and blood but was warm and had probably been soft at some point, and he let out the loudest sob in his life. His voice shattered on the noise, and then he suddenly couldn’t hold it back anymore, sob after sob wrenching its way out of his throat. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever cried like this. Not when he was in labor with Joshua, not at any point during the Resonance Cascade, not even when his arm was being cut off. Nothing compared to these deep sobs that seemed to claw their way out of somewhere deep in his soul to burst out of his chest as everything crashed into him all at once.

He could feel Tommy’s fist balled in the back of his jumpsuit, and he could feel and hear Tommy weeping quietly into where he’d pressed his face into Gordon’s hair, and the raw sensations of it all only made him sob harder.

They stood there, clinging to each other until Gordon’s knees couldn’t hold him up any longer, and then they both sank to the ground, still holding onto each other like they were each other’s life lines. Maybe they were.

Eventually, Gordon simply couldn’t cry anymore, his tear ducts emptied, leaving him with a dehydration headache and a sore throat. He didn’t extricate himself from Tommy’s hold, though, and Tommy didn’t seem like he was going to let go any time soon either. He’d cried himself empty sooner than Gordon had, and now he was just stroking his fingers through Gordon’s knotted curls. Gordon didn’t want to think about how nasty his hair must be right now, caked in blood and sweat and god knows what else, but Tommy’s hand in his hair felt more soothing than aloe on a sunburn. 

He snorted quietly when the simile occurred to him. He’d maybe been spending too much time with Tommy. He then immediately shoved that thought away and squeezed Tommy tighter. No, he had not spent nearly enough time with Tommy. Now that they were out, he could let himself think about spending time with Tommy when they weren’t in mortal danger. He couldn’t wait to watch Tommy’s favorite shows and listen to him infodump about them, or walk Sunkist in the sunshine, or take Tommy to his favorite restaurants, or introduce him to Joshua-

Fuck. God, he really liked this guy, huh.

Tommy pulled back ever so slightly, though he didn’t go far. Just enough to be able to look down at Gordon with those kind, intelligent eyes, and Gordon thought he might pass out. He moved his hand from Gordon’s messy ponytail to cup his cheek, and Gordon was certain he was going to pass out.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked. Gordon laughed despite himself.

“No,” Gordon said, tilting his head to better fit against Tommy’s hand and giving Tommy the tiniest smile, “I don’t think I am.”

Tommy gave him his own sad smile. “That’s okay. I… I don’t think any of us are.”

Gordon snorted. “That’s for damn sure.” 

Tommy was still staring down at him with more tenderness than Gordon was prepared to deal with, “Do…” He paused, licking his lips. Gordon wasn’t embarrassed to say he stared at the motion, “I think I’m done with the party. Do you want to go home?”

“Yeah,” Gordon sighed with more exhaustion than a man his age should feel, “I would love that, bud.”

It took some maneuvering to get them both off the floor without tripping over the chunks of HEV suit on the floor, but neither of them seemed willing to let go of each other more than necessary. Eventually, they made it out of the bathroom, Tommy’s hand warm and solid in Gordon’s own. Dr. Coomer looked up from where he’d been punching apart an arcade machine when they entered the room.

“Ah, hello, Gordon!” He said cheerfully. “You appear to have been peeled!”

“Uh, yeah, Dr. Coomer.” Gordon huffed out a laugh, relieved that that was what Dr. Coomer was pointing out opposed to the fact that his face was definitely puffy and tearstained. “Tommy helped me get the suit off.”

“You look very sporting in your jumpsuit, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer said, returning to his destruction of Chuck E. Cheese property. Tommy smiled down at Gordon, and he was suddenly struck by the realization that the HEV suit had given him a couple inches of height because wow, Tommy was tall. Tommy squeezed his hand and looked up to flag down Gman.

“Hello, son. Dr… Freeman.” Gman greeted them both. Gordon nodded at him. The dude still gave him the creeps, but he could appreciate the parental fondness he’d seen him demonstrate for Tommy over the course of the afternoon.

“Hey, dad.” Tommy gave him a slight wave with his free hand, the other still holding Gordon’s. “I- um, this was a really nice party!”

“I’m… glad to, hear it. I, pulled out all the stops.” 

“I can- I can see that! But, uh. I’m pretty tired. I-... Can you open a portal to Mr. Freeman’s apartment?”

If Gman thought there was anything strange about Tommy asking to go to Gordon’s home and not his own, he didn’t say anything of it. “Of… course. I, will begin to… wrap things up here before, our, friends can cause too much… property damage.”

He gestured to the nearest wall with very little flourish to show them the glowing green portal that hadn’t been there a minute earlier. Tommy gently tugged Gordon in its direction. Behind them, he heard Coomer call out “goodbye, Gordon!” and then in a flash, they were standing in his living room. 

Were this any other situation, Gordon would’ve been embarrassed to show someone the messy state of his apartment without tidying beforehand, but he simply didn’t have it in him to care when his bed was within reach for the first time in weeks. It was his turn to tug Tommy up the narrow stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. They both collapsed on his bed, neither bothering to change out of their bloodstained clothes, which Gordon was sure they’d regret in the morning, but considering he could barely summon the energy to pull the sheets over their shoulders, he decided that was a problem for future Gordon. 

