#I struggled the most with talking about her in past tense it just didn’t make sense

[timetohealit]

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[valkyriexo]

Silence | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Boyfriend Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst , Smut

ᑉ³warnings; SMUT MDNI ,dirty talk, swearing, Fingering, oral f reciving, begging

ᑉ³Authors Note; 1k event Commisson giveaway winner @chrizzztopherbang (sorry it took so long :((( )

The restaurant was bustling, filled with the chatter of people enjoying their Friday night.

But at your table, a tense silence hung in the air.

Your parents sat across from you, glancing at the door every few minutes, waiting for the man they’d heard so much about. But as the minutes ticked by, Chan’s absence became glaring

Your stomach churned with anxiety, but you kept a smile on your face, holding onto the thin hope that maybe he was just running late. He had to be coming—this was the night you were finally introducing him to your parents, the people who mattered most to you.

Your phone sat face-up on the table, dark and motionless. No missed calls. No texts.

Not even a simple message to say he wasn’t coming.

You checked your phone again, the light of the screen glaringly bright in the dim restaurant. Nothing. He hadn’t reached out. No explanation. No apology. You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, trying to keep the disappointment from showing on your face.

Your mom glanced at her watch, then back at you with a sympathetic smile. “Honey, maybe he got caught up in traffic or something. We can wait a bit longer.”

Your dad, on the other hand, wasn’t as forgiving. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face a mask of thinly veiled frustration. “It’s been nearly an hour. If he can’t even make it to dinner with your parents, what does that say about him?”

You opened your mouth to defend him but stopped. You couldn’t deny that this wasn’t just an isolated event. Over the past few weeks, Chan had been slipping—forgetting dates, canceling plans last minute, or worse, just not showing up. But tonight, of all nights, was different. He knew how important this was to you. To both of you.

And he still wasn’t here.

It felt like a punch to the gut. You’d been nervous about tonight for weeks, planning every detail in your head. Your parents had flown in just for this. And Chan, the man you’d been dating for months, wasn’t even here

“Maybe something came up…” you offered weakly, though the words felt hollow, even to you.

Your dad sighed, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, a man who cares about you doesn’t let ‘something’ come up on a night like this. He makes time.”

The words stung because deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been making excuses for Chan for weeks, convincing yourself that his work, his schedule, was just overwhelming, and that it wasn’t personal. But this? This felt personal.

Your mom reached across the table, squeezing your hand gently. “We don’t have to stay, you know. We can reschedule, or…”

The thought of leaving without even hearing from him made your stomach drop. You wanted to brush it off, pretend like it didn’t matter, but it did. You wanted your parents to see the man you loved, to understand why you were so devoted to him. But right now, even you were struggling to remember that reason.

The waiter approached, a polite smile on his face. “Are we ready to order, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

You hesitated, glancing at the empty seat beside you, before shaking your head. “No, I think we’re ready.”

The rest of dinner was strained, your parents trying to keep up light conversation, but the tension in the air was undeniable. Every few minutes, your eyes drifted to your phone, but it remained painfully silent.

No word from Chan. No explanation.

By the time you made it back home, the weight of the evening settled heavily on your shoulders. Your parents had been kind—understanding, even—but their disappointment lingered. You could feel it in the hug your mom gave you before she left, the look your dad gave you as he told you to "think about what you deserve."

And he was right. You deserved better than this.

When you finally walked into your apartment, the quiet was suffocating. You dropped your bag on the couch, sitting down with a heavy sigh, staring at the blank screen of your phone once more. A million thoughts raced through your head—maybe something had happened, maybe there was a reason he couldn’t make it, maybe—

Your phone lit up, and your heart leapt for a split second. But it wasn’t Chan. It was a notification from some random app, and the disappointment hit you like a wave.

You leaned back against the couch, the realization sinking in. He hadn’t forgotten tonight. He’d just… not shown up. And the worst part was, he hadn’t even bothered to tell you.

There was no last-minute excuse, no frantic apology, no explanation. He had simply left you waiting.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of it all. But eventually, the front door opened, and Chan walked in, looking exhausted but casual, as if it were any other night. He saw you on the couch and smiled, dropping his keys onto the table.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Long day at the studio,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t even look guilty.

You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “Late? You didn’t even come.”

Chan frowned, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m here now.”

“You didn’t come to dinner,” you said, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and sadness. “I waited for you. My parents waited for you.”

It was as if the weight of what you were saying finally hit him. His eyes widened, realization dawning. “Shit, wait—dinner. That was tonight?”

You stood up, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah, it was tonight. The dinner where you were supposed to meet my parents for the first time. The dinner we planned weeks ago. And you didn’t show up.”

His face paled, guilt creeping in, but it wasn’t enough. Not this time. You had waited, excused, and forgiven too many times before.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to—” Chan started, but you cut him off.

“No, Chan. You didn’t even tell me you weren’t coming. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You left me sitting there, waiting, with no idea where you were.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the one who waits.”

Chan’s expression crumbled as he stepped forward, but you took a step back. “Please, I’ll make it right. I swear—”

But you’d heard it all before. And this time, it wasn’t enough.

The silence that followed your words was thick, suffocating. Chan stared at you, his face twisted in guilt, but it wasn’t enough this time. Nothing he could say would make up for the way you felt tonight—alone, forgotten, like an afterthought.

"I said I’m sorry, okay?" His voice was low, almost pleading. But the apology felt like it was more for his own peace of mind than for you.

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Sorry? That’s all you have to say? You didn’t even care enough to send me a text, Chan! You didn’t care enough to let me know you weren’t coming to meet my parents!"

“I do care—” he started, but you cut him off, voice trembling with the frustration and hurt you’d been bottling up for weeks.

“Do you? Do you really? Because it feels like I’m the only one putting any effort into this relationship!” The words spilled out before you could stop them, years of unsaid feelings finally surfacing. “I’ve been bending over backwards for you, making excuses for you, and for what? For you to just forget about me over and over again?”

Chan’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with anger, but he kept his voice calm. “It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose. I’m trying to juggle everything—the studio, the group, the deadlines—it’s not easy.”

“Don’t you dare try to make me feel guilty for that.” Your voice cracked, and you took a step toward him, fists clenched. “I’ve been patient. I’ve understood every time you’ve had to cancel plans, every time you’ve been late because of work. But this was important, Chan! You were supposed to meet my parents! You were supposed to be there for me for once!”

He flinched, as if your words physically hurt him, but he still tried to defend himself. “I know it was important, but I can’t always be everywhere at once. I’m doing my best, and sometimes things slip through the cracks.”

You stared at him, feeling a bitter mix of anger and heartbreak. “I shouldn’t have to feel like I’m slipping through the cracks in your life.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Chan’s face softened as he realized how deeply he had hurt you. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. You could see the guilt in his eyes, but it was too late. The damage was done.

You turned away from him, your arms wrapping around yourself, trying to hold in the tears that threatened to spill. “I need space, Chan. I need to think.”

“Wait,” he said, stepping forward, his voice desperate now. “Don’t shut me out. Please, we can talk about this.”

You shook your head, your voice cold and distant. “There’s nothing to talk about right now. I just… I need time.”

Without another word, you walked past him, retreating into your bedroom, leaving him standing alone in the living room, guilt and frustration etched across his face.

The next few days were a blur of silence. You avoided Chan’s calls, ignored his texts, and when you saw him, you barely acknowledged his presence. The silent treatment weighed heavily on both of you, but you weren’t ready to face him. Not yet. The sting of being let down, again and again, was too fresh.

At first, Chan tried to give you space, respecting your need for time to process. But as the days went on, he began to grow more desperate. The messages started coming more frequently��apologies, explanations, everything he could think of to get through to you. But you remained silent.

One night, you were sitting in your living room, laying on the couch and scrolling through your phone aimlessly, when you heard a knock at your door. You didn’t respond, hoping he’d go away, but then the door opened slowly, and Chan stepped inside.

He looked exhausted, his usual confidence replaced by an unmistakable vulnerability. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before finally sitting down at the edge of your bed.

“I know you’re mad,” he started, his voice low and hesitant. “And you have every right to be.”

You didn’t say anything, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. But the tension in the room was thick, and you could feel him watching you, waiting for some kind of response.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I messed up. I know I did. And I can’t stand that I hurt you like this. I’ve been trying to fix it, but I don’t even know where to start anymore.”

Still, you said nothing, but your heart ached at the sadness in his voice. You wanted to forgive him, to let it go, but a part of you needed him to understand just how deeply his actions had hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like you don’t matter. Because you do. You’re the most important person in my life, and I hate that I’ve made you feel otherwise.”

You glanced up at him, and the sight of him—his eyes red, his face etched with regret—made something inside you soften. But you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you said quietly, finally breaking your silence. “I can’t keep waiting for you to show up, wondering if I’m ever going to be enough to make you prioritize me.”

Chan’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. “You are enough. You’re more than enough. I’ve just been so caught up in everything that I lost sight of what’s really important.”

He reached out, taking your hand gently, and for the first time in days, you didn’t pull away.

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’ve been an idiot. I know I’ve let you down more times than I can count, but I’m begging you… please don’t give up on us.”

Tears stung your eyes as you looked at him, the vulnerability in his expression breaking down the last of your defenses. You could see how much he meant every word, how deeply he regretted the pain he’d caused you.

“I don’t want to give up on us either,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But something has to change, Chan. I need to know that I can rely on you, that I matter.”

“You do,” he said quickly, his grip on your hand tightening. “I swear, things will be different. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be better. For you. For us.”

Before you could respond, Chan sank to his knees in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. The raw vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. “Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “I know I’ve let you down. I know I’ve been a mess. But I’m begging you, please don’t give up on us. I need you. I’ll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance.”

You stared at him, shocked by his sudden desperation. The image of him on his knees, pleading with you, was almost too much to bear. The hurt was still fresh, and though his words and actions were sincere, you struggled with the weight of what he’d done.

You looked down at Chan, kneeling before you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and desperation. His plea hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises and fear. You could see how much he wanted to make things right, but the pain and disappointment you felt were still raw and unsettling.

“I don’t know, Chan,” you said finally, your voice wavering. “I want to believe that things will be different, but I’m not sure if I can just forgive and forget. You’ve let me down so many times. How can I be sure this time will be any different?”

Chan’s face fell, and he lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumping. “I understand if you’re not ready to forgive me. I really do. But please, just give me a chance to prove it to you. I know I’ve been a fool, and I’m sorry. I’ll work every day to show you that I’m worth your trust.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and earnest. You wanted to believe him, wanted to reach out and pull him up from his knees, but the scars of past disappointments were still fresh. You needed to see more than words. You needed to know that the change he promised was real and lasting.

Before you could voice your doubts, Chan moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze was disarming, and you felt your resolve waver as he closed the distance between you. He reached out gently, cupping your face with his hands, his touch warm and tender.

As he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, you felt a surge of emotion that you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to push him away, to maintain your boundaries, but the vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes made it hard to resist. When his lips brushed against yours, it was soft and hesitant, a plea for forgiveness more profound than words could convey.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with conflicting thoughts, but then you found yourself responding, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both passionate and desperate. The connection was electric, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it felt like the world outside ceased to exist.

Chan’s kiss deepened, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he seemed to pour all his remorse and longing into that single, heartfelt kiss. It was as if he was trying to erase the distance that had grown between you, to bridge the gap left by all the unfulfilled promises.

You leaned back, pulling him with you, your body arching into his touch as his hands trailed over your skin. The sensation was intoxicating, and you found yourself lost in the moment, all rational thought fading away. You needed this, needed him.

His hands continued to trail, and one made its way to your clothed heat.

Your breath hitched as you felt him rub you through the fabric, a delicious friction building.

"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper.

"I need you, Y/N," he mumbled, his lips grazing your neck.

The battle raged on around you. Your body ached for him, for his touch, his kisses. As his fingers slipped underneath your panties, the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt your resolve crumble.

You wanted him, needed him, despite all the hurt and disappointment he had caused. In that moment, none of it mattered. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel.

Chan's eyes were dark with lust as his fingers slipped between your wet folds, the pressure of his thumb on your clit making your breath catch in your throat.

"God, Y/N, you're so wet," he murmured, his voice low and husky. " I missed this.."

As he continued his teasing, you could feel yourself giving in, the pleasure clouding your judgment. Your hips rocked against his hand, seeking more, and a moan escaped your lips as he slid a finger inside of you.

"You like that?" he whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear.

"Yes," you breathed out, your voice shaky.

The feeling of his fingers inside you, curling up just the way you liked, was almost too much to bear. His palm pressed against your clit, the heat and pressure driving you wild, his other hand beginning to slip your clothes off.

Your mind raced, conflicting thoughts tugging at you. Part of you wanted to stop this, to keep your walls up and protect yourself. But another part of you needed this, needed him, more than anything.

"I want to taste you.... To apologize with my tounge in places my words couldnt reach," he whispered against your ear

Chan's voice was thick with desire, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked at you. Your mind was spinning, but all you could focus on was how good it felt.

