#I need to get back to dealing with and ignoring it again…..

[kamaluhkhan]

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember. 

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers. 

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.” 

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.” 

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control. 

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.” 

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top. 

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you. 

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips. 

“why’s that?” you ask. 

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go. 

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins. 

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?” 

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being. 

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults. 

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’ 

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world. 

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!” 

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them. 

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.  

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac: 

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work. 

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor. 

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?” 

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs. 

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do. 

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party. 

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke. 

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways. 

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow. 

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says. 

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out: 

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi. 

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with. 

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you. 

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.” 

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws. 

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….” 

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time. 

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?” 

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again. 

so, you do remember. 

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’ 

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years. 

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue. 

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure? 

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses. 

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave. 

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating. 

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun. 

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision. 

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try. 

“you know powder’s graduating this year?” 

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision. 

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely. 

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed. 

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.” 

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…” 

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.” 

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge. 

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.” 

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you. 

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please. 

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice. 

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd. 

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand. 

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock. 

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth. 

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you. 

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile. 

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace. 

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you. 

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out. 

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —” 

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?” 

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying. 

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry. 

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton 

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21. 

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house. 

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.   

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass. 

“you remember.” 

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.” 

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be. 

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours. 

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp. 

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —” 

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder. 

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor. 

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego. 

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again. 

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. 

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact. 

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers. 

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart. 

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time. 

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to. 

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.” 

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work. 

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door. 

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying. 

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear. 

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear. 

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her. 

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl. 

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes. 

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.  

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake. 

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi.  “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek. 

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away. 

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone. 

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move. 

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath. 

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs. 

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin. 

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head. 

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open." 

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer. 

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit.  you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple. 

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess. 

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving. 

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream. 

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers. 

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another. 

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash. 

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before. 

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?” 

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand. 

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday. 

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back. 

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.” 

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling. 

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours. 

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.” 

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.” 

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round.  “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.” 

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder. 

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye. 

“i better go.” 

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room. 

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later. 

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s. 

i’ll see you later. love you!

[reignpage]

Finders Keepers

Summary: in which alien!reader crash lands right in front of Gojo and your story with him begins Word Count: 1k (just trialing a new concept so it's a quick opening) Warnings: a little cursing, allusions to experimentation and alien warfare, reader is naked but not in a sexual manner

“I can’t believe aliens actually exist,” Satoru mutters to himself. 

This has been an incredibly wild evening. 

When he stepped out of his apartment to throw the bins out, he hadn’t expected to see a blinding flash of light zoom past him and explode in the parking lot. Thank goodness for his infinity, otherwise he would not have fared as well as the minivan you landed on. 

Yes. 

You.

The woman who came straight from the sky and fell on top of a car, missing him by just two metres.

At first, he thought it was a curse; these things get pretty weird sometimes, after all. But using his Six Eyes, he could tell you were different. Sure, you looked like any other person, with arms and legs and a head. But you had a unique aura to you, positively otherworldly. 

If he was any other kind of man, he would have just left you there and pretended nothing happened — ignorance is bliss and whatnot — but what kind of Honoured One would he be if he didn’t do his duty and helped you out?

So, he slides down the massive crater you made (boy is that going to be a pain for maintenance to clean up) and carefully cradles your naked body in his arms, carefully so as to not touch bits and pieces no gentleman has a business looking at. Why are you naked anyways? 

Sensing people making their way down the stairs to inspect the commotion, he teleports back into his apartment quick as a flash before anyone could think to look through their windows. 

He throws a blanket at you and leaves you on the sofa as he paces the length of his living room and ponders what to do. On one hand, he could call the police and leave it up to them to deal with you. The government would know best about how to deal about falling space women, right? But then, don’t all the sci-fi movies talk about inhumane experimentation, weaponizing alien technology, and Area 51? 

That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do, at all. 

And on the other hand, he could just take care of you himself. He has the means to, that’s for sure. You really don’t look any different from everyone else — surely, you need the same things he does: food, water, shelter and warmth.

Right?

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone to call his doctor friend, you begin rousing from sleep. Your eyes flutter open and they’re a normal colour, which freaks him out more if he’s going to be perfectly honest. 

“Uh,” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, shuffling on his feet a little, “hey? I’m Gojo Satoru. You can just call me Satoru, though. If you want, or can, I guess.”

You tilt your head, scanning his body, and you open your mouth. What comes out is definitely an alien language. Or maybe he needs to travel more. But he certainly does not comprehend a single thing that you say. 

Clearing his throat, he tries to smile comfortingly. “Okay, so I didn’t understand what you said. Sorry. But uh, do you need anything? Like, do you know where you are? Yeah, you definitely don’t know what I’m saying either, do you?”

You tilt your head again. 

“What is wrong with me? Seriously. What was I thinking bringing you home? You may have fallen from the sky but I’m the one that clearly hit my head. I really am an idiot.”

Glancing around the room, you don’t look any bit as frazzled and panicked as he is. Actually, you’re as cool as a cucumber, and there isn’t a hint of shame or embarrassment on your face when you push yourself off the sofa, blanket sliding down your body. 

“Woah! Woah!”

Satoru presses his hands to his eyes and leaves them there for a second or two before realising that does absolutely nothing and when he pulls them down, he doesn’t flinch when you’re standing before him, inquisitive eyes meeting his. 

His infinity is on and he’s ready to subdue you if you prove to be a threat, but so far, he’s simply letting you reorient yourself, getting used to your surroundings and giving you the opportunity to decide he’s not a bad guy. 

That being said, however, he’s still deciding whether to keep you or not. He doesn’t want you to be poked and prodded — that wouldn’t be a very cool welcome to planet Earth and he doesn’t need you to go around telling your alien friends humans suck, though they do. But he also doesn’t know if that’s the best decision. 

You could be a danger to jujitsu society, to his students, to the world. What if, right at this very moment, you’re leaking deadly radiation? And what if his infinity can’t keep it out? Can’t keep you out?

Gosh, there are so many things that could go wrong. 

It’s entirely possible too that you’re a blood sucking monster intent on wringing him dry for all he’s worth. Maybe you’re not even an alien. Maybe you’re a special kind of curse, the kind that can bypass his Six Eyes, though he’s fairly confident that’s not the case (there’s no one stronger than him, after all). 

What if this is Kenjaku all over again?

Yeah, on second thought, he should definitely call the police. Or Ijichi, or the Prime Minister of Japan, or whoever will believe him when he says there’s a naked, alien lady in his home, and no, he’s not a pervert playing out some sick fantasy.

But just as he’s lifting his phone, you lift your hand the same time he does and cover your eyes. 

Then you say his name in perfect Japanese with a sweet, soft voice, not a hint of hesitation or unsteadiness. You smile, eyes still obscured, and he feels himself mirroring your gleeful expression. 

“That’s right. I’m Satoru. It’s nice to meet you.”

He decides, there and then, to hell with radiation, alien armies, and the deadly risk you pose to everything he knows or cares about. The military, conspiracy theorists, and scientists be damned.

He’s going to keep you. 

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part four]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count: 2.5k

masterlist

Azzi wakes up to a sweater being thrown on her face. It’s bright, sunlight streaming in through the window and bathing her room in a soft yellow. “Wake up.”

“Mhmmm.” Azzi tosses the sweater away, burrowing back into the warmth of her comforter. She’s halfway asleep again when the feeling of cold water dripping down her cheek sends her flying up. “What the fuck?”

Paige smirks, clearly fighting the urge not to laugh. She’s in her UConn puffer and sweats, her hair tied up in a messy bun and her eyes brighter than ever in the sunlight. “You gotta wake up for real.” She screws back the cap of her water bottle.

“What are you doing here?” Azzi fumbles around for her glasses, slipping them on as she takes in the sight of Paige in her room for the first time in weeks. She blinks rapidly, trying to get ahold of her bearings.

Paige stuffs her hands into the pockets of her puffer. “Your doctor called me. Said you missed your last rehab appointment?” She raises an eyebrow at this.

Azzi rolls over in bed, stuffing her face into a pillow. It’s too early to deal with this. All she wants to do is go back to sleep, her only escape from the nightmare that’s been her life recently. “What does that have to do with you?”

“Check the time.”

Glancing at her watch and seeing that it’s almost noon, she curses. She’d forgotten to set her alarm last night. Even if she left now, she’d still be hours late - her rehab center is all the way in New York.

“He asked me if I knew where you were, seeing as you haven’t been responding to most of his messages or calls lately.”

Choosing to ignore the question hiding in her words, Azzi searches frantically among her blankets for her phone. “Shit, I gotta call an Uber.” But Paige rests a hand on her wrist, the warmth of her touch burning through the long sleeve she’s wearing. Azzi’s pulse quickens.

“I’ll take you.”

“No, it’s really okay,” Azzi objects.

“Az. By the time the Uber comes you’re gonna be even more late. You won’t even make it by the time they close.” When Azzi still doesn’t look convinced, Paige adds, “I seriously have nothing else to do. Let me take you.”

Azzi hesitates before finally relenting with a nod. She’s already been on a thin ice with her doctors before missing her last appointment, and every minute she shows up late today is another minute under their scrutinizing gaze and interrogations.

Pulling on the sweater Paige had thrown at her, she rushes around the room, trying to collect her things and get dressed as fast as possible. Paige tosses her random items as she gets ready - socks, her shoes, her purse. The older girl seems to know what Azzi needs before she even says anything, and it makes her miss their dynamic even more - Paige always understood her so easily.

The look in Paige’s eyes hasn’t left Azzi’s mind since that night. She knows she should’ve said something, done anything to take that destroyed look off of her face. And she’d regretted the words as soon as they’d left her mouth, every step taken with Micaela and away from Paige feeling like another crack in the shattered glass of their friendship. But she hadn’t had the strength to turn around and apologize then, to face Paige when she could barely look in the mirror and face herself.

Afterwards, she’d expected the older girl to be frustrated, upset, angry at her. But in their clipped interactions during practices and team events, Paige never snapped or made snide comments. Instead, she almost seemed timid, wary and withdrawn, like she was just hurt, and somehow? Somehow that was even worse.

“Hey.” Paige glances over at her, surprise flickering across her face. They’d been sitting in silence for the past hour, aside from the occasional comment on the passing scenery. Paige had seemed lost in thought, her eyes darting around quickly like they usually do when she’s zoned out. But now she has Paige’s attention. This is her opportunity. Azzi shifts in her seat. “I just wanted to say I’m, uh, sorry about the other night.”

Paige’s face remains indifferent, indecipherable. Azzi searches for any sliver of emotion in her expression - the familiar furrow of her eyebrows when she’s upset, the crease at the corner of her mouth when she’s sad - anything. But Paige’s face is carefully controlled, as if she doesn’t trust Azzi with her emotions, and Azzi thinks this might hurt more than anything. “It’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Paige’s hands tighten ever so slightly on the steering wheel. “I’m glad Micaela looks out for you.”

They fall into silence again. Azzi isn’t used to this either - Paige being silent, not chatting her ear off. She’s treading in unfamiliar waters, and it almost feels like she’s drowning. “I put you as the emergency number.” Azzi finally says. “That’s why they called you.”

“Aw, I thought Janelle just missed my face,” Paige says, her lips tugging upwards, and Azzi sighs in relief. A joke. She can work with this.

“I can change it, if you want,” she offers.

Paige looks at her weirdly, as if Azzi had just proposed something preposterous. “Why the hell would you change it?”

“I mean, I don’t want them to keep bothering you about stuff. I can just change the contact to Micaela?”

“No, don’t change it,” Paige says a little bit too quickly. “I know more, um, basketball and treatment stuff. It’ll be easier if they just contact me.” Paige doesn’t say that she doesn’t trust anyone else to be Azzi’s emergency contact. That she needs to be the first to show up if Azzi ever needs anything, that no one can understand Azzi like she does.

“Okay,” Azzi agrees. She taps her fingertips on her knee. “I won’t change it.”

Paige finally looks at her, and Azzi swears she sees the familiar softening of her eyes. But she turns her gaze back on the road, and it’s gone. “Are you hungry?”

As if on cue, Azzi’s stomach grumbles. “A little bit.”

Paige jabs her thumb towards the back seat. “I brought some snacks. Help yourself.”

Azzi reaches over, grabbing the bag and ruffling through it. Gummy worms, chocolate chip cookies, Quest protein bars - all her favorite snacks. And - a Tupperware of strawberries, and a mini jar of Nutella. “Did you pack this for me?”

Paige’s cheeks color. “No,” she says defensively. “I just happened to grab your favorites.”

“Aw, Paige,” Azzi coos, earning a roll of the eyes and a swat from Paige. She dodges her hand and laughs, and they almost feel normal again. But then Paige clears her throat, and says, “So what’s up with rehab? Why’d you miss your last appointment?” And Azzi knows that that momentary slice of normalcy could only last so long.

“Micaela was having a rough day. I wanted to stay home and make sure she was okay.”

Paige’s jaw tightens. “You know every appointment you miss is another day you can’t play?”

“I know that. I missed one appointment, it’s not the end of the world. She gave me some stuff to do at home and I followed all of her instructions,” Azzi defends.

“Bullshit.” Paige shakes her head in disbelief. “You know that your actions affect the entire team too? It’s another game we have to figure out a way to work without you.”

“God, Paige, you’re acting as if I completely fucked up my entire rehab,” Azzi laughs incredulously. “It was one day.”

“One day you chose to fool around with a girl rather than focus on basketball,” Paige says sharply.

“Oh, please,” Azzi scoffs. “Fool around with girls? Yeah, real fresh, Paige. Let’s talk about how many girls you hit up at the bar every fucking week.”

“You know I don’t do that shit anymore. I have a girlfriend,” Paige shoots back.

Azzi’s eyes burn, and she forces herself to look out the window again, to blink away the tears before they start to form. Yet another reminder of how she was never good enough for Paige - Paige could never take her eyes off other girls when they were friends with benefits, but with Ella, she didn’t even want to look at anyone else. “Good for you,” Azzi replies coldly. They sit in silence for the rest of the car ride.

••

Azzi doesn’t want to admit it, but rehab somehow becomes bearable again with the presence of her best friend, even if the tension between them is still suffocating. Paige, always attuned to Azzi’s feelings, seemed to have noticed the negative shift in Azzi’s mood as soon as she entered the facility. She’d started cracking jokes at everyone they talked to, and although she never even made eye contact with Azzi, the younger girl knew that her sudden playful behavior was for her.

Even now, as Janelle works her fingers around her scar tissue, Paige is sitting just inches from her, telling a long story about an encounter she’d had with some crazy fans. Azzi is mostly quiet, merely contributing a nod or a laugh every so often, but she nevertheless appreciates it, because even despite petty arguments, Paige has always made it a point to look out for her. Azzi thinks to herself that it couldn’t possibly be her fault that she’s always been so caught up with the older girl. Paige was too easy to fall in love with.

Janelle’s phone rings suddenly, and she excuses herself to take it. “Paige, can you take over for a sec? Massage the tissue around her scar, just like how we did it with you.”

Paige looks hesitantly at Janelle’s retreating figure before slipping into her chair, taking over her position. Her hands hover over Azzi’s knee, almost as if she’s afraid to hurt her by touching her. “Is this okay?” she asks softly. And Azzi wants to laugh, because if someone had told her a month ago that Paige would be asking for permission to touch her when she’d once had her hands constantly on her waist and back and butt, she would’ve thought they were insane.

And Azzi’s not even sure if she can handle Paige touching her, because her heart is already thumping from the mere proximity of her presence. But Paige is waiting with bated breath and hopeful eyes, so she nods. Paige presses her thumbs into the tissue around her knee, moving them in soft circles. Azzi’s numb where her scar is, so she can’t really feel Paige’s touch until she shifts slightly, and the blonde’s fingers graze the sensitive skin of her inner thigh for just a second, and she lets out a little sigh. Paige freezes for a second before continuing to work more firmly around her knee.

“Paige.”

Paige looks up at her, and all Azzi can focus on is how pink and kissable her lips look, and the pretty flutter of her long lashes. They lock eyes, neither of them saying anything, scared to start another argument that will blow a fuse between them. But then Paige slowly lowers her mouth to her knee, her gaze stubborn on Azzi’s. She presses a kiss to Azzi’s scar, lips lingering on her skin as her thumb continues to stroke circles into the side of her knee. Azzi brushes a strand of hair away from Paige’s eyes, gently tucking it behind her ear, her thumb caressing her cheek for a brief second before she drops her hand.

“I said to massage my patient, Bueckers, not feel her up in my office,” Janelle reprimands as she steps back into the room. Paige jumps away quickly, looking at anything but Azzi, tucking her hands behind her back like a little child whose just been caught stealing a cookie red handed. Azzi licks her lips, wishing that Janelle could’ve waited just two more seconds.

Her doctor looks between the two of them with a knowing smirk. “I got it from here,” she tells Paige. “Go make yourself useful and stop distracting her.”

“I’ll go, er, fill up the ice tub,” Paige stammers, scurrying off before Janelle can make another comment. She busies herself for the next hour or so, filling bags of ice for other patients, making sure Azzi’s water bottle is filled, everything and anything she can do to keep her mind off the sound of Azzi’s breathy moan and the way it had made her feel warm all over. She had a girlfriend, for Christ’s sake. A girlfriend that couldn’t make her feel half of what Azzi made her feel.

When she’s finally done, Azzi is waiting for her in the lobby. “You might have to drive back alone,” Azzi says. “They said I should come back tomorrow because I missed my last one. Think I might just book a hotel room and stay over.” Azzi’s about to fall asleep on her feet, and she doesn’t feel like waking up at 5 am tomorrow to repeat the long drive.

“You’re funny for expecting me to let you stay in a random city by yourself.” Paige grabs Azzi’s duffel and tosses it over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

••

Paige comes out of the bathroom in boxer shorts and a tank top. She wrings her hair with a towel, and Azzi’s eyes skim appreciatively over the muscle of her arms going taut.

“Wanna put a movie on before we sleep?”

Azzi nods, and Paige somehow manages to find a channel that’s playing Frozen. They sit on the bed at first, stiff. All the rooms with doubles were already booked, so they’d had to settle for the room with the biggest bed possible. But even as they sit on opposite sides of the king bed, the distance between them feels too small, too weak to stop the energy in the air between them.

And neither of them knows how it happens, but as the movie plays, they’re shifting closer and closer together until their arms are touching, their knees pressed against each other. Then Paige is moving Azzi onto her lap, and Azzi isn’t resisting, letting the blonde take control of her hips and place her in her lap.

They stare at each other for half a second, indecision running through their minds. Azzi knows that whatever happens next won’t fix whatever’s going on between them - the constant arguing, the back and forth, the exhaustion. It’ll only make it worse, complicate things until they’re tied into a messy tangle of knots. But Paige looks so soft in the dim light of the room, her hair loose and wavy and down and her eyes tired, and her skin still warm from the heat of her shower, that Azzi thinks that she just has to feel her, for just one second, and before she can stop herself she’s nuzzling her face into the crook of Paige’s neck. The older girl shudders at the feeling of Azzi’s lips grazing her pulse point, heat blossoming in her lower tummy. “We can’t do this,” Azzi whispers, even as she tucks her body in closer to Paige.

Paige’s hands wander down to Azzi’s ass, pressing their hips together. They both groan at the feeling. “Why the fuck not?”

“You have a girlfriend,” Azzi gasps as she rolls her hips, grinding against Paige’s lap. “And I have a girlfriend. This will fuck everything up.”

“Me and Ella are taking a break,” Paige moans, hips bucking up as she searches for more friction. Azzi whimpers, and it takes everything in Paige not to lose all control at how needy the younger girl sounds.

“How the fuck are you guys already on a break?” Azzi pants.

“Trust me, we are.” Paige suckles on Azzi’s neck beneath her ear, nibbling at the skin and tasting her sweat with a swipe of her tongue.

“This is so wrong,” Azzi whimpers, but she laces her hand through Paige’s hair and tugs her even closer. She can feel Paige smirk against her neck, her warm breath damp on her skin.

“Are you and Micaela exclusive yet?” Paige’s fingers creep closer to the waistband of Azzi’s shorts, itching to dip below.

“No,” Azzi moans. “Not yet.” She grinds against Paige again, getting lost in the slow, sensual rhythm of their bodies moving together in pure want.

“So what’s so wrong about this?” Paige rasps. “Because it feels so right.” She runs her hands up Azzi’s bare thighs, heart beating wildly at the sight of the prettiest girl on her lap, her abs flexing as she moves, eyes big and dark and blown out. Her thumb briefly pushes up her shorts, stroking her upper thigh, making the younger girl shudder. She kisses a line down Azzi’s clavicle, leaving a messy and heated trail of spit. “Let me make you feel good. Please.”

Azzi groans, and she’s so close to giving in, so close to taking Paige’s hand and guiding it to where she needs it most, so close to letting Paige take all control and have her way with her, until Paige pants, “Come on baby. It’s just sex.”

It’s just sex.

Fuck you, Paige Bueckers.

[baneonono]

There are a lot of people talking about Penelope’s pov in the last song. People will discuss how she is hyper intelligent, what is means that she’s Spartan, how patient she’s been, what her final test for Odysseus was and what it means that she gave it to him. And there was definitely consent discord of people noticing that Odysseus asked Penelope if she would love him. And while all of this is great, it’s all been kind of bothering me because of the treatment of Penelope. 

One thing we haven’t been discussing is how Penelope has changed. Look there are two things that I think necessarily had to happen when Odysseus went away. Firstly Odysseus needed someone to fight for, someone to get home to. And this person was Penelope, and while I’m sure his understanding of her was good, it became stagnant because he was away from her without any contact. He was working very hard on getting back to an image, a representation of Penelope. There was this version of Penelope, that may very well have been perfectly similar to Penelope twenty years ago, but nonetheless was still a freeze frame, that he put on a pedestal. He needed to do this so he could get home. He needed to imagine his perfect wife, frozen in time, waiting for him, so that he could get home. 