Tommy pulled him into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, like this wasn’t the first time he’d ever been in Gordon’s apartment, like they hadn’t met less than an hour before the worst disaster of their lives. Gordon felt the soft flannel of his sheets brush against his skin, and he felt the softness of his pillow under his head, and he felt Tommy’s warm body all around him, and he fell asleep solidly for the first time in weeks.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch61: Part Of The Journey Is The End.

Intro: Steve embarks on his final mission as Captain America, and as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end…

Warnings: “Language!”  Smut (NSFW) no under 18s.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So here it is, the last chapter before the epilogue. I rewrote a chunk of this too, but nothing has changed in the overall timeline. Thank you to all of you who have read and invested in this story, Katie means a hell of a lot to me. But don’t fear, their story isn’t quite over. And we’ll check in with the Rogers family as they grow over the years.

@angrybirdcr​ thank you for coming on this ride with me!!!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 60

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Are you out of your goddamned mind?” Bucky looked at Steve, not quite able to process what he had said. “You’re gonna pull a stupid ass stunt like that, and you’re not even gonna tell your wife?”

“Buck…” “You know, you’ve always been a dumbass ass Steve but this,” Bucky turned round shaking his head before he spun back, pointing his finger at his friend, “this is something else. She’s fuckin’ pregnant! You already have kids!” “What, you think I don’t know that?” Steve blazed at him. “I’m doing it because of that, because losing her, I can’t do it Buck, I just can’t.” “Then why are you not telling her?” Bucky shook his head at him. “If you actually believe that it will mean less heartache in the long run, tell her.” “I can’t.” Steve shook his head. “She’d try to stop me and…” “Damned straight she would because it’s a fucking stupid idea!”

Steve shook his head. “This is my chance, a chance to be who I’m meant to be, who I want to be, and I can’t let it pass me by.”

Bucky looked at him. Steve’s face was set, he knew that look well. There was no talking the stubborn little punk out of this. He simply shook his head and looked down at the ground. “I want no part of this.”

“Bucky…” “I mean it Steve.” Buck looked at him. “What you’re planning on doing is one thing but to not tell your dame?” He shook his head again. “She has a right to know. She deserves that at least.” With a final look over his shoulder Bucky turned and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, before heading down the hall.

“Bucky?” Katie frowned as she saw the look on his face. She’d heard his and Steve’s raised voices but hadn’t caught much of the conversation, but from the looks of it they’d had a pretty big argument. “You ok?”

“Yeah, just, he told me about his plans.” Bucky said, “For the shield.” He recovered quickly, which wasn’t a complete lie.

“Oh, and you don’t agree?” She asked, almost curiously.

“Yeah, I do I just,” he shook his head, “I need to take a walk, this is a bit much you know.”

She nodded and smiled. “I know how you feel, wanna take Lucky?” she asked, smiling. Bucky had a fondness for the dog which he tried to hide, but failed miserably. Bucky’s mouth curled up at one side and he nodded.

“Yeah I can take him, only as a favour, you know, so that you and that punk don’t have to.”

Katie grinned and unhooked the leash from the coat-peg by the door. Wordlessly Bucky took it, clipped it onto the dog’s collar and headed out of the door.

He headed down the drive and onto the quiet road, not quite sure where he was going, not that it mattered. He just needed to calm down. The conversation had started off pretty positively. Steve explained that he was retiring, handing down the shield and Bucky had braced himself for the question. He didn’t want the shield. If he was needed, he would fight, like a good soldier, but he didn’t want to. So when Steve explained that he was passing it to Sam after talking it over with Katie, Bucky had let out a huge breath of relief.

“Seems my girl was right.” Steve smiled as Bucky looked at him. “You don’t want it.”

“I’ve had enough Steve.” Bucky sighed. “I mean, I’d take it if I had to but…”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Buck.” Steve said, hand on his shoulder giving it a squeeze, “not anymore.” Bucky smiled and looked down at his feet, his eyes misting over. He hastily blinked back the tears and then looked back at his friend, lip curling into a smirk. “You gonna give Seagull half a shield?”

“No.” Steve bit his lip “I have a, a plan, some way to get another one. But it means I’ll be going back. Back and staying.” Then the stupid prick had explained his plan and Bucky had gotten mad. He had everything he ever dreamed of right in front of him. A gorgeous wife, two kids and another on the way, a comfortable life, stability, a home, and now he was about to leave it all.  And Bucky was fuming because he knew, that once again, he’d be picking up the pieces and mopping up after Steven dumbass Rogers.

****

Back at home Steve was sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands, running over the conversation in his head. He could count on one hand the amount of times he and Bucky had fought like that, and he didn’t like it. Part of him wished he hadn’t told him but he had to, he had to make him understand why he was doing what he was doing, so that at least someone knew and could explain when and if needed. Steve hadn’t expected him to react favourably but not to the extent he had done. And the thing was, Steve knew he was right. Katie had a right to know, but he couldn’t tell her and watch her beg him not to do it. He could never say no to her. “What’s up with Bucky?” Katie asked as she walked into the kitchen. Steve looked up, hands sliding down his face and gave her a soft smile.