As he sank to his deeper into his knees in front of you, his face inches from your heat, you knew there was no going back. His breath was hot against your skin as he leaned in, and the feeling of his tongue against your folds was enough to make you moan.

Chan was relentless, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your most intimate parts was intoxicating, and you could feel the pleasure building inside of you, a delicious heat spreading through your body.

"Fuck, Y/N," he murmured, his voice muffled against you. "You taste so good."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a moan as he teased your entrance with his tongue.

"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice shaky.

You could feel the pressure building inside of you, your muscles tensing as his tongue lapped at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself losing control. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and you dug your fingers into his hair, holding him against you.

"Don't stop," you gasped, the words spilling from your lips without a thought.

You were teetering on the edge, your body aching for release but he wasnt gonna let it end there.

He was apologizing right?

You could feel it coming, the sweet relief just out of reach. You needed more, needed him deeper.

"Please," you moaned, the sound desperate and needy.

Chan responded immediately, his fingers pumping faster, his tongue swirling around your clit. He was relentless, his pace increasing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your muscles tightened, and the pressure inside you was almost too much to bear.

Then, suddenly, everything went white. You cried out, your body shuddering as the orgasm crashed through you. Your vision blurred, and all you could feel was the intense, pulsing pleasure coursing through your veins.

As you came down from the high, your breath ragged and your heart racing, you could feel the tension in the room.

But that wasnt the end for Chan

He continued to eat you out, wanting to give you another one.

You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, but Chan's hands held you in place, his tongue tracing patterns across your clit. The sensations were too much, and you could feel yourself quickly building toward another release.

"C-Chan," you whimpered, your voice shaky.

"Let go, baby," he whispered, his words sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. "Come for me again."

As his fingers curled inside you, and as he found that perfect spot, you knew you were done for. Your muscles tensed, and the pressure inside you threatened to burst.

"P-Please" You say without thinking, the pleasure taking over any rational thoughts.

"Oh no, no... this is my apology to you, baby. Im going to make you cum until i'm forgiven"

And then, with one final, torturous swipe of his tongue, you were gone.

Over and Over and Over again, until you could no longer remember why you were even mad at him in the first place.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

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[xwritingdixonx]

Is It Better To Speak or To Die? | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: After being rescued from Woodbury by Rick's group, you struggle with living a "normal" life in the walls of the prison. The trauma's inflicted on you at the hands of the Govenour drag you to the deepest depths. A certain archer is the onyl one who can drag you back out.

Warnings: slow burn, language, smoking, grief, depression, talk of body scars, implied smut, implied past abuse, Governor (enough said)

Word Count: aprox. 10k

Era: Prison, Alexandria.

Song Recommendation: Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Ray, Would That I - Hozier

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The survivors of Woodbury had called The Prison “home” for only a week. The war and downfall of the Governor and Woodbury were still fresh in everyone’s gut, though others were making themselves comfortable very quickly. You were not. It was such an irony to you. Taking shelter in a prison as if this world wasn’t a prison. As if the traumas of the past year of survival didn’t hold you by your throat. Your own mental prison.

The bowl you held still warmed your hands. Though you knew no appetite arose in your stomach, you still took the bowl Carol offered just to be polite. Standing alone, your back leaned against the support beam of the gazebo all the benches sat under for meals. You had been a part of Woodbury...but you certainly hadn’t been a part of the community. Not near the end at least.

Most people steered clear of you. Avoiding your tired hardened eyes and threatening gazes. Avoiding the tenseness in your persona. Completely removing themselves from the possibility of having an interaction with the emotionless shell you had become. Others were compassionate, showing you any empathy they could bear. You’d get a polite head nod and warm smile occasionally, though you never returned it.

In Woodbury, no one asked questions, they talked and gossiped amongst one another but never bothered. But at the prison, you were new. Fresh meat. So in turn, you had your fair share of stares and whispers from Rick’s group.

Carol had become your latest bother. In the mornings, just like today, people would slowly make their way to line up for their share of breakfast. Your desire was to simply come out in the crisp morning air and smoke a cigarette, attempting to forget the night of terrors you encountered when you closed your eyes. You’d be sure to isolate yourself a bit away so the smoke didn’t bother anyone’s morning. But Carol simply wouldn’t accept it.

The last few days she’d noticed the lack of breakfast passing your lips. You’d smoke a cigarette and then wait to eat a proper meal for dinner. Reminding her of another certain someone.

She couldn’t make you line up and wait like everyone else. She couldn’t make you come and sit at a table and be social. So, she’d make you your own bowl and walk it over to you, giving you a polite smile, and then walk away. She did this for the past 3 days, catching onto your pattern early on.

“How’s she doing?” Rick drawled as Carol handed him his own bowl of powdered eggs and steamed potatoes. “Can bring a horse to water but you can’t make ‘em drink.” Carol joked back, Rick nodded in response and thanked her for his bowl.

Rick had been keeping an eye on you ever since you’d arrived. Unlike most of Woodbury, who willingly came running out to be rescued, you were found by Rick. The door to the room he found you in had been locked from the outside.

Everything he found out about you from that point had been from the mouths of others. You hadn’t even used words to tell him your name, he had been told by someone else. “Morning.” Rick greeted Daryl who was already almost finished his own breakfast, “Mornin’.” He stood with Daryl, neither of the men having time to sit with all the plans to improve the prison.

Daryl followed Rick’s gaze, noticing the way Rick seemed to be lost in thought. When the gaze ended on you, Daryl scoffed. “Figured that one out yet?” He asked, shoving a spoon of egg in his mouth. “Not yet.” Daryl had tried himself to scramble for puzzle pieces of you but had no success. You didn’t talk. Not a word, not even a whisper. There was a part of him that was intrigued by you, a part of him that wanted to dissect. But there was the other part that told him to mind his business.

“Good morning.” Riley begins to pass by, greeting Rick and Daryl. If the term Southern Bell was a person, that would be Riley. Blonde hair, dark emerald eyes, sweet smile, curvy in all the right places, and a smooth southern drawl. Smooth and sweet, nothing like your jagged sharp edges. Riley had been brought in with the Woodbury group and quickly made herself useful in running her mouth…but also in learning medical. “Morning.” Riley’s green eyes darted in the direction the men were looking. Because how dare their attention be on anyone but her.

“I feel so bad for her…” She commented, putting herself into their conversation. Rick and Daryl both gave each other a glance. Rick wanted to know about you from you. Not from the gossip and storytelling of others. “I swear it’s like her mouth was sewn into a frown when Jackson died.” Riley actually looked quite empathetic when she said this. “Who was that?”

“Her twin brother.”

Rick took a pause from eating his breakfast to let this new information marinate into his brain. Though neither of them asked for it, Riley continued. “When they first got to Woodbury, everything was fine. But then the Governor wanted Y/n to be one of his soldiers.” Using air quotations at the word soldiers.

“Y/n refused over and over. One night, Governor took Y/n and Jackson for a walk outside of Woodbury’s walls and Jackson didn’t come back…Governor said he got bit but…” Riley’s words trailed off as she looked at your stone-like features. “Y/n joined him after that…some people thought he killed Jackson and used it to force her to.” Her tone was uneasy as if the Governor would come to get her if she dared speak of it.

Or maybe she was more afraid of you.

“After that, I mean..” Riley scoffed dramatically and tried to ease the tension with a laugh, “I-I shouldn’t be talking about this anyway.” She gave the men a sheepish smile before swiftly walking away, joining a full table.

"Forgot how much people love to gossip huh?"

"Hmm," Daryl hummed in response. Rick took Daryl's empty bowl and stacked it on his own. "Gonna go give Judy her breakfast, alright?" As he nudged Daryl with his elbow, Daryl responded with a hum that was accompanied by a nod.

Daryl had learned the art of minding his business a long time ago. He didn't want people in his...so why pry into others?

You had finished your cigarette and smushed it into the concrete under your boot, now aimlessly poking around in the texture of the oatmeal. Carol frequently cooked her oatmeal for a tad too long and with too much liquid, giving it a mushy, snot like texture. It gave you another reason to skip out on breakfast but you at least wanted to try.

Daryl watched as you took a bite from the bowl. You moved around the food in your mouth, chewing slowly. The texture on your tongue was enough to turn you away. You looked in the direction of the bench where all of the younger children sat. Some talking with food still in their mouths. Their chattering stopped when they saw you approach like a dark gloomy cloud threatening rain.

Without saying a word, you placed your bowl in front of Patrick, offering him your share. Behind his thick glasses, he looked at the bowl then at you, and smiled. “Thanks Y/n.” You replied with a nod and walked away. Patrick was one of the few people from Woodbury who was consistently kind to you. He was always polite and never treated you any differently. You had actually heard him defend your name more than once. Perhaps he was just too young to feed into it but it was an act that didn’t go unappreciated by you.

And your act towards Patrick hadn’t gone unnoticed by Daryl. It wasn’t as if you had saved his life but you could’ve thrown your share away. Snuck over to the pig's pen and scraped it in. Instead, you gave it to a child.

Daryl would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't intrigued by you. He had never been intrigued by anyone in his life, though he couldn't deny the itch that was the mystery of you.

Two mornings after that one, Daryl had woken up particularly early. Readying himself to go outside the fences. There was a steady whisper amongst his friends the true reason he wondered out of the safety of the prison walls. The thought of The Governor still being alive haunted Daryl’s mind as it did the others. But no one would do what he did nearly every morning. No one except you.

Not many were typically up at this hour. The sun had barely risen and the morning air was still chilly from the night. When Daryl walked out into the courtyard, he didn’t expect to see you. He knew you were typically up earlier than others but not as early as him, not on days like this. You sat on the top of a picnic bench, feet planted where someone would typically sit. You faced away from Daryl but he could see the puff of smoke that typically followed you.

He could tell you weren’t in your typical nature. Despite the circumstances, you typically kept yourself put together. You wore a black long-sleeve fitted to your body and a pair of old gray sweatpants. Your hair was untamed and frizzy, having not been brushed yet. What had you up this early? What had you out of your cell so disheveled? And obviously, in such a rush?

The drag of the cigarette burned the back of your throat. It wasn’t as if you actually enjoyed smoking them. They tasted bad, itched your throat, and the smoke made your eyes water. But it felt as if holding them stopped your hands from shaking so badly every morning. It didn’t. But you’d keep lying to yourself and saying it did. You had woken up from another devilish dream, jolting you awake with a rapid heart and heavy breathing.

Typically you’d sit on the edge of your bed, head in your hands until your heart rate returned to normal. But on this particular morning, you couldn’t sit any longer in those walls, feeling the tightness of their build.

“Mornin.” He greeted you. What was he doing? Why was he even over here? Daryl’s mind ran with thoughts and questions as he awkwardly disrupted your own running mind.

You glanced over at him, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. Someone disrupting you at this time wasn’t expected. As soon as Daryl saw the harsh glare hit your features, he regretted his decision. He didn’t know what to say to you or what he was doing. Both of your heads turned at the sound of a door shutting, Carol lugging a big pot over to the serving table.

“Carol’s gonna start setting up soon…if ya wanna get outta here.” Your eyes followed Carol for a second before meeting Daryl’s.

Daryl had never seen you face to face, he’d never even spoken a word to you. Your initial glare wore off your face and you gave Daryl a single nod, standing up from the bench. Daryl caught his bottom lip and nervously chewed at it. “M’going…out” Daryl pointed in the direction of the woods, “If ya wanna come.” You glanced between Daryl and the woods and thought for a second before giving him a proper nod.

“Alright. I’ll wait for ya at the gate with my bike.”

It didn’t take long for you to meet Daryl. You’d switched your pants out with jeans and your bare feet with boots. Accompanied with your backpack and a pair of fingerless gloves to fight the chilly morning. You had obviously run a comb through your hair as well.

Daryl appreciated the space you gave him on the bike. You sat an inch or two back, your arms loose around him. Typically when people rode with him they held on tight, maybe a little too tight and too close for Daryl’s comfort, but you didn’t. A steady routine had been built between you and the archer after that morning. Along with a growing friendship.

Carol had picked up on this growing routine. By the fourth day, she began waking up even earlier, packing both of you lunches and a snack as if she were a mother sending her children to school.

The first few days your silence made Daryl uneasy. But soon, he actually began to enjoy your company. He even enjoyed your silence. It came in handy when he was tracking a deer or bunny.

The two of you had created your own language of looks, touches, and whistles. One morning you had gotten separated from Daryl while tracking and the song of the whistle was born.

The once colorful leaves were now a dirty brown and crunched awfully loud when you stepped on them. The early Fall months were slowly becoming even colder which meant being on the lookout for anything edible became far more important. Especially meat. Daryl had begun to teach you how to track on your own, which meant the two of you could cover more ground on the same hunt.

Your footsteps were steady and quiet, your eyes trained on the consistent tussle of the leaves. There was a specific herd of deer that had been on Daryl’s radar that he’d spotted a few mornings ago. Daryl walked a few feet behind you, checking that the tracks you eyed were accurate.