But I also can assure you that Penelope was not frozen in time. She was left with a very young son and an entire kingdom to rule, however she handled it, she is not the same person she was twenty years ago. She has changed. That is inevitable. She has become a different person just like Odysseus has become a different person. Maybe she didn’t become a monster(I like to believe she did for parallel reasons but she doesn’t have to have) but she is not the same person. 

Now in all reality, they both went through the same thing, Penelope changed and was motivated to keep waiting by a freeze frame of her husband. Odysseus changed and was motivated to keep going by a freeze frame of his wife. Both are true because they both were separated from each other. But the reason I emphasize Penelope’s change is because everyone mostly seems to be ignoring it. And I think the reason Penelope is mad at the final song is because Odysseus is ignoring it. He hasn’t seen her for her yet. He’s still thinking about this conception of her in his head from twenty years ago when he asks her “would you fall in love with me again”. He’s not seeing her. He’s going on and on about how he’s done so many awful things and he’s become this monster that she won’t even recognize and he’s ignoring the person actually in front of him for this picture of her on a pedestal. And Penelope has to stand there and watch her husband grovel at her feet, not understanding that she has been changed, not allowing that her feelings for him would’ve changed her just as much, not seeing that the separation impacted her just as much as it impacted him. And she’s angry. Because she’s been waiting, she’s been fighting every single day for her husband, she’s watched herself become a person that her twenty years ago wouldn’t even recognize for this man and he sits at her feet discrediting all of the work she’s done to be here when he got home. She’s raised their son on her own, she’s fought off suitors, she’s ruled a kingdom, and so much more for this man at her feet and he won’t even look at her. 

She’s angry and she needs to make him see her. And my girl Penelope, is such an icon, that she does three things at once in an attempt to make him see her. She makes him feel how she’s feeling, she reminds him of what they both worship, and she utilizes her change to do this so that he understands what he’s dealing with now. The olive tree task does all of those. Let’s start with the last one. I know that people like to think of this trial as something Penelope always would’ve done, she would’ve always been a little tricky and manipulative but I think this is something she picked up in her twenty years. I think she was always intelligent but I don’t think she would’ve hidden her intentions before. I think this makes sense in a few different ways. Firstly, Odysseus interprets it literally when she asks him to move the bed. Remember this is the Odysseus who has a frozen image of Penelope from the years before and he thinks that what she’s insinuating here is that she wants him to move the bed and destroy a symbol of their love, he takes it literally. So I think that before, Penelope would’ve been intelligent but not manipulative and I think that shows in Odysseus reaction. Where when he realizes what she’s done, he’s surprised, too stunned to speak(he’s also into it but that’s unimportant for now). I also think that Penelope would’ve had to become more manipulative given her situation. The suitors, her kingdom, all of them that have different goals than her, she would have to seem like she’s appeasing them while not appeasing them. All this to say, I think the olive tree trial is a thing she wouldn’t have done before, I interpret it as a result of the twenty years and not something Odysseus would recognize. Which brings me to the other two things she did with the task. She made Odysseus see her and understand what she’s feeling and she reminded him of what they both worship. It’s no mystery that Odysseus was angry at this attack to the foundation of their relationship, which is exactly what Penelope was feeling. Odysseus came into their room and treated her as stagnant, refused to see her, and this was an attack at the very foundation of their relationship, which is everlasting love. He insinuates that she won’t love him despite everything in his question and that is just like Penelope telling him to move the bed. And he responds with the same anger that she feels. And when he realizes this, she’s accomplished the goal of reframing his vision of her. He sees that she’s changed, he sees that she was angry, he sees that they both did everything for that love, he sees her. And, importantly, it’s only after he sees her that she answers his question. Once he understands what he’s come back, then she will answer the question. Because she’s glad he asked, and it’s definitely the right way to go, making sure you both still want this, but it’s a useless question if he doesn’t know who he’s asking it to. So after she makes him understand, then she answers. “I will fall in love with you over and over again, I don’t care how where or when, not matter how long it’s been you’re mine”. And that is my girl, that is a person who’s been changed by her experiences, but still is very much in love with her husband, that is a three dimensional person with emotions and nuance. 

And for the record, this is not to say that Odysseus was ever in the wrong here. Not at all, what Odysseus did makes complete sense. He was caught up in his journessey. He was looking at the situation through the eyes of I have become this monster and my wife has been waiting. He, very validly, was still lost at sea. And Penelope brought him home. And just one more little detail that I love is the usage of “new” and “old” king. Before he goes to see Penelope, everyone is referring to him as “old king”. When Penelope puts forth the challenge she says “will be the new king”. Which just makes me think that Odysseus went from being the old king to the new king in the course of wyfilwma. But he’s always Penelope’s husband because Penelope refers to the bow as “my husband’s old bow”. Which just gets to the idea that he’s changed but he’s always her husband. 

Anyway this is just the way I love this musical. Gonna over analyze it immensely

[just-a-small-obsession]

Boundaries

Summary: Soldier boy and healthy boundaries don't exist, loud crass words and heavy touches are all he knows. Inserting a strange woman that he can't crack or get into his bed makes his gears turn.

Paring: Soldier Boy x Autistic!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, slight Angst, Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy, OC Soldier Boy?, Rocking as a form of stemming, the use of the word retard, Slow burn.

Authors Note: Might have rushed this! I'm debating whether or not to make this into full-on fanfiction, so I hope this one-shot gives you an idea of what I want the dynamic to be between Soldier Boy and the reader.

Enjoy!

***********************************************

Soldier Boy's Pov

To say that she was a tough nut to crack is an understatement, a young thing like herself sitting next to America's first and only golden boy and not throwing herself at him like a bitch in heat was unusual. I look back up at the TV at the show that she turned on, not understanding what I'm seeing or just not caring in the first place. We aren't that far apart from each other on the couch, she's in cross legs while I'm spreading my legs wide just to give her a slight hint to look at the jewels.

"you must a lesbian."

She looked taken aback by my words.

"no"

"You telling me that you got a golden cock right next to you and you don't want to ride it like a cowgirl in the rodeo."

She moves away from me to the other side of the long couch and stares at the TV once more ignoring me. I sigh, being asleep for as long as I have and not getting any action makes a man do crazy things.

"That made me uncomfortable, please don't say things like that to me thank you." She said bluntly, not once making eye contact.

"I'm making you uncomfortable. listen I'm not going to touch you if that's what you're worried about, if I wanted to fuck I could go out that door and head to the corner and get a nice hooker."

"Apologize" another word she said to me without looking me in the eyes. Fuck people these days don't look at people when they talk to each other anymore. "I'm not apologizing," I tell her point blank. "you should", Silence. it was quiet after that, I'm not going to start a fight with some little girl over a little joke. Again, one tough nut. not going to lie I'm starting to find it pretty appealing. looking at her, she's actually nice to look at. Sitting with her and watching this show was better than listening to the cum guzzler complaining about whatever the British fucker wants. Having them leave me with Miss Sit pretty must be the best they have for a babysitter, I don't need a fucking babysitter I'm a grown-ass man. meeting her for the first time was quick and short, a simple wave and hello was from her and she went to sit with the others.

Catching my eye from the TV was her starting to rock back and forth on the couch, 'What the fuck is her deal is she some mental patent or something'. Her eyes were still glued to the screen as she continued to rock her heart away.

It was annoying, Fucking annoying. She was shaking the whole couch for fuck sake. "Hey stop that" I was ignored.

"I said stop that "

"Hey do you hear me, I stop rocking"

I was once again ignored. I clench my hand in a fist and slam it onto the couch cushions.

____POV

I don't know why but he's angry, I feel it radiating off of him was it because I told him to apologize to me after being rude and nasty. Butcher always told me to make sure if I'm feeling uncomfortable I should always say that I am. I don't think he's all that bad, Hughie always says that he's a dick and a danger, I agree with the first notion but dangerous? I don't like that he takes up a lot of space, he spreads his legs so he touches my legs and I hate it. We have a whole couch and he chooses to still touch me. At least my show is distracting me from him.

I feel the couch move heavily, like a smack of some sort. It startles me and I look at him confused. "Yeah?" what else is there to say?

"I've been talking to you and you won't stop this fucking rocking bullshit"

"What are you talking about?"

"you're rocking, fucking rocking can't you feel!" I shake my head, what is he talking about I'm just sitting here trying to watch my show in peace. "fucking stop!" He yells and grabs me harshly.

Shrinking my body I try to get away from him, why is he grabbing me like this! "L-Let go of me!" I squeak, surprisingly he does let go of me after I ask him to. I curl up in a ball at the corner of the sofa.

" There, was that so hard"

Soldier Boy's POV

Do I feel bad for grabbing her, yes but am I happy that she stopped that stupid shit, also yes. The hotel door opens to reveal tweedle dee and dumb.

"Fucking finally" I walk to Butcher and grab the case of beer out of his hand and place it on the small table. I look and see that she has left the sofa has her purse and phone in hand and walking to Limpdick.

" I want to go home now hugie"

"Are you okay?"

"I want to go home now please." With a nod, they both leave the room and close the door behind them. Taking a swig butcher looks at me pissed.

" The fuck happened here mate?"

"She's the one doing her freaky bullshit, she's got something wrong with her head that one."

"She's different is all, nothing wrong with that"

"Fucking rocking back and forth, that normal for you"

"She does that to calm herself down mate, she does it all that time with us. just let her ride it out." I laugh, "Grabbing her sure made her stop, it was fucking annoying me." Butcher walked towards me and grabbed my shirt collar. "you cunt" "Get your fucking hands off me" I push him away. After a while Hughie is back, he looks at me with a pissed-off look butcher had not too long ago. I'm sitting back on the couch and Hughie sits next to me.

"You can't do that to her"

"Do what? scare her? Show her manners"

"Being a dick and not respecting her boundaries, you ass"

"Boundaries what the fuck does boundaries have to do with this"

"Listen I don't know what you called people like her back then but now, she is what you call being on the spectrum, autistic."

"You mean a retard right?"

"Jesus Christ no, and don't say that!" the kid freaks out and sighs as he puts his face in his hands. "She just does things her own certain way, okay, she has her own boundaries, and grabbing her like that was one of them."

"What you telling me I scared her?"

"No, just made her anxious and confused. She doesn't like being touched that much really." well fuck, now that weak little shit got me feeling bad. I didn't want to make this a big deal it was just a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. Christ, it's not like I wanted to make her feel that way. I sigh and look at the kid, "Fine, I'll apologize to her when she comes back tomorrow."

********************************

Tomorrow came and Soldier Boy was in his normal stop on the sofa watching the shit on the TV he didn't even like. She was supposed to be arriving at the hotel in a short bit and he was getting ready to possibly say sorry for the first time in his life. The door opened and she came through with headphones in her ears and a phone in her face. She places her purse on the table takes her headphones off and turns her phone off.

"Hi" quiet as a mouse.

"Hey, sorry about yesterday" Ripping it off like a bandaid. she nods her head and smiles at him.

"Thank you," she says and sits down in the same spot she did the day before crosses her legs, and looks at the TV, Soldier Boy watching her with a softness blooming in his eyes. Boundaries, Boundaries he can learn.

************************************************************************

@mochminnie

@sl33pylilbunny

@pumpkincandlesoup

Still felt like I rushed this, but I wanted this out before I forgot about it in my drafts. I just to see if I even liked the vibes of this.

[ladylynse]

What if Lancer met Danny when he was four instead of fourteen? What if Danny wandered away from Maddie at the mall and crossed paths with Lancer?

I mean, the less fun answer is that Lancer would probably try to help Danny find his parents; if they can't find them in the crowd, then going to see if an announcement can be made. I don't see Lancer ignoring him, of course, and he might want to help but not know the best way to do it; there's a reason he's teaching high school and not kindergarten. Dealing with this age group isn't his strong suit.

But let's pretend, for a moment, that Danny wandered off because his parents are arguing about Christmas stuff again, and he's just Done. And that Jazz is distracted enough that she doesn't notice and that Danny gets far enough away by the time she does notice that her hysterics don't immediately alert Lancer to Danny's family.

What if Lancer is confronted by a four year old who refuses to tell him a) his last name, b) who his parents/guardians are, or c) where he lives? He can't just hand this kid over to the authorities, can he? He should really at least try to stick with the kid to make sure he's safe until he can get enough information out of him to get him back safe or until his parents come looking for him--right? The boy looks healthy and isn't shying away from him, and the questions he does answer tells Lancer this isn't a situation where he needs to call the police or protective services.

So this is how Lancer finds himself in the kids section of the bookstore, waiting for Danny to pick out the book he wants read to him on the bench outside said bookstore, listening to this child spew off an impressive number of facts about space because he absolutely refuses to talk about Christmas (except for grumbling about how his parents always fight, but Lancer learns enough to think that both parents do celebrate the holiday and merely disagree on how it is to be celebrated, rather than belonging to other religions and celebrating different holidays, and that--fighting to the point of having a runaway son aside--his parents do seem to care about their family) but is still willing to accept the gift of a book.

Lancer had never thought he was particularly good with young kids, but somehow, by the end of it, he thinks he's made a friend.

Even Danny seems somewhat reluctant to leave, not to mention chagrined, when his parents bring out the bullhorns/megaphones to announce that they are searching for their missing son, and Lancer returns him.

Their other child quietly pulls him aside while the parents are suffocating their son in hugs to thank him for taking care of her little brother, and Lancer makes a mental note to keep an eye out for this family in the future.

This turns out to be much easier to do as the Fentons more than earn their eccentric reputation, but he soon realizes it's a lot easier to track the parents than their children. When Danny and his sister turn up on Lancer's doorstep the next week with cookies, he has to invite them in and make hot chocolate and show them his train set, which they take to gleefully, but they give no indication that they've been dropped off for the purpose, and he rather suspects they got his address out of the phone book and came over on their own.

He waits longer than he probably should to phone their parents, but he enjoys their company.

It's nice, not being alone over the holidays.

[abarbaricyalp]

If you’re still taking mini fic prompts, I’d love to see your take on “things you said while we were driving” for Sambucky!

Hi!!! The temptation to make this a Twisters au was so great but, no, it's a minific, have some self control

From this ask meme

The drive from DC to Delacroix was somewhere between 16 and 19 hours, depending on how badly they were tearing up the road along the way and what time of day it was. Bucky could usually get it down to fifteen or even fourteen, if it was dark and he had a scanner running. Still, it was always easier to fly.

But, between the way him and Sam looked at the moment, the fact that the wings and shield weren't exactly checked items, and they were ferrying some suspect files, some kind of liquid the color of hell rot, and something called a landshark, the plane wasn't really a viable option.

So they had dragged themselves out of a safe house, argued about who got to drive, and set off. (Sam had lost. His left arm was broken in two places and he had a cast and brace on, two new pieces of metal in the bone) (Bucky had made a joke that now they matched and waved his left arm around, to make Sam smile. It had the opposite effect, with Sam scowling and ignoring him for the first hour of the drive) (Sam was a terrible patient)

At some point, he'd shoved his face against the window, trying to sleep, and Bucky had nearly veered off the road in his haste to stop the truck. "You can't do that," he fussed as he dug out a coat from the back seat. The landshark creature growled at him when Bucky accidentally smacked its side. "You have a concussion."

"I'm fine," Sam groaned. "You're not gonna bruise my brain any more by hitting a pothole."

Bucky still shoved the coat at Sam, balled up and ready for use. Grudgingly, Sam used it as a pillow against the window and tried to lay his head back down.

A few minutes later, the landshark climbed over the console and took up residence in Sam's lap to join in on the nap. Typical, Sam was a friend to animals everywhere. It would track that even the fake ones would like him.

They slept for four hours straight, Bucky reaching over to rub the back of Sam's neck every half hour. Sam still woke up with a crick in it.

"Almost halfway there," Bucky told him as he stretched and the landshark climbed back into the backseat with their gear and bags.

"Let me have a shift," Sam muttered. He rubbed his eyes, squinted out the windshield, then rubbed them again.

"Yeah, you seem like you're in great shape for it," Bucky agreed sarcastically. "This is hardly the longest I've been up for. I'm fine."

"It's getting dark," Sam argued. "We should stop for food at least. You need to stretch."

"You're forgetting who you're dealing with."

"Maybe you're forgetting who you are. You don't have to push yourself to the brink all the time."

"But you ought to use that broken arm and concussion instead?"

Sam shrugged, then grimaced when it obviously jostled his shoulder. Bucky made a noise without looking over again.

"You're gonna exhaust yourself," he muttered.

"And there's a beach chair with my name on it at the end of this, so I'll recover quickly."

"It does not have your name on it," Sam grumbled. "It literally has my name carved in the arm."

Bucky knew that. He'd traced the old, worn letters many times. "I could add my name," he suggested.

"Don't you dare. That's my chair."

The landshark made a reappearance before Bucky could really neddle in. It sat on the center console and kept looking between the both of them. Sam put his hand on its head, having to move his whole casted arm to do it.

"Can you pet a shark?" he asked.

"One direction, yeah. Don't drag your hand up from its tail."

"Why not? Aren't sharks smooth?"

"Wilson, I swear to God--"

Sam squeezed the inside of Bucky's thigh. He had to use his right arm to reach, which meant he'd had to turn in his seat some. If Bucky's alertness had flagged any (it hadn't) he was certainly fully awake now. He kept his eyes very firmly on the road.

"Relax, old man, I was just messing with you."

Sam probably would've kept his hand on Bucky’s leg for a while longer, except that he was turned in his seat. He let go and raised both arms enough for the landshark to get back into his lap.

"Are you hungry?" Bucky asked eventually.

"Yeah, I could eat," Sam answered, which meant they had about twenty minutes to get food in him before he got snippy.

Bucky passed over his phone (he had all the routes to Delacroix memorized but he liked to know about construction) and told Sam to find some place.

Sam chose some burger joint eight miles down the road and passed the phone back. He turned his attention back to the window, rolling it down and putting his hand out into the warm night air. He rested his chin on his bicep as he glided his hand through the air currents.

Bucky watched him, the one singular, focused spot against a blurry background of stars and trees. Sam was usually his one focused spot in a world that seemed to be nothing but tumbling, out of control speeding blurs, so that was nothing new.

But the moonlight and scarce freeway lights splashed across Sam's face, and the idle way he kept trying to pet the creature in his lap without moving his arm, and the quiet concentration he'd fallen into were all very overwhelming.

He'd meant to say, 'put your arm back in the car before you lop it off on an exit sign.' What he actually said, breathy and endeared, was, "I'm so in love with you."

Sam startled upright and he pulled his arm back into the truck, so at least that part worked. "What?" he asked.

The creature in his lap was annoyed by the sudden movement, but it just turned in one circle and laid back down in the other direction.

Bucky's face felt like it was on fire. It was definitely hotter than the air coming in from outside. Hell, he was blushing so bad, he was beginning to feel it in his left arm. "Whatever, you should know," he mumbled. It's not like he could take the words back out of the air or pretend he'd said something else. Those were pretty distinct words.

Sam didn't respond right away. Bucky very much so considered jumping out of the cab.

The exit for the burger place came up and he took it without really thinking about it, or really anything that wasn't the shocked span of Sam's eyes.

When Sam did say something, it was, "Don't rip the steering wheel out."

"What?" Bucky asked in exasperation.

"Your knuckles are so white, I thought it was bone. Relax your hands."

Bucky did. The material of the steering wheel creaked with the release. "One day, you're gonna stop thinking that joke's funny."

"You said you loved me," Sam countered. And he definitely meant it as a counter argument.

"It should've been obvious."

Sam startled a little again, like a violent shiver. "How long should it have been obvious for?"

Bucky shrugged. "I dunno. Obvious? Since Latvia, at least."

"Latvia?" Sam half shouted, strangled. The landshark vacated his lap. "We didn't start... dating or whatever for months after that! What do you mean, since Latvia?"

Bucky shrugged again, felt his fingers tighten around the wheel once more. "I don't know, Sam. I haven't been hiding it."

"Oh, bullshit!" Sam argued. "You disappeared right after that again."

Bucky's jaw tightened. There was no argument for that. He had. "I didn't know what to do with it. How to hold it, where to put it, how to show it. It's been a long time. And you're... It felt like diving straight into the ocean. The deep part of it. And I've been learning how to swim in the middle of a hurricane ever since."

Again, Sam didn't immediately reply. Bucky was beginning to hate that. The burger joint came up from between a thick line of trees and Bucky almost missed it, but the parking lot was long enough that he could pull into the far side of it. He killed the engine and tried to dash out of the car. This would be less painful than jumping out on the freeway.

Sam nabbed his sleeve before he could grab the door and Bucky froze because Sam was using his left hand. The last thing Bucky needed to do was aggravate his splints.

"Don't run away again," he said.

"We're literally going into the same diner," Bucky pointed out, playing at dumb because that was easier than accepting Sam's metaphor.

Sam just stared at him. For a man with as many injuries as he was sporting, his face was remarkably clear. Bucky was the one who looked like he'd gone three rounds with a rock 'em sock 'em robot. There was one gash across Sam's eyebrow and his nose was a little swollen, plus the bruise at his temple that made Bucky's heart stop every time he thought it had changed shape. But he was still perfectly Sam. Still staring at Bucky, waiting for him to respond like an adult.

"I'm not running away," he breathed finally. "You're the one who looks like he's ready to bolt."

"I'm not bolting," Sam said. He let go of Bucky's sleeve, but took his hand before Bucky could go for the door again. "But don't drop that on me in the middle of a seventeen hour drive while I'm concussed and on pain meds."

"You do need to take more meds," Bucky said.

Sam looked unimpressed.

"I'm not gonna be sorry for loving you," Bucky added. "I'm not apologizing for saying it. But... don't tell Sarah that I did and you didn't like it."

"I didn't say I didn't like it."

"Sam," Bucky sighed, his turn with the unimpressed eyes.

"I didn't. I just...wasn't expecting it."

Bucky squeezed Sam's hand and let go of it, finally shoving open the door. "We should get something for your new friend. What do they even eat? License plates?" he asked, stalling and distracting as he got out.

Sam sighed from inside the cab, but he followed Bucky out of the truck. "I'm sure a few extra burgers will do the job."

Bucky scrubbed at his face, willing his blush to go away or for any of the bruises that still pulsed beneath his skin to hide it. He looked up at the sky, the stars so damn bright in the middle of Fuckall, North or South Carolina. And for just a second, they were still and warm and Sam was the blur in front of him.