“I just told him about the shield and my plans to take the stones back.” “You’re taking the stones?” She asked quietly, sitting next to him.

He nodded.

“Why?” Steve sighed. “In all honesty, Doll, I can’t explain. I just feel like this is something I need to do, to close the end on the loop maybe. One last mission.”

She looked down at the table, taking a deep breath, her hand falling to her stomach. She had known deep down this was coming.

“When?”

“As soon as Bruce has the machine running. He said yesterday it wouldn’t take too long, but, I’m not sure.”

She didn’t reply, instead she looked down at her hands which were resting on her stomach.

“It’ll be okay.” Steve said to her softly, tipping her face up to look at him. “It’ll all work out.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not scared.” She whispered, looking up at him, green eyes full of tears. “I can’t lose you, Steve.”

“I promise it’ll be okay.” He assured her again as he reached out and gave her a hug, laying his cheek against the crown of her head, closing his eyes and just relishing her warmth and closeness.

**** The tension between Steve and Bucky continued for two weeks. It was palpable and noticeable to everyone in the house, bar Jamie that is as at least they tried to avoid sniping and bitching at each other in his presence.

“What the fuck did they argue about?” Sam whispered to Katie at lunch on the fifteenth day of their feud, watching as the two men were moving stiffly round one another in the kitchen. “Surely he can’t be that pissed Steve’s intending on taking the stone’s back.” “I dunno.” Katie shrugged, taking a deep breath. “But I can’t keep going like this, it’s driving me insane.” “Do we need to stage an intervention?” Sam quipped, watching as Bucky moved to pour himself some coffee, Steve backing out of the way, not looking at him. “Or maybe they just need to have a fight, get it out of their system.” Katie cocked her head to one side and eyed up the two men. She wasn’t blind, and whilst she found Steve utterly and ridiculously attractive, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t think Bucky was handsome as well, not to mention his physique. Steve was bigger and broader than Bucky who was an inch or so shorter and a little more wiry but that was hardly surprising. Steve was built for fighting, for force, for war…Bucky on the other hand was built for agility and speed, for being an assassin who could operate in the shadows, but he was no less of a match for Steve, in fact he was the only man she’d ever seen hold his own against her husband in a toe to toe fight.  As she watched Steve reach into the cupboard for some bread, his jaw was clenching slightly, his cheek twitching from the angry nerve and she suddenly felt the heat pooling between her legs.

Fucking hormones.

“You know, I think that’s a great idea.” She grinned, turning to Sam. “Naked mud fighting, winner takes all, including me.” Sam spluttered out his coke, choking slightly before he threw his head back in a roar of laughter. The two super soldiers paused what they were doing and turned to face the pair of them. Katie was sat in a seat, grinning as she sipped her glass of apple juice whilst Sam was struggling to regain his composure.

“What’s so funny?” Bucky demanded.

“You two acting like a pair of school kids who have fallen out over who gets the first slice of pie.” Katie looked at him then to Steve. “Grow up.” “Me grow up?” Steve looked at her, frowning

“Yes, Steven,” her face now stern as she glared at the pair of them, “I don’t give a shit what you’ve been arguing about, and I don’t even want to know, but this stops, right now otherwise you’re gonna get the full brunt of one of my tantrums. And I’m pregnant and hormonal so it ain’t gonna be pretty.” Bucky couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the look of utter horror on Steve’s face. To be fair he’d only experienced her temper once when she had forced him and Sam to share a room in Germany. And he had to admit she’d been pretty scary. He rolled his eyes and looked at his friend, taking a deep breath.

“I still think you’re being a dumbass.” He sighed softly “But what else is new huh? Least I ain’t having to punch Tommy Leipschitz this time. Jesus he was a big son of a bitch.” “That was one time.” Steve groaned, “And I told you, I…” “Had him on the ropes.” Katie and Bucky said at the same time as Steve let out a groan and hung his head.

Katie watched as the two men exchanged a look before she glanced at her watch, giving a start “Stevie we need to go, we’ll be late for Dr Kellet…” she stood up. “Oh, shit, yeah…” he nodded, draining his mug.

Katie headed off to get her jacket and he clapped Bucky on the shoulder as his friend gave him a questioning look. “Twelve week scan.” Bucky nodded, his lips clamped together. He wanted to ask the stupid bastard how he was continuing to act so normal, as if he wasn’t planning on doing something utterly ridiculous, but he bit it down. It wasn’t worth stressing Katie out. Plus, despite himself, he loved the guy like a brother. If this was what he truly wanted to do, no matter who stupid it was, then…

“Make sure you bring back a copy of the photo.” Sam smiled as he walked past “Uncle Sammy wants to see his future godson or daughter.”

Steve smiled, they’d not discussed the roles of godparents in any detail with anyone but each other. They’d already decided though, Katie wanted Jennifer, Brooke’s mom, to be one as the two were very close, and it was a given Sam and Bucky would get the roles of godparents too.  But as he thought, he had an idea.