The leaves began to blend together, and the steady path you found was now lost from your sight. You kneeled down and dug the leaves away from the ground hoping the tracks would be embedded in the dirt. But the ground was too cold and dense to be marked with anything. It was when you turned to face Daryl and accept your defeat that he was no longer there.

A sense of panic seized through you. Your eyes scanned around the surrounding tree lines for a sign of his silhouette but you saw none. You’re fine, you told yourself, but the comfort Daryl’s presence provided was now gone and you were beginning to spiral. You didn’t know these woods well and you didn’t know your way back to the prison from here.

Out of sheer desperation, you brought your lips together and let out a two-tone whistle. You gave it a second of silence and just as you were about to repeat, a long one-tone whistle replied back. Daryl quickly came back through an opening in the trees looking as if he had run back to you. His eyes were filled with panic. “Ya alright?” You nodded, seeing him again immediately put you at ease. “M’sorry. Found the tracks, they go off this way.”

Daryl spent a lot of time studying you. It wasn’t intentional…but he couldn’t help but pay attention to every detail. He knew when something was on your mind by the way you dazed off more or the more cigarettes you smoked. Or the way you fiddled with the sleeves of your shirts and jackets. He understood the different expressions on your face and what every one of them meant. You expressed yourself a lot through your eyebrows and eyes. No matter what expression, your eyes were always filled with such sadness. You never smiled. Even on days when Daryl felt good and felt as if he was going to have some major breakthrough, you never did.

Daryl enjoyed what he’d built with you over these last few months but his mind and body were becoming restless. He yearned for you, he yearned to know you. It was like being covered head to toe in mosquito bites. And then someone tying your hands so you’d never be able to scratch them. He wanted to hear your voice and he wanted to see you smile. He told himself that if he ever got to hear you laugh, he’d start praying and going to the prison chapel.

He realized he’d never even seen your teeth before, though it was an odd thought, it would be added to the pile of things that itched and irritated.

Then there were the other thoughts. The bites that itched but also ached and throbbed. He wanted you to sit closer to him on the bike and he wanted your arms tight around his torso. He wanted to hold your hands and stop them from shaking in the morning. He wanted to keep you close after running away from a hoard.

Daryl had spent his time dissecting you like a frog in science class.

Now, he had grown impatient of dissecting. He’d never wanted anyone how desperately he wanted you. You were his sweet tooth craving, you were his stomach-decaying hunger, and you were his fucking mosquito bite. But despite all of Daryls itches and desires, he'd never try to change you. He'd never push you out of the comfort of your silence though he would always be waiting.

The time spent with Daryl had put a piece of you at ease. You’d had grown a special attachment while Daryl had practically sewn you to his hip. The only time you weren’t with him was when it came time to shower or sleep.

You met Daryl every morning at the gate, ready to go wandering amongst the trees or scavenging. Some day's you made it back in time to catch lunch together. Especially if you had an early morning catch and had to get back before the meat went rancid. Most days, you'd find a quiet and safe spot to eat the lunch Carol packed and made it back to the prison before sunset and dinner.

There was peace in this routine...but you couldn't live in this routine forever. There were other duties that needed attention around the prison. The early morning adventures had become less but the time together never changed.

When you weren't enjoying the company of Daryl, you enjoyed the company of the garden. And when it was too late in the day for either of those things, you read books about the garden and thought about Daryl. You learned what crops could be grown in the winter and then looked for their seeds in old gardening stores...with Daryl.

Some, Most, Every night you thought of him. You thought of all the things he'd taught you, of his patience with you, and all the stories he told to fill the air. He'd tell you stories of him and Merle. You wanted to tell him that you knew Merle. That when the Governor locked you away, Merle would come visit you and sneak you food. That he was kind to you despite being such a prick to everyone else.

But no matter how much time and peace Daryl provided, the nightmares never left you. You still woke up with shaky hands and a racing mind and memories of your brother. Although you did cut the habit of reaching for a cigarette. Mainly because your pack was running low and it was becoming impossible to find any more.

Unknowing to you, Daryl had been finding them while scavenging and hiding them in spots you didn't look.

You grabbed the carrot at its very base and pulled it from the soft dirt, a soft snap following. The gloves that kept your fingers from freezing were covered in mud and bits of green. It had rained in the night which made the ground perfectly soft to harvest produce. So, instead of going out this morning, you and Daryl were in the gardens. Well, Daryl followed you to the gardens and wouldn't leave.

"This one alright?" Daryl held up a cabbage with his own gloved hand only a few feet away. You glanced over and gave him a approving nod. He tossed it into the basket that already held a mixture of carrots, celery, and fresh herbs for Carol's cabbage soup.

Carol had become less of a bother to you. In fact, you'd actually created a swift routine with her. You read and researched the books about plants and gardening while she read the ones about cooking. You were the farmer while she got to play Martha Stewart.

"How's it going you two?" Rick and Carol approached the gardens with a little extra pep in their step. The rain fall had made this winter day chillier which meant everyone was bundling up and multiple fires were lit in the courtyard and cell blocks for warmth. "S'alright!" Daryl shouted as he fought with a carrot that seemed to be deep rooted in the ground. From your kneeling position on the ground, you watched Daryl with amusement as he struggled. You would’ve thought that carrot was as big as a egg plant with all his pull and tug.

“You got it Pookie?” Carol teased, Rick and her both getting their own dose of amusement. “M’fine.” With one last pull, the carrot popped from the dirt. “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’” Daryl held up the carrot, it was about the size of his thumb. You heard Rick and Carol have their own set of laughter, “Maybe you should stick to huntin’ those deer.” Rick said between a few chuckles. Daryl scoffed and tossed the baby carrot into the basket, as he kneeled down to continue picking, he caught your expression.

It was so small he could’ve missed it but he didn’t and he was so glad he hadn’t. You looked back down towards the dirt, a smirk tugging up the corners of your lips and poking your cheeks, dimpling them. For a second, it felt as if someone had punched Daryl in the chest. But it was there just as fast as it was gone.

From that moment on, Daryl wanted nothing more than to feel that again…as did you. You felt foolish. There was this awful gnawing inside you that was telling you every day what you already knew within your heart. He was chipping away at every wall you’d built up and beginning to break down the wall to a very soft spot of you. You had begun to feel like a turtle removed from its shell. Mushy, sensitive, and vulnerable. Gross.

"Hey Y/n!" The youngest Greene girl greeted. The community of the prison had begun to warm up to you. They no longer avoided you like the plague opting to actually say "hello" or "good morning" or maybe even a "goodnight." It had become very well known the closeness Daryl and you held and if people knew, people talked.

You looked up from your current book to Beth standing in the doorway of your cell clutching a small pile of tan books to herself. "Can I..come in?" She awkwardly shuffled her feet farther in and adjusted the books, you nodded. Beth let the curtain that covered your doorway drop and happily took a seat on your bed. You sat up straight and set your book of, Wildflowers Of All Seasons, on the bed beside you. While you adjusted yourself, Beth seemed to be studying your room.

It was more decorated than she had imagined. Your cell was on the upper level, one down from Daryl's. You had a very small wooden nightstand beside your bed that had various half-melted candles. Their wax dripped down the sides and embedded itself into the wood. On the wall across from your bed stood a very slim wooden table.

It was decorated with different trinkets and bottles you'd scavenged, a zippo lighter, and a stack of your growing book collection. Shoved underneath was a wire basket that held all your clothes. Your only 2 pairs of boots and bookbag sat beside it. Your everyday black, fleece-lined jacket was hung off the pole of your bed.

"I found these in the library and thought you might like them." Beth laid out the books on your bed, making it a point to show you every single one of them. Peterson - Field Guide to... They all read. They were very small and slim, a pale shade of tan, with various illustrations on the front pertaining to the title. Perfect to slip into your bag.

"I thought they'd be nice for you to carry when you go out in the mornings." Beth watched as you examined each book, "I wanted to grab them for you before anyone else found 'em." Beth held a very innocent hopeful smile the whole time she spoke to you but your silence was causing her to become uneasy. You picked up a specific one, Field Guide to Animal Tracks. You looked up at the girl and gave her a thin-lipped smile to show your appreciation.

A wide smile formed on her face and she left with a very sweet "Goodnight."

Glenn relieved Daryl from watch tower duty later than expected. It had to of been close to midnight when he got back to his cell. As he walked by your cell, he carefully peeled back your green curtain to check on you. You were a restless sleeper, Daryl heard you almost every night tossing and turning or waking up with a jolt.

Most of your features were concealed by the darkness but from what was visible, you appeared to be in a peaceful sleep. There was a veil of softness to you when you slept. A softness and calmness that never graced you during waking hours. He knew it wouldn’t last very long but he wanted to ensure that at least right now, you were okay. But he could not stand and watch all night. He felt creepy enough.

Daryl noticed the little tan book sitting on his bed as soon as he pulled back his curtain. The moonlight slightly gleamed off the sleek shiny cover. Field Guide to Animal Tracks. As Daryl flipped the book open to its title page, he felt his ears and cheeks warm up. Thankfully the darkness concealed his cheeky smile.

To Daryl. Not like you need it. - Y/n.

The group of deer that Daryl had spotted a month ago was still high on his radar. Though he still had yet to actually catch any of them.

The cabbage soup was still hot in your thermal, emitting a cloud of steam when you popped off the lid. You and Daryl sat in each other's company in your typical spot. A large tree had fallen down just at the entrance to a clearing in the woods providing a perfect resting spot. Had it been Spring or Summer you could only imagine the beauty of the green scenery. But this cold winter didn't provide much besides dry grounds, barren trees, and a frozen pond.

There was a peaceful silence that settled, as it always did. You both ate your soups and turned the pages of your books. Surprisingly, Daryl had actually learned a good bit from the book you gifted and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

"Ask ya something'?" You broke your concentration from your book and looked to Daryl. "Ya know why I started coming out here in the first place, right?"

You took a second to think before hesitantly nodding. "Ya never said anything." Daryl truly never understood why. He never hid it from you but still, you never asked questions. You didn't ask what the notes were on all the maps he had, never asked where you were going, or when you'd be back. But he always knew that you knew he wasn't just hunting deer, he was hunting the governor. "What would ya do...? If you ever got to him?"

Perhaps Daryl had pushed too far. Your head snapped back down to your book, though Daryl knew you weren't actually reading anymore. Your eyes were out of focus and your lips formed a frown. You had never taken the time to think about it. You just knew you wanted him to suffer.

Daryl hadn't spoken another word to you since lunch knowing he had poked at a very sensitive subject. "Wait here a second," Daryl said just as you made it back to his bike. He jogged back into the tree line leaving you sitting on the bike, awaiting his return. Daryl returned soon after, a cluster of bright yellow daffodils in hand. You gave him a puzzled glance but as he held out his hand and said, for you, you felt the urgency to cry. Your nose burning up with tingles and your eyes becoming glazed.

"Thought ya might like 'em, I saw them in your book earlier." Your hand gently took them from Daryl's and you stood still. Very still.

Daryl awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "They're uh...daffodils, right? Start bloomin' late January into March?" He had secretly been sneaking reads of your books over your shoulder. It was so fast it startled him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into you, every muscle in his body stiffened. Daryl was reluctant to hug you back but he gave into his heart and gently laid his arms around your torso. The large jackets you both wore proved to be a barrier from feeling the true touch of the other.

“Thank you.” Your words were raspy and just above a whisper. Had you not been so close, Daryl probably would’ve missed them. “Course.” His words were mumbled against your shoulder, not wanting to make a big deal. A low groan in the distance disrupted your short moment of peace, telling you it was about time to go.

The sun was beginning to set when Daryl’s bike rode up the gravel path to the prison. The smell of a brewing soup hit your nose as the two of you began to walk closer to the dining area. “Find a table, I gotcha.” Daryl’s hand lingered on your shoulder for a second longer than it typically did. Despite wearing such a thick layer of clothes, it was as if you could still feel his touch. Even after he was already at the serving table striking up a conversation with Carol.

You sat your pack down at the usual table. It was farthest to the left, farthest away from all the other tables. “Mind if we join you?” Glenn asked, he and Maggie both holding a steaming bowl. Just as you were about to take your own seat, a loud chuckle sounded snapping you around.

“Oh come on Y/n.” Two men had been walking past on their way to fetch their own dinners. You recognized them, they were commonly on wall duty at Woodbury. The taller one motioned to the flowers that poked out from the front pocket of your jacket. “You can’t be serious.” You could feel your heart drop to the very pit of your stomach. It was as if your body was preparing you for the merciless mocking that was sure to come.

“You’re telling me the Governor’s number one soldier is walking around with flowers in her pockets?”

Stop.

You wanted to say but the words became a ball in your throat. Your eyes darted off to the side. All of a sudden, you didn’t know where to look or what to do with your hands or how to stand properly on your feet. You knew the truth behind their “jokes”.

You are not soft. You are not delicate. You are not loveable.