But Sam grabbed his sleeve again and pulled him onto the porch of the diner. The stars tilted away as Sam put two fingers to Bucky's jaw and kissed him.

[lolitastories]

This Is Mine

Rafe Cameron

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3(Coming Soon).

“Do you think she looks like me?” I look up from our lunch towards Rafe holding our daughter beside his face and smiling.

“No, thankfully.” I bluntly say as I try to hold back a laugh. “She looks like her real dad.” I shrug as I take a piece of chicken and stuff it in my mouth. I almost choked seeing the infamous Rafe Cameron stare, he didn’t like what I had just said.

���I know you are lying but if that were true, I wouldn’t care.” He pulls our girl closer and gives her a big kiss on her lovable chubby cheeks. “I am here; she is mine.” How could I make fun of that? As I look at them in awe the air around us changes. He stood up and placed her on the highchair. Making sure she was secure he pulled his chair around and closer to mine. My posture straightened and I could no longer remember how to breathe properly. I tried to ignore his antics of staring at me until I turned and gave him some attention but as soon as I felt his hands on mine, I was met with his blue eyes. “I know we have a deal set between us about what this was but,” I wish my eyes could translate why my heart was beating so fast, so maybe the next words that came out of his mouth would allow me to say what I felt. “We need to talk about it again.” His calm demeanor was something not many people saw, maybe this was the time to talk about it again.

“Okay.” His eyes widened in surprise. His head turns like a little puppy wondering if he heard correctly. “But not here,”

“Right.” He nods. “I will get the car.” I couldn’t ignore how excitedly he jumped out his chair and rushed towards the parking lot. When I looked back, I saw our daughter's head turned towards the direction her father had just gone in.

“Why does he get both things huh?” I ask her in a sweet voice. Her head turns towards my voice and a growing smile appears. “You look like your daddy, and you are obviously obsessed with him,” She giggled like she knew what I was talking about. “Who can blame you?’ I let out a sigh in defeat.

“Here you go ma’am. Have a nice day.” The waitress smiles as she hands me Rafe's card. He must have paid on his way out.

“Thank you, you too.” I put the card in my purse and grabbed our daughter. As we walked towards the parking lot I couldn’t help but admire Rafe. When I left home one thing, I was worried about was doing this by myself. Don’t get me wrong I could handle things from a hammer to a chainsaw, but it didn’t mean I wanted to. I had men in my family who were always there but here? If Rafe hadn’t showed up I would have lost all my will power. Tell me if it's bad but I enjoy watching men do things for me and especially Rafe. Like when he comes around the house he notices little things and gets to fixing it. How just him backing up the truck to pick me and our daughter up so we don’t walk down the long parking lot was admirable. How good he looks in his truck, how good it was to call him my baby’s father.

“Ready?” He smiles from the driver's seat as he places the car in park. He opens the door and gets out rushing towards us. Our baby giggling at his antics and stretching to get a hold of him.

“I will never be able to compete with you huh?” I joke seeing those two so in love with each other. Rafe chuckles. We both move to the back seat and make sure she is secure in her car seat.

“You don’t have to, you know.” He finds my face of confusion as he turns around and shuts the door of our daughter.

“I know.” I say with an uneasy smile. I walked over and checked that she was doing okay through the opened window. I smile seeing her happy with her Paci. When I go to turn around, I feel two hands land on my hip. They carefully circle around my waist, his chest pressed up against my back as he pulls us closer. His chin rests on my right shoulder and my head immediately falls back against his.

“She loves her mommy,” He whispers. I could feel his warm breath hoovering the crook of my neck. “I love her mommy.” I opened my mouth to speak but the only thing that came out was a shaking breath. He starts placing kisses on my shoulder and moves up until he is just below my ear. “We would go crazy without mommy,” Shit. I bit my lip holding back a groan. His hand slowly moves upward. Putting some pressure as it slides over my stomach and my chest. My chest falls heavily when in a split second he gently squeezes my neck and then moves up to grip my chin. He places one last kiss below my ear before he kisses along my jaw, his hand turning my head towards him. My eyes are shut, and I feel his warm breath along my lips as he hoovers above them. “I am going crazy without her kisses,” My hands involuntarily grip his forearm but not to push it away. No, I need to make sure he was here; to release all this feeling he was making me feel.

“Rafe,” My throat felt dry. His hand laid flatly on the middle of my lower stomach. The simple push of his palm had me lightheaded.

“Ready to go home?”

“Uh-huh” I nod dumbly. His one hand on my stomach grips my hip and the other moves to rest on my cheek. He places a quick kiss on my cheek and simply removes himself from me. What the hell just happened? Sure, Rafe has tried to make advances, but it had never landed this far, I had never allowed him to go this far. I turned towards him lost when I opened my eyes.

“Come on,” He smiles. That idiot knew what he had done. He grabs my hand, and I don’t argue as he pulls me around the truck and towards the passenger door. “She needs to nap.” He opens the door and thankfully he helps me in because my legs couldn’t function correctly. Once he places my seatbelt on, he closes the door and rushes to the driver side. My hands stay entwined on my lap and my eyes on the window for the entire car ride.  I had told him what I wanted before our daughter arrived. He could see her and spend time whenever he felt like it. She would live with me but when he chose, she could stay with him. He always chooses to sleep on the couch then put her through discomfort having to adjust to a different setting. When it came to us, I told him we were only friends. He agreed knowing it was too much for us to take in. He started working and expanding his father's company while our daughter wasn’t here yet. I finished college and bought a house, of course with a little help from Rafe.  We were so busy preparing for her that we barely saw each other, other than the ultrasounds and other important baby things. When she was born, we became comfortable with being together, it wasn’t that hard to fall into the rhythm again. But now since our baby is 9 months old it has given us more time together. When she is preoccupied with her toys or taking a nap, she leaves us with having to talk to each other. It felt good having him around. It almost felt like before, when we were dating. “Are you expecting company?” I started to shake my head but freeze when I saw a familiar truck in the driveway.

“Rafe?” I whisper. He hums in response. “No questions asked,” I begin. “Can we go to your house?” I look at him with pleading eyes. Thankfully he only nodded and continued driving down the road. I let out a sigh and turned in my seat to face him. “Seems like my family is in town.” I watched as his jaw tensed and his fingers gripped the steering wheel.

“You said-”

“I know what I said.” I interrupted him. “They aren’t bad people Rafe they are-they have changed.” I let out. I slouch back down on the seat. “They love me, we just didn’t show it.”

“To you” He bluntly said. “You told me how they excluded you. How they belittle you and how you feel unseen and judged by them, how is that love?” His voice was rising with each word.

“You don’t understand Rafe.”

“¿Really?! I don’t understand what an unloving family is?” My lips fall silent. “I know you care too much for them to see their faults, but you can’t go back to the person you once were when you arrived on the island.”

“Am not Rafe.” I grab his hand in mine and give it a gentle squeeze. “Back then I held too much back, and it caused years of built-up feelings but you have helped me, she has helped me.” I look back and see her small feet playfully hit the seat. “I don’t need their validation, but I can’t keep her away from meeting her family.” Rafe lets out a frustrated sigh coming to terms with my words.

“I don’t want-”

“They won’t.” I know he was scared of what they might say and what their words will cause in me. I don’t mention it much, but we had a fight, it was the first and only. I mentioned my father's words against him and Rafe took it like those words were the reason I chose to stay away from him and primarily not want to be with him. I explained it wasn’t the case, and we let it go, at least I did. “I know what I have and what I want. They don’t decide in my life anymore and when it comes to our daughter, we won’t allow even a simple word to cause her harm”

“I respect your choice, and I will be right there with you.” He whispers. I looked around seeing how we made it to his house. It was a two story, white, near the water, glass everywhere, just like I remember. We stayed silent until our little monster started fussing. “Let's get her to bed” I slightly chuckle and nod my head. I took my time going into his house. I watched as he got her out of his truck and walked up stairs to put her to nap. I finished eyeing everything in the living room before my feet were dragging me up the stairs. When I turned the corner, I saw Rafe leaning against the doorway and just looking into the room. “Sorry, she is-I, I just love looking at her sleep.” I nod honestly not caring much for his words. It made my heart melt, but my body and mind were being filled by other things. I grab on to his hand and pull him away from the door. “She must have been very tired because she fell right to sleep.” His words were thrown straight out the window. He continued talking while he followed as I was leading him towards his bedroom.  “I love that she has your eyes-” His mouth rapidly closed when I pushed him towards the bed and made him sit on the end of his bed.

“Thank you for being patient with me.” I whisper as I walk to stand in between his legs. His head slowly moves up to look at me. “I have done something thinking in private.” I innocently say. I move my hands up to unbutton my blouse.  “And I think we have spent enough time apart and I can’t bear it any longer,” Rafe grabs onto my hips and I straddle him.

“I’ve been thinking the same damn thing.” He didn’t waste any time pulling down the string strap of my tank top down and griping the flesh of my breast. “You know how hard it has been to be near you and not have you the past 16 months?” I groan as he pulls forward and takes a mouth full of my breast.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you- oh fuck” I groan. My hips moving is rhythm, grinding down on him. “If you choose-” I let another groan but this time it was of frustration.

“Did you?” As he said that he gripped the front of my top and pulled it down with force. I shake my head rapidly. “Good. Because you feel the same thing I feel.” His big hands grip the side of my face pulling me closer. “We only and will ever just need each other.” It was like following a light. “Right?” He grins slowly nodding and I was in a trance as I began to nod too. He smashes his lips on mine and eager I take a fist pull of his shirt. Our mouths danced together and spoke about how much they have missed each other.

“Rafe” I moaned. I continued to grind my hips against him, I could feel him growing bigger. His tongue slipped in, and he began to explore.

“Tell me you missed me?” He said pulling apart but only to flip us around, so he was now on top of me. His finger urgently removed the hair that had fallen on my face.

“I’ve missed you so much Rafe.” I take my time to touch his face. My fingers outlining his lips, “I’ve missed your lips,” I move up his eyes. “How I missed seeing your eyes so close,” My finger slowly moved down his face and down his chest. “I missed how you feel when you hold me,” A small groan escapes his lips when my hand slips past his waistline and into his boxers. “When you’re in me?” I tease.

“Baby we got less than 20 minutes before she wakes up,” Rafe closes his eyes. He lets his head fall in the crook of my neck.

“Lost your talent of making me cum in less than 5 minutes?” His head rises and I give him a challenging look.

“That's not something you can just unlearn,” I bit my lip holding back a smile. “I just want this to be special,” Too much talking. I wrap my fingers around his cock and slowly with pressure start stroking him.

“Rafe we will have other occasions to take our time but right now I need you to fuck me, okay?” I see him nod eagerly. He moves to take my hand away and he sits up.

  “I will not agree to 5 minutes,” he said in a stern voice as he took his pants off. “I will use those 20 minutes wisely.” He moves on to remove my pants and my panties along with them. I watch him move his hand down and begin stroking his cock. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my mouth around him. Feel as his length and width stretched my mouth. Circle my tongue around his red leaking tip and suck everything he had in him.

“Baby,” I whine. I spread my legs and lifted my hips a little, unable to control myself. I needed him “Please?” Having him look down on me as I shamefully scoot slowly closer to him, begging for him, it almost causes tears to fill my eyes.

“Fuck, my love, let me enjoy this view a little longer.” I throw my head back feeling his hand move to feel my clit. I moan loving how his long finger glides through it.

“Rafe?!” I let out a cry for the loss of his fingers. I look up and see a grin on his face as he uses my juices to lube his cock some more. “Please fuck me or I swear to god I wi-”

“You will what?!” I stay quiet feeling him slowly lower his whole body over me. One hand holding him up, so he doesn’t crush me as the other one is moving his tip along my clit. “You won’t do nothing, I will remind you how cock drunk I made you that you couldn’t even remember how to breathe,” I was going to let a certain F work slip out until I felt my walls split open. His cock slowly and dreadfully moved it until he could no longer. “Feel that?” I flinched when he pressed his palm on my lower stomach. I let out a moan as he begins to slip out, my walls tightening around him. “Feels so fucking good,” He groans as falls into a steady rhythm. Slowly moving faster and faster.

“Rafe!” I moaned but his hand quickly moved to quiet me. One hand on my mouth while the other pushes my hip down to meet his.

“Shhh.” He whispers in my ear before moving down towards my chest and circling my nipple. He bites it and pulls it with his teeth creating and even more immense pleasure over my body. He lets go but continues his attack on the other. His thrust hitting my pelvis made my eyes roll to the back of my head. My groans and moans silence by his hand. “Fuck,” He grunts. “So desperate to have my cock in you that you allowed me to go in raw-” Shit his words alone could make me cum. “Didn’t even think of the possibility of having another baby be created right here? right now? huh” My eyes widened at the realization. “It's too late for that now. I’m too addicted to this pussy and how well it is tightening around me to put on a fucking condom” I grip him hand and try to push it down. He moves upwards to be on my eyes level, and he continues to fuck into me with ease. He shakes his head ignoring my plea to remove his hand. “Don’t you want another piece of me and you?” He taunts lovingly. “We are doing great with the first one. Why not add another to our family?” He sees my eyes contemplating it. His hip starts making long but harsher strides. I could feel our juices spilling out of me. “What do you say?” My mouth was dry. His tip was hitting just the perfect spot making my mind become a haze.

“I-” I was unable to let out a word. I felt the coil in my stomach tighten. My legs lock arm his waist pulling him closer.

“Tell me you want to make me a daddy again.” I threw my head back knowing it was a decision to be made in the right mind but as I nod, they only thing my mind had in it was how good he was fucking me right now. “Tell me” He grips my chin making me face him.

“I want to have your baby, please” He smiles in victory. Pulls us closer to meet his lips, not letting go as we moan into each other's mouths. My nails digging into his back as mine arches to take everything he was willing to give. We cum as we held each other close.

“Fuck-me,” He groans falling to his side and taking me with him. My head falls into his chest as we both try to regain our breaths.

“Again?” I whisper with a laugh.

“Honey you just have to say the word,” I look up, finding him already staring down at me.

“Our daughter will be up soon so no” I push him away playfully and move to stand but of course Rafe wouldn’t allow that.

“Let her tell us when she is awake,” I fall back into his arms. One of his hands removed tracing my face. “Can give us time to really talk about this.” I groaned a bit but understood it needed to be done. I met his eyes, and I began to talk.

“I am really grateful you were so patient with me. I know it wasn’t easy, but I needed this time.” He nods as he continues to listen. “My feelings for you never changed but I needed to do what was right for her. I needed to know you were in it for the long run and eventually when I saw that I was worried bringing us back would ruin that.” We ran so well as co-parents. “But seeing my family today and you taking it so calmly I understood that no matter what happens between us we are always going to do what's best for her.”

“And her” I furrowed my brows in confusion until he slid his hand over my stomach.

“Stop,” I laughed, pushing his hand off. As our laughs quiet I look towards him again. “So, if you will still take me, I want to continue, us” I couldn’t tell you how my breath was stuck in the middle of my throat until a smile started to appear on his face.

“Of course, I would want nothing more than to have you. You and our daughter are all I need.” He grabs my face and pulls us closer but doesn’t connect our lips just yet. “And our other future daughter” I roll my eyes, letting him have that one.  His kiss is sweet and slow. Two souls who were separated for too long. I enjoyed the warmth of his lips until we heard something hit the floor.

“What the hell?!” Rafe moved faster than me as he put on his boxer and rushed out the door. I followed him when I threw on his shirt, only to find him picking up a broom. “Must have slipped down the wall.” He shrugs, placing the broom against the wall again, men. I shake my head and turn to check where our daughter was sleeping.

“She's awake?” I felt Rafe's presence behind me as he looked over my head.

“Yep.” He simply said as he walked right by me. I walk closer to see her with her Paci and her looking up at the projected animal in the ceiling.

“She always cries when she wakes up” We both lean and see how peaceful she was in her crib.

“She knew daddy desperately needed time with mommy” he said in a baby voice which made me hit his arm. He laughs walking towards the bathroom. I hear the water running and when he comes back, he picks her up. “Want something to eat?” I nod.

“Pick out something while I take a shower.” I wave goodbye to my girl but of course she is too busy staring at her father.

“Take out? Same as usual?” He says as we both walk out the room.

“Same as always.” He smiles rushing downstairs. He was my always now. When I enter his room, I grab a new shirt and one of his boxers. As I turn on the water I hear my phone ping,

“Grandmother couldn’t keep it shut and had to brag she met her great granddaughter.” Fuck. As I go to respond another text comes through. “We will be there at 10” Double fuck.

[supernotnatural2005]

In the Eyes of a Hunter

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean finally had a few days spare from hunting with his dad to come see you at college. Though you weren’t exclusive, seeing you with another man opens up a can of feelings Dean had so desperately been trying to keep closed, and a confession that could change everything.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Angst, self doubt, Dean really needs to appreciate himself more 😩

AN: I know the gif is of Alec (Dark Angel) but, i couldn’t help but see a young Dean and this idea came to me 😅 It's a little more on the angsty side, but I promise the fluff is there. Also Happy New year! I know I've been away, not posting for a little while, but I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things. I hope you guys enjoy this one, let me know what you think?

Masterlist

2003

The crappy daytime shows weren’t cutting it, even in their static form from the ancient TV the motel provided. 

You were supposed to have been here two hours ago. That was the plan. Your class finished at 2, and then you were free for the day. Free to see him. 

After all, he had come all this way for you. What little time he could get away from hunting, he gave to you. He actively ignored the reason as to why he did, not wanting to admit the truth of it. Knowing it would cause more harm than it was worth. 

But as he sat here, aimlessly staring at the fuzzy figures on the screen, time slowly ticking away, his mind restless and full of scenarios that only seemed to bother him the more they spiralled, he realised maybe the harm had already been done. 

Deciding he’d waited long enough, he dropped the remote in his lap with a huff and took another look at the digital clock beside him. 

4:15 pm. 

He stood up from the bed and gathered his leather jacket and keys to the Impala his dad had officially given to him last month and headed out. Maybe you’d just gotten held up in class. He was no ‘Mr. College,’ but he understood there was a lot on your plate. At least from the last few times he’d come to see you. The stress had almost brought you to tears more than a few times, so he couldn’t understand Sammy’s desire to go. But hey ho, what did he know? He killed monsters for a living.

The rumble of the engine purred beneath him as he started the ignition. The sound echoed in the almost empty lot, bringing a proud smirk to his lips. He still couldn’t believe she was finally his. 

This car had been one of the only other constants in Dean’s life, getting them from A to B, sometimes even calling her home for the night. He knew as soon as his dad handed him the keys and handed him the responsibility of looking after her, he’d do everything in his power to do just that. 

As he drove toward your campus, the signs of autumn were heavily present with the flutters of orange and yellow leaves falling from the trees; his mind drifted to thoughts of you again. 

He had met you a year ago, having rolled through town to deal with a simple salt and burn case. He was riding solo, his dad dealing with more dire matters, like a fresh trail on Yellow Eyes. Sam had left a few months prior to go make it as a hotshot lawyer in California, leaving Dean alone in the aftermath. 

The fight between Sam and John had been ugly. Dean resorted to the middleman, as usual. He was proud of Sammy, more so that he was actually able to stand up to John, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting of abandonment. What did he have other than this job and his loyalty to finding the thing that took his mother?

After he wrapped up the case, he’d treated himself to a celebratory drink at one of the local bars, which happened to be a student hot spot, and that’s where he’d met you. 

He had noticed you almost immediately. You were breathtaking, and he’d found himself glancing in your direction more often than not, watching as you’d laughed and drank with your friends. You were so carefree, beautiful, and way out of his league for many reasons. Those reasons only multiplying once he’d gotten to know you, and they still rang true to this day.

You’d caught him staring; eventually, he’d seen your eyes flicker in his direction a few times. Despite his own self-deprecations, Dean knew he was good-looking, knew the effect he had on women, and he was surprisingly good at playing the confident ‘bad boy.’. 

He’d never really given much thought to anything other than a one-time thing. For one, it was easier that way. He never stayed in one place for longer than a couple of days, and secondly, his job wasn’t your normal 9 to 5, and having attachments was dangerous. 

However, as soon as you’d made your way over to him, after what had looked like some encouragement from your friends, and introduced yourself with that faux drunk confidence, he was hooked. 

At the time, you had just entered your senior year, and you had told him of your plans to take a gap year once you’d graduated. Like Dean, you felt a little lost in life, though for completely different reasons. Your major was something your father had insisted on, despite it not being what you had wanted to do. Apparently his plan was to have you work at his company, maybe even take over for him one day, but you hated all that corporate bullshit. 

So Dean already could relate. A demanding father whose opinion was the one and only. Maybe he did understand why Sam had left more than he originally thought. Like right now, he had this mission, his dad’s mission, yet once that was over, what next? Did he just continue what he was doing? Living off of stolen credit cards, diner food, and cheap motel rooms?

The more he got to know you, your desires and dreams to travel the world, live, and experience life, he found himself picturing that, wanting that too. You had a way of making everything seem brighter and more hopeful, making him feel like there was more to life than just a ‘job.’. 

He knows now why he kept coming back to you, why he still keeps coming back. Because for once in his life he felt seen, felt wanted, understood. And maybe it was time for him to tell you that. To tell you the truth. Consequences be damned. 

However, it was all wishful thinking, and Dean’s search for you was cut short when he spotted you walking out of the student library, your beautiful smile and sounds of laughter filtering through his open window, and beside you, another man. 

He felt his chest constrict, his stomach churn uncomfortably at the sight. His knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tight. He rolled to a stop and watched as you continued to laugh at whatever this douchebag was saying to you. 

He knew he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t exclusive. He was the one who’d made that clear, and surprisingly you had been okay with it. You didn’t know what he really did for a living, just that he had to travel a lot for ‘the family business.’. 

Though, with his recent self-revelation that his feelings for you ran much deeper than something casual, this felt like a punch to the gut. Maybe this was a sign that this whole thing was a bad idea. Why getting close to someone was not on the cards for him. Of course you would’ve met someone else. How could you not? You were beautiful, smart, funny, and sweet. Why would you wait around for some drifter like him? 