“Honey,” he said, following her, “hey, I’ve just had a thought…” “Did it hurt?” she teased as he opened the door for her. He rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t we ask Jennifer and Brooke over tonight? I thought maybe we could ask them all to be godparents.”

She smiled. “You trying to get round Bucky?”

“No.” he shook his head, honestly. “Just thought it would be nice.” He opened the car door for her and she smiled and leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek.

“I think it’s a great idea. We can drop by the coffee shop on the way home.”

**** “Well, everything seems absolutely fine.” Dr Kellet beamed and Katie let out the breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. “Nothing to worry about, baby is growing exactly how he or she should.”

Katie turned to Steve who gave her a smile as he gently pressed a kiss to her hand where it was held in his.

“Can you tell what it is yet?” Katie looked at Dr Kellet and the woman gave a little frown.

“Well, if you believe the nub theory I can, but there’s no scientific proof behind it so I wouldn’t like to say.”

“The nub theory?” Steve frowned.

“Yes, some people believe that you can predict the sex based on the angle of the genital tube.” Dr Kellet says. “Also known as the angle of the dangle.”

At that Katie gave a snort and Steve let out a low sigh, shaking his head at her childishness.

“There are some theories, that before the genitals are formed there’s a bump or nub called the genital tubercle.” The Doctor pointed to the relevant point on the screen. “So, here, you can see it’s lying flat so some would believe that means it’s a girl, but honestly, it’s way too early to tell. You’re just gonna have to wait till the twenty week mark to be sure.”

“So no rushing out and buying a load of pink baby things?” Katie looked at her and the woman shook her head.

“I wouldn’t. Sometimes the theory is right, sometimes it’s wrong, so it really is just guess work.” The woman leaned over and wiped the ultrasound jelly off Katie’s stomach before she discarded the paper towel into the waste and smiled. “I’ll get you a copy of the scan photo and then I’ll see you in about eight weeks.”

Scan photo safely in Katie’s purse they headed out of the hospital, hand in hand, Steve opening the car door for his wife before he headed round to the driver’s side, setting off into the summer sun.

“You know, if it is a girl, then I want to name her after Natasha.” Katie spoke softly, looking out of the car window before she turned to Steve. He stole a glance at her, smiling.

“Yeah?”

“One of her names anyway.” Her hand rest on her stomach. “Don’t suppose you have any thoughts?” “Well, we kinda used our quote of boy’s names on Jamie.” He took a deep breath, “Although I do like the name Henry.”

“Henry.” Katie chewed the name over, smiling. “Yeah, that’s cute. And for a girl?”

“If it’s a girl then I’d like to name her after my mom.”

“Sarah Natasha?” Katie asked, smiling softly, but Steve shook his head as he stopped at the lights.

“No.” He turned to face her. “I know this sounds stupid but, well, Sarah Rogers, it was her name and I’m not sure I want there to be another one, you know, and there’s nothing we can really shorten Sarah to either so…”

Katie smiled and lay her hand on his knee. “Okay, so we got Sarah Natasha as middle names for a girl and Henry as a potential for a boy…”

“Well, it’s a start I suppose, more than we had with Jamie.” Steve smiled.

“More than you had with Jamie.” She looked at him. “I knew from the start I wanted the name James.”

Steve took a deep breath, before he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love you, you know that right?” His hand gently strayed to her belly. “All of you.” “Of course I do.” She frowned a little. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just wanted to tell you.” He gave her a smile before he set off again down the street.

It wasn’t long before they reached Jennifer’s shop and they walked in, the woman beaming as she saw them. They took a seat and it wasn’t long before she walked over with their usual order, and Katie handed her the scan photo.

“Oh my god look!” Jennifer gushed. Katie smiled at Steve who leaned back sipping his coffee, simply watching before his phone started to ring. Excusing himself he stood up.

“Bruce?”

“It’s ready.” The man stated simply “The tunnel.” “Already?” Steve gulped. Despite the fact it had already taken slightly longer than predicted, it was still too soon.  He wasn’t ready to leave, it wasn’t enough time.

“Yeah.” Bruce replied, “But there’s no rush, I mean another few days won’t hurt.” “No.” Steve shook his head, glancing over at Katie who was still talking to Jennifer, the two women laughing and giggling, now joined by Emmy and Brooke who had turned up after school. “Let’s get it over with. Tomorrow morning?”

“Alright, let me know what time and I’ll meet you at the compound. Well, what’s left of it that is. We can set up on the hill.”

“Sure, see you then.” Steve replied. Biting his lip he placed his phone back into his pocket and made his way back to the table.

“Everything ok?” Katie asked.

“Yeah, just Bruce.” He said, giving her a look. She took a deep breath and nodded, understanding.

“Listen,” she turned her attention back to Jennifer as Brooke took the scan photo from Emmy and grinned. “Why don’t you come for dinner tonight? You can meet Sam and Bucky, properly I mean.”