“The hell are ya doin?” Daryl had practically appeared out of thin air, putting himself between you and the men. You saw this as an opportunity to make an escape for your cell block.

“We were just teasing man. We were friends in Woodbury, just joking around.” They still had slimy smirks on their faces that only poked Daryl even more.

Daryl was fuming. “Didn’t look like she was fucking laughin’.” He took a step closer. “She never fucking laughs!” Before Daryl could unleash his fiery rage, Rick intervened. Rick beckoned Daryl to walk away, mumbling that everyone was looking. “Hell if I care.” Daryl snapped swinging his arm in the air. He turned on his boot and snatched up your pack that you’d left behind before going off to find you.

Daryl hadn’t found you in any of your traditional spots. He checked your cell, the library, the garden, and even the showers. He asked everyone he walked past if they’d seen you but no one had, it was as if you just vanished. And the thought of that was throwing Daryl into a deep pit.

The prison chapel had been restored and decorated by Carol to be used for the grieving prison folk. She had put as many candles as possible on a long wooden table. They had been burned and replaced so frequently that the wax dripped down the sides of the table and dropped dots on the floor. There were many different pictures of lost family members or lovers littering the table…it was quite depressing truthfully. The glow of the candles lit up the room and cast an orange glow on your sad features.

You didn’t look at Daryl as he sat down beside you.

“Didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not.”

It was an odd thing…to hear you speak so openly but Daryl wasn’t opposed. “I just…” Your voice was hoarse and low, as low as a whisper. “I find this a way to be with my brother.” Daryl had gotten so used to silence that it almost startled him to hear so many words come from your lips. You shook back the hair that fell on your face and let out a deep sigh, resting your back flat against the wooden church pew. Daryl didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want to scare your voice away, he just wanted to listen.

“I hope that doesn’t sound foolish.”

“It doesn’t.” Daryl shifted himself closer to you. “It doesn’t.” He repeated, his thigh pressed against yours. And for some reason, you felt the need to spill your guts. Perhaps being in a church would drag you to confess. “I-uhmm…I never fought against the prison. I refused to do any of it. I truthfully didn’t care if he killed me for it.” You didn’t have to explain yourself to Daryl but you felt the need to. If what you felt towards him was what you thought, you had to. “But, he just locked me in my room. Wouldn’t let me out.” Somehow, Daryl knew. He never saw you with the Governor, never saw you fighting. And when Rick told him the locked room he found you in, he pieced it together.

“Everything is true though. Everything they say about me, everything he made me do before that.”

Daryl didn’t care, he never had. Daryl cared that you didn’t want to. He cared about the fact that you were forced to. You shrugged your shoulders and looked off, “I’m as guilty as they come.”

Daryl couldn’t stand the sad look on your face, “Alright then…put yer hands behind yer back. I’ll take ya to your cell.” His joking manner caught you so off guard that a laugh escaped you. It was airy and gentle. He truly couldn’t believe it.

You laughed. And Daryl was in church.

Daryl returned to his serious demeanor to reassure you, “I care about how he hurt ya, Y/n. Don’t care what you did.”

Your eyes found Daryl’s in the dimly lit room and for a second you felt it, deep within your chest. And it ached and feared but it also loved. “Good.” You couldn’t fight the smile that squeezed your cheeks as you looked at him. Your eye contact broke allowing silence to welcome itself back. But only for a short time. “Daffodils are the birth flower of March…Jackson and I were born in March.”

After that night in the chapel, Daryl wanted nothing more than to hear your voice. It felt like his ears were filled with honey every time you spoke. It was raspy yet smooth with a hint of a southern drawl from growing up in Georgia. A thick rich honey that he wanted in a cup of hot tea and to take down his throat.

Winter was soon turning to Spring. The sky was bluer and most days the sun shined. The green of the grass and trees were returning. The garden was beginning to look even more promising come warmer weather. And just as the flowers were beginning to take bloom, so were you.

Your hard demeanor had softened, especially for Daryl. You still didn’t talk to many people besides him but you said a word or two when you wanted. Daryl took it upon himself to give Jackson a “grave” where the others were. It was just two pieces of wood, formed into a cross with his name carved in it, planted into the ground. “So that ya don’t have to go down to the chapel. Ya can be outside with him and the garden and stuff.” He had said when he showed you.

“It’s rotten work trying to find these deer.” You and Daryl strolled the wooded area, eyes on the deer tracks that embedded themselves in the dirt. Daryl shushed you and continued his concentration on the tracks. You smiled to yourself and shook your head. “I was rotten work…at the beginning.”

“Nah ya weren’t, not to me.” Daryl didn’t even hesitate, he didn’t even turn look at you. He just continued walking ahead of you, following the tracks.

The two of you settled in your usual spot. Leaning against the fallen tree at the opening to the clearing in the woods. You were right about the clearing looking more beautiful in the warmth of Spring. The trees were plump with fresh green leaves and the water in the pond sparkled under the sunlight. The grass grew tall with a mixture of white and yellow wildflowers. Your fingers ran the edge of the book page as you turned it.

Your current book was, Field Guide to Medical Plants and Herbs. There was some type of cold floating around the prison and finding the medical supplies to treat it was sparse and you’d do anything you could to help.

Daryl was interrupted from tending to his bow by your elbow jabbing his side. Without looking at him, you held up a folded piece of paper and pen. Daryl gave you an odd glare before plucking them from your fingertips. You did this often. When you couldn’t be bothered to use your voice or if you didn’t want to break concentration from a book.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

Daryl could feel his heart begin to quicken its pace within his chest. He didn’t know what your words meant but at the same time, he did.

The folded paper got tossed back into your lap.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

Just then, a rustling sound sounded from within the trees from across the clearing. You gripped for your blade as Daryl grabbed for his bow. Two deers came through the trees, their white and tan tails flicking back and forth. You could’ve sworn you heard Daryl stop breathing for a second. Daryl slowly leaned up on his knees, bow in hand raising to his eye. Your eye caught it before Daryl’s did.

Another deer emerged from the trees, a fawn close behind her…and then another. “Don’t.” You brought your hand to Daryl’s bow and lowered it to point at the ground. He went to protest but when he saw the twin fawns happily nibbling at the tall grass, he stopped. It was a beautiful sight, as were you.

When your eyes broke away from the deers and to him, that’s when he decided. Daryl cupped your cheek lightly and met your lips with his. His lips were gone just as fast as they were there but his hand didn’t leave. He was still so close that your lips feathered his. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him down to you again.

What happened that day was never spoken of. But as Daryl sat in the darkness of the train cart in Terminus, he so deeply wish it had been.

But now, you were gone as was the prison. The look on your face, when the Governor stood outside the prison, was burned into Daryl’s eyelids. The way your chest heaved with anger, your hands shook with rage, and revengeful teary eyes stared off. The last he saw was you slipping out through the prison fence to go after him. Daryl yelled at you to not do it, to come with him, but you didn’t listen. You’d let yourself die if it meant you finally got your hands on him and Daryl knew it.

You could be dead. You could’ve died weeks ago fighting the Governor. You could be out there alone and starving and scared. Or you could be just fine. Daryl would never know.

When Terminus fell and he watched Rick cuddle and kiss Judith in his arms, he had a surge of hope. And when he saw Carol alive, he had more hope. As everyone said hello, it was as if he waited, waiting for you to magically appear. “Nobody has Y/n?” A deafening silence followed, quieter than you ever were. “Daryl…” Michonne stepped towards him. As he went to walk away, she stopped him placing a hand on rising his chest. “Darlyl. I’m not saying she didn’t make it. I’m just saying she didn’t look good.”

“Yeah? And you didn’t help her?” Daryl snapped shoving her hand off his chest. “Get off me.” Daryl seethed with hot tears in his icy blue eyes. It became an unspoken rule to not speak your name around him.

Your hand pressed firmly on the wound that oozed blood down your side as you limped your way into the cell block. Your right side was stained in the crimson color, all the way down to the knee of your jeans. You strained and let out a groan of pain as you took a step up the stairs that led to your cell. You didn’t need to look at yourself to know you looked awful. The walkers that completely ignored your existence when you limped by them told you enough.

Your entire torso throbbed in pain. The bruising from the kicks you took to the stomach were forming and it felt impossible to move. Your head felt like tv static and you had an undying desire to sleep. But you couldn’t. You likely had a concussion and knew that if you slept now, you wouldn’t be getting back up. Besides, you had to find Daryl. There was a hope that he’d stayed in the area and you’d find him if you just looked. You knew the woods around here well, you could find him. He was waiting for you, he had to be.

In your fuzzy state of mind, you threw whatever you touched into your pack. You changed out of ruined clothes and into clean ones. When the collar of your shirt dragged down your face, you let out a whimper of pain as it got caught on your bottom lip. There was a cut that dragged from the under your left nostril, across the left corner of your lips, and ended at the bottom of your chin.

It became a blur how you left your cell safely and ended up on the path Daryl and you walked every morning. You had to get to your spot. The spot with the fallen tree and clearing. Daryl would wait for you there. You were sure of it. When you got there and he wasn’t there, it was okay, you told yourself. You just had to wait for him.

You lowered yourself to the ground, a few whimpers of pain escaping your lips. With your back resting against the tree and arm draped over your mid section, you slipped into unconscious. You awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. “Hey, hey.” He said trying to wake you but your eyelids were too heavy to lift and you felt the weight of every muscle in your body. “Heath! Go tell Laura to bring the car around. We gotta take her back.”

“It’s a ten hour drive back Aaron, you think she’s gonna make it?”

“I don’t know.”

You awoke with a slight jolt. Your chest heaved with heavy breathes as your eyes dilated to the bright and unfamiliar room. Your body ached but the softness of the mattress you laid on seemed to comfort it. “Pete, go get Deanna.” Aaron instructed, sitting up in his seat next to your bedside. Your eyes wandered the room, trying to figure out where you were. “Hey. I’m Aaron. You’re in the infirmary in a community called Alexandria.” You looked to the man that sat to your right. He had a very kind face and gentle eyes. His clothes were perfectly clean and his curly brown hair was freshly washed and fluffy.

“Myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast to look for survivors to bring here.” Aaron clarified further, “We found you and brought you back, you were in really bad shape…you still…you still kind of are.”

Aaron could see the confusion and panic drawn on your face. Your head snapped to the door when you heard footsteps on the polished wood floors. “Hi” Deanna gently said approaching your bedside. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. What’s your name?”

Your mouth hung open for a second, your mind still wasn’t clear, and you had no clear memory of the last three days. “Y/n” You finally replied, voice hoarse and raspy. Deanna smiled at you, “Where am I?” You asked finally finding your voice. Deanna and Aaron exchanged a glance, “You’re in a safe community called Alexandria in Virginia.”

Virginia?

You could feel your world begin to tumble, a thousand thoughts racing your mind. You were so far away from Georgia. You were away from home. Away from Daryl. “No.” You attempted to pull yourself out of the bed but were stopped by Aaron softly holding you back. “No, no, no.” You repeated and dropped your head down into your hands as panicked sobs racked your chest. “Pete! Go get her something to calm down.”

You didn’t want pills to help calm down. You wanted to go home. You wanted to be with him. You sat yourself up in the bed despite the pain in your torso telling you not to. “Daryl?” You asked Deanna. She could see the desperation in your teary eyes, “I’m sorry we only found you.”

Aaron sat up from the dirt floor of the barn after Rick had knocked him unconscious. Rick’s group continuously went back and forth with one another debating their plan. Once they finally decided and everyone was being assigned a position, Rick turned to Daryl. “Daryl, go keep an eye-“

“Wait, Daryl?” Aaron interrupted Rick’s order from his spot on the floor. He felt everyone’s eyes on him in an instant. “Daryl Dixon, right? Y-you knew an Y/n?” Daryl stomped over to Aaron and gripped him by the front of his shirt, pulling him close. “How the hell ya know Y/n?” Daryl’s tone was threatening yet shaky. Aaron knew if he didn’t start talking he’d end up back on the floor.

“She’s in Alexandria, she lives with me, she’s safe! A-a little over a month ago, myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast looking for survivors. We found her in the woods down in Georgia.” Aaron took a pause, “She was in really bad shape, we brought her back and she’s been there ever since.”

“She talks about you all the time.” Daryl’s hand shook around the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, his eyes studied his face trying to find any indicator that he was lying. ”I don’t fuckin’ believe ya.” The thought of you being alive and safe comforted Daryl but he wouldn’t so easily believe a stranger. “I’m not lying, I swear.” Aaron frantically said, “She-she gave me something to give to you. It’s in the front pocket of my bag.”

Daryl shoved Aaron back to the ground with a thud. Rick tossed Aaron’s bag to Daryl, practically tearing off the zipper getting into it. Daryl’s unsteady hands pulled out the familiar small tan book. As he flipped open to the title page, he read the words you’d written to another that day.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

As Daryl read the new words you’d written, he could feel the lump forming in his throat.

It was easier to die than to say them.

“I probably should’ve led with that, huh?” Aaron joked attempting to lighten the mood. Rick’s gruff voice responded, “Shut up.”