With his insecurities rearing their ugly head, threatening to swallow him whole, he failed to notice the two pairs of eyes on him. It wasn’t until there was a light rap at the window that he snapped out of his thoughts. He jumped a little and looked to where you were leaning down beside the partially opened glass, your expression surprised, but you were smiling nonetheless. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Came your innocent question, but it just seemed to rub him the wrong way, that and he noticed that guy lingering a few feet behind you, looking around awkwardly. 

“It was getting late; I thought I’d come see if you were okay, but I can see you’re busy.” He spoke the last words with a little more venom as he nodded to the lingerer. And he hated the slight dip in your brow and the downturn of your lips. 

“I was actually on my way to see you now.” You began, your voice light but weary. “I’m sorry I got held up. Alex just needed some help, and time got away from me.” Your explanation did nothing to calm his nerves. In fact, it made him feel worse. Like he didn’t matter. Again he had no right, but he was already spiralling. 

“You know what? It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged you off. “I’m going to have to cut this trip short anyway. Dad called; gotta meet him a few states over.” The lie came easily, but the knife in his heart twisted with each word. You frowned at him, he saw it in his peripheral, but he refused to meet your eyes. He couldn’t. 

“Alex, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He heard you say before you walked around the car and abruptly slipped into the passenger side. 

“What are you doing?” His question came out more snappish than he intended. You folded your arms and sat back in your seat, looking much like a stubborn child.

“We’re going to talk.” You shrugged as if that were obvious. “We can either do that here or back at the motel; your choice.” You levelled him with an unwavering stare, one that crushed his resolve and had him grumpily starting the engine and driving back to the motel. 

You walked past Dean as he opened the door for you, your eyes widening a fraction at the state of the room. It had certainly seen better days; the wallpaper was faded and peeling from the walls, and the carpet had a questionable amount of stains on it. From what? You didn’t hope to find out. He usually stayed in much nicer rooms, but seeing as it was close to the holidays, this was probably all he was going to get. 

You plopped down on the squeaky mattress and looked at him. He was avoiding your eyes, shifting awkwardly in his spot. You’d never seen him this worked up. You liked to think you knew Dean rather well, at least him as a person. He still kept some things to himself, like the details of the job he did with his dad. Sometimes he came to you looking so haunted, but those times weren’t spent with much talking. 

You were beyond curious; Dean was a mystery you were still trying to unravel. However, you knew your standpoint: that you weren’t his girlfriend and never would be. He’d made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t want to make a commitment, yet he kept coming back for you. You didn’t push him as to why he did, in fear he would stop altogether. 

If you were honest with yourself, you had fallen in love with him months ago. Yes, your situation was complicated, and he never stuck around longer than a couple of days. But Dean was special; he wasn’t like the guys you knew at college or in your life in general. He was wise beyond his years, thoughtful, funny, and smart, despite how much he called his younger brother the “brains of the family.” And he was also one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on. 

“What was that back there?” You decide to just rip the Band-Aid off. You had a pretty good idea, but you wanted to hear it from him. He finally looked to you then, his posture straightening, his arms folding across his chest as if in a defensive stance.

“I told you, I was just checking to see if you were okay.” He spoke as if he didn’t really care for the conversation, but his jaw was ticking, and his brow remained furrowed. “I have to leave, so can we make this quick?” 

It was your turn to frown then. Admittedly, his words stung; you hadn’t even had the chance to see him yet, and now he wanted to leave all of a sudden. 

“Is this because of Alex?” 

“What? No!” His response was quick and higher in pitch, and it only confirmed your assumptions. He was jealous. 

“You know he’s only a friend, right?” You offer, biting back your smile. 

“And? Why would I care who you’re friends with?” He grumbled and looked down at one of the stains on the carpet beneath his boot, fixating on it as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. 

“It just seems like you do it all.” You shrugged nonchalantly, though your voice tinged with something akin to a teasing tone. His eyes flickered back up to yours, darker than you were expecting. 

“You think I care who you hang around with? Who do you date? I don’t own you. If you want to meet guys and have boyfriends, then go ahead; I’m not stopping you.” His voice rose an octave with each word, his body trembling slightly as he unleashed kept feelings out into the open. 

“It’s not like everyone I’ve ever cared about or loved sticks around. I mean, why would they? I’m a freak, a loser.” He reveals, his eyes widening slightly at his unmeant confession. You sit in stunned silence, not expecting that outburst from him. 

“So if we’re done here, I have to leave.” He quickly adds, embarrassed and angry at himself for saying those things. Things he’d wanted to keep buried and never allow to see the light of day. He hastily begins collecting his things; there's not much, but there’s enough to give you time to snap out of your stupor. 

“Hey.” You grab onto his arm with enough force to stop him from picking up his duffle. He obliges you, but you know you have to select what you say next carefully; otherwise, you’re uncertain as to if you’d ever see him again.

“I don’t know where all that came from, but I don’t think you’re a freak or a loser.” You frown sympathetically at him. It hurt you to hear him speak so lowly of himself.

“Dean, I think the world of you.” You admit it, and his eyes flicker to yours, uncertainty shining in those pools of green. “I know our situation isn’t ideal or even normal, but in this last year of knowing you, I think you’re amazing.” 

“You do?” The question slips out involuntarily, but your responding smile is warm and calms his nerves a little. 

“Dean, you’re the best person I know, the only person I want to see. I haven’t said anything because I know you didn’t want a commitment, but dammit, I love you. I am in love with you.”

Your last word is cut off by the sudden press of his lips. Your surprise squeak quickly turns into a grateful sigh. And you wrap your arms around his shoulders and neck as he hugs you closer to him. 

He breaks away after a few minutes, your breaths mingling in the small gap between where his forehead rests against yours. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s not what you were expecting him to say, but you allow him the time to speak. “I overreacted, and I had no right to.” 

You cup his smooth cheek, which he leans into, and offer him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay.” You swipe a thumb across his cheekbone, and he takes comfort in your touch. 

“I just. I have something I need to tell you. Something I’ve kept from you, been keeping from you.” He sighs, his face tormented and sad as he pulls away. It’s worrying you, but you try to internalise it for his sake. He takes your hand and guides you to the bed until you’re both sitting side by side. 

“Dean, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?” You tell him honestly. He seems to be battling in his own mind, his internal struggle present in his rigid form and fidgeting hands. 

He huffs out a humourless laugh and rubs a hand down his face before looking at you. Really looking, and you sit quietly, but strong, showing him you’re there and are willing to listen. 

“There’s a reason I never told you what I did for a living.” He begins. “For one thing, I didn’t even think we’d even get this far, and there was no point to put that on you.” He shakes his head, his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach in knots. 

“And secondly, it’s dangerous. My job is dangerous, and I’d never want anything to happen to you.” He looks at you pleadingly, and you nod, despite the swarm of questions flooding your mind. 

Meanwhile, Dean blows out a nervous breath; he can’t believe he’s going to tell you the truth. Something he’d been the most adamant about not doing. Though he is in too deep, he knows that now, and you had a right to know, a right to run for the hills about what he was going to confess. He’d even agree with you when you called him crazy and walk out that door and never bother you again if that’s what you wanted. Selfishly, he hopes that isn’t the case, but you had a right to choose. 

“I’m a hunter.” He begins, and it hangs heavy in the air for two different reasons. For you, you’re a little confused, not understanding the dire build-up and Dean because he was unveiling his and his family’s biggest kept secret. 

“To clarify, I don’t hunt deer, elk, or critters in the woods.” He explains, but the alarming look on your face at the only other possibility to you has him panicking. “Not humans either.” He adds with a nervous chuckle, and you visibly relax. 

“I hunt monsters.” He reveals, and you stare at him dumbly for a moment. 

“Monsters?” You repeat, and Dean nods in confirmation. “As in the bogeyman?” 

“Sometimes, yeah.” Dean shrugs as if that was a casual thing to admit. You blink at him, as if you’re trying to process his words, but they don’t quite fit together in your mind. Monsters?

Your heart is pounding now, your mind racing, but all that comes out of your mouth is a shaky laugh, laced with disbelief. “Monsters?” You repeat, your voice thin and tight, like you’re testing the word on your tongue to see if it makes sense.

Dean’s face falls, and for the first time you see him as vulnerable as he’s ever been. There’s something desperate in his eyes, a plea for understanding that only seems to make the pit in your stomach widen.

“Yeah,” he says softly, nodding, but his voice cracks with the weight of the truth he’s just unleashed. “I hunt things that go bump in the night. Demons, ghosts, things like that. Creatures that don’t belong in this world.”

The room feels suddenly smaller. The air thicker. You look at him, your head spinning, and you can feel your pulse quicken as panic starts to creep in. A part of you wants to laugh it off, because this is crazy. There’s no way this could be true, right? Dean isn’t telling you the truth. It has to be some messed-up way for him to push you away.

A cold, sinking feeling settles deep in your chest. “Are you... are you serious?” Your voice comes out shaky, a whisper of disbelief hanging in the air. “Is this some kind of joke? You’re telling me... You hunt monsters?”

His expression tightens, lips pressed into a thin line, as if your question just added a fresh layer of weight to what he’s already carrying. “I’m not joking. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. Since one of those bastards took my  mom." The room grows silent, both of you respectively reeling from his admission. 

You had always figured Dean’s mom wasn’t in the picture for the pure fact he’d only ever spoken of his dad or younger brother. For what reason you never knew; however, the truth of it was more devastating than you could comprehend. 

When he looks at you again, there’s a pain in his expression that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before, and it’s then you decide this isn’t some elaborate story to make a break-up easier on him or to spook you just for the fun of it. This was very real, and this man had been living it. 

“This life… it’s dangerous. The people I meet, the things I fight, they’ll come after anyone I care about. I never wanted to put you in that position.” Dean says, his voice breaking. “I wanted to keep you safe; you deserve so much more than this, than me. You deserve the truth.”

You stand there, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of the words he’s spoken, but it’s like your entire world has been turned upside down. Dean is telling you about this huge part of his life that he’d kept from you, and you can’t tell if you should be running for the door or if you should stay and try to understand him, to understand this.

“But why? Why did you even let me in?” You ask, your voice catching on the last word. The question haunts you, and you need to understand the answer, even though a part of you is scared of hearing it.

Dean’s eyes soften, and for a moment, you see the man behind the mask, the man who is so full of fear, so full of love, and so completely torn apart. “Because I love you,” he says simply, his voice soft but resolute. “I love you, and I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t know how to make you understand what I do. How dangerous it is. How it’s too late for me to just stop, even if I wanted to. It’s all I’ve known.”

You’re frozen in place, the weight of his words hitting you harder than anything else. He loves you. It’s the last thing you expected to hear, the last thing you thought you’d ever get from Dean, especially now. But somehow, despite the chaos of it all, you feel your heart calm, just a little. Because the truth is, you really do love him. Despite everything.

You close your eyes for a moment, your mind racing with the enormity of what he’s just confessed. You want to scream, you want to run away and pretend none of this ever happened, but you can’t. You’re not that person. You can’t walk away from him, not now, not after everything you’ve felt for him.

You take a deep breath, forcing the words out, even as they feel foreign and strange in your mouth. “I... I don’t understand this. I don’t get it. But I do get you, Dean. I know who you are, even if I don’t know everything about your life.” You pause, letting the silence hang between you, both of you drowning in the weight of the moment.

And then, almost in defiance of the terror bubbling up inside you, you take a step forward. “I’m scared, Dean. I don’t know what this means for us. But I don’t want to lose you.”

Dean’s eyes flicker, relief and gratitude flooding his face. Slowly, carefully, he reaches out and takes your hand in his. “You won’t lose me,” he promises, his voice barely above a whisper, but the conviction in it is enough to make your heart steady, even if just for a second.

You reach up and press your lips to his, the simple action bringing you the sense of comfort and relief you both needed after such a heavy moment. Dean responds in kind, his hands firm and strong as he holds you close, his kiss soft yet purposeful, charged with an unspoken understanding of what kind of life you were agreeing to embark on. 

There’s so much left unsaid, so much you’re both struggling to understand. But for now, in this small, broken room filled with the weight of the truth, you both know one thing: neither of you is ready to let go just yet.

As you both part, Dean exhales a long, tired breath. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and in that simple gesture, you can feel the conflict in him, the rawness of everything he's kept buried for so long. And yet, as much as he's terrified of the future, of what this could mean for both of you, there's something almost peaceful in his presence now, as if admitting the truth has, for just a moment, allowed him to let go of the weight he’s been carrying.

“I don’t want to drag you into my mess,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But I want you to know, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Whatever it costs.”

You look at him, really look at him, seeing all the layers that lie underneath the bravado, the smirks, and the jokes. The broken man who’s been carrying this burden alone for too long. Your heart aches for him, for everything he's had to endure. And as much as the idea of what he does terrifies you, as much as the danger and uncertainty swirl around the edges of your thoughts, there’s still a part of you that feels steady.

You take a deep breath, your thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand. “I’m scared too, Dean. But I won’t walk away from you. Not because of this. But you’re right, we need to figure out what this means. All of it.”

His gaze softens, the hardness in his face fading just a little. “You don’t have to be a part of this. You don’t have to be involved.”

You shake your head, smiling gently. “I don’t know what the future holds, Dean. But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that I don’t want to face it without you. Not if you’ll let me.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s not suffocating anymore. It’s not filled with uncertainty or confusion. It’s a quiet understanding, the kind you only get after sharing something raw and unfiltered. He studies you for a long time, his expression softening, before he finally nods. There’s something fragile in that nod, something unspoken that passes between you.

“I didn’t think you’d say that,” he admits, his voice almost a whisper, like he’s afraid saying it out loud might shatter something delicate. “But I’m glad you did.”

You cup his face softly in both of your hands, a simple gesture that means everything right now. “We’ll figure it out,” you say softly. “Together.”

Dean lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it for a lifetime, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders loosens. The truth may have ripped through the air, but it’s not the end. It’s only the beginning.

AN: Hi all, I'm baaaack lol. This purely came out of the gif above and took on a mind of it's own 😅 what originally started as a jealousy fic turned into a; show some young Dean love fic 😂 I guess this can be perceived as a more positive outcome of him confessing his true life to someone he loves. I hope you guys enjoy ☺️

[scoobydoodean]

🫣🫣 i always say cas (and sam too) would strongly dislike a lot of the casgirl (and samgirl) opinions, especially regarding dean. but i’m thinking now that jack would also hate to see jackgirls dismissing his autonomy and absolving him of accountability and insisting he should just hate dean completely. when, canonically, jack has never wanted any of that.

💯 Jack doesn't hate Dean at all. He idolizes him (and I think Dean knows this and I think he's thinking, "Don't" because he doesn't see himself as a role model, but that's one of those things you don't get to decide). Jack understands Dean and only three days after he's born, is trying to emulate Dean's mannerisms, which is especially interesting given how angry and riddled with grief Dean clearly is. You'd think that'd be a turnoff for Jack, but it's not. Some people think Jack was afraid of Dean, but I don't. I think Jack was able to sense that Dean was a good man going through a hard time. He gravitated more toward Dean even though Sam was being "nicer" because he sensed that Sam was being insincere about his motives in the first few episodes and Dean wasn't. Dean was also showing and feeling his grief. Jack was grieving his own mother (just like Dean was) and Cas (just like Dean was) while Sam was trying to emotionally detach. Sam explains to Jack how hunter funerals work while they burn Kelly and Cas's bodies, but Dean is standing there feeling—hollowed out and lost. Jack knows better than to mirror Dean's grief 1:1, but his example shows Jack that feeling it is acceptable, and that Dean cares about Jack's dad (Cas) and the loss of his own mother, whereas Sam is doing his best to numb himself and ends up not being relatable to Jack because of that.

Jack overhears Sam and Dean's shouting match over Sam minimizing Cas's death/pretending it didn't happen so he can invalidate Dean's grief and I think things make a lot of sense to Jack then. Jack doesn't remember what happened before he was born— when he (or something pretending to be him) was communicating with Cas and Kelly. He's able to piece together a lot from Sam and Dean's fight about why Dean can't trust him and gets an even bigger picture over how much people mean to Dean. Jack models his mannerisms after Dean because Dean so visibly cares and feels, and Jack identifies with caring about people deeply and feeling so much that it hurts because Jack is also like that!

And I think you're absolutely right. Jack hates having his accountability denied. Even if it's not fair to him, Jack's dangerously explosive power is a reality, and he is ultimately the one who has to deal with it! And I think Jack also (even if it comes out in a largely unhelpful way) appreciates that Dean is more likely to take that seriously and even puts part of the responsibility of Jack's volatility on himself. There's a fight about Jack's volatile powers and his culpability in handling them very early on, after the Dodge City case, when Jack trying to flex his power proudly to Cas ends in a man being dead. Jack is already upset in the car ride home with Sam and Cas, but starts talking again when Dean comes back and reveals that he covered up Jack killing someone, and Sam says, "good".

SAM: How'd it go? DEAN: Usual. Killed the bad guy, saved the girl. SAM: What about the, uh… DEAN: Took care of it. SAM: Good. JACK: Good? How is that good? I killed someone. What was his name? The guard? Did he have a family?

Jack cares so much, and Sam says covering it up is "good", and Cas tries to tell him to ignore it—to put what he did out of his mind, but Jack isn't having it:

CASTIEL: Jack, don't do this to yourself. JACK: No, did he?

Dean is the only one who answers him instead of encouraging him to just not care.

DEAN: Yes, he did.

Dean knows denying that the entire thing happened or that the loss of that man's life and that it likely had broader impacts on his family won't make Jack feel better. Jack needs to be allowed to wrestle with the actual weight of his mistake and can't just compartmentalize it. Dean knows this, because Dean is exactly the same way. THEY GET EACH OTHER.

I think it's appropriate that this is where Dean tells Jack he was wrong about him and that Jack isn't a monster. But that isn't the only thing Jack needs to hear from someone (he's hearing a lot of that, actually!). The thing is for all Sam, Dean, and Cas might give reassurances in this episode that Jack's intentions were never to harm anyone and he isn't a monster, Jack knows that ultimately, lack of control of his powers still presents a danger that ultimately starts and ends with him. While that may present him with a burden that is unfair to him (because other people don't have to deal with what he's dealing with in that sense), it is nonetheless a burden he is forced by reality to bear, and denying the weight of that reality and how it weighs him down doesn't leave him feeling supported. It leaves him feeling unheard and alone. He doesn't want to be treated like a child with no culpability. He wants someone to take the dangers of what he can do seriously.

[writingroom21]

Sweet Escape

Pairing: Rafe x single mom reader

Summary: Moving to Kildare with your best friend and daughter was the perfect move. The little island is perfect, the people are nice, and you are finally at peace. Then Rafe comes in with his perfect smile and charm, sweeping you off your feet. The only issue is if you are ready to let someone else in.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse (Theo to reader), Theo just being himself, let me know if I missed any.

Wc:4.5K

masterlist

Chapter 9: Birthday Surprise

“Fuck.” Rafe yells before sucking on his finger. You look up from the table setting the scissors down. “Are you okay?” He just nods before going back to trying his best to soothe his paper cut. The two of you are trying to be quiet as Vi takes her nap. You thought it would be a good time to wrap her birthday presents.

Which meant Rafe thought it was a great time to wrap his birthday presents. Let’s just say he went all out. A few weeks ago the three of you went to the main land to the mall. Of course Rafe had to take her to the toy store there. You practically had to fight the both of them to leave without those drivable kid cars.

You may have won that battle but Rafe sure as hell won the war. When you were at Tanny Hill yesterday you found the big box in his closet. He went back without you and got the damn car. Bet he’s  regretting it now as he heals his papercut. “Aren’t there people that do this shit for a living?” You shake your head at him as you finish your presents and go help him.

“Have I told you how much I love you and how amazing you are?” He sweet talks as you wrap his present. “I can’t believe you got her this.” You mumble, fighting back a smile so he doesn’t see. “Yeah, well imagine how cute she’s going to look. You can thank me then.” He’s right. Vi is going to love it and you are excited to see her reaction. 

“You know she’s been telling me about a dog.” Rafe cheekily says as you finish wrapping the gift. You dropped the bow you were picking up. “I swear if you get her a dog you’ll regret it.” He lets out a laugh and moves the gift away from you. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do?” There’s a hint of suggestion in his voice. A small smile creeps its way to your face as he crawls closer to you.

“Maybe I’ll teach you a lesson this time.” Rafe pauses mid way to you, his eyes flickering between yours. His head tilts to the side as he assesses you. “And how’d you do that?” He gets closer to you, sneaking between your legs. Slowly he presses kisses to the side of your neck, making his way up to your lips. Just as his lips are going to meet yours, you move your head away. Using your hands you push yourself up causing him to fall back.

“Where are you going?” You ignore him and pick up the presents. Carrying them, you make your way to the hall closet and hide them. Heavy footsteps follow you, stopping right behind you. When you turn around he looks at you like he’s ready to devour you. “That pretty boy is your lesson. Get her a dog and you can just kiss seeing me naked again goodbye.” 

He licks his lips as he looks down at you. “I mean how could I say no to kissing your naked body.” Shaking your head you push him further away. “I mean it, Rafe. I don’t want a dog in this house. June would probably have a heart attack.” The two of you know you are lying. June would love it since she’s an animal person. But a dog would be too much for you to deal with. 

Plus who would take care of it while you are at the shop and Jo is working. Granted Jo worked from home but she still had to look after June. It would just be too hectic in the house and you don’t know if that’s what you need. 

“I guess you have a point. Party pooper.” Just as he finished his sentence there was a voice calling you. “Mommy!” Vi yells as she wakes up from her little nap. Rafe doesn't bring up the dog conversation for the rest of the day which you are thankful for. But you did overhear Violet try to sweet talk her way into one. Man she’s good because you were ready to cave in.

Eventually she got tired and you put her to bed. Jo and Rafe set up the living room as June bossed them around. Tomorrow you have another court hearing. This time there’s going to be testomoney’s which makes you nervous. Jo’s parents flew out and are currently on their way over to the house. As they are one of the first to talk on your behalf. 

Diane told you that his parents are going to be his first witness’. The last time you saw them was at your parents funeral. They had cornered you after the service berating you for showing up. You remember going back home just to cry for the rest of the day. Sure your parents weren’t great but you loved them. All you wanted was for them to love you back or at least not care about themselves more than you. 