“Erm,” Jennifer looked at Brooke “You got any plans?” “None that can’t be cancelled for Mrs R’s cooking!” Brooke grinned and Jennifer rolled her eyes.

“I swear to God that’s all I get every time you feed her.” she said and Katie grinned.

“Bring your dad too if you like?” Katie smiled. Brooke’s grandfather, a slight man called John, had been one of the Vanished that had returned.

“Oh he’s on a date.” Jennifer grinned. “Some woman he met at one of the support groups Steve has been running for the returned.”

“See mom, even Grand-poppy is dating.” Brooke looked at Jennifer, raising her eyebrows. “You need to get yourself out there.” “Are you sure you’re okay?” Katie looked at Steve as Jennifer groaned at Brooke. He was in his own world.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He fixed what he hoped was a believable smile on his face before he looked at his watch. “We best get going, pick Jamie up from nursery.”

**** Katie knew Steve was lying. She could read him like a book, after all those years of being together it wasn’t hard for her to spot when something was bothering him. And later that evening he finally gave in and told her, Bucky and Sam about Bruce’s call and the fact the tunnel was ready for him to take the stones back.

And that he was going to do that sooner rather than later. Much sooner.

“Tomorrow?” Katie looked down, her eyes misting over.

Steve nodded and reached out for his wife’s hand over the table. “I want to get it over and done with.”

Taking a deep breath she looked up at him, her head reeling. “I know but I thought we’d have more time, to prepare. I mean-“

“Don’t, Sweetheart.” Steve sighed. “This is the reason I didn’t tell you sooner, because it would just make you worry.” “Oh, well, now I’m not worried at all.” She replied, sarcastically, folding her arms.

Before Steve could say anything else, the security alarm sounded telling them someone was at the gate.

“I’ll go.” Bucky stood up as Katie pressed the button on her phone to open the entrance to the drive taking the opportunity to escape, the conversation was taking a turn and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his mouth shut.

“Hey Mr Barnes!” Brooke smiled as he opened the door.

“It’s Bucky, kid.” He gruffed. “How many times do I gotta tell ya. Mr Barnes was my dad.”

“Whatever.” She passed him and Jennifer sighed.

“Sorry, she’s,” she shook her head laughing, “actually I don’t know what she is.”

But Bucky wasn’t listening, he was too busy taking in the red-head in front of him. He’d never met the woman before, granted he’d seen her in a photo that Katie had in the smaller den, one of the pair of them on a night out but, well, it didn’t do her justice. Her hair was set in loose curls, her eyes were a vivid green and her smile lit up her face. He coughed a little and shook himself out of his stupor and smiled, stepping back.

“I’m Jennifer.” She offered,

“Yeah, I know, I mean, ” he scratched his head, “Katie’s spoken about you. All good things, of course.” he added.

She gave him a small quirk of her lips and stepped past him as he closed the door. Mentally telling himself to get a grip, Bucky followed her into the kitchen.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Steve pleaded as Sam stood up and headed to the fridge after shooting Steve one more glance which made it clear he thought he was an idiot.

Katie simply shook her head. “You know what, there’s no point arguing with you so whatever.” She stood up, wiping at her tears. She had so much she wanted to say, to tell him he was an idiot, but she didn’t have the energy. He would do it anyway, and she’d be stood there for those horrible moments he was gone wondering if he was going to make it back, or if she’d lose someone else.

“Hi!” Jennifer’s smile faltering as she noticed Katie wipe her eyes “You okay?”

“Hormones…” Katie waved her hands dismissively as Bucky shot Steve another glare. He returned it with one of his own, shaking his head as Katie introduced Jennifer to Sam and set about making sure everyone was comfortable, playing the expert hostess.

Somehow she made it through dinner although she had no idea how. She had no alternative, she didn’t want Emmy or Jamie to pick up on the fact something was wrong.  As planned, they’d asked the Sam, Bucky and Jennifer to be god parents and they’d all accepted, happily. The food was good, the conversation was happy and filled with laughter at times but when the guests had gone and Jamie was in bed and the dishes were cleared away, Katie excused herself and headed upstairs for a shower.

“Is mom okay?” Emmy watched her leave. Bucky gave a snort.

“She’s just tired.” Steve ignored him. “It’s been a long day. Look, I’m gonna call it a night. Don’t stay up too late, another hour tops. You have school in the morning.” “Okay, Dad.”

He dropped a kiss to her head. “Love you.” His breath caught in his throat before he headed upstairs. He made his way into Jamie’s room, tucking the covers up around his son’s chin and simply looked at him. There, for the first time ever he could see what Katie meant when she said he looked like him. The sudden realisation made the tears spring into Steve’s eyes which he hastily wipe. He dropped a kiss to Jamie’s soft blonde hair.

“Love you, son.” And with that he headed into their bedroom.

Katie was already in bed, the lights off. He stripped off his clothes and settled in behind her, his hands wrapping around her from behind.

“Baby, please, don’t be mad.” He said softly, his hand laying over her stomach as he kissed her neck.

She turned to look at him, tears trickling down her cheek. “I’m not mad Steve, I’m fucking petrified that I’m gonna lose you too.” “It’ll work out.” Steve replied, weakly, unable to think of anything else he could utter.