The sun shined in Alexandria despite the rainstorm that came through the night before. You found yourself where you always were, in the gardens. The heavy rain had bent many of the plants out of shape and the raised wooden garden beds were flooded. The mixture of water and grass squelched under your boots as you examined the damage. With a deep sigh, you pulled out a box of cigarettes from your back pocket along with a zippo lighter. It wasn’t a habit you proudly picked back up. But after the fall of the prison and Daryl no longer being there to help you, it found its way back.

You tilted your head up to the sky and blew the smoke from your lips. You closed your eyes and let the sunlight cast its rays onto your face. And as you did, you tried to imagine that you were standing in the garden of the prison again. That Daryl stood only a few feet away, fighting with a vegetable, and cursing as he did.

“Hey Y/n.”

Spencer disrupted your daydream, standing a few feet away and calling out your name. “Sorry,” He jokingly held up his hands in surrender, “Aaron’s back, he asked for you at the gate.” Aaron had returned to Alexandria several times over the past month with new faces. Every time you’d go to the gate and wait for him to return, your heart full of hope. But every time the same disappointment rained down on you. It was never who you wanted, it was never him. So, when Aaron told you about a group he’d been tracking and trying to bring back, you didn’t care to listen. You saved my ass and now you think you can save everyone? You said to him a few nights ago.

“Going.” You replied bluntly. You wouldn’t allow your hopes to grow just to be smashed into pieces. Your eyes were on the ground as you walked to the front gate, cigarette dangling from your lips, and hair falling in your face. Spencer talked his jaw off beside you, every word he spoke going in one ear and out the other. But the sound of a familiar whistle vibrating against your eardrums perked your head up in an instant.

You tossed your cigarette from your mouth and found your way back to him. Daryl met you halfway, his arms desperately pulling you in close. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, feeling his shaky breaths on the skin of your own. Your hair was soft and smelled of shampoo. Daryl grasped the fabric of your shirt that smelled ever so slightly of cigarettes.

When Daryl pulled away to look at you, he finally saw the fresh scar drawn on your lips. He wanted to scold you. To tell you how foolish you'd been to go after the Governor alone. "Ya got him?" Was all he could bring himself to ask. You avoided answering but you nodded, "Come on, I wanna go see everyone else."

Despite the group still not fully trusting Alexandria, they felt more at ease knowing you’d been kept safe here. After helping Rick settle the group into the Alexandrian homes, you sat on the front porch with Daryl. Daryl hadn’t let you out of his sight for a second. Everything you did and every where you went, he was there. Besides when Carol shoved him away to shower.

The two of you passed back and forth a lit cigarette, comfortable in the silence of the night air. “Tara asked me about the Governor.” Your words were quiet just incase anyone were listening. Daryl looked to you. “Yeah?” With a deep sigh, you blew the smoke from your mouth. “Yeah…asked what he did to me.”

Daryl could see the way the thought of it dragged your lips into that familiar frown. “Told her I didn’t wanna make her guilty conscious even worse.” You said it as if it was meant to be a joke but Daryl saw through it. “It’s gettin late.” Daryl begin to break you from those thoughts. He was right. The sun had set about an hour ago and everyone was setting up their beds for the night.

“Ya ah….Ya gonna go home?” Daryl didn’t want you to leave, he never wanted to be without you again. “I am home.” There was no hesitation in your reply. Daryl’s eyes snapped to yours in an instant. “Ain’t what I meant.” You stood from your spot and reached a hand out to him, “Come with me.” Daryl glanced between your hand and your eyes. The night was dark and the porch light dim but you could see the rosy color blotch at his cheeks. You lightly kicked his foot with your own, “Just wanna show you where I’ve been staying.”

Your room was in the fully furnished basement of Aaron and Eric’s home. Aaron had welcomed you in, knowing you couldn’t be on your own in your condition. The stairs were on the farthest right wall of the basement, leading you down into a lounge like area with tan carpet and white walls. An L shaped leather couch sat in front of a, now useless, flat screen TV. Past the couch, on the back wall, stood two white doors. Daryl presumed behind one of them laid your bedroom.

You walked him over to the left door and pushed it open. There was nothing special about your room. Simply a bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a bookshelf in the corner. You sat at the foot of your bed, Daryl took it as a sign to do the same. “I’m sorry Daryl.” Your voice was just above a whisper, avoiding his eyes when you spoke. “I should’ve looked harder for him…I shouldn’t of gotten so distracted.” Your head hung low in shame, “I should’ve talked about that day..in the woods.” The dimly lit room hid the tears that fell from your eyes. “I should’ve said everything I wanted to say.”

“We should’ve.” Daryl corrected you, stopping all your blabbering. Your watery eyes met his with a look of confusion. “Everythin’ ya said. I was there too. S’not all your fault Y/n.” The impact of Daryl’s words made you go quiet. “Ain’t yer fault what he did to you either.”

“I love you.”

Daryl had never shut his mouth so fast in his life. You weren’t sure where your outburst of confidence came from but you didn’t regret it. You accepted it every waking day and every sleepless night you were apart from him. “Nah, ya don’t.” Daryl rejects your confession at the grace of his own insecurity. Your hands raise themselves to his face, a stern look gracing your features. “I have since the prison.”

Daryl didn’t know what to do. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and the warmth from your hand on his cheek. You gently lean in before connecting your lips with his. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his own. If you had just ruined everything Daryl and you had, you at least wanted to bask in his presence one last time. “I love ya too.” Daryl leaned back in, capturing your lips in his.

The night you’d spent together was full of gentle touches and whispers. The only time silence happened was the sleep bestowed upon you afterwards. Your bedroom was dimly lit come morning time. The only windows in your room were up towards the ceiling, just above ground level. For the first time since Jackson died, you woke up peacefully. No panic attack awaiting you, no need to run away and fill your lungs with smoke. Feelings of the night before returned to your mind, memories in vivid detail. Daryl awoke when he felt the movement of the sheet from beside him.

With your back turned to him, Daryl took it upon himself to graze the skin of your bare back with his fingertips. He caught a glance at the deep scarring along your side. The gash had turned into a raised, dark pink, bruised color on your skin. Daryl could see shadow of lines covering its length from the stitches that had held it together.

As his fingertips traveled down, they stopped on another scar. The left side of your lower back was imbedded with the letter “G”. The scarring of the initial raised your skin, though it wasn’t pink and bruised like the other. It had healed to a shade paler than your skin tone. Daryl simply couldn’t believe it. Fucking bastard.

“Branding iron.” You begin, voice slightly rasp from sleep. “Never did it to anyone else…just me.” Daryl’s hand fell from your back, “Come here.” You reluctantly did so, turning to face him. His hand found the side of your face that didn’t rest on the plush pillow. His facial expression’s became serious but his eyes remained gentle. “Ain’t gonna let no one treat you like that ever again. Ya feel like someone breathes around ya the wrong way, you tell me alright?” You playfully rolled your eyes, a cheeky smile forming but you still replied “Alright.”

Daryl thumb drug along your bottom lip, stopping at the pale scar. “Promise ya won’t ever stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“…Bein’ happy.”

–––––––––––

A/n: I've proof read this over and over so I hope everyone is able to enjoy it and theres no mistakes! If anyone would like to submit a request, feel free too. If it's a project i'd be willing to take on, I will try my best to get to it.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Hey!!! I just got the most amazing idea ever!! (probably 🤭) I know that Franco had just lose his grandfather and he had to do FP. And basically everyone (the media & paparazzi just decide to hustle him despite him clearly not wanting to talk or do anything for them. Which is why he wears headphones and cap). So this is more of James with a wife reader. She is practically comforted and was with him since she always does that to everyone. Franco was just so young and she wanted to cocoon him in her warmth. From having bad weather to that awful FP which he crashed and later Alex did the same🙃🙃 Everyone especially the mechanics had to double their work because race starts in like 3 hours after quali. And how can they fix two cars in just that shirt period of time??? Being able to fix one was a miracle, but fixing two? They need to call everyone at the factory it seems😮‍💨😮‍💨 And then Alex not starting the race and Franco struggle in the rain because Williams didn't want to put wet tyres and then later crashed making the stewards flagging the race as red. You know, just a shitty day at the office. Williams out of the race:(( Everyone frustrated, tension arises, more work to do with how the race turns out to be. James admired her about that. Keeping calm, composure and bringing in warmth to everyone at the paddock (maybe interactions with drivers). This is the longest I've ever sent you, so it's up to you how it goes. I trust you. Can be anything you want. Fluff or angst or suggestive. Can be one shot or series. Anything. Just a whole lot of thank you for everything you've ever done for me!!! ❤️❤️❤️ Tag me later!! If you have any questions, just ask me!! I'll be happy to help. Thanks!!! :))

Rain, Resolve, and Resilience

word count. 1.2k

Pairing: James Vowles x reader

AN: Thank you so much for your application i really need that.

______________________________________________________________

The Williams paddock was a storm of activity that mirrored the turbulent clouds overhead. Rain battered the track, but it was nothing compared to the emotional storm inside. Franco, one of the team’s youngest drivers, had only recently lost his grandfather, the man who had nurtured his passion for racing from the start. Now, Franco was expected to push through that grief and focus on practice, even as his heart was heavy. The cameras followed his every step, journalists crowding in with pointed questions, ignoring the lines of grief etched into his face. He pulled his cap down low, headphones covering his ears in an attempt to escape, but it was all too much.

Y/n, the beloved wife of team principal James Vowles, saw it all unfold from the edge of the garage. She had spent countless hours at James's side, becoming a quiet pillar for the team in a way only she could. Mechanics and engineers knew they could go to her if the pressure became too much; her presence alone had a grounding, calming effect on everyone. Today, seeing Franco, barely more than a boy, desperately trying to hold himself together as he faced the cameras alone, broke her heart.

She moved toward him gently, slipping past the reporters who still tried to shout questions his way, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Franco,” she said, her voice calm, almost a whisper. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here.”

Franco’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. He managed a grateful smile, his voice barely audible when he replied, “Thank you, Y/n.” He didn’t say more, but she could see the relief in his eyes. Knowing he wasn’t alone in that moment meant everything.

The rain was relentless, and as the team prepared for the practice session, the paddock was tense. Y/n stayed close, keeping an eye on Franco as he prepared to take to the track. She felt protective, wanting to shield him from all the hurt and stress he was carrying. With a deep breath, he climbed into the car, and she watched, fingers crossed, hoping he could find some solace in the race. But as the rain poured harder, the slick track proved unforgiving. Franco’s car spun out on a turn, and he crashed, the impact sending a chill through the paddock. Minutes later, Alex followed, a sickening repeat that left the team reeling.

The Williams garage erupted into controlled chaos. With less than three hours to go before qualifying, both cars were in dire need of repair. Mechanics dashed back and forth, voices rising as they shared updates over radios and called for parts. It felt like an impossible task; fixing one car was a miracle on its own, but two? Every hand was needed, and the tension among the crew was palpable.

In the midst of it all, Y/n was a steady, calm presence, moving through the garage like a breath of fresh air. She approached a young mechanic, shoulders slumped as he stared down at a particularly stubborn part. He rubbed his forehead in frustration, looking close to defeat.

“Take a second,” Y/n said softly, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “You’re doing amazing. We’ll get there, piece by piece.”

The mechanic glanced at her, finding comfort in her reassuring smile. “Thanks, Y/n,” he murmured, his spirits lifting. She continued to move through the garage, offering words of encouragement to others, giving each team member the strength to push on.

James glanced over at his wife between giving orders, his admiration shining in his eyes. She had a gift, a way of making people feel seen and valued, even when everything felt impossible. He’d often find her in these moments, quietly lifting the spirits of those around her, giving them strength without ever drawing attention to herself. She was the backbone of the team in ways that only he could see.

Back in a quieter corner of the garage, Franco sat alone, hands in his hair as he replayed the crash in his mind. He looked up as Y/n approached, her presence bringing a hint of calm to the chaos within him.

“Do you want to take a little walk?” she asked gently, nodding toward a nearby corridor away from the noise. Franco nodded, grateful for the escape, and they stepped outside into the cooler air.

As they walked, she spoke quietly, her words laced with compassion. “You know, you don’t have to keep this all bottled up. Losing someone you love…it doesn’t go away just because you’re expected to race.” Her tone was soft, non-judgmental, offering him a safe space to express the grief he’d been carrying alone.

Franco took a shaky breath, the weight of the loss settling in his chest. “I just… I wish he was here to see me race,” he admitted, his voice catching. “He taught me everything, and now…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words.

Y/n placed a comforting hand on his back, offering him a moment of silent support. “I think he’d be incredibly proud of you, Franco. You’re out here, giving it everything despite how hard things are. That takes strength,” she said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

When they returned to the paddock, Franco looked a bit lighter. The time away with Y/n had given him a bit of the peace he needed to keep going.