Seeing them again is going to be hard. 

“Rafe if you drop that vase I will ban you from this house.” The man stops dead in his tracks. His other hand finds the vase so he’s using both hands. He clears his throat as he nods his head. “Sorry Juney.” You giggle and help Jo pull out the mattress from the couch. As you put the finishing touches there’s a knock on the door. Jo practically sprints over just to almost tackle her parents.

Lillian is the first to break from the hug and run over to you. “Oh if it isn’t my other baby. How are you? How's my little girl?” She rattle off as he hugs you tight. A second pair of arms squeeze you both. “Hi sweetheart.” You laugh as they bombard you with questions. “I’m good and Vi’s sleeping. She’s going to be happy in the morning.”

They are going to answer until a voice cuts them off. “I gave birth to you and yet I’m ignored.” June fakes a sigh as Lillian and Benji go over to hug her. “Sorry mom. It’s just been weird without the girls. We’re happy to see you.”  They catch up a little bit as you go to find Rafe. He’s standing in the kitchen, staring down at the sink. 

“Hey you okay?” Rafe jumps a little at your words, turning to look at you. “What if they don’t like me?” His eyes are just barely looking over your shoulder as if he is scared of what could walk in. “Why would they hate you?” Walking closer you stop just short of him as he shakes his head. “I don’t know, maybe because I’m me. My own parents didn’t even like me.” His hands find his hair pulling at the strands. 

“They're your parents. What they think matters and I can’t lose the two of you. What happens when they hate me? I can’t put you through that.” You make your way to him and wrap your arms around his middle. “Jo and June love you, so does Vi. I love you Rafe.” The weight of his arms rest on your shoulders as he squeezes you back. “They’ll love you and want to know how I know that.” He pulls away to look down at you. “You are one of the best people I’ve ever met. You loved Vi from the start and that alone will make them like you.” 

Footsteps start to echo in the hallway and you know they’ll come in here soon. “Plus Benji is a space nerd just like you. That gives you at least some brownie points.” Rafe laughs at the joke as they enter the room. “Jesus Jo you said he was attractive but that doesn’t even cover it.” Lillian gawks as she walks into the kitchen. Rafe pulls away from you to greet her and Benji. He had poured glasses of water for them, which he offered with a shy smile.

It was weird seeing Rafe being awkward around someone. Which didn’t last long as Lillian and Benji asked him a bunch of questions. By the time they are done it’s time for bed. “I’m telling you the Celestron NexStar is the best one.” Benji tells Rafe. “I’ll have to look into it. Have a goodnight.” Rafe shakes his hand and gives Lillian a hug.

As the two of you settle into bed you smile. “Think it went well?” you ask him, hoping his nerves have calmed. “Good I think. I really like them.” You turn to your side and rest your head on his chest. “They like you too. I could tell.” Snuggling in closer your eyes start to drift. “Really?” Rafe’s voice is quiet but you still heard it. Nodding your head you answer him before sleep takes you.

✦✦✦✦✦

“All rise for Judge Argent.” Everyone stands up as the judge walks in and sits down. “You may all be seated. Welcome back everyone. I have reviewed the evidence brought forth and viewed the witness list. Mrs. Simmons, are you ready to call up your first witness.” Diane sends you a smile as she stands up. “Yes, your honor. The defense would like to call Lillian Bridely to the stand.”

Lillian is escorted by an officer to the stand and made to swear to tell the truth. As her hand leaves the bible her eyes meet yours and you feel at peace. All the nerves from the day just disappeared. “Mrs. Bridely.” DIane starts but it cuts off. “Please call me Lillian. Mrs. Bridely makes me seem too old.” The courtroom chuckles at her attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Well Lillian, can you tell the court how you know the defendant?” Diane is standing in the middle of the room, blocking you a bit from her. “The defendant has been my daughter's best friend since elementary school. She spent a lot of time at our house. Then after she was kicked out she lived with us.” Diane nods as Lillian finishes her statement. She walks a little to the side and then asks her next question. 

“When you said she was kicked out, was that by her parents” Lillian nods her head and answers yes. “After they found out she was pregnant they said some awful things and told her to leave. Jo had brought her to the house right after and she stayed there until moving here.” Theo lawyer looks like he’s about to say something but he doesn’t. “What was the reaction to her pregnancy?” 

Lillian takes a deep breath. “She told my daughter Jo first. Which then meant we were told because our daughter has a big mouth. When my husband Benji and I talked to her she seemed scared.” Theo lawyer stands up. “Objection, this is speculation on how the defendant felt.” Judge Argent raises a hand ordering him to sit back down. “Mrs. Simmons please proceed and I advise you to be precise with your wording.” Diane shoots a look at the other lawyer before proceeding. “Lillian, describe how you thought she was scared.”

“She told us. She said she was scared of how her parents and Theo would react.” Lillian looks at you and it feels like you are back to that moment. The worry in her eyes are the same as they were years ago. “Why was that?” Diane asks. “May her parents rest in peace but they were obsessed with their image. The only reason why Theo and her were together was because their parents wanted it. I would sometimes overhear them berating her. Saying that she was a…”

Lillian clears her throat, swallowing the lump that's forming. “A what?” Diane encourages her to finish. “A mistake and failure. They were ashamed that she would get pregnant. They told her it was a good thing Theo left since now she couldn’t ruin his life.” Diane and everyone looks over at Theo. He looks pissed as Lillian stares down at him. Next to him Delia looks between them as if trying to assess the situation. 

“You say Mr. Wixx left. Can you describe what you mean?” Lillian looks at Diane. “She had him come to our house and told him there. My husband, Jo and I stayed in the kitchen and they talked in the living room. After she told him, he started screaming. Saying that it was going to ruin his life. That he never wanted to be a dad, especially not a kid with her.” Theo’s lawyer whips his head to look at his client. 

“Is this the first time you witnessed Mr. Wixx raise his voice?” The question almost made her laugh. “No, he had a habit of finding things to be mad about. I witnessed him yell at her during their senior prom. All over the flower of his boutonniere. Called her and I apologize for my language ‘a stupid dumb bitch who can’t do anything right’. Then proceeded to yell at her for crying.” 

“You remember those exact words?” Tears start to form in your eyes at the memory. If you are being honest it was buried along with so many others. That night he convinced everyone you would be staying at a hotel for the weekend. But in reality it was just so no one could see the bruises he left on your body after. “Yes. It wasn’t the first time I’ve heard him say things. I kept a log of what I heard.”

Diane nods and goes to the table to grab a paper. She sends you a wink. “I would like to bring evidence 1A to the stand.” The judge looks over the document as Mr. Campbell scrambles to read it. “This is a large list Lillian.” Diane casually mentions. “I’ve seen a lot.” Lillian adds. “Can you tell me what you witnessed on March 17th?” You scrunch your nose not knowing what they are talking about. “I was asleep and woke up to pounding on the door. When I opened it she came rushing in only for me to see Theo hot on her trails. Benji stopped him and told him to leave as I talked to her.”

You are confused about what she’s talking about. You can kind of remember being with him that day but not going to their house. “She had a black eye and cuts along her hair line. I asked her questions but she wasn’t making any sense. We took her to the hospital and found that it was a concussion. The following week I checked up on her and she didn’t even remember that day. The whole day was just gone.” You tune out what she says after that. 

How many memories do you not have because of him? Was it really that bad? You’re so stuck in your head that you didn’t realize that Theo’s lawyer already cross examined her. Benji sits on the stand answering some of Diane’s questions. It looks like Diane is finishing up as he ends his last statement. “Thank you. That’s all your honor.” Mr. Campbell stands up fixing his suit. “Mr. Bridely can you tell me about your relationship with the defendant.” He stands tall trying to make himself look taller. “My daughter's best friend but she’s family.”

“Would it be safe to say that you feel over protective about the defendant?” Benji goes to roll his eyes but stops. “Yes, any father would be over protective.” “But you aren’t her father are you?” Benji’s left eye does the little twitch it does when he’s upset. “Maybe not biologically but in my heart that’s my daughter. I’ve watched her grow up with mine and I’m grateful we were able to be in her life.” Mr. Campbell looks irritated at the answer but moves on.

“Have you ever witnessed Mr. Wixx put his hands on the defendant?” Benji takes in a breath. “No, I have never witnessed him lay a hand on her.” Campbell interrupts him. “Thank you Mr. Bridely.” “But I have witnessed him verbally assault her. I have seen the bruises that were left behind after she’s been with him. I witnessed how a child that was so bright lost the light in her eyes at the hands of the plaintiff.” Campbell interrupts him again. “Thank you Mr. Bridely. I have no further questions.”

Judge argent watches as Campbell walks back to his table slamming his papers down. “You are dismissed.” Benji walks off the stand and sits next to his wife. “I will go over the statements given today. We will be here at the same time in two weeks. Have a great rest of your day.” The officer to the side of the judge argent steps forward. “All rise.” With that Argent leaves and court is over.

You thank Diane and meet everyone out front. You hug Lillian and Benji thanking them. “Stop thanking us. You should know by now that we will always help you.” Rafe wraps an arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. Then a throat clears behind you. Theo is standing there with Delia besides him holding a gift. “I just wanted to give you Violet’s birthday present.” Delia hands the gift to you but you can’t help to notice Theo’s tone. He isn’t happy and he’s showing it. Delia forces a smile at you which you return. Then you do something really stupid.

“Actually here, you can give it to her at the birthday party. I can text you the details.” Rafe tenses beside you and you can feel everyone's eyes on you. “Really?” Delia asks, her eyes are shining and you kind of feel bad. Sure she’s with Theo and seems like a bit much. But she does seem nice based on how she acts with others. She’s still dumb for practically kidnapping Vi but you can’t help but to feel for her. 

“You don’t have to pretend Prim.” Theo’s eyes narrow at you. “I’m not. This is me giving you an olive branch.” You hold his stare and it feels like you’re communicating. He knows this is a move on your end. He just doesn’t know how he should plan his next move. “We’ll be there.” He takes Delia’s hand and walks away leaving you in awkwardness.

The whole ride home they kept asking you how you could invite him over. “Diane said we need to play along.” You try to argue but no one listens to you. “That doesn’t mean that you had to invite him.” After a long time of explaining yourself they got the hint. “If I do this then it looks like I’m trying. He’ll eventually fall apart and this will all be over.” They finally dropped it and agreed it would be a good idea. What could possibly go wrong?

Turns out a lot of things. You had picked up the cake only to drop it in the driveway. Lillian and Benji ran to the closest bakery to find something to use. Then the decorations weren’t enough so Jo had to run to the story to get more. It seemed like the day was just going wrong. But Vi was having a blast helping put things up so at least she was having fun.

It was stressful getting everything ready but it was finally done. Just in time for people to start to show up.

You had invited some of the kids from the neighborhood. Rafe got a bouncy house so you knew they would enjoy it. Plus you have been doing playdates with some of the other moms. Which is nice because now you feel like you have mom friends who can give you tips. The kids run from outside to inside the house chasing each other around. You found a tik tok about potion making and since it's Halloween month you thought it was perfect. 

There’s an area in the living room where some of the younger kids are making potions. Vi is laughing as she pours glitter everywhere and you know you’ll regret it later. There was a knock on the door and you opened it to see some of Rafe’s friends. “Hey sorry we’re late. Kelce forgot a card and needed to get one.” Topper explains as he hugs you. “Dude I already told you, a gift needs a card. Hey good to see you.” Kelce greets.

They enter the house so you go to close the door but see Theo and Delia. They make their way in saying hi and you show them where they can leave the present. “Everything looks great.” Delia compliments. “Thanks took a while to set up. Just happy it turned out alright.” They go off and mingle as you try to make sure everything is good. 

Two hours tick by and you decide it's probably time for cake. Everyone has already eaten so dessert might be a good idea. Lillian brings out the replacement cake. Everyone sings happy birthday to a squealing Vi. You help her blow out her candles because she’s still trying to eat cake right away. Don’t think she grasps the concept of blowing them out fully. “Alright mom, time for a family photo.” Jo exclaims as she pulls out her phone. 

You bend down next to her but before Jo can take the photo, Vi shocks you all. “Daddy, come!” She yells as she waves at Rafe. The whole room becomes silent as you all watch Rafe. There’s a moment of panic then it's whipped away from his face. He smiles as he walks over and kneels on the other side of Vi. “I’m here sweet girl.” He whispers to her. “Okay, say cheese.” You all look at Jo and repeat the word.

She takes a few photos of the three of you. Then Rafe takes some of you, Vi, Jo, June, Lillian, and Benji. You forced Sarah and Wheezie into some photos as well but they didn’t seem to complain. Once photos were out of the way, the cake was cut and distributed. Kids now we're crashing from all the food and sugar so the party was coming to an end. The only people still left were all adults.

Rafe helps Vi open presents as the rest of you sit and watch. She was so excited when she saw the toy car that the rest of the gifts were almost abandoned. Her favorite part was having the chance to throw the wrapping everywhere because she could make a mess. Plus she got a lot of cool new toys that she was really excited about. You were cleaning up the mess that was left behind as Benji tries to set up the car.

“Okay so I have another gift that I want to give Vi.” Rafe starts to talk as Jo exits the room. Everyone turns to look at him but he’s only looking at you. “I know we already talked about it but I’m weak and caved.” Your ears perk up at his wording and you glare at him. “Rafe you did not.” He smiles at you and shrugs his shoulders. You stand up, dropping the wrapping paper in your hands. “What did he do?” Wheezie asks.

“She keeps begging me for it and I couldn’t say no. Plus she’s going to be staying at my house. So see, problem solved.” Just as he finishes his sentence Jo walks in with the cutest English bulldog. It looks like a puppy since it’s still so small. When you look at Vi her eyes light up as she jumps up from her seat. She runs over to the dog waiting patiently as Jo puts it down. You walk over as the puppy sniffs her hand and licks it causing her to laugh.

“What do you think baby?” You ask as you pet the new addition. Vi smiles bigly and hugs the puppy. “I love dog.”  She exclaims happily. You shoot Rafe a look but really you can’t be mad. She looks so happy. “It better be staying at yours.” You say as you move the dog to your lap. “She is. I have everything set up already. She just needs a name.” “Peach.” Vi says. As if the puppy knew she let out a little bark. “Alright, peach it is.”

Rafe tells you how he went to the shelter and found her in one of the cages. Peach is just eight months old, practically a baby. The more you find out the more you fall in love. When she falls asleep she lets out these cute little snores. It only makes her look cuter. The excitement of a dog was the signal that said the party was over. Everyone was grabbing their things and saying goodbye.

Theo and Delia were one of the last to leave. There’s a sort of energy around THeo as he stands by the door. You can see that Delia is talking to him but he’s not listening. He is too busy staring at you and Rafe pretending to be a family with Vi. It pisses him off that for a while he’s been trying to get Violet to call him dad and she wont. Just for her to call a random man daddy in front of so many people. It’s embarrassing and now he knows why you invited him.

You make your way over to them to see them out. “Thank you again for coming. Have a safe drive back.” You offer as you open the door. Theo stares down at you in disgust. “Are you happy now that you’ve made a fool of me? You are just so insufferable that you had to take jabs at me at our daughter's birthday.” Delia’s eyes widen a bit and she gives him a look as if to say stop talking. “I can’t wait for you to realize that he’ll leave you too. Enjoy your make believe world while you can.” 

Delia and you watch as he walks down the driveway. You stand there shocked at his stupidity. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why he’s been upset recently.” You tell her it’s okay. In reality it is okay because he’s wrong. Rafe isn’t going to leave you because he’s different.Theo can try all he wants but he’s not going to get in your head and make you doubt Rafe. 

“Don’t apologize for him. He’s not sorry but it’s okay.” She looks at you for a moment and just nods. “It really was a great party. Thank you again for inviting us.” She follows after her fiance leaving you to watch from the doorway. It’s weird to think that you were in her shoes just a few years ago. That even with your warning she is still standing with him. Then you think about how you never once asked for help. Every time he did something you kept quiet out of fear. But that fear isn’t going to stop you now. 

You close the door blocking them from your view. Making a promise to yourself that no matter what Theo throws at you, he will not get your daughter.

Taglist: @haruvalentine4321 @namelesslosers @ijustwanttoreadlols @drewsphswife @corpsebridenightamare @actorslover @juniperbaies @fionaswifeyy @dark1paradise @stoned-writer @notafairyteen @theoraekenslover @rafedaddy01 @rrafeswhore@10ava01 @selfcontollover07 @akobx let me know if you want to be added

[shesoutofhere]

With Perfection Comes Obsession

Hockey James Potter x Figure Skater Reader

Summary- You're back in the rink, training for a medal you lost out on the year before. Nothing is going to get in your way this year. Or so you think.

Warnings- Description of a panic attack, Unhealthy habits

Wordcount- 10k

Translation: Lapin - Rabbit

Ignore all typos <3

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

Spin

“Again”

Spin

“Again

Spin

“Again”

You hit the ice just as aggressively as you did the time before that. You're finding it hard to breathe and everything aches. 

“Again Lapin!”

You pump your legs, moving them fast and hard. You're mid-jump when you hear the shrieking of the arena buzzer. Thrown off, your footing is off and you fall to your knees. 

You hear your coach scoff, moving to get off the ice. You get up, wincing at the sting in your knees, that’ll be a nasty bruise. 

When you walk off the ice, Coach hands you your blade covers. You mentally prepare yourself for the lecture you’ll receive when you return to the locker room. 

You feel a tight grip on your arm. Okay, looks like you’ll get your lecture right here.

“Lapin, If you get distracted by a buzzer, what makes you think you’ll be fine in an arena full of people? Have you learned nothing from your last performance?” 

She asks you questions but doesn’t give you time to respond, she immediately cuts in. “And your jumps, how is it that you haven’t managed to master your jumps? You are well past the age to be scared of falling. Your hesitation will cost you this title.” 

Silence falls over the both of you, Coach has her hands on her sides and just stares. You know what she's doing. She’s thinking of how you’ll be punished for this oh-so-horrible performance today. 

“Tomorrow you will march yourself to the management office and ask for an extended time.”  

Your eyes go wide, “Coach, they’ll never give me more time. And what about my professors? They’re already at their wits end with me being gone all the time.”

Coach’s eyes sharpen, “I’m sorry, have your priorities changed? Am I wasting your time Lapin? Cause if that’s the case then say so, and may we be free of this doomed partnership.”

You cower under her stare, “No, no of course not Coach, I’ll talk to management tomorrow and see what deal I can work up with my professors.” 

Pleased with the conversation going her way, Coach smiles. “Good, I’ll see you soon.” 

With that, she saunters off, reaching for her phone to call god knows who.

When you’re sure she’s out of eyesight you slump down onto the bench next to you. You close your eyes and take a minute to finally catch your breath. You bring your hand to your chest, hoping to alleviate some of the tightness and discomfort. 

The bench shakes and you hear something hit the ground with a thud. You open one eye and close it again when you see who it is who’s disturbed your peace. 

“How oh how will you ever convince management to give you any more practice time?” 

You sigh, hoping that if you ignore the nuisance next to you, he’ll get the hint and leave you alone. 

“They won’t even give the team extra time, let alone one person.” 

You open your eyes and turn to look at the boy sitting next to you. “I can be very persuasive.” 

James, who’s lacing up his skates, mumbles a quiet “Don’t I know it.”

You stand up and gather your things. “Who Knows James, win some games and maybe you’ll get the extra time you need.” 

James pauses his movement, looking up at you with a deadly glare.

 It’s a sore subject and you know it. After Peter Pettigrew, one of the university's star players decided to transfer, James and the rest of the team have been dethroned. They’ve known no peace since then and are grappling with everything to win this season. 

James turns back to his laces. “Hey and maybe if you learn to stop being so skittish on the ice, you’ll land that jump for once Lapin.” 

This is why you’ll never feel bad for being so hostile toward James. He’s a wolf in sheep's clothing and you lose your mind every day knowing that everybody has fallen for his golden boy act. 

You throw your bag over your shoulder, swatting at the back of James' head on your way out of the arena. 

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

You’re pacing back and forth in front of the management office. You’ve gone over every possible excuse that could convince them to give you more time. You will convince them, or Coach will have your head on a platter. You’ll butter up the sweet old lady who works the front desk, you’ll dazzle her, and she’ll sign whatever she needs to. 

With one final pep talk, you walk into the office and freeze at the door. 

Shit. 

It’s not the sweet old lady. 

Sitting at the front desk is Remus Lupin. ‘This is fine’ you try to convince yourself.

You saunter up to the desk “Good morning Remus, you look fantastic today, do anything different with your hair?” 

Remus puts his book down, looking up with a sweet smile, “No, did the same thing I always do. How can I help you?” 

 You lean onto the counter and start messing with the pen jar. “You, my love, can sign off on my extra ice time.” you choose not to make eye contact, continuing to swivel the pens around the jar. 

Remus sighs, dragging your name out, “You know I can’t approve any more time for you, the school won’t allow it.” 

You stomp your foot out of habit, “ But Remus, I got all my professors to give me as many extensions as I need, really all I need is for you to say yes.” 

Remus, always bursting your bubble, “It’s not about class love, It’s about your health. You know how the system works.” 

You groan and bring your head down onto the counter. You knew this would be your biggest obstacle. All athletes have to adhere to certain rules. The university claims that it’s to protect the athlete's health but everyone knows it's so they don’t get backlash for overworking their student-athletes. You're allotted a certain amount of hours but anything over that has to be flagged and reported. 

“Listen,” Your head shoots up, “I can maybe convince them to a lot you a bit more time, but you’ve got to go to your physical therapy sessions. Doc has to report when you don’t show you know.”

“Okay yes, fine, I pinky promise that I will see Doc, and stretch and stay off the ice for 30 minutes after eating, and-” 

Remus cuts you off with a laugh, “Okay, okay I get it. I’ll talk to the board and see what I can do.” 

You squeal, reaching over the counter to smack a kiss on Remus’s forehead. “You are a lifesaver Remus Lupin.” 

Remus just shakes his head, “Yeah yeah, whatever, get out of here.” 

You happily skip out of the office, so happy, that not even running into James Potter in his gear could upset you. 