“You keep saying that, but how do you know?”

Steve stayed silent, wiping her tears with his thumbs before, with a surge, she leaned forward and kissed him, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair and he gave a soft moan, relishing her touch, knowing full well she was trying to distract herself. And he was more than happy to oblige.

She rolled over onto her back, his hand straying up the side of the t-shirt she was wearing, fingers squeezing at her hips, the hips he could draw from memory.

“You best come back to me.” She whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

“Doll,” Steve choked out, shaking his head, his words dying in his throat as he kissed her furiously once more and she moaned softly into his mouth as her hands moved down his back, nails scratching slightly on his skin. They broke apart long enough for him to remove her shirt and his mouth trailed down her jaw to her neck, across her collar bone as he took his time, his affections continuing all over her body, committing every god damned line, curve, blemish and scar further into his memory.

When neither of them could take it anymore, he rolled over, bringing her with him, straddling him. She locked eyes with him and moved, her hand giving him a few strokes before she sank down, taking him in, both letting out a groan. Steve held her hips as she moved, finding her rhythm as she worked him, her head tipping back as she moved slowly. He wanted to see her, be face to face, so he sat up, drawing a soft cry from her lips at the change of angle. His hands moved from her hips, to her ass, then to her back as his mouth gently moved to her neck, hitting that spot he knew so well, then down to her breasts, nipping and sucking at them each in turn.

“Stevie,” she muttered, a soft, low keen of his name and he groaned a little louder. His name, the name she used, said in such away, it almost broke his heart when he thought about what he was about to do.

“Look at me,” he stammered gently, his nose nudging hers and her green eyes locked onto his, “I love you, Doll, so much.” “I love you too.” She stuttered, before her mouth fell open in that exquisite way it did and she let out a soft whimper as she came, tightening around him, collapsing forward, her head burying into the crook of his shoulder and neck. He wasn’t far behind, a few more thrusts upwards and the fireworks in his stomach exploded as he released inside her with a groan.

They stayed still, gathering their breath as he cradled her close, trying to stop the tears that were now threatening to pour down his face as for the first time since he had made his decision, he started to doubt whether or not he was strong enough to go through with it. *****

Late the next morning, up on the hill by the ruins of the compound the small group gathered around the Quantum Tunnel. Steve, clad in his uniform, checked the stones were all in the case, as Bruce calibrated the controls and spoke to him.

“Now, remember, you have to return the stones to the exact moment we got them. Or you’re gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities.”

“Don’t worry, Bruce. Clip all the branches.” Steve nodded, closing the case.

“You know, I tried. When I had the gauntlet, the stones, I really tried to bring her back” Bruce sighed softly, looking at Steve. “I miss them, man.”

“We all do.” Katie swallowed, watching the pair of them as Steve gave Bruce a small smile.

“You know, if you want, I can come with you.” Sam tried again as Steve walked towards the tunnel.

“You’re a good man, Sam.” Steve smiled at him, sincerely. “This one’s on me, though.”

He took a deep breath and walked over to Bucky, who was watching him.

“Don’t do anything stupid ‘till I get back.” Steve quipped, and despite himself, Bucky looked away a smile playing on his face.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He said back, quietly as he swallowed.

Steve stepped forward to give him a hug.

“You’re gonna miss us buddy.” Bucky said quietly and Steve stepped back, looking at his friend

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck.” He assured him with a nod. Then he turned to his wife who was stood watching. His gorgeous girl, her eyes shining as she stepped forward into his arms.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice cracking, “come back or I’ll never forgive you.” Steve couldn’t speak, he simply couldn’t find the words. Instead, he kissed her, long, soft, the familiar feeling of her lips on his was both heaven and hell at the same time. Eventually he pulled away, gave her one last smile before he stepped up onto the platform, the Quantum Suit forming around him.

“How long is this gonna take?” Sam asked as Katie moved over to where Bucky was, the soldier gently placing his arm around her, giving her a squeeze.

“For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds.” Bruce said.

As long as he needs…the words echoed in Steve’s mind as he bent down with a shaky breath and picked up Mjolnir, the hammer having been bequeathed to him by Thor to return.  

“Ready, Cap?”

Steve nodded again, although he was anything but. “Alright. We’ll meet you back here, okay?”

“You bet.” He nodded, and it wasn’t technically a lie. He stole a look at Katie one last time as the helmet formed around his head.

“Going quantum. Three, two, one.“

Steve closed his eyes as he disappeared into the Quantum portal.

Bucky felt Katie stiffen besides him and his arm tightened around her as Bruce tapped away at the keyboard again.

“And returning in, five, four, three, two, one– “

Katie watched with bated breath, but Steve didn’t reappear.

“Where is he?” She managed to breathe out, looking at Bruce, stepping forward slightly.

“I don’t know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here.” Bruce shook his head, his voice earnest.

Katie felt sick, the entire world around her swam and she looked down at her feet, the earth was spinning below them.

“Well, get him back.” Sam instructed as Katie began to reel.