The rain returned with a vengeance on race day, and the paddock was alive with tension once more. Only Franco’s car had been fully repaired, and the knowledge that Alex wouldn’t be able to start weighed heavily on the team. Despite the pressure, Y/n stayed close, her comforting presence a balm to the team’s frayed nerves.

As Franco took to the track again, Y/n stayed by the garage monitors, her hands clasped tightly as she watched him navigate the rain-soaked circuit. But the track was treacherous, and the decision not to put on wet tires soon proved costly. Franco’s car began to slide, the wet track claiming another victim as he fought to regain control. Y/n’s heart sank as she watched him crash once more, the red flags raised as the race was halted.

The team was devastated. The loss of both cars cast a shadow over the weekend, leaving everyone drained and disheartened. In the paddock, frustration was written across every face, the team grappling with the weight of another painful blow. For many, the temptation to give up felt stronger than ever.

But Y/n, ever the steady presence, moved through the crowd, her calm energy pulling everyone back to center. She listened as mechanics vented their frustrations, offering a word of comfort or a quiet hug to those who needed it most. For the younger team members, she was a constant, a familiar warmth that reminded them they weren’t alone in their struggles.

When James finally made his way over, exhaustion etched into every line of his face, he found Y/n beside Franco once more. The young driver looked up at her, his gratitude clear even in his exhaustion. James watched, his admiration for his wife growing with each passing moment. She was the heart of the Williams family, the one who kept them all grounded when the pressures of racing felt too much to bear.

Y/n looked up at James, catching his gaze with a soft smile that seemed to ease his worries. “We’ll get through this,” she said, as much a promise as a reassurance.

[adashoflavendermelancholy]

Hunting

Ace was acting strange. Stranger than normal for him. Which was saying something about the young man. He walked around the ship like a man on a mission. Looking over his shoulder and around corners. Haruta walked up behind him and he leaped out of the way. Leaving everyone confused as to why. Not that Ace answered any of their questions about it. Even when pops asked him, Ace just brushed it off. “Don’t worry about it.” He would tell them. As if that made things easier.

Then it happened. “Strawhats coming in!” The scout called. Marco looked up. Was it time already?

The strawhats pirates had been at sea for a few years now. They had taken the world by storm with all the antics they got into. From overthrowing a government, to stopping someone from taking over a government, they were in the news. Then everything with Nico Robin came to light. Making her one of the most protected women in the world. No one could touch her, not CP9, not any pirate group. The others monsters on the crew keeping them at bay. Whitebeard wanted to meet this Luffy. Might have even wanted to claim him as a son.

When Luffy finally arrived in the New world, things changed. He charged forward to take on another warlord, Doflamingo. From there, he pissed off Big Mom and Kaido. Taking both take on at the same time. With help from Captain Kid and Captain Law. If what the paper said was true. Then it was off to mess with the world government more. As if the world Government couldn’t hate them more.

Marco figured it was going to happen eventually. That he would set his sights on Whitebeard. Being the strongest man in the world, it only made sense. If Luffy wanted to take that title.

Ace, however, showed on deck. Watching the ship get closer, while hiding around a corner. “What are you doing?” Thatch asked, blinking.

Ace hissed at Thatch, waving his hand to get the other to go away. “SHHHHH!” Not once looking at Thatch. Marco braced himself for a fight and for helping Ace get out of trouble. It wouldn’t do to have him running in only to get killed. Based on how he was acting, that was what they were looking forward to.

“Let me goooo~” a voice whined, as they were close enough to see the people on the Thousand Sunny.

“No, we haven’t met Whitebeard. I’m not letting you get us killed!” Another voice called. When an orange-haired beauty showed up on deck. “Can we come aboard?” She asked, smiling at them.

Marco wanted to tell them to get lost. That there was no way they were getting close to Whitebeard. But it wasn’t his call. “Come on.” Pops called back. His hand resting on his weapon as the air was tense. Ready for anything that happened next?

The beauty opened her mouth when something flew past her. “LUFFY!” She yelled.

Fire lit up the deck. Luffy sliding to a stop as he turned. Ace had booked it around using the fire as a distraction. He barely managed to get to Pop’s chair when two arms wrapped around him.

“GOT YOU!” Luffy yelled. Ace was now trapped. By one of the strongest men in the world right now. No matter how close Ace was to Pops, nothing could be done.

“UGH!” Ace groaned, struggling to get free. “That’s not fair, and you know it!”

“Shshshsh!” Luffy laughed, “You’re just mad you lost first.”

The orange-haired beauty walked over to them. Smiling as she did so. “Sorry Ace. We couldn’t talk him out of it. He kept yelling about tradition.”

“It’s fine. I was planning on losing, anyway.”

“Oh?” Zoro asked, from his ship. He didn’t look intimidating, but neither did Rayleigh. “I thought the first loser had to hunt the others?”

Now the Whitebeards were not only lost but very worried. Just what was going on here. “Son?” Whitebeard asked.

Ace turned to them. “Oh, right? Luffy, Meet Whitebeard. I’ve decided to help him become the king of the pirates and not you.”

Luffy turned to look at Whitebeard. They weren’t sure why Ace was trying to start a fight like this. It wasn’t fair. Luffy looked back at Ace. “Okay, but I’m not gonna lose.” He sounded uncharacteristically stern.

Ace smiled, “That’s fine, because Pops will still beat you!” Luffy laughed.

Robin caught everyone’s attention. “Captain, shouldn’t we start the party? It’s been so long since we last saw your little brother.”

The words catching on everyone’s ear. “YOU’RE FIRE FISTS BROTHER!” The Whitebeards yelled. Not sure if they were shocked because it was Ace or if this made too much sense.

Ace and Luffy, for their part, only laughed at them. The Strawhats knowing the feeling. Having been through this several times already. “Just wait until you find out who else is in this family.” Nami said, thinking about the other top names.

Whitebeard laughed, not sure if this was the best day of his life or not. He worried, secretly, about Strawhat coming for his head. Out of all the pirates in the sea, they were most likely strong enough to kill him. Not that he minded that. Dying in battle would be a good way to go, but what of his sons then? Would they be spared afterward? Or killed. There was no telling with them. Strawhat had left many of the crews that he took down alive. But there were a few that didn’t make it.

Still, the more the merrier. “Strawhat.” He called, making the other look at him. Whitebeard and Luffy stared at each other for a minute. Taking in the other before, Whitebeard smiled. “It’s good to have another son.”

Luffy stared at him, then blinked. A smile taking over his face. “Shshshshsh!” He laughed, not telling anything about what he jsut tried to claim. After all it wasn’t Luffy’s fault that two men felt anger run down their backs. Wanting to fight something for overstepping.

“Pops- “ Ace tried to warn. But it was too late. He was swept away in the crowd. Making it hard for him to tell Pops that Luffy was already taken.

[theapangea]

Two First Dates - Part 1

Chapter Title: The Set Up

Pairing/Characters: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 2205

Summary: After hearing about your date with Eddie Munson, Steve decides to finally ask you out. 

Warning: None.

A/N: A series I wrote a while ago but finally moving it over to Tumblr! Enjoy my loves!

*Also posted on AO3: theapangea*

Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist <3

Today was weirdly peaceful. Normally, Fridays are busy but today seemed oddly quiet. There were no last minute dads getting off of work trying to figure out which children’s movie to rent or a couple wondering what movie would be good background noise for their make out session. 

The day mostly consisted of you and Steve doing your job’s mundane duties. To be honest, it was a little tense between the two of you lately. Nothing in particular stuck out in your mind, but it seemed like Steve didn’t want to talk to you at all. You would notice that his eyes would linger just a bit too long and he would avoid any and all situations that involved talking to you. Something was bugging him and you just decided to leave it at that. 

You spent most of the day rewinding tapes, stocking, and ignoring Steve. He seems to always spend his days the same, trying to get a date. He hasn’t been all that lucky since high school and sometimes you kind of felt bad for him. He would go out with any girl who happened to say yes to his boyish charm yet come in the next day complaining about their horrible date and her horrible kissing.

You didn’t want to hear about Steve's excuse for a dating life. Not because it wasn’t funny as hell to see him struggle to keep a girlfriend, but because you were somewhat jealous of the other girls he would give his attention to. You wouldn’t dare to ever say this outloud, but Steve was definitely someone you have a major crush on. 

If you are a girl from Hawkins, you have had a crush on Steve Harrington at some point in your life. Your crush just seemed to never dissipate. 

“You’re really going on a date with Eddie Munson?” Steve basically shouted from behind the counter, pulling you from your mindless thoughts.

You look over the rack of movies in front of you, your hands automatically fixing them as you respond, “What…” you pause for a brief moment, “how did you hear about that?”

“Robin.” He chuckled. He couldn’t believe that you would go on a date with that loser willingly.

“It’s none of your business Steve.” You groan while putting another tape onto the shelf. It was true though, you were going on a date with Eddie Munson tonight but you didn’t want Steve’s opinion about the matter.

“It is when you’re going out with that freak.” He cringes at the thought of you and Eddie Munson actually going on a date. You groan in frustration at his comment. Vowing now to never listen to Steve Harrington ever again. 

You put a couple more tapes on the shelf. You could feel his presence next to you before he states, “I didn’t even think he was your type.” It was almost like he was intentionally trying to stand too close. 

“What exactly do you think my type is Steve?” You questioned. 

Steve instantly stands up a little straighter, pulling his vest down a bit. Clearly indicating that he was your type. Where would he even get that idea? You never said anything to anybody about your crush on Steve. Do you think he knows? Do you think he is playing with you to make you confess that you are in love with him?

“You wish,” you scoff at his inaudible comment and push past him. To be honest, you wished you could build up the courage to tell Steve how you really felt. This whole love-hate friendship thing that has been going on for the past couple of months has been torture. You loved the teasing and the way he would wear that cocky smile after a snarky remark made you want to kiss him even more. But you never got the feeling that he felt the same way.

“Come on, go out with me tonight.” He follows closely behind. His request sends shivers down your spine. The words you always wanted to hear were now being spoken yet at the worst possible time in your life. Fuck Steve Harrington for always having the worst timing. 

“You can’t just now ask me on a date because you know I am going out with Eddie.” You turn around to face hime, pointing out his obvious intentions. “Also, you should ask me out because you want to not because it’s to stop me from dating Eddie.” You add, your eyes meeting his and suddenly his presence feels extremely close.

You can see he was examining your face. Examining what you were actually thinking and wanting to take all of you in. You were standing so close that you could see the same razor scars that lined his chin. You could see the slight emptiness in his eyes and the pressure of growing up too fast. 

Your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say to him but never got the chance. Let’s face it, you were so small compared to what he had to offer. You turn back around before he could read too much further into the obvious expression on your face. Your safety behind the counter and computer couldn’t have come quicker. The soft clicking sound of your fingertips typing away filled the small store. 

Steve huffs, his forearms resting on top of the counter, “Y/N, I do want too. Plus you will have way more fun with me anyways.” He adds, his puppy dog eyes tearing a piece of your heart away as you try to stay mad but can’t.

You could feel yourself giggling at his remark. Damn Steve. He had this way of getting under your skin yet also being able to get himself on your good side. He could talk himself into and out of any situation, especially with you. He knew he had you wrapped around his finger, but instead of actually asking you out on a date he would do anything to stop you from going on them. 

He wasn’t as confident as he wanted the world to view him as. He was lonely and heartbroken. Never fully recovering from dating Nancy Wheeler and never fully recovered from all the rejection since. He went from King Steve of Hawkins High to some unknown dude in the video store. How pathetic, his father always told him. 

But he liked it there, he liked hanging out with Robin…and you. Even though he would never confess actually wanting to hang out with you to your face. You were the reason he wasn’t lonely during the week while Robin was at school. You were the person who laughed at his jokes even if they weren’t that funny. Steve couldn’t believe that he was finally able to ask you out, the only bad part was that you were going on a date with Eddie first. Good job, Steve.

You stop typing for a moment and meet his gaze. His mind was trying to find the right words, any words to save himself.

“Eddie and I have a lot in common, which is why I said yes. Plus he had the guts to actually ask me out.” You confess, your words stinging more than you intended. But you were right, if Steve would have actually asked you out any other time than you would be more than willing to go with him. Hell, he was the one putting you in this situation.

“Fine.” Steve groans, his forehead now resting on the counter. You finally thought that you had won, that he was finally going to leave you alone. You go back to the computer screen, inputting the number on the tape cover.

“But we are going out tomorrow.” He demands. His confidence finally finding its voice. 

You giggle again. How could he be so demanding all the time? How could he just keep asking after you basically said no? “I’m not sure if I’m free.” You pretend to think about his offer when in reality you couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington continued to keep asking you out on a date. You almost had to pinch yourself, really hoping this was not some sort of dream. 

“I know you aren’t.” He wasn’t appeased by the joke, “I am picking you up at 5 tomorrow.” 

“Isn’t that a little early for dinner?” A puzzled look landing on your face.

“5 in the morning, duh.” He clarifies. The smile that formed on his face was unlike any other. You were now this big prize that he has won and he was happy to be able to show you off. The fact that he was finally able to go on a real date with you was amazing and nerve-wrecking.