You offer a simple “James” and go to walk past him. 

“Woah, what's got you all happy?” 

You give him a sly smile, “Oh nothing, I’m just having a lovely morning.”

James furrows his brows at you, “Okayyy. Was Rem in the office?” 

You nod at him, “Yes, my sweet, beautiful, lovely Remus is in there. How he’s friends with the lot of you, I’ll never understand.”

James is insulted but is weirded out more than anything. 

Not caring to interact any further you wave goodbye. 

James, still confused, continues into the office. 

You don’t get far down the before James is yelling your name down the hallway. You roll your eyes, continuing on your way. You hear thumping and there’s a yank on your wrist. 

You yelp out of surprise. James without a word is dragging you back towards the office. You both enter and Remus is shaking his head. 

You rip your wrist out of James' grip, “I’d like that back thank you.” 

You smile at Remus, “Hi love, so good to see you again.” 

“Likewise.” 

James snaps his fingers, “Quit it you two, Remus just told me you’re getting more time on the ice.” 

“Why yes I am. I told you James, do better at your sport and good things come your way.” 

“Guys please don’t start. I don’t want to have to kick you out again,” Remus says.

James disregards your insult, “You can’t get more time, you’re already maxed out on hours, they’ll never approve it.”

You shake your head in faux symphony “Oh James, I told you I was very persuasive.” 

This seems to bring his attention back to his friend. “You” he points a finger aggressively toward Remus’s direction, “How could you say yes? You're the iron wall, no one shakes you down.”

Remus gives a weak shrug, “Okay, I wasn’t shaken down, we made a deal” 

James rolls his eyes, “Oh yeah, and what was that?”

“She’ll see Doc, every appointment, she has to go.” 

James looks confused. “How is that a deal? It's protocol.” 

“Wellll” Remus drags.

The look on James’ face darkens. His attention is on you now. “You don’t see the Doc?” 

You try not to be intimidated by his glare. “I just don’t see the point of seeing him after every practice. I mean come on, my body is my instrument, of course, I know how to take care of it.” 

Whatever lightness was in the air, is gone now. James is genuinely upset and you can’t wrap your head around why. 

“Are you kidding me, so what, you’ve just been skipping out on all your appointments?”

All you can do is shrug. Remus, who can sense the shift in the atmosphere, tries to intervene. “Look, I don’t even know if it’s a guarantee, I still have to ask the board.”

Your heart drops. “No. I need the time. You said you’d get me the time.” 

Remus, who has unfortunately been caught in both James and your fury, doesn't know how to turn this conversation around. 

“And what about your work, do you even go to class anymore?” 

“I’m doing great in all my classes.”

“That doesn't answer whether you're going.” 

“What does it matter? Virtual or not, It’s only until after the competition.” 

James takes his glasses off and rubs at his forehead like he’s trying to ward off an oncoming headache. “So, just like that, you get the time, extensions on school work, and a pass from all the appointments you missed with Doc.”

You sigh, “I don’t get it James, are you jealous, is that what it is?” 

This strikes a nerve in James. “You think that's what this is about?”

“Well” you throw your hands up, “what else could be?”

James puts his glasses back on and steps up to you, “You know what, if you want to overwork yourself and fuck up any chance you get at the actual competition, go ahead, seems like everyone is right behind you.” with that, James storms out the office. 

Remus walks out from behind the desk and gives a light squeeze to your shoulder, “I don’t understand why you two work each other up so much.” 

“He’s wrong,” you say quietly. Remus listens. “I’m better than I’ve ever been. I need this Remus, I need to win this. I need to show everyone that I can do it.” 

Remus, with a sad look in his eyes, pulls you in for a hug. “Everyone knows you can, you’re amazing.” 

You sigh and pull away. “It doesn’t matter how good I am, all everyone sees now is the girl who messed up last year. All my hard work was reduced to one stupid mistake. I have to get it right this time.” 

Remus just sighs, he’s seen this version of you before, and he doesn’t like where it’s going.

He grabs you by the shoulders, “Promise that you’ll go to Doc.” 

“Promise that you’ll get me my time.”

He sticks out his pinky, encouraging you to lock yours with his. You do. 

“Thank Rem” 

“Don’t make me regret love.” 

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

To everyone's surprise, the board does accept your request for additional time. You're ecstatic. Coach won’t show it but you know she’s semi-impressed. 

With the new time, the ending of your practice marked the beginning of the kid's ice class. Every time you did any sort of jump or spin you could hear a dozen little aws and wows. 

You felt fantastic, Coach was in a decent mood, and practice was long but the scary women had minimal feedback. For the first time in a long time, you felt on top of the world.  

“Okay, that’s enough for today.” 

You walk off the ice, putting your guards on. Coach gives you final pointers and is out of the building before you can say bye. 

You sat on the bench, undoing the laces of your skates when a group of the girls from before comes up to you. They flutter around you, asking all sorts of questions and giving endless praises. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t feel your heart swell with pride and joy. 

You're talking about costumes when you hear your name being called. Standing towards the entryway are Doc and James. 

You knew this day was going to well, you had forgotten that today was your scheduled appointment with Doc. As for James, every time you see him your day is ruined. The two of you hadn’t spoken since the whole incident in the office. Remus had tried to get the both of you to make amends but neither of you had the intention of doing so. 

You put your slipper on and make your way over to pair. 

“Hey remember me? Long time no see.” You know Doc is trying to be silly but your heart beating faster at the mere thought of having to get checked up. 

The bespectacled figure clears his throat. “Haven't you heard Doc, our ice princess got more ice time so she's been pretty busy.”

You cross your arms. Reaching a hand to rest on your sternum, feeling a slight tug at every breath you take. 

Doc disregards James petty comment, immediately picking up on your discomfort. “You okay?” 

James looks puzzled, glancing back and forth between the two of you, looking for whatever he missed. 

You shrug. “Yeah, it's just, well..you know.” Doc just nods. 

“Know what?” James blurts out. From the look on his face, you can tell that he didn't mean to say that out loud. 

You frown, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly something.”

“Okay, well it’s none of your business is it.” 

“OKAY,” Doc yells, cutting both of you off. “James I’ll do what we talk about, now move along.” 

James lingers for a bit before he finally walks off. 

“Now you” Doc starts, “Shall come with me.” 

You know that there isn’t any way to avoid this and follow right behind him. 

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

Doc makes small talk throughout your checkup. You give replies, trying your best not to come off like you don’t want to be there. 

You’re in the middle of doing a stretch when Doc says “So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” 

You lay on your back and bring a knee up to your chest, staring up at the ceiling. “Do we have to?”

Doc hums, “I think we should.”

You bring your leg down and lift the other to your chest “Okay, well then I guess.”

Doc stands at your side and offers a hand to bring you up from the ground. You sit on the ground and Doc sits in front of you. “I need you to know that what I did, was not only part of my job as your doctor but as someone who cares deeply for you lot.” 

You fidget with your fingers as Doc continues. “And I had to report the appointments that you were missing. I know you guys like to joke around with me but I am a healthcare provider before anything else and you can loathe me all you want but know my actions are never meant to harm you.”

Ugh, you feel like such an asshole now. “I don’t hate you Doc, I know you're just doing your job. I think-” you pause, trying to gather your thoughts, “I think in my head If I didn’t do my checkups, there wouldn’t be anyone to tell me that something could potentially be wrong.” 

Doc nods, and you continue “I should’ve listened to you back then, with or without the jump I would've lost anyway.” You say with a sad smile. “This time has to be different, I have to land that jump, I have to win this one.” 

Doc gives you an odd look. “I’ll be watching you like a hawk, you need to take care of yourself. I won’t watch you hurt yourself for this again, will you hate me then?”

You feel your body stiffen, you need this, so you think you might. 

“I mean it when I say this one is mine this year.” you have never been more serious in your life. 

“Oh trust me, I believe you.” 

It doesn’t have to be said, but you think that you and Doc might be a bit further apart than before. 

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

You’re counting down the weeks. The competition is getting closer with each day that passes. You’ve spent more time at the arena over the past couple of weeks than you have in your dorm. 

Practice isn’t until later today, but you ambushed Remus when he was walking into the rink this morning. 

Now here you are, skating freely in the dimly lit rink. Remus gets horrible migraines and chooses to leave the lights off for as long as he can. 

You glide across the rink, twisting and turning whenever you please. Some time has passed when you come to a stop. All you can hear is the sound of your labored breath. You do your breathing techniques, trying your best to regulate your heartbeat. 

Your nerves spike back up when you see James skating towards you and feel speed. 

He halts right in front of you. “Are you okay?” 

All you can do is nod, not being able to form words quite yet. James doesn’t say anything else for a while. He watches and waits as you catch your breath. 

When you seem to have calmed down he jumps to question you. “What on earth was that?” 

You shrug, “I just got a bit winded I guess.” He blinks at you, “That's not the first time it happened though.” 

James, always so annoyingly inquisitive. 

“I’m fine James, where the hell did you come from anyway? The rink isn’t open yet.” 

You both kick into a slow skate around the rink. “That's rich, considering you’re here too. Also, you forget that Remus is one of my best friends.”

“How could I forget, you remind me every time I interact with him.” 

“Well, that's because I can’t seem to understand what hold you’ve got over him. He folds instantly when it comes to you. You know I had to beg him for 20 minutes to let me in.” 

You give a triumphant smile, “Remus and I have a bond that exceeds any and all relationship types, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

James scowls, ‘Stop talking about your special bond with Remus.” 

“Jealous?” 

“No!” James responded a bit too quickly. “More like deeply disturbed.” 

“Not as disturbing as you and Sirius,” you say, skating a bit faster to get ahead of him. 

“Hey! Don’t bring Sirius into this.” 

You tsk, “So quick to defend his honor. Tell him I’m still waiting on our date by the way.” 

“Oh please, Sirius goes on dates with anything that moves so don’t hold your breath.” Whatever honor and respect James had for his best friend earlier is out the window. 

You hum, not offering him a real response. James, changing the subject, “Was that a routine earlier?” 

“A routine with no music?” you ask sarcastically.

James rolls his eyes, “I'm just asking because it looked familiar.” 

Familiar? Why would it look familiar? 

“Spend your days off watching figure skating routines?” you say as you skate backward in front of him. 

He shakes his head, “No, just yours.” he doubles down quickly, “Well cause, we skate at the same rink and all that.” 

It’s too late, what he’s said has already gone to your head. You bring a hand to your heart mockingly, “The James Potter, Hockey legend, watches my routines. What an honor.”

James makes a face at you, “Oh whatever, forget I said anything.” 

You continue “I can’t believe I am skating with James Potter.” you say as you skate around him. 

James can’t help but laugh. “Okay quit it you’re gonna make me dizzy. God knows how you spin the way you do without throwing up.”

You continue at his side. “Years and years of practice.” 

“So, the routine, what's it from?” 

You let out a long sigh, “It was bits and pieces from my finals routine last year.” 

James says a quiet ‘oh’ 

“Mhm” is all you can offer back.

“I was there, you know?” James fidgets with his glasses. “Well, I mean, me and the whole team—half of the university, really.” 

This shocks you. You knew a lot of peers and locals from your university town showed overwhelming support, but for some reason, knowing James was there makes you…happy? 

“Well, you picked the worst one to turn up to.” You try to make a light-hearted joke, but it doesn’t work. 

James comes to a stop on the ice. You stop with him. “You really scared everyone.” 

You scoff, “More like disappointed everyone.” 

“No” James replies sharply, “I can assure you that no one in that arena was disappointed and you’ve got to stop thinking that.” 

You feel an argument brewing. “And what about you James? What did you feel? Please share with the gallery.”

“I-”  he pauses for a second. “I was scared too, and then I was angry.” 

“Angry?” 

He nods, “Angry. I was angry at you. I was angry that you’d attempt to do something so-” 

He cuts himself off, trying to restrain himself.

“Something so what James? Go on say it” You egg him on.

He yanks his glasses off his face, a habit he has when he’s frustrated. “Fine! Something so stupid. I couldn’t, for the life of me wrap my head around why you would purposely do something so stupid.” James doesn’t stop there. “I couldn’t understand why you would disregard Doc's orders. I was angry that you had such little regard for yourself and your body.” James throws his hands up,” and all for what?”  

You clench your fist tight at your side. You feel the anger flare up inside you. “All for what?” you laugh bitterly. “Is that how you see what I do?” 

James doesn’t respond. His silence only angers you more. “I did what I thought was necessary okay? I worked too hard all last year to just give it up. I made a mistake, I understand that, and I have spent every moment since then trying to make it up.”

You inch closer towards James, “Do you know how humiliating it is to have all my hard work be reduced down to one single mistake? I am perfect my whole career but the second I have one slip-up I'm stripped of all my wins, all my medals. Everything I’ve worked for, completely disregarded.”

James stares at you with wide eyes. “Is this what this is about? About ruining your perfect reign? Do you know how insane that sounds?”

You groan, “I could hold my tongue hearing this from anyone else, but you of all people James, Seriously? You are such a hypocrite.” 

James glares at you. “And what exactly are you alluding to?”

“You,” you say, shoving a finger in his chest, “are a hypocrite. You think I don’t see what you’ve been doing. Ever since Pete left you have been overcompensating, trying to fill a role all by yourself. The late night and early morning practices. Taking on extra responsibility on the ice. Spreading yourself thin to make it to nationals. 

“That’s different.” 

You laugh “How on earth is different James?” you can't believe this guy. 

“It’s different because It’s temporary until we find someone else. It’s different because I take care of myself. It’s different because it’s a whole team of us that care about each other. Yeah, I'm stepping up right now but I can always step back and rely on the guys if I need to. You, however, have..well you just don’t..” he sighs, “you’re alone.”

You back up from him, “You’re unbelievable.” you start skating to exit the rink. You hear James call after you. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Whatever James, just leave me alone.”

“Would you just let me explain?” he desperately calls out. You swivel around the ice quickly, turning to face him. You have a snarky remark to give but it's out the window when James fully runs into you. Before both of you can catch yourselves, you both fall onto the ice. 

You yelp out in pain when James falls right onto your foot. He’s off of you quickly. “Holy shit are you okay?”  

You don’t answer, attempting to stand up. When you put pressure on your right foot, a sharp pain shoots through your ankle. James must see the pain in your face, “I'm so sorry I didn’t think you were going to stop. Let me help you back.” 

You shake him off, “No it’s fine, I’m fine.” you go to kick off the ice and the pain brings you to your knees. James reaches for you but you push his hands away.

No no no, this can’t be happening. You feel your heart start to pick up. You can barely hear James over the ringing in your ear. You stand up one more time, pushing off with your left leg this time. You make it somewhere but when you push off your right leg out of habit you double over in pain. 

You hear James grimace from behind you. “Alright, that's enough.” James wraps your arm over his shoulder and takes most of your weight. You can’t deny him, having no other way to get off the ice. He glides the both of you to the exit. The second your feet reach the matted floors you push away from him and limp to the nearest bench. You're pulling and tugging at your laces aggressively. When your skate is loose enough you yank your foot out, crying out in pain. You roll your sock down both you and James gasp. You throw the skate that’s in your hand.

You bring your hands to your eyes, feeling that annoying sting. “Fuck!” This is not happening. You did not just ruin your chances for this year because of one little accident. 

“I have to get Remus.” you grip James' wrist stopping him in his tracks. “Absolutely not!” 

James tries to pull his wrist from you but you bring your other hand to grab at it. “Don’t say anything, please. I promise I’m fine.” James looks at you bewildered, “Are you insane? Your ankle is purple.” 

“I bruise easily. I promise it's fine.” 

“Walk on it.” 

What. “What?” 

James shrugs, “Walk on it. Walk from here to those bleachers.” 

You go stand up, his eyes never leaving you. You take your first step and feel the same sharp pain you flinch but take your next step. You take step after step, pushing through the blinding pain. You make it to the bleachers and turn to face James. “See, it’s fine.” 

James stares at you in disbelief. He walks up to you “You are unbelievable.” He grits out. 

James leaves without saying anything else. Leaving you in the dark arena. 

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

It’s been three days. You managed to convince Coach to give you time off, telling her that you had some projects to catch up on. Pleased with your recent performance, she reluctantly granted you some free time. No practice meant no Doc visits. Three days and radio silence from James. You were so sure that he would've said something to someone by now but you aren't called in for any meeting or evaluations. 

Three days later and your ankle is still purple and throbbing. You’ve taken way too many painkillers for it to be safe but it’s your first day back and you have to act like you feel fine. 

You walk into the building. You put on a smile and are prepared to give the best performance of your lifetime. Coach is already standing by the ice. You go towards the locker rooms but you stop when she yells your name. 

She looks annoyed when you walk up to her. “Hey Coach” 

She puts her phone down. “Look, they are cutting into your time today because they have to get the ice ready for the game tonight. I’m going to need you to do a quick warm-up and get right into running the routine. Jumps and all.” 

You nod, “Yes ma’am.” 

You put your bag down on the bench and start getting ready. You’re lacing up your skates when you hear a chorus of laughter. You lift your head to see James, Remus, and Sirius all chit-chatting while exiting the office hallway. Sirius catches your eye and you’re too slow to look away. He’s caught you. 

“Lapin!” 

Oh god. 

You hear them make their way over. 

“Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in ages.” 

You yank tightly at your laces and wrap them around your ankle. “Oh don’t exaggerate. It was only three days.”

Sirius scoffs, slouching down onto the bench next to you. “Yeah, that’s forever for you. I feel like lately you’ve been here every day.” you roll your eyes at him. 

“I had schoolwork to catch up on.”

Remus hums, “Look at you. Working hard.” 

You lean back on the bench. “What can I say? Anyway, I’m back. Try not to stare too hard Sirius.” 

Sirius' shoulder bumps you. “Hey, what about Remus?” 

You stand up, “You my darling.” pointing a finger at Remus. “Can stare as long and hard as you’d like to.”

There is a slight tinge of pink on Remus’s face but he laughs it off. “Quit you two.”

Your attention turns to James clearing his throat. This whole time he hadn’t said anything, just staring at you, analyzing your every move.

The two of you stare at each other, tension thick in the air. He drags his eyes slowly down your body. Any other person would think he has no shame but you know it’s nothing like that. You know exactly what he’s looking for. James' eyes linger on your ankle, mostly hidden by your skates. 

James tilts his head, “Hmm” 

Sirius and Remus, having no idea what's going on, simply stand there. 

“Hmm? That’s all you're gonna say?” 

Jamea shrugs. “What else is there to say? Everythings fine.” 

For the past three days you’ve done nothing but worry about James snitching on you. It’s brought you nothing but stress and anxiety. Why hasn’t he said anything?

You open your mouth to say something. “Yeah sure everythi-”

“Lapin! On the ice. Now!” 

James continues staring at you. If he thinks you’re going to crack, he’s going to be waiting for the rest of the day. 

You walk away with as much ease and poise as you can. 

The pain in your foot isn’t gone. You’ve got a purple bump to prove it but you’ve taken enough pain meds to hold off some of the pain for now. You skate around the ice, warming up. Every time you kick off you feel the twinging pain but do your best to ignore it. Coach doesn’t let you warm up for long. 

“Lapin, run the routine.” 

You’re heart drops, you didn’t think she’d get straight into it but she must want to take advantage of the time you had on the ice. 

You take a deep breath, already feeling the normal burning sensation in your lungs. You get into position. You steady yourself into your starting pose. You lock eyes with James. They’re all leaning onto barriers. Neither of you breaks eye contact. Finally, you hear the starting notes of your music and begin. You kick off beautifully, moving across the rink in a matter of seconds. You glide elegantly across the ice. The music begins to swell, the first jump is coming up. You breathe in, brace yourself, and jump. You spin, almost landing perfectly. There is a bit of wobble but nothing you can't make up in the next couple of jumps. You continue your program. You jump again. Spinning and landing. This one is perfect, no wobble. You keep moving, swelling with pride. You can’t see anyone but the lack of yelling lets you know that Coach is somewhat satisfied with the jumps. You push on, beginning to feel the pain in your foot. You ignore it as best you can. It’s when you're landing your third jump that the pain shoots up through your ankle. It leaves you breathless for a second but you compose yourself. You skate, you skate and skate and skate until you hear yelling over the music. 

“Get her off the ice right now!” 

You bring yourself to a stop. You look over to the commotion and see the coach with Doc. Standing right next to both of them is James. 

You stay on the ice, trying to catch your breath. 

It’s Coach's turn to yell at you. “Lapin, come here right this instance.” 

Your heart continues beating quickly. You make your way over and when you're at the exit, Coach is pulling you by the arm, heading straight for the benches. 

“Sit.” 

You look between her and Doc, you can’t even bear to look at James. 

“What on Earth is going on?!” 

“Take your skates off!”

“Excuse me?”

“Skates. Off. Now.” 

You reach to slowly start untying your skates. It doesn’t matter how slow you move. They all sit and wait.

Once they’re both off Doc kneels and reaches for your ankles immediately.

“Woah what the hell are you doing?”

“Which one James?”

Your head snaps towards James. You’re caught, you know it, but if James says something now you’ll hate him for the rest of your life. 

James must see it in your face. He’s silent for a second.

“Which one is James? I'm not going to ask again.” 

James looks away and answers. “The right one.” 

Without another second wasted, Doc is yanking your sock down, revealing a swollen purple ankle. Both Doc and Coach gasp. 

“Lapin, what the hell were you thinking?” 

You scramble to save this. “It’s not as bad as it looks! I promise!”

You look between Coach and Doc and all you see is pure disappointment. Coach runs a hand through her hair.

“Why? Why are you so adamant about hurting yourself? Do you not realize that you could mess this up beyond repair. What will you do then?”

Your eyes start to sting and you feel them watering up. “I didn’t mean to. It was a stupid accident.”

“Well, that’s exactly my point. You are a star athlete. What are you doing having stupid accidents? You are meant to be taking care of yourself.”

You feel the tears begin to fall. “Oh, now you care? Where was this lecture when you let me skate last year? Or how about all the times I skipped my appointments? How many appointments did you let go unattended? How many times did you look the other way?” 

You stare at your coach in anger and she looks right back at you with a look you can’t place. 