“Something’s gone wrong. It had to have done.” She swallowed. “Bruce, fix it, please!”

“I’m trying. “Bruce replied, but as he tapped at the buttons something suddenly clicked in Katie’s mind and a horrible realisation crashed over her, sinking o the depth of her stomach like a brick. She spun to see Bucky was watching her, his face wracked with guilt as he turned away from the pad.  

Absolutely nothing had gone wrong, quite the opposite in fact. This was Steve’s plan all along. He’d done this on purpose.

Sam’s demands at Bruce to bring Steve back, and the scientist protests that he was trying raged through the clearing but Katie wasn’t listening. Her eyes remained locked on Bucky’s as she stepped forward, grabbing his shoulder.

“You knew…” She looked at him, accusingly and Bucky swallowed, guilt wracking his system as he sighed, looking at his feet.

“I’m sorry, I tried to talk him out of it.” “He’s, he’s really gone back?” Katie whispered, her voice cracking.

Bucky took a deep breath and nodded.

“No he wouldn’t do that.” Katie shook her head, desperately. “Not to the kids…tell me he wouldn’t!” Her hands grasped at Bucky’s jacket, desperately, as she looked up at him, tears coursing down her cheeks. “Please…Bucky, tell me this-”

“Wait! I’m…we got something!”

Bruce’s voice cut loudly across Katie’s demands and both her and Bucky turned to see him punching a few more buttons on the console. Before their eyes, the machine whirred to life again, and a man suddenly appeared in the middle of the platform, the shield on his arm giving away his identity. Steve’s Quantum Suit peeled away to leave him stood in his blue, red and white and Katie instantly noticed his hair was longer than she had ever seen it, there were more lines on his handsome face, and he once more had a full beard. She let go of Bucky and turned to look at her husband for a moment, mouth hanging open in shock, tears still falling as he gave her a small and weary, yet relieved smile.

“Hey, Doll.” Katie couldn’t breathe. Shakily, she turned and walked up the steps onto the platform and simply stared at him through her tears. His eyes were full of their own, unshed, as his shaking hands fell to her waist and he took a quivering breath. “I missed you.” Steve’s voice trembled as his eyes roved her face. “How…how long?” She managed to stutter out, reaching up to cup his cheek with an unsteady hand. “Fifteen.” He swallowed. “Fifteen months?” Katie gasped “No, Doll. Years.” At that Katie’s teary eyes widened further. “I don’t…what? Fifteen years?” “It’s been hell without you.” Steve’s voice cracked, the tears now falling from his eyes and then he couldn’t stand it any longer. He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her, deeply before a soft sob from him made her pull away. “I don’t understand?” She sniffed, her head pressing to his. “Why?” “At Tony’s funeral I saw Pepper and it got me thinking about how much of her life she has left and,” he took a deep breath, “the thought of me being here, having to say goodbye to you thanks to this serum and then having another twenty years to go, it killed me.” “So you took the hit now?” Katie suddenly understood, her breathing deep, chest rising and falling deeply, as her trembling hands cupped his bearded jaw. He nodded. “I knew it would be easier knowing I had you to come back to. When I asked you to marry me, I said I wanted all my lasts to be with you.” Steve choked a little as his voice cracked, the words caught in his throat. “And I meant it. I wanna grow old with you, and now I can.” The last few words he spoke were swallowed up by his sobbing as he pressed his face into her hands which were still cupping his jaw, a tender, familiar touch, one he had been aching to feel for so fucking long. “We got the rest of our lives.” he managed to choke out between his convulsing gasps, as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Our forever.” “Stevie!” Her face crumpled as once more he pulled her to him, clutching her to his chest and he buried his face in her hair, both of them shaking as they clung to one another as if their lives depended on it.

And maybe, at that moment, it did. 

“Ok, back the fuck up!” Bruce broke the moment. “Sorry to intrude but…”

Steve let out a soft chuckle and he turned to him, his arms still round Katie, shield still strapped to his left. “Sorry guys,” he reached up to wipe his eyes, “it’s been a while. Fifteen years to be exact.”

Sam frowned. “Fifteen years? So did something go wrong, or did something go right?” He crossed his arms.

“You stayed back to counter your slower ageing.” Bruce spoke, his mouth dropping open as Steve stepped down from the platform, hand round Katie’s.

“Well, as much of it as I could.” Steve nodded as Bruce let out a snort.

“And you knew about this?” Sam demanded, looking at Bucky.

Bucky shrugged. 

“No wonder you wanted to go alone.” Sam shook his head, a small smile playing on his face. “Where did you go back to?”

“1955. Ten years after I went into the ice, thought it was enough time for me to be forgotten about.” Steve answered. “Plus, when I spoke to the Ancient One she advised that even though it was a parallel universe, it still wasn’t a good idea to be in a time where another version of Steve Rogers was walking about so…” “But how?” Bruce frowned. “She told me that every time we go back, it creates an alternate reality. How did you-“

“I kept the Time-Stone.” Steve answered. “She said it was foretold, and that as long as I did that, whether I took days, weeks, months or years I was still on the mission so to speak and that fifteen years would suffice. How she knew what I was thinking I’ve no idea but…” 

“So you hid? For fifteen years?” Katie looked at him and he gave her a small smile.