“Morning?” You repeat as he walks away without another word. Why 5 in the morning? Why in the world would Steve want to even get up that early on a Saturday? You wondered what kind of plans he could possibly have at 5 in the morning. 

It was a little awkward for the rest of your shift together. Steve seemed oddly pleased with himself after your little interaction and you seemed completely torn between these two dates. You didn’t know what to do. On one hand, you were going on a date with someone who has actually made it clear that he wanted to date you. And on the other hand, you are going to go on a date with the literal man of your dreams. 

In a way, you felt guilty. You felt guilty because it felt like you were dragging Eddie into this situation. You knew in your heart that Steve was the one, but you weren’t completely sure if Steve really felt the same way. He could just really not want you to date Eddie and would do anything to stop it. 

Eddie has been asking you out nonstop since sophomore year of high school and Steve never gave you a second look in high school. Steve was one of your best friends and Eddie was someone you lost touch with after graduation.

You couldn’t make a decision between the two of them. How could you? How could you pick between them? You never thought in your small town life that two very attractive men would try and date you around the same time. 

The neverending thoughts of the next 24 hours and your next two dates made the rest of the day go by quickly. You had barely spoken five words to Steve since he asked you out. You were speechless. Absolutely speechless. 

When the clock struck 6pm and it was finally time to go home. You couldn’t help but to try and high tail it out the door without so much as a goodbye to your coworker. Coworker, that’s all he was. He wasn’t your knight in shining armor like you wanted him to be. He was a coworker that you see often and there's nothing much to it. You tried to remind yourself but it just wasn’t working. 

“You still want a ride home?” Steve calls while locking the doors and before you are out of earshot.

You stop before your feet leave the short sidewalk. Contemplating if you still need the ride home. In reality, you do, that was the reason you asked in the first place. But after today and your mind going thousands of miles per an hour, the last place you wanted to be is stuck in a metal box with Steve.

You turn on your heels, knowing that if he drove you home it would give you more time to get ready for your date with Eddie. “Sure” You huff.

“Don’t act so sad.” He opens the car door for you. 

Most of the car ride was silent to say the least. Awkward, yes. Uncomfortable, yes. But you liked driving with Steve. He’s given you a ride home a couple of times and he’s always so talkative. But today was different, he seemed quiet and distant. The radio hummed lowly but the silence was too much to bear. 

“You can still go out tonight with me instead.” He finally breaks the tension, before putting the car in park in front of your house.

You continue to look forward. You could feel his eyes burning a whole into your head, trying to figure out what is going on in your brain. 

“Steve, drop it.” You look over at him, his sight almost taking your breath away, “Besides what if I like Eddie more and just don’t want to go on the date with you tomorrow?” You snark.

“That wouldn’t happen.” Steve rebuttals, knowing damn well that he is right. 

The breathy chuckle escapes your lips as you just cannot believe this day. It was so far away from what you expected that you almost don’t believe you are alive right now. You got out of the car not saying another word. The loud bang of the car door echoing for miles.

“Hey,” He shouts, leaning forward over the passenger seat, “I can’t wait for our date tomorrow.”

You try to conceal the smile that has formed. Damn this day, damn the date, and damn Steve Harrington.

~~

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!! <3

[mischiefmaker615]

To Better Use

Rating: R

Summary: Captured, you now find yourself doing anything to protect your comrades. 

You claw at Baron’s wrist as he keeps a firm hand over your mouth while his other holds tight to your wrist pinned behind your back. Your struggling lessened the more you were sure he would break your arm whenever he yanked upon feeling you jerk. Of course you made yourself feel better by telling yourself you merely held back during your capture, he was your friend after all.. was. ‘’she managed to find our location sir, but we’re sure her capture took place before she had the chance to send out a signal.’’ Clint reported as your eyes lift up and widen to find Loki turning towards the both of you with an unreadable look on his face. Or at least, for a moment before what you could read was triumph and hunger as his eyes scanned over your body. Your SHIELD uniform did a good job hugging your figure, something you wished wasn’t existent right now as your struggles began again when he stalked towards you. You had indeed kept the chase up on your own after headquarters sunk into the ground when Loki escaped, and without working equipment, couldn’t risk staying behind with the rest and lose sight of them. Of course, a million of different results popped up in your head on how you could have gone about this differently so you didn’t find yourself before Loki now being held tightly by the friend you used to know and work with. ‘’using your natural blue orbs to blend in with the rest was indeed intelligent on your part, but coming alone was the most foolish thing you could have done.’’ Loki chuckled and flashed his eyes at Barton who understood and uncovered your mouth by relocating his arm across your throat in a hold but didn’t choke you. Taking a deep breath once your airway worked properly again, you dug your nails into Clint’s arm while your eyes glared back at Loki. ‘’you didn’t look much like a threat so I decided to take my chances.’’ You replied with sarcasm dripping in your voice as he merely smirked and placed a finger under your chin, his thumb stroking your skin as he admired your eyes. ‘’Don’t test me Y/N, I can make your life a living hell if I want to.’’ Loki replied, his voice rather calm as his eyes scanned you once more as he seemed to be thinking before his eyes switched to Clint. ‘’take her to the chamber, I shall deal with her myself.’’ Your body tensed at his words but kept your expression almost unreadable as Loki gave you one last smirk before he moved past you to the other fellow agents following under his orders. Before you could question anything, Clint moved forward, pushing his legs and chest against you so it moved you forward with his grip never faltering under your harsh nails you were sure was making him bleed. Dragging you down a few halls and around a handful of corners, he finally released you after shoving you into an extremely small and dimly lit room; with the only thing accompanying the lamp, was a bed. Spinning on your heel to face him, Clint slammed the door shut behind him before you could even try to talk him out of.. whatever spell Loki had him under. This was bad, very bad.. Your eyes scanned for a door other than the one you just came from- a window, a vent perhaps? Nothing.. the only thing you did have currently was the fight to survive and a million things going through your head; first one being, why were you still alive or mind controlled.. Your thoughts didn’t have much time for answers before the door was opened to reveal Loki who wasted no time shutting it behind him and his body noticeably relaxed itself. Trying to take over the world had its stressful moments probably.. “I’m surprised you didn’t try the door darling.’’ Loki smirked as he opened his eyes and turned to face you with a hand going directly to lock the door behind him. ‘’..it was unlocked?’’ you asked, a little surprised honestly as he smirked and took a step towards you in which you offered a step back. ‘’as soon as he left, unless you thought trying the door would be to obvious?’’ he smirked, his hands placed behind his back as if he were observing an unearthly creature. Your eyes flashed him a glare and your posture offered a position where you would try to defend yourself if he tried anything. ‘’did you just come here to make me feel stupid or are you just going to kill me now?’’ you snapped. Loki’s expression softened as he cocked his head to the side in curiosity ‘’kill a fine creature like you? Now wouldn’t that be a great waste of flesh.’’ He chuckled and proceeded to move forward. Your eyes side eyed him as you backed away, your body somehow forgetting your combat skills as you pressed yourself up against the wall before he found himself standing before you. You flinched when he raised his hands but he didn’t hit you, but merely rested his hands against the wall on either side of you, making your blue orbs move to his own questionably. ‘’Afraid I will try to pull something... ungentlemanly? Scandalous perhaps?" he seemed to mock and you gave a slight glare. ‘’why else would you be in my personal space..’’ ‘’you’ve come onto my hideaway, this is all my personal space darling.’’ He smirked and used a finger under your chin to keep you looking at him when you began to look away. Somehow, his gaze seemed to almost make you weak in the knees but.. he didn’t need to know that. ‘’this is not your planet.’’ ‘’ah, so an ambassador i have here’’ he chuckled. ‘’what do you want?’’ you demanded. ‘’oh darling, you know what I want.’’ He smirked. ‘’don’t think I didn’t notice you hiding upon my first arrival to earth. What amazes me the most is how you apparently survived my mild purge. I take it you are grateful he managed to survive.’’ The last part was laced with annoyance in his voice but your look of surprise changed his features. ‘’oh, didn’t stick around long enough to find out? So eager to keep up with me?’’ he smirked and your eyes widened in denial and confusion with your body suddenly feeling small before him. ‘’you.. you knew I was following you?’’ ‘’for quite some time darling, I just thought you’d arrive aster than you had, but I suppose your attempts to blend in took some time before my men finally picked you out.’’ He chuckled. ‘’w-why did you let me follow you?..’’ His chin tilted up slightly with his eyes glued to yours, the silence getting thick as he contemplated a moment before he simply grinned. ‘’It gets awfully lonely in almost an eternity of seclusion.. and a ravishing creature such as yourself needs to be shown the correct way of how to serve and not for these weak mortals..’’ Your back couldn’t have sunk farther into the wall by his words, nor could your eyes have gotten any wider as you came to the realization of what he meant. ‘’..don’t think for one second that I’d ever-‘’ Your words turned into a yelp when he snatched your jaw in his hand and tilted your head up, looking over your face with a mild-serious expression as if inspecting something. Your hands gripped his wrist, a move foolish on your part where he then noticed your trembling and he merely chuckled, eyes softened. ‘’you are shaking way to early darling, but do not fear. Behave and I shall be gentle with you.’’ He said softly and his hand switched to your hair, making you wince and your hands moved to his wrist once more. Once the thought of kicking him struck your mind, he had already shoved you down onto your knees before him, causing you to yelp. ‘’ah ah ah darling, I wouldn’t dare if I were you or I’ll go back on my promise n being gentle. You wouldn’t want your precious comrades getting hurt either would you?’’ he smirked and you glared up at him when he released your hair. ‘’now darling, I will give you a choice. You do it or I will.’’ The last part was a warning tone, somehow making a threat sounding sexy as you glanced in front of you with something catching your eye. His growing erection. Your eyes flashed up at him as he took a seat behind him on the bed, manspreading as you began feeling your limbs ach and shake. Why the hell did you come here alone.. why the hell in another life perhaps you could see yourself wanting this.. why the hell.. ‘’.. I’d rather be mind controlled then do it willingly.’’ You snapped and he merely chuckled as if you told a joke. ‘’you clearly don’t care about the well being of your fellow comrades do you? You saw- what? Dozens out there all under my control and you are telling me you’d carelessly sacrifice all of them all because you don’t wish to take it upon yourself to pleasure your king?’’ ‘’your no kin-‘’ ‘’ill start with Baron first. And I’ll be sure you watch. Every single drop of blood fall as a make his suffering last.’’ Loki said casually, his voice a sigh as if he had no choice but to do the simple chore and that’s what made you stop him. Clearly he showed no emotion or care in killing others, even when he first arrived he didn’t even hesitate.. there was no bluff. He would do it. ignoring the sick feeling in your stomach, you avoided his gaze and eyed his groin, crawling over to him in which you saw his erection twitch by the mere act in doing so. Sitting on the back of your heels, you raised your shaky hands and moved them over his lap to try to find an opening, a zipper, something. You could practically feel him smirk as he made you feel like a fool and in one simple motion, he pulled himself out of his complicated Asgardian attire. By the gods it was huge.. you’ve seen many men before in your lifetime but him.. you truly knew now the difference between a man and a god. Giving a quick glance up at his eyes was a mistake as he gave you a smug and knowing look. Ignoring his cockiness, your eyes moved back to his.. well, more than ready cock as it glistened with slight precum. There was no way you thought you could take it all the way in your mouth but you’d worry about it later as you just told yourself it was all to protect your team. You had to practically use both our hands as you gripped him, feeling his body almost flinch as he sucked in a breath by your touch and you almost seemed to be filled with a sense of power. Despite your situation here, the fact that he was hard because of you, the fact that his breathing and body reacted because of you, it almost made you want to return the smugness back at him. With a good grip on him, you used your hands to stroke him up and down while you leaned more forward to his tip. Taking one last breath, you ran your tongue across the tip and felt him shudder. Keeping your eyes glued to what you were doing, you bent and ran your tongue up his shaft before taking him into your mouth. You took as much as you knew you could handle and your hands cared for the rest and by how much that was, your mouth couldn’t even take half of him. That thought didn’t seem to bother you as it didn’t bother him as you took a quick peak and he was taking deep breaths, his head tilted back with his eyes closed. In that moment, he was the most beautiful being you had even seen.. it almost gave you the main motivation to get you to keep going as you began using your hands to stroke him while your head began to slowly bob up and down. It was hard to concentrate on the positives of why you were doing this in the first place when, to your demies, felt a pool formulate between your legs that almost made you pause. Were.. were you wet? ‘’this is obviously not your first time darling..’’ Loki breathed as he stroked your hair and you almost wanted to hate him. why couldn’t you? You used your tongue to run against him and your throat on the other side of his cock to be what gripped him. most girls you figured spent most of their time trying to be impressive by taking it all in rather than focus on the mere focus of making it feel good. Your knowledge seemed to work on Loki at least as you could hear him let out a breathy moan. Beginning to pick up the pace, you bobbed your head a bit faster while also doing your best to suck on him more. You could feel his leg muscles tighten and you figured he was doing his best not to buck. Hoping what you were doing was just enough, you kept at it before you jumped at the feeling of his fingers in our hair. Starting to pull back a little, his fingers tightened to stop you and took the initiative by pushing your head down more before pulling it back up repeatedly. Trying not to resist so he could understand he didn’t need to force you, it didn’t seem to come across him. hat, or he didn’t care anymore as he began bucking his hips up now to match your throat. With him guiding your head with his fingers in your hair and his hips snapping up, the face now began making your eyes water and your gag reflex to begin to trigger. You remembered a small trick to prevent your gag reflex which was to squeeze your thumb down but his harsh movement canceled that trick out. Panic began filling your chest as you tapped and pushed against his thighs to try to free himself but that just seemed to make him down faster as his heavy breathing and moans filled your ears. The thought of choking to breath flashed in your mind and before you could feel like you’d die if he kept going longer, you felt his cock twitch in your throat and his thrusts slowed. Your eyes widened as your body tensed, feeling hot liquid shooting and running down your throat. Releasing a small whimper, Loki kept your head down and stilled his movement. ‘’you will take all of me little one’’ he growled and didn’t release you until you swallowed every drop. Once you had, he finally released your hair and you fell back onto your rump, taking in generous amounts of air as your hand held your sore throat. ‘’f-fuck you..’’ you croaked, rubbing your neck as your eyes timidly glanced at him and he chuckled, standing up where his hands moved to properly undo his pants. ‘’well what did you think was going to happen next..’’