Doc cuts in. “We need to get it checked out.” You go to stand up and Doc tries to help you immediately. “You really shouldn’t be walking on it.” 

“I’ve been doing it just fine.” 

Doc shakes his head and reaches to help again. “I mean it. I don’t want you walking on it. James can you come hel-” 

You cut him off immediately. “Absolutely not. I said I’m fine. I can walk by myself.” 

Realizing that he can’t stop you, Doc lets you start making your way to his office. James follows behind immediately, calling you names. You ignore him but he won’t stop. He grabs your arm. You hear him quietly beg “Please, can you just listen.” 

You yank your arm out of his grasp. “I never want to hear from you again, James Potter. I hate you.” you spit out venomously. James displays a clear look of hurt. You leave him there, making your way down the hall alone.

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

After a thorough investigation, Doc diagnoses you with a bad sprain. It would have been fine if you had sought medical help immediately, or so he says. You don’t speak if you don’t have to, only offering quiet yes’s and no’s. 

Doc is finishing up when you do finally speak a full sentence. “When am I cleared to skate again?” 

Doc sighs, like who knew the question was coming. “Well, that’ll be up to you.”

He moves around the room, gathering things for your kit while speaking. “You wanna get better fast, you’re gonna have to take care of that ankle.” he walks over, handing you the kit and paperwork. “That means no agitating it, no skating, and definitely no competition.” 

You knew this was coming but hearing it breaks your heart. You feel your eyes start to water again. 

“Look,” Doc starts. “I'm really sorry. I knew how much this meant to you.” His words go in one ear and out the other. You silently stand up and grab all your things. You can’t bear to be in this rink anymore. You reach for the newly prescribed crutches and adjust yourself. Doc watches silently. You whisper a quiet thank you and goodbye. You make your way out of the building, trying your best to ignore all the stares. The rink, now busy with people waiting for the upcoming game. 

Everyone pushes to get in when you want nothing more than to get out. Every look you receive is filled with pity that you don’t want. You finally make it out, trekking through the parking lot to get to your car. Once you're in you turn it on and drive in silence. When you're in your dorm you head straight to bed. Holding onto one last hope that all of this is just a dream. 

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

You know you shouldn’t be here. Well, technically nothing is stopping you from being here. But with Coach currently giving you the cold shoulder, Doc banning you from skating, and James on your hate list, Coming to the rink might not be the smartest of ideas. 

That is why you are here right now, at night. You’ve been out for over a week and feel like you’ve been going stir-crazy in your room. Technically the rink is closed. It has been for the past three hours. However, you know Burnie, the maintenance man, doesn’t leave until a while after. 

You’re shaking in the cold when you see him walk out the front, going to lock it. He smiles when he sees you. You can't help but smile back. “Hey Burnie.” 

“Hey sweetheart” He greets you with just as much enthusiasm as always. “Whatcha doing here?”

“I forgot a couple of things in the locker room. Thought it might be time I come and get it.” 

He eyes you suspiciously. You can’t help but laugh. “Burnie I promise I’m just here for some things. Look, no bag, no skates,” you say as you spin in a circle for him.

He reaches to steady you. “Woah okay now. Be careful on that foot.” he sighs. “Alright sweetheart, I'm gonna trust you on this, run in and grab your things and I’ll wait for you right here.” 

“What, Burnie no. I'm not gonna make you wait out here in the cold. Plus you shouldn’t have to stay a second later. I already feel bad keeping you right now.” 

Burnie’s still wavering. You sigh. “Look Burnie, I’m in a boot and I don’t know if you know this but these are a pain to take off. Both literally and physically. I just need to grab my things but I don’t want you waiting out here on me when you could be halfway home.”

“Fine. You’ve convinced me. Don’t let me find out that you were skating or we're gonna have some problems, sweetheart.”

You giggle pointing at your boot. “Burnie, I already told you I can’t.” 

He waves a hand, walking away. “Knowing you? You’d find a way. There are keys in Remus's desk. Lock the front door when you're done.” 

“Sir yes Sir.”

You make your way into the lockers, finding your bag of things that you always leave here. You grab it and walk out to the rink. You slump down onto the bench. You start rummaging through your bag. You smile as you find all sorts of knick-knacks. 

You pull out what you were looking for, your old skates. You smile fondly as you remember the skating you did in them. Your happiness morphed into sadness when remembering the people who bought you the skates. You hadn’t seen your parents since you moved out to college. Your skating was too mediocre for them to fly out and watch. You remember every single time they turned down your invitations, telling you it would be “A waste of time”.

 How could that be? You had everyone telling you you’re the best skater they’ve seen in ages. You have a world champion for a coach. You have so many people coming out to watch you. How can you have all of that and it still not be enough to make your parents see you? 

This is why you had to be fantastic. You were supposed to be perfect this year and the last and you ruined it. You still hadn’t told your parents about your injury. You could still hear your mother on the phone from last year. The disappointment, the lack of worry for her child, and worst of all, her deadpan voice muttering into the phone, “What did we expect, knowing you.” 

You’re squeezing the skates tightly, you feel your breath pick up. You pinch your eyes shut. Nonono this cannot be happening. You know this feeling all too well. You put your hands over your ears and bring your head down. You feel the familiar tightness in your chest. You try to breathe in and out but your airways feel constricted. You sit up and start rummaging through your bag looking for an inhaler. You find one and pull it out, panicking more when you realize that it’s out of pumps. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. Hearing the heavy thump over and over again. You get up. You know you have one in your car, you just have to make it out there. 

You start walking, trying your best to slow down your breathing. You can start to see the light coming from the front when you hear someone unlocking the door. You walk around the corner, fully expecting to see Burnie who’s come back to kick you out. You freeze when the person turns around. 

You and James both stop in your places both gasping in shock. 

“Jesus Christ you scared the shit out of me,” he says with a hand over his heart. 

You don’t have time for James, so you walk right past him. James takes your silence as an insult.

“Are you still ignoring me?” you don’t answer, you fumble to get the keys out of your pocket. Reaching to unlock the door. When you do, you book it out to the parking lot. You can hear James following you. 

“Seriously, you don’t show up for a week and then I find you here in the middle of the night. What were you doing anyways?” he continues behind you. James' tone changes, seeming to land on the only possible explanation. “You were skating weren’t you?” you get your car keys out of your pocket and start clicking on the unlock button over and over again. 

“God” he scoffs, “You’re insane. That has to be the only explanation.” whatever else James says you can’t hear. The pain in your chest is unbearable and you start to cough at the lack of air in your lungs. The cold makes every sharp inhale burn. You finally make it to your car and swing the back door open. You jump in, yanking your bag out from under the seat. You dig through it and pull your inhaler out. You bring it to your mouth and inhale instantly.  

You sit up, breathing in. Your eyes are closed but you can hear James' shoes scuff to a stop right outside your open door. You stay like this for a while. You finally feel your heart start to slow and the burning in your chest is subsiding. You open your eyes and see James staring back at you with wide eyes. 

“Holy shit you have asthma?” 

His complete 180 in emotions gives you whiplash. 

“Yes you dickhead, I have asthma.”

James completely disregards the insult. “You had asthma this whole time. That's what Doc was asking about right? Or that time on the ice? When you get winded?” 

You just nod.

“Yeah, you’re definitely insane.”  you lean forward to smack his arm. “Quit calling me crazy!”

James rests a hand on the top of the car, leaning in, getting a better look at you in the back seat. 

“I’m not calling you crazy. I’m calling you insane.” 

You cross your arms. “So what, I have asthma. Plenty of athletes have asthma,” you say, looking up at him. 

James runs a hand through his hair. “That isn’t the point. I just wish- If you could just-” Without another word he’s getting into the backseat, pushing you over to make room for him. 

James clears his throat. “Listen, I’m going to say something and I need you to listen.”

Whatever you're about to say, James doesn’t let you. “Promise. Promise you won’t say anything until I’m finished talking.”  You stare down at James' hand, pinky extended, waiting for yours. 

You wrap your pinky around his. He drops his hand but keeps his finger interlocked with yours. You don’t pull away. 

“I think you should take a break from skating.” 

 You roll your eyes. You push away from James but his pinky tightens around yours. 

“Wait! You promised you’d listen.”

He’s got a desperate look on his face. “I watch you.” 

“James what?”

“Okay no, but yes.” He clarifies. “God I’m really bad at this. What I want to say is that I notice you okay? The second you started skating here I noticed you.” 

“You are frustratingly good on the ice. You’ve gotten title after title and it's got everything to do with you” James looks down, fidgeting with your joint pinkies. Ears red. “But ever since your incident last year you’ve gotten so…” he trails off looking for the right word. “Aggressive” 

“You’ve gotten so aggressive with your technique, on the ice, and with yourself. There’s something different about you. Everyone thinks it's a newfound determination but I can see it in your eyes, it’s something else. You skate with no regard for your body. What happens when you push it too far? What happens when you force yourself so hard that your body gives up on you? What will you do then?” 

The silence is heavy over you both. You look at James and he looks back at you with so much emotion, searching for an answer.

You let out a shaky breath. “What am I if I can’t skate? Can you tell me, James?” 

He stumbles over his words, clearly thrown off by your question. He comes up blank. 

“Exactly. Skating is all I have, it’s all I am.”

James shakes his head. “No, that isn’t true.”

You let out an exasperated laugh. “Do you think I’d be here right now if it weren’t for my skating? I’m here because it’s what I'm good at. I have so many people betting on me, so many expectations to uphold, so many people to prove that I’m worth it.” 

James leans in closer and speaks gently. “Why do you think that you aren’t already the best? Why is it so hard to believe that you are amazing at what you do?” 

His gentle tone does little to comfort you. He doesn’t get it. “If I’m so great how come my parents won’t come to see me?” you yell, your tone coming off harsher than you had intended. 

You recognize the emotion behind James' stare, it’s pity and you hate it.

You can’t bear to look at him, embarrassed by your outburst. 

“Hey,” you keep your gaze towards your lap. 

“Hey, look at me.” you feel his hand come under your chin as he lifts your face to meet his eyes. 

He unlatches his pinky from yours and brings his hand up to hold your face. 

“Is that what it is, you feel like you’ve got a crowd to appeal to? Well, guess what? You don’t owe anyone anything. You skate because you love it not because you feel the need to meet intangible expectations. If your parents can’t see how good you are then that's on them, you don’t need them.”

You groan and reach for his wrist, pulling his hand away from your face. “That's easy for you to say.” 

James furrows his brows at that, “What’s that supposed to mean.” 

“You have your parents here offering you endless support. No offense, but you could sit out an entire game and they’d still whoop and holler about how proud they are of you. You have a team that worships the ground you walk on. You have Remus and Sirius. What do I have? Who do I have? Coach?” You raise a hand to wipe away your tears but it’s no use. “I’m a thousand miles away from everything and everyone that I love. Being good, no, being fucking fantastic is the only way to get their attention. So if that’s what I need to be then so be it.” 

You let out one shaky breath and it all breaks loose. You bury your head in your hands, trying to muffle whatever mess you look like from James. After a short moment of sobbing into your hands, you feel hands pull at your arms. Before you know it, James is pulling you into a warm embrace. 

The angle is a bit awkward, considering the size of your backseat but he still manages to get his arms wrapped around you. Your head lands on his chest, ear pressed against it. You stiffen at first but slowly wrap your arms around him. You both sit in silence. He gently runs a hand up and down your back, while the other rests on the back of your head, holding it. You listen to the beat of his heart, which moves rapidly. You can’t help but smile slightly. Despite being the one to make a bold gesture, he’s the nervous one. 

“You aren’t as alone as you think.” 

“What?” You go to lift your head but James pushes it back onto his chest. Heart beating quicker.

“You're Not alone. You have Sirius and Remus, just as much as I do if not more. They adore you a little too much. And whether you believe it or not you have Doc and just about everyone else who you cross paths with in the rink.” 

He clears his throat for the next one. “And you have me.” 

It’s said so quickly you almost miss it. You’re sure you would’ve if you weren’t so close to him.

You go to lift your head again but he pushes it back down. You groan. “James.”

He doesn’t respond. You go to move but he holds you in place again. “James Potter, let me look at you.” 

He doesn’t budge, “I’d rather you didn’t” 

“James, if you don’t let me move, so help me god.” 

Your tone seems to do it. His hand slips from where it rested on your head. Once you get a good look at him, you almost laugh at the sight in front of you. James Potter, Red in the face, with a look of embarrassment so bad, he could die. He looks everywhere but at you. Eyes darting around the car.

“James”

“Yes?”

“Look at me.”

He does for a second and then looks away.

“James,” you say sternly.

“Yes?” He says picking at the seats.

Without putting much thought into it you smack both hands on his face, forcing him to look at you. You seemed to surprise him more than yourself. James stares at you with wide eyes. You’d done it without thinking and how you have no course of action. 

You both blink at each other. 

“What was it that you said just now?” 

He doesn’t turn away this time. That's progress. “What were we talking about?” he says with a dazy voice. You look at him expectantly. James, who realizes he has nowhere to go, blurts it out. 

“I said that you have me. There. Happy?” he doesn't stop there. “I said you have me because you do. All the time, every day I'm thinking about you, which is crazy considering how much you berate me. But that must be it. I must be crazy because I love it all the same. I care about you, even though half the time you make me want to slam my head into a locker, I care. So, yes, you have me.”

Through your hands, you feel the heat of his face. Despite the strong blush and red ears, James looks at you so earnestly that you can’t help what comes next. 

Hands still on his face you pull him forward into a kiss. He freezes and you pull away. Just for a split moment, you worry that you made a mistake. But before you know it James surges forward, reconnecting your lips. Whatever hesitation there was before, is gone now. 

His lips move against yours slowly, tentatively, exploring. You feel a finger trace the line of your jaw. Then the hand slips behind your head, bringing you closer. The sweet kiss now deepened with the hunger shared between you both. You raise your arms to wrap around his neck. You feel like you can’t breathe but you don’t stop.

With his newfound confidence, James moves forward. Your back hits the seat and James hovers over you now. He moves to lay himself over you. You feel his hand running up and down your side. You gasp into the kiss when a cold hand slips under your shirt, resting on your bare waist. James groans at the feeling of your bare skin, squeezing your side. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. You don’t want to stop, ever. But the more James runs his hands over you and kisses you with an insatiable passion, the less you can breathe.

 You ignore it at first, but the aching in your chest only gets stronger. You feel like you’re drowning, and you decide that hyperventilating while making out isn’t the way to go so in one swift motion you sit up, pushing James off of you. 

You breathe in harshly. James now sits up straight, staring at you wide-eyed, glasses askew. You laugh but it sends you right into a coughing fit. You start to panic a bit and search for your inhaler. James snaps out of his daze and seems to get the memo. After what feels like forever, James lifts the inhaler. “Got it” he yells triumphantly. 

Snatching it from his hand, you take a couple of puffs, breathing in and out slowly. 

“Woah. I guess you could say I took your breath away.” 

You shoot him a look but can’t help but burst out laughing. James' laugh follows.

“No, seriously though. Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit winded.”

James smirks, seemingly a bit too proud. “Sorry about that,” he says with fake sympathy.

“Sorry about what? Trying to eat my face off or trying to take me in the back of my car?”  

James' face goes bright red. You don’t understand how he can be so confident yet so easily embarrassed.  

“I-I okay, woah, I-” He stutters over his words.

“Gosh James, I thought you’d have a bit more class than that.” 

He scoffs, “I have plenty of class and I don’t think I heard any complaints from you.” 

You shrug, “Could’ve been better.” 

James' jaw falls open in disbelief. “Oh really now.”

“Yup” 

Before you know it he’s bringing you down to your back and you let out a yelp of surprise. 

“Well since you’re so great I guess you’ll have to help me practice.”

You hum. “Oh yes, you’ll need all the practice you can get.” 

James lets out a loud laugh, making your heart flutter. “Yeah, well let's hope you don’t have to reach for your inhaler every 5 minutes.”

You smack his shoulder. “Hey! I am a star athlete. I don’t think a little acti-” 

James cuts you off, bringing his lips to yours. This time it's soft and sweet. James pulls away. “Talking to you is going to be a lot easier now that I can do that.”

“Keep talking and that’ll be the last time you get to do that.”

James nods quickly. “Yes ma’am. Message received.” 

With a nod from you, James is back on you. He leans into you heavily, moving his lips with yours. You reach up for his glasses, feeling them start to dig into your face. James' hand comes to your wrist, stopping you. Pulling away, he rushes out a ‘wait!’

You look at him confused. “What?”

“Don’t take them off.”

“James, as much as I love your glasses, they’re digging into my face.” 

James blinks at you with a slight pout on his face. “I can’t see anything when I take them off.”

“Okay?” 

He sighs, “I can’t see you when I take them off.” 

You roll your eyes at him. “James Potter you are such a sap.” 

He rolls his eyes back at you. “Yeah, well you’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I suppose I will. Okay they can stay on”

James smiles brightly. “Yay! Now shut up and let me kiss you.”

And who are you to deny him?

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

“Alright, you guys did great today! Don’t forget to tell your parents that there won't be any classes next week.” you hear a chorus of answers promising they will. Considering you’re talking to a bunch of toddlers, you make a mental note to send out an email. 

You guide them off the ice and towards their parents, waving bye to them all. 

You’ve been helping teach the toddler class while their coach is out of town. Doc hadn't fully cleared you but gave you the green light to teach the little ones.

You make your way towards the office to drop off the sign-in forms. When you walk in, you’re greeted by a smiling Remus. 

“Hello, love. How are the tots?”

You give him a tired smile, “Rambunctious as always.”

Remus laughs, taking the papers from you. “You think you’d take this opportunity to get away from this place but no.”

You lean forward on the counter. “And miss out on seeing you every day? No way.” 

Remus shakes his head, turning away from you. Ears slightly pink. “You’re insufferable.” 

Before you can respond you hear someone else enter the office. More like two someones.

James and Sirius walk over to where you’re talking to Remus. James' eyes shift from you to Remus’ red ears and then back to you.

“Hey, I thought I told you to stop flirting with Remus.” He says with a slight frown. 

You shrug, “I’ve done no such thing.”  

James rolls his eyes. “Yeah right. Liar.”

Sirius and Remus erupt in laughter as James pouts. 

Sirius ruffles James' hair. “Oh James, it’s sweet that you think you can stop whatever it is they’ve got going on.” 

James huffs, pointing at Remus. “You’ve got to stop whatever alluring charm you’ve got going on.”

Sirius laughs harder. Remus gives James a cheeky smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just myself.” 

You swoon dramatically at his words. “Oh, Remus.” 

“Hey! No, don't swoon!” James says, looking frantically between the two of you. 

Remus and Sirius roar in laughter at his reaction. 

With the other two still laughing, James walks over to you. You give him a sweet smile. 

He frowns at you. “Why do you insist on giving me a hard time?”

“Someone's got to keep you on your toes, humble you a bit.” He glares at you but breaks into a smile of his own. 

With Sirius and Remus now wrapped up in their own conversation, James leans in a bit closer. 

“Hm, humble me? How can I be humble when you’re praising me all the time when we-” You slap a hand over his mouth, blushing furiously. You feel him smirk against your hand. 

He reaches for your wrist, pulling your hand away, giving it a soft kiss. “How were the lessons?” He says changing the subject.

“They were great. Lenny didn’t cry at all this time.” 

He gives you an encouraging pat on the waist. "Nice, and what about your foot?” 

You shrug, “It feels fine. I think stretching before ice time helps.” 

James smiles. “You’ve been doing the stretches?” 

You nod. He gives you a high five “That's my girl.” 

He goes silent, looking between you and his friend's chit-chatting. He leans in, whispering into your ear. 

“Hey, when's your appointment with Doc again?”

You think for a minute. “Um, not till this afternoon, why?” 

“So you’re free right now?”

“Yeah”

“What a coincidence, so am I.” He says with a mischievous look in his eyes. 

A moment pauses.

“Well. What are you waiting for?” 

James springs into action. His hand grabs yours, leading the both of you out of the office. 

“Hey, where are the two going?” 

Without turning around James yells out “Practice” You can’t help but laugh at the confused responses you get from Sirius and Remus. 

James continues down his path, determined.

“Wait James, what about my bag and my-”

He pats the side of his bag. Hanging from a chain is one of your backup inhalers. You stare at him in shock. With a quick kiss on the forehead and a cheeky smile, James continues to drag you both out of the rink. 

Practice does ensue. 

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

A present to you all for being MIA.

I pinky promise I'm working on the Peter series!

[mikashisus]

ray idk anything about hsr or genshin so i can’t req for those unfortunately 💔 BUT you summoned me by including bllk in your list HEHEHE can i request smth for nagi?? i don’t really have any specific ideas though…maybe childhood friends 🤔 or anything you want really!!

sorry this is so unspecific i’ve never requested before �� but ilyyyy and congrats on 200 that’s amazing!!

— definitely not mira 👹

STITCH ME UP

synopsis: you didn’t consider nagi seishiro a friend at first. but now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

taglist. @pneumosia @pixelcafe-network @gl4di0lus ( join the taglist here! )

word count. 2.1k ( contents : semi angst, injuries, mc has a short temper )

notes. this has been sitting in my inbox since JULY IM SO SORRY MIRA 😭 but it's finally here!! there'll def be a part 2 bc this is so dogshit and i need to redeem myself with a second part. mira i look up to ur writing sm so u only deserve peak, and i promise u'll get it in part 2 queen 🙏 anyw um the title is in reference to the song “stitch me up” by set it off :))

header art by: @/Liiiiiiimsao ( twt )

The first time you met Nagi Seishiro, you were about to go into your first year of middle school, curled up on the side of the street struggling to wrap a bandage around your left arm. 

It was sunset then, and the world was quiet aside from the loud buzzing of cicadas and the occasional car passing by. 

Nagi had just left a tiny convenience store located on the edge of the street, his phone in his hands as he tapped away at the game he was currently fixated on. Knowing the way back home by heart, he began to walk in that direction, unaware of his surroundings. 

It was only when he tripped over something rather sturdy did he finally forcefully take his eyes off the device in his hand. His grip on his phone tightened. He was determined not to drop it and risk the screen cracking again. 

Not paying any mind to what he just tripped over, he sighed in relief that he did not drop his phone, and patted down his pants. 