“First rule of hiding, don’t hide.” He licked his lips. “I went to your dad.”

“What?” Katie frowned and Steve took a deep breath.

“Yeah, he couldn’t believe it at first, but I finally convinced him I wasn’t HYDRA or a trick of his imagination and well, he helped me with a new identity and I found a place to stay in Minnesota. I got a job and just stayed off the radar until the time came to take the Time-Stone back. Then, I went back to a second after I left Bleeker Street the first time, and the Ancient One merely smiled and said that what I wanted would now come to pass, so I gave her the stone and came back.”

“So, does this mean that all that time, Dad knew you were alive?”

“No, the timeline reset after I returned the stone. I don’t understand it fully either but The Ancient One told me not to worry about it, apparently somethings are beyond the comprehension of the normal mind.” He smiled as Bruce gave a little scoff as he scratched at his chin.

“Must have been a lonely fifteen years.” Steve sighed. “It was hard, yeah, especially knowing what I did and not being able to do anything to stop it for because even if I did it would simply be reset, but the worst bit was being away from the kids,” he turned to Katie, “and you…”

He was welling up again, and Katie shook her head. “You’re an idiot.” She spluttered out between her tears, as the magnitude of just what he had done hit her. He had sacrificed fifteen years of his life so that they could spend their forever together. Because he loved her that much.

It was crazy, it was almost unbelievable, but it was him all over. A self-sacrificing idiot. Her idiot. Her soldier. Her love. 

“I see you brought something back.” Sam nodded to his shield.

“A gift from Howard, which reminds me.” Steve smiled releasing his wife and turning to Sam, pulling it from his arm. “Try it on.”

Sam frowned and looked over to Bucky who nodded, then Katie who smiled and laced her fingers through Steve’s. With a shaky hand, Sam slipped his arm through the straps.

“How does it feel?” Steve watched him, as he moved his arm up and down, feeling the weight of the Vibranium.

“Like it’s someone else’s.” Sam quipped, looking at him

“It isn’t.” Steve insisted. Sam looked down again, taking a deep breath. When he looked back up, Katie could see he was trying to hold back his tears.

“Thank you.” he said, softly “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s why it’s yours.” Steve smiled as he stepped forward and shook Sam’s hand, the most significant handshake he had ever given. The passing of a mantle. 

“Just so you know, birdbrain.” Bucky drawled almost lazily. “I’m not calling you Captain.”

*****

Steve’s reunion with the kids had been emotional. They’d explained to Emmy what he had done, and she’d hit him hard across the face and called him an idiot before she’d melted into his arms, crying. Jamie, however, well, they’d just told him Avengers stuff had made him grow a beard, and the innocence of youth meant he simply accepted it and stated he couldn’t wait until he was older so he could be an Avenger. A thought which scared the shit out of his parents.

It felt odd, but yet not, to Steve, finally being back with his family. It had been a hard fifteen years but he’d simply focussed on why he was doing it, and thrown himself into his life as ‘Steven O’Rourke’ working as an Art Teacher, departing to give back the time-stone the day before he knew his younger self would arrive back in 1970 to get the tesseract, knowing that everything on the timeline would simply span out the way it should.

Now, he was aching for his wife. Emotionally, it had been hell, and physical, well, fifteen years of jerking off had been, frankly, shit in comparison and their reunion didn’t disappoint. Not sure how long he was going to last, he’d made her come once with his fingers, once with his mouth and now, as he was thrusting into her, hands tangled with hers as he held then either side of her head he knew she was close again.

“Baby, I’m not sure,” he began to gasp and he moaned again as she rolled her hips upwards slightly.

She leaned her head forward, tilting her mouth to gently nip at his neck and whispered three words into his ear. “I got you.” They were words he had spoken to her so many times over the years, three words that told her he would always look after her and the sound of her saying them to him made him lose it.

“Fuck,” he said, his hips stuttering and as she arched into him further he heard her gasp his name again as she tightened around him and fell backwards against the pillow, her breathing deep, as he rode out his release. 

Her hands slid into his hair, her fingers brushing his longer hair back off his head as he pressed his forehead to hers, gently rubbing their noses together.

“You need a haircut.” She whispered and Steve laughed.

“You don’t like my seventies’ do?” he teased

“Yeah but,” she shrugged, “it’s old fashioned.” “So am I.” Steve grinned and she hit his chest gently before he rolled off her, falling to his side, facing her. After giving her another soft kiss she turned over, her back pressing to his chest and he scooted up behind her, hands falling to her stomach and they lay still for a while, as he buried his head into her neck. God he’d missed this. Missed her. The way she smelt, the way she felt…

“You can keep the beard though.” Katie murmured. “You’re not Captain America anymore, no need to murder it again.”

Steve laughed before he kissed her neck again and closed his eyes, his arms not once letting go of his precious, precious hold.

And for the first time in fifteen years Steve Rogers slept soundly.

**** Epilogue

 **Original Posting**