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

how are the KMITD boys spending christmas? both in the future as a family and during their first years together🥹

Oooh I haven’t thought about this too much past the one little mention in Ours a Love I Held Tightly, this is fun 😍 I somehow took this too far and not far enough lol

Their first Christmas together, John’s still in HS so they have to spend it apart, Gale and Marge are still keeping up appearances with her family so they have to show face there. Before Christmas they go to a walk through light show in the city together on a date night and accidentally start a tradition of competing to see who can find the most out of pocket light display that they keep up every year after (like someone keeping up Halloween decor but adding Christmas elements). They do sneak away together a couple of days after for Gale’s birthday to stay in a hotel in the city and exchange gifts. John is adamant that he’ll always keep Gale’s birthday and Christmas entirely separate moving forward though (spoiler alert, he succeeds).

When they move away together and it’s John’s first year of college, they haven’t hit their big fight just yet, but things are a little tense by Christmas. John’s still in contact with his family because the money they send him when he asks for it is kind of keeping them afloat and Gale’s dad finds him and starts contacting him again by that point too. There’s tension because John’s family wants him to come home and Gale’s dad is trying to weasel in and Gale’s never spent a Christmas without Marge since he was 16 and they’re still not talking… they finally end up just doing the two of them, no decorations, and nothing Christmasy except that they walk around and look at Christmas lights together with some hot chocolate and things feel okay for the first time in weeks, they see a reindeer with a bikini on it at a frat house that wins the light award that year.

By the next year, Gale has cut off his dad entirely again, John’s gone mostly no contact with his family, and John is determined to make Christmas an experience. It was always so formal and boring with his family. They’re not struggling too bad despite not being supplemented by John’s parents because Curt has moved in and is helping with bills. So, John goes to thrift stores and gets an obscene amount of Christmas decor and decorates the day they get back from Thanksgiving break at the Biddick’s back in Wisconsin. He even gets a fugly little tree and Gale’s never gotten into Christmas because he didn’t celebrate from ages 9-16 and after that it was Marge’s family traditions he had no connection to, but he gets INTENSE about the tree. Curt and John are not allowed to help because they “have no taste.” They walk around and look at Christmas lights together and it’s a tough call on whether their shitty ass lights are the worst or the neighbor with the sexy Santa blow up, sexy Santa wins because Gale doesn’t want to hurt John’s feelings lol

This is the year Gale gets stupidly into baking because he’s started volunteering at an old folks home and his favorite senior mentioned how much she misses decorating sugar cookies. So he perfects his recipe just for her and Curt and John aren’t complaining but the team dietician is. Curt and John start trying to perfect their boozy hot chocolate recipes and they get Gale drunk for the first time because he’s the only one willing to taste their concoctions. They visit the Biddicks for family Christmas with Curt a week before actual Christmas which starts a yearly tradition of that. They get another terrible Charlie Brown Christmas tree, Gale is still stupidly into decorating it and making it perfect. Someone tried to make shrek out of lights and that wins that year.

Things are a bit wild this year because it’s John and Curt’s senior year and they’re both preparing to graduate and get drafted. John proposed that summer, so they’re planning a wedding. John has convinced Gale to start the surrogacy process because “it’ll take forever Gale, we’ll pay off the credit cards when I get drafted” except it goes much quicker than they were expecting and their surrogate is already 2 months pregnant by Christmas. John brings them both back down to earth when Gale gets in a tizzy about perfecting his gingerbread recipe that year for the senior facility to make gingerbread houses and they go look at lights and talk about the traditions they want to start for their kids. There is a twerking snoopy lawn display that wins that year. Curt contemplates his life choices when John drunkenly announces that Gale can’t drink the boozy hot chocolate that year because he’s pregnant and rather than fight it Gale just shrugs.

They’re in NY by this point and it’s stressful. John is drafted to his dream team the Yankees (Curt was drafted elsewhere and they’re devastated) and they’ve got a 3 month old (Maverick), they’re newly married, and Gale is doing his stay at home mom thing and is absolutely thriving by that point while John is kind of struggling because he’s not the best on the team anymore. They still use their shitty thrift store decor but they get a nice tree from a tree farm and Gale insists on being the one to decorate the tree still but he lets John put the star on top this time. Gale has found a children’s home and a senior living facility to volunteer at and creates a red velvet cookie recipe. They walk around with baby Mav to look at lights and John is a little morose but perks up considerably when Gale hands him a thermos of hot chocolate and it is a perfect peppermint mocha boozy hot coco. They’re in the city so the light displays aren’t so elaborate but they do find a Santa riding a dinosaur that begrudgingly gets a win even though it’s not that bad.

John has become fast friends with another player, Brady, and Gale has become besties with his husband Benny, so they were already doing better mentally despite the continued stress. The cherry on the Sunday is that Curt has been drafted to the Yankees so John is reunited with his best friend. Gale has really hit his stride now and is in all kinds of things with baby Mav along for the ride. They start a tradition of buying an ornament for him as a Christmas Eve gift and plan to continue it for all of their future kids. They also decide to try for another baby that Christmas because John is getting more playing time which means more money. Gale makes a pink velvet cookie recipe to take to the children’s home, senior living facility, and library because John wants a girl and he’s being indulgent. They bring Curt, Benny, and Brady along to look at Christmas lights and decide to drive out to the suburbs this time. They all unanimously agree that the Rudolph with the shot gun wins because why does that even exist?

The twins, Bennet and Knightly are a couple of months old, so it’s a bit hectic but at 2, Maverick understands a lot more so John makes a whole production about Santa that year even though Mav doesn’t fully understand (taking bites out of the cookies, leaving a foot print by their fake fireplace… etc). Gale is pressed about it, but he lets Mav decorate the bottom of the tree and just redoes it when he’s down for a nap. They continue the ornament tradition. Curt has started an elicit affair with the team’s head athletic trainer, Ken, and they invite him along to look at lights with them and he and Gale get along like a house fire because he likes to tease John and Curt just as much as Gale does. Also, Gale loves how good he is with the kids. He loves Brady but he acts allergic to them and Benny is just clueless. The display that wins that year is a blinking light show with words, expect the people messed up and it’s all gibberish. Curt and John make everyone (except Gale) ill with their latest boozy hot coco concoction.

John’s really hitting his stride this year so they’re a lot more financially comfortable and contemplate taking a trip but when Gale points out they wouldn’t be able to pull of the Santa stuff, John vetoes it. Gale makes lemon blueberry cookies (on top of all of his other now famous recipes) because someone in his and Marge’s (she moved to NY after her and Lil split) book club said he couldn’t beat hers. Gale once again redecorates after Mav and the one year old twins ‘help’ decorate the tree because he can’t have his tree looking like shit. One of John’s presents to Gale that year is a key to a house (fake one, he’s not buying a house without Gale’s input) and one of Gale’s is a onesie for a little girl because he knows how much John still wants a girl, so they agree to try for another. Ornaments are still a thing for the kids. They look at lights just them that year because Curt and Ken have adopted Olivia and are adjusting to being parents and Brady and Benny dipped to go somewhere tropical with their families. There is a whole beach scene with Santa and Mrs Claus that wins that year and John made a horribly disgusting hot butter rum hot coco that Gale dumps out immediately to John’s chagrin.

They now have 4 kids, 4 and under because Charlie (“Goose”) was born around Thanksgiving. Things are chaotic because they also just moved into their new house. They are thriving in the chaos though. John has to hire someone to help him decorate because it’s their first year with extra extra money in a house they can decorate the outside of since they moved to New York. Gale has started a bake sale/drive thing that the team has to work and donate the money to a charity and Gale perfects his cowboy cookie recipe that year much to the team’s delight. John is ‘yes and’ing’ himself with the Santa bit much to the kids’ delight. Someone has an anti Yankees light display that makes John and by proxy, Maverick, so upset that it wins by default. Gale and Ken do not let anyone try John and Curt’s coco recipe that year because they saw what they put in it and “no jungle juice hot coco is not a funny idea.”

John is a star player by this point, they’re already trying for baby #5, and Christmas is somehow simultaneously a production but not a source of stress in the Egan household. Christmas Eve ornaments are very much still a thing, everyone gets to decorate the tree, but now Gale gets to put the star on top since he doesn’t get to make the tree perfect anymore. The Biddick’s actually come to NY that year and they have family Christmas all together at the Egan house and it becomes a permanent tradition after that rather than everyone packing up to go back to Wisconsin. Gale thinks John has lost his mind with the Santa stuff but the kids love it so he lets it slide. The Yankees cookie drive is a staple of the community despite it only being year 2 and Gale has to have help baking his established recipes if he wants to perfect his chocolate peppermint cookies… he’s a little miffed about having to let other people cook his famous recipes because he knows they won’t be as good but he’s got 4 kids 5 and under, PTA shit, various sports and activities for the kids to worry about, his book club, his volunteer stuff at the library, children’s home, and senior facility, his personal yoga class… etc. and John gently bullies him into slowly giving up some control on running some of it. The winning Christmas light display that year is someone who made it look like the reindeers were having an orgy and everyone’s wondering if they need to cover the kid’s eyes but they’re all just kind of in shock. Gale lets himself get tipsy on John and Curt’s boozy orange hot coco that’s actually pretty good.

They’ve now have 5 kids with Cassiopeia in the mix and this is the year they have the bright idea to surprise their kids with a dog (enter: Waffles the Golden Retriever). Gale finally doesn’t feel pressed anymore about not having the perfect tree because it brings the kids so much joy to decorate it with their shit and special ornaments plus he still gets to do the star. John has gotten insane about the Santa stuff. Footprints by the fireplace, having the kids spread ‘reindeer food’ in the yard, eating the cookies, stomping on the roof in the middle of the night (Gale has to convince Bennet and Knightly to not investigate or they’ll end up with coal lol)… it’s beyond extra but they love seeing how excited the kids are about all of it. Ornaments for Christmas Eve are still in full swing, the Biddick’s still come for family Christmas the week before, Gale still runs the cookie drive and he destroys everyone (it’s not actually a competition but it is in Gale’s mind, he wants to be the #1 WAG) with a pecan cookie recipe he invented. They have to throw away the pot that John and Curt tried to make their boozy hot chocolate in that year because they catch it on fire. The winning light display that year is a house that spelled out “send nudes” in lights, not because it’s more absurd than previous ones but because of the lack of pizazz put into it that could’ve made it truly funny.

I’m gonna stop here but they def keep their traditions going, even when they have another big fight and when things start shifting around as they grow and adapt as a family 🥰

[randomnonsensedragonage]

Chevalier No More

Avenie Caron & Jean-Marc Stroud - 1464 words

CW: Canon-typical violence

Summary: Avenie, a trainee at the Academie des Chevaliers, discovers the dark side of the path she's chosen. Then a mysterious Grey Warden offers her a new way forward.

A/N: Slowly working on uploading some of my Ao3 only fics to Tumblr as well. This one was originally published in 2019.

Read on Ao3

“No,” Avenie said. “I won’t allow this.”

Her hand rested on the hilt of her blade. Behind her lay the gates of Val Royeux’s Alienage, and ranged in front of her were several of her fellow trainees at the Academie. Her friends. Or so she’d thought.

“Come off it, Avenie.”

“Allow this? Is she serious?”

“It’s just a bit of fun.”

Avenie gritted her teeth. Chevalier training may have been a lie, but it hadn’t been useless. She was surveying the situation as she’d been taught, looking out for ways to defend herself and get the upper hand if