“HEY!” 

A loud yell drew him from his stupor. He slowly turned, coming face to face with a scowl. He blinked at you for a few seconds, before he faced you properly and raised a brow. 

“Yes?” 

“Look where you’re going, asshole! You tripped over me!” You snapped, patience wearing thin.

His shoulders slumped. Now that you stood in front of him, you realized just how tall he actually was. He kind of looked like a third year. It made you all the more aggravated. You hated anyone that could look down on you like he was. 

“Oh. Sorry, I guess.” He shrugged, acting as if what just happened was not a big deal. “You have a bad mouth.” 

That was the last straw. Your fists clenched tightly, your nails digging into your skin as your eye twitched. You ignored the pain in your palms and challenged his stoic stare. 

“So what?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Is that a problem?” 

He shrugged again and looked down at his phone. “I don’t really care.” 

He got ready to leave, when he cast one last glance at you, and his eyes landed on the now bloody bandage that came undone from your arm. The longer he stared, the more he realized he'd seen you before. 

He racked his brain for answers, sifting through each memory to try and remember where he’d seen you. Meanwhile, you were silent, fidgety. You did not enjoy people staring at you. It made you anxious, like they were trying to challenge you in some way. 

This weird boy who you did not understand and you deemed an asshole for not watching where he walked made you feel quite nervous. You knew him from school. He was the boy who was exceptionally good at volleyball. 

You could remember how fascinated you were watching him play during gym class. He had all the talent you could only hope for, and the envy had bubbled up inside you, growing exponentially. Despite your envy, you quickly forgot about him after you no longer had to be in the same proximity as him, and you went about your life without thinking of him again. 

Until now. 

Nagi finally remembered where he had seen you. It was as if a lightbulb had suddenly appeared above his head, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. You were that one kid that liked to pick a fight with anyone taller than you. 

He first caught a glimpse of you in the nurse’s office when he had tripped outside during gym class and cut open his knee. As he was waiting for the nurse to return with gauze, he heard a commotion outside the office and saw your rather short form tackle a boy twice your size. 

With the strength of a lion tucked inside that small body of yours, you refused to give up the fight until the nurse came back and rushed out into the hall to separate the two of you. 

Nagi remembered watching your face fall in defeat when the nurse said to go to the principal’s office and that your parents would need to be called. 

“You’re that kid.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. “You like to pick fights with people.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he watched you deflate like a balloon right in front of him. Your face fell, and your arms dropped to your sides. He wondered what it was that made you so upset. Was it the reputation you had around the school? 

Just then, he saw the loose bandage on your arm completely come undone. It fell to the ground and pooled around your feet. Time stopped, and he stared in absolute horror at the mess of stitches on your arm. You did nothing to pick up the bandages. In fact, you barely moved. 

He would’ve thought you to be a statue if not for the slight twitching of your fingers. You tapped idly against your thigh, your eyes blank as you stared at the ground. He watched closely as your fingers danced in a certain rhythmic movement, and he soon realized you were tapping in morse code. 

S.O.S. 

He barely had time to register that it was morse code. His focus went back to the ghastly stitches on your arm. They looked as if they were done by someone with no experience whatsoever, but there was clearly an attempt. 

The wound itself did not look any better, and he wondered if you had even cleaned it all. He noticed a few other scars littered on your arm. They were smaller and less noticeable, but his intense stare had caught sight of them easily. 

“How’d you hurt yourself?” He questioned softly, unaware he had asked that out loud instead of inside his head. 

You did not answer. Not right away at least. With a heavy sigh, you collapsed back against the fence you were previously leaning on before he had tripped over you. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you muttered with a tinge of venom in your voice. “It was someone else… But no one ever believes me, so as far as anyone is concerned, I did this to myself.” 

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he picked up the bandages you dropped, careful not to touch the parts covered in blood, and told you to wait here. 

Where would I even go? You thought. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. 

Within a few minutes, he was rushing out of the convenience store and across the street again, a pack of gauze and a water bottle in his hands. His phone was now tucked into his pants pocket. He kneeled down next to you and gently reached for your arm. 

“Did you try to stitch this up yourself?” 

He did not need an answer. He already knew it, though he felt the need to ask anyway. You nodded, so slight he almost missed it. He pulled a pair of scissors from the second plastic bag wrapped around his arm and carefully cut the string. 

With gentle hands, he removed the stitches to the best of his ability and dropped them onto the bandages from earlier. You tried your best not to move the whole time, but he could tell from your scrunched expression that you were in more than a bit of pain. 

He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. “This might hurt.” He poured water over your wound, causing you to bite back a scream. 

“I don’t know how to do stitches, so…” He trailed off. “So I just got this.” He held up the gauze he bought and carefully wrapped up your arm. 

As soon as he was finished, he threw the gross bandages into the now empty plastic bag and glanced at you. Your brows were still furrowed and your lip was still tugged between your teeth. 

He stood up, taking a look at the sky. The sun was almost fully over the horizon by now, and he was likely late for dinner. He needed to leave now and get back home. As he turned to do just that, he almost missed the slight crack of your voice. 

“Thank you.” 

Were it not for the temporary silence of the cicadas, he would have missed your words entirely, and it would not have paved the way for your future with Nagi Seishiro. 

The next time you saw Nagi was in your second year of middle school. 

A white volleyball came flying out of the gym one day after school, narrowly missing his nose. It fell to the ground with a plop a foot away from him. Rushed footsteps sounded from behind him as he picked it up, and he could hear the yells of the volleyball team from the open doors of the gym. 

A familiar voice entered his ears. “I got it!” 

Moments later, you were rushing out of the gym doors, sweat lining your temple and your collarbone. An exhausted expression rested on your face, and fresh bandages were wrapped around the same arm he tended to a year prior. 

You stopped as you looked up at him, your eyes flashing with recognition as you took in the tall boy standing before you with your volleyball in his hands. You swallowed thickly, fiddling with the hem of your black t-shirt. 

He handed you the volleyball. “Here you go.” 

“…Thanks.” You hesitantly took it from his hands and hugged it to your stomach. You stared at him warily for a moment before turning around to head back into the gym. 

“You play volleyball?” He asked suddenly, shocking you as you were not expecting him to make small talk. 

You turned to face him again and nodded. “Yeah… My dad is a fan, so as soon as I was old enough to play, he signed me up for lessons,” You said. 

There was a pause, and he could tell by the awkward look in your eyes that you were debating on if you should share more or not. In the end, you caved. 

“I’m not that good. So I mainly just play because it’s fun.” You shrugged. "...I should get back to practice.” 

You left before he could get another word out. Later that day, when you were walking home from practice, you saw Nagi again— this time walking out of his house. His eyes met yours, and you both stared at one another in surprise. You lived in the same neighborhood. 

You never went as far as to consider that you and Nagi were friends. Not at first, at least. You never had friends— not after your reputation of being a short-tempered, fight-starter circulated around the school. Even your volleyball team was not a fan of you, despite the fact that you were surprisingly good when it came to teamwork. 

Everyone was inclined to stay away from you. Either out of fear or hatred, you weren’t sure. But as time passed, you came to accept being the loner who always ended up in the principal’s office. 

That was until Nagi offered you a can of soda after your failed attempt of getting the faulty vending machine to work. It was late in the afternoon on a Friday in Spring of your first year of high school. Up until that point, the two of you only interacted at odd times when you just so happened to come across each other in the halls or walking out of your houses. 

No words were ever shared between you, only slight nods of the head and small waves in greeting. Now, though, Nagi was taking a seat next to you on the staircase, placing a can of soda next to your foot. He pulled out his phone, loaded up a game, and handed it to you. 

“Wanna play?” 

You blinked at him in surprise, before nodding. You got past four levels in the game before dying, letting out a groan of frustration. He leaned over your shoulder, watching the screen intently. Occasionally, he’d chime in with a word of advice, or ask if you wanted him to do that level for you. You two sat there on that staircase for what felt like hours, before a staff member came and told you to leave. 

After that day, you would meet on the stairs everyday after your volleyball practices, playing that very same game together and attempting to outdo each other’s high scores. This routine continued, until one day you invited him to the park with you to play there. 

You didn’t consider Nagi Seishiro a friend at first. But now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

© 2024 mikashisus.

[theoceanoasis]

Aww, nooooooo!!! Part 2 to Hurt Rodimus where someone catches him on the bridge and talks him out of offing himself and tells them that there are bots who care about him 💔😭😭

(Bonus if it’s someone who’s had a crush on him for a while and they confess to him!~)

He didn't know why but something was telling him to go on a walk. Wanting to clear his head he decided to walk around a little. He walked towards an old bridge that didn't get a lot of people. It was quiet there which was one of the reasons he liked it.

However, on that day he found himself staring at the bridge stunned when he saw Rodimus standing on the ledge about to jump. He sprung into action running faster than he ever has in his life. Before Rodimus could jump he was already grabbing him.

He knocked them both to the ground but made sure to protect a stunned Rodimus.

"Soundwave?"

"What were you doing?"

He found his spark pounding in his chest as he looked at Rodimus's tear-streaked face. Despite that, he looked as beautiful as ever and he had to remind himself that now wasn't the time for his crush on the mech. Especially when he'd just tried to kill himself and didn't need that in his life.

Rodimus no longer stunned begins trying to stand and walk towards the bridge. He grabs him ignoring Rodimus's attempts to break free.

"Stop. There are people who care about you. They would be devastated if you died."

Rodimus scoffed.

"No one cares about me I'm nothing but a burden."

"What about Drift and Ratchet? I'm sure they would be devastated."

"They'd only be upset that they lost their free babysitter and even then they'd still be relieved that I'm finally gone and they no longer have to deal with me."

"You are not a burden."

"Yes, I am. No one loves me and I'm all alone."

"That's not true there are people who love you."

Rodimus shook his head as though the idea was impossible. Watching him try to walk towards the bridge he shouted out.

"I love you!"

Rodimus looked at him in shock and then his face went blank.

"You are lying you are just trying to get me to change my mind."

"No, I'm not. I've loved you for years. Do you remember those gifts you used to get? Those were from me."

Again Rodimus looked shocked.

"Why did you stop?"

"I thought you were in love with Drift and Ratchet and that you three had gotten together. If I had known that wasn't the case I would have never stopped pursuing you. I love you and I want to be with you."

"I can't have sparklings. If you were with me you could never have a family."

"I don't care. I love you and I want to be with you. The two of us will be our own family."

Rodimus began to cry and pulled him into his arms. He took Rodimus off the bridge and back to his home where he took care of him while he recovered.

During that time the two fell in love although neither was willing to broach the subject. Soundwave was worried about hurting Rodimus while Rodimus was scared.

The two ended up getting drunk and ended up sleeping together. Afterwards Rodimus began to feel sick and couldn't keep anything down.

Worried Soundwave took him to the medbay where they learned he was sparked. Rodimus was in shock and asked for his medical records.

They found the medic who put it in was Pharma and he did it to mess with Rodimus psych as punishment for liking Ratchet.

Rodimus began to cry and the information was immediately changed. If Pharma wasn't already dead Soundwave would kill him for the damage he'd done to Rodimus.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Anon Ask: Wait wait so we have Bella’s mini me, the yan!romantic!Lestrange!OC x Twin!Weasley or criminal!Weasley

But

What about Yan!Malfoy!OC that’s Narcissa’s mini me just without the intense blood supremacy shit

Definitely magic supremacy, she’d wholeheartedly believe wizards and witches are better then muggles but having nothing against muggleborns/half bloods unless it’s personal beef

———

Pt.2 Draco makes a comment to Twin!Reader about never being able to “afford” a girl like Malfoy!OC when they’re on the Hogwarts Express for the first time and he catches them sharing a smile

He doesn’t understand what Draco means until Fred pats his shoulder and tells him that “girls like expect to be showered in champagne and diamonds and pretty flowers” and advises him to steer clear of her and Draco going forward

His inferiority complex thank you, Molly spirals to the point where Twin!Reader is doing dangerous and most likely illegal shit the more and more he develops feelings because maybe it’ll make Malfoy!OC and his mother really love him

If you wanna make it dramatic then Lestrange!OC is standing beside him almost every day wanting to pull out her hair because she’s right there and her cousin is just toying with his feelings knowing that she’ll never really sacrifice the Malfoy Fortune unless Twin!Reader proves he can provide

He does increasingly stupid shit as the years pass on like pursuing bounties the MoM put on dark wizards while holding a part time job during the summer months and finding a work around to participate in the Triwizard Tournament while selling/trading illegal materials at school

He knows that whatever chances existed are gone the moment Lucius Malfoy sits across from him at a poker table in some back room at a sketchy goblin run establishment and he smokes the table

————

I like to think that Yan!Malfoy!OC and Yan!Lestrange!OC are the same age and with that these two just have this deep seeded rivalry. They just always have. So when Lestrange!OC becomes obsessed with Weasley!Reader, Malfoy!OC sees this as another way to get at her cousin. I can imagine Malfoy!OC being someone who really craves and thrives off attention, just someone who prefers all eyes on her and when Weasley!Reader is doing the most to try and prove himself worthy of her (at least that’s what it looks like) she basks in it, wanting for even more constant attention. But she would never say that she liked Weasley!Reader or anything like that, this is strictly an ego boost for her and a way to get under her cousin’s skin.

I would really like to believe that Weasley!Reader isn’t going out of his way so much as to prove himself to the Malfoy’s or Malfoy!OC but instead he’s doing so to prove to himself that he is capable of so much more than what people think of him. Especially his mother and now the Malfoy’s. He’s not trying to earn Malfoy!OC’s affections like she and everyone else is under the impression of, no what he’s actually doing is finally putting his foot down. Weasley!Reader has put up with a lot, he’s already treated like shit at home by his own mother, he’s not just gonna let someone else treat him the same all over again in the only place he feels even remotely safe and comfortable. And I like to think that this only lasts for a bit, not too long, until Weasley!Reader just has enough of feeling like he needs to do anything to prove himself at all anymore and he just stops completely. Stops giving anything of himself to Malfoy!OC especially cause it’s one thing to have to deal with his mother but he can just walk away from Malfoy!OC and ignore her. The poor boy is just tired. So tired.

But in being ignored, Malfoy!OC instead finds herself at a loss. No one has just up and ignored her before, save for Lestrange!OC, so this is a completely foreign concept to her. At first, she tries to brush it off and act like it’s whatever, if anything this is better cause then she won’t be having to waste her own time on measly Weasley!Reader and his shenanigans. But the longer Weasley!Reader doesn’t even so much as spare her a glance, Malfoy!OC is left feeling empty. She doesn’t want to admit how much she actually looked forward to Weasley!Reader’s attention, how warm she felt inside whenever he came back proud of himself after accomplishing some new endeavor or when he ended up bringing something new from one of his many ventures to prove himself capable. Like, the time he gifted her a Basilisk fang after killing the one in the Chamber of Secrets. (He didn’t gift her shit, he tossed it on the table in the Slytherin common room after coming back from saving Ginny and fighting for their lives. Malfoy!OC just took it as a gift meant for her.) I guess you could say Malfoy!OC is experiencing withdrawals. She’s so out of sorts not having Weasley!Reader seeking her out anymore that she almost doesn’t know what to do with herself. More often than not she’s left just to watch as Weasley!Reader gives the attention he use to put towards her towards Lestrange!OC now. Not like he wasn’t giving her cousin attention before but now that’s all Malfoy!OC sees. And she hates it. She wants his eyes back on her, she wants to be the only thing he looks at. What started off as Weasley!Reader proving himself ends with Malfoy!OC now trying to prove herself more deserving of his attention than her cousin ever could be.

Malfoy!OC would turn into a complete stalker after being ignored and basically abandoned by Weasley!Reader. She is everywhere he goes, she sees and hears everything that goes on with and around him. When the Zabini’s take Weasley!Reader in and under their wings, Malfoy!OC is now making more appearances at the Zabini home when he’s over. And whenever the chance, she’s interrogating Blaise for as much more information as she can get her hands on. Like, Malfoy!OC gets so bad to the point where even Dobby is warning Weasley!Reader, and that’s before he ever started working for him. Or Dobby is reaching out to Lestrange!OC in hopes of her being able to do something, whether it’s to get Malfoy!OC to back off altogether or to just be there for Weasley!Reader. Either way, Malfoy!OC just does a whole downward spiral into obsession. Don’t even get me started on when she demands her parents arrange a marriage between her and Weasley!Reader. After all he’s pureblood so it’s fine and he’s obviously nothing like the rest of his family, so why can’t she have him at the end of the day? All just cause Daddy Lucius is a sore loser? Whatever, he can get over it. Otherwise, Malfoy!OC is going to throw the biggest bitch fit ever seen in Malfoy history.

The rivalry between Lestrange!OC and Malfoy!OC will only become all the more intense after Malfoy!OC’s own obsession kick starts. These two will be at each other’s throats even more than they already were. The only time they can even be considered as remotely ‘working’ together is when it comes to someone else trying to swoop in on Weasley!Reader. Only then is it not “my darling”, but rather “our darling”. Could the two possibly ever come to the capability of sharing, maybe but it’ll never truly be peaceful. There will always be competition but hey at least they both get the same thing at the end of the day, right?

[thevoidstaredback]

One of the perks of being King means that he can talk to the Realms Herself and She usually responds. One of the cons is that She likes to mess with him. A lot. Especially when it’s inconvenient for him.

Phantom and Deadman found themselves outside the Phantom’s Keep, the castle in the middle of the Realms. She’d made the trip quick for them, but had been oddly silent the whole why. When they’d arrived, Phantom knew why.

When Dark Pariah had been sealed in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, Pariah’s Keep had deteriorated, breaking down and collapsing on itself. When Phantom took the Crown and Ring, the Keep rebuilt itself, changing to better fit Phantom. Looking at it now, though, it was changing again. The changes were unnatural, and obviously not the Realms’ doing.

Someone was making a claim before a challenge.

“Why did you hide this from me?” he asked the Realms. She didn’t answer.

“I’ll go report this back to the others,” Deadman said, “Do you think you’ll be able to come back?”

Phantom sighed, “Before this is dealt with? I don’t know.” He paused, his eyes still not leaving the Keep.

“You have an idea of who’s behind this, huh?”

“Yeah. I think he’s behind everything.”

“What?”

“The Comas that are practically a plagiarism of Nocturn’s work? Someone trying to open a portal into the Realms? It all screams human-orchestrated, but I think there’s a ghost pulling the strings.”

“Vengeful?”

“Most definitely.”

“What do we do?”

“Tell the others that I’m officially taking over the investigations. All of them. Have Constantine and Zatanna go to the League of Assassins, take a Bat if they need, and shut down anything that even looks like it could be a portal. If they can get Ra’s near the Pits, I’ll take care of it from there from inside the Realms. As for the Comas, I want you to take the Speedsters and the Supers and investigate any hauntings in the areas where the coma patients live.”

“Are you sure bringing them is a good idea? What if they get overshadowed?”

“Any Spirit or Ghost hauntings shouldn’t be strong enough to overpower them, but the House might have something to protect them. Take Captain Marvel, too, just in case.”

“Alright. Anything else?”

“Have Batman, Raven, and Wonder Woman, look into the D.M.A, specifically the branch that used to be the G.I.W.”

A gasp. “You don’t think…”

“They’re involved somehow, I know it.”

“Alright.” Deadman said, “You’ll be safe, won’t you, Phantom?”

“‘Course I will.”

***

Deadman made it back using the same door he and Phantom had come through in the first place, largely because that’s where the Realms lead him. The House greeted him on the other side, changing the halls so he’d be with the rest of his team almost immediately.

Zatanna was the first to see him. “Deadman!”

“What’s going on?” Constantine asked, “Why’d you two rush out like that?”

“We’ve got a problem.”

“Well, that’s comforting.” Raven snarked.

Deadman shook his head. “Get Batman, Superman, The Flash, and Wonder Woman on a call. I need to talk to all of you.”

“That can’t mean anything good,” Zatanna said, doing as asked.

The House brought them a T.V. for the conference call, Zatanna stepped out to make sure Superman was paying attention. Soon, everyone that had been asked for was present in the call, masks on of course, and in their respective bases.

“King Phantom asked me to inform you all that he’s officially taking lead on both the Portal Case and the Coma Case.” Deadman started, “With recent evidence, he believes them to be connected.”

“Where is Phantom?” Wonder Woman asked.

“Someone’s attacked Phantom’s Keep in the Infinite Realms, so he’s dealing with that.” Clearly, everyone had questions, but he ignored them. “He wants Constantine, Zatanna, and one of Batman’s cauldron-” there were snickers at the name, “-to go to the League of Assassins base of operations and shut down anything that seems to be related to the portal, natural or artificial. He also wants you guys to try and get Ra’s close to the Lazarus Pits.”

“Why?” Batman grunted.

Deadman shrugged, knowing the exact reason, “He didn’t tell me.”

Batman hummed, typing something on another monitor. “Take Red Robin with you. He’ll be able to get you in and out safely,”

“Alright,” Constantine nodded.

“Flash and Superman? Phantom wants you and your sidekicks to come with me and Captain Marvel to check out the Coma Case. He has a theory he wants us to check on.”

“Which is..?” Superman prompted, Superboy popping into frame behind him.

“If he’s right, then we’ll find some Ghosts or Spirits near where our victims were affected.”

“Oh, no,” Flash shook his head, “I’m not about to get myself, Kid, or Impulse haunted!”

Impulse ran in, skidding to a stop right on the edge of the frame. “What’s this about ghosts?”

Kid Flash was the next in, “Are we going ghost hunting? I’ll go get our stuff!”

“You have ghost hunting gear?” Superboy asked.

“Don’t you?” was the response.

“I guess that matter’s settled,” Superman sighed.

Wonder Woman muted both Superman and The Flash so the conversation could continue. “And the rest of us?”

“Batman, Raven, and Wonder Woman. He wants you to look into the Department of Metahuman Affairs. Specifically a branch formerly known as the Ghost Investigation Ward.” He watched their expressions carefully, though none of the three he was speaking to reacted. “Phantom thinks they have something to do with this, too.”

There were a few beats of silence before Raven spoke. “I guess we should get started.”

“Right,” Batman said like he was in charge, “Dismissed.”

Part 23 Part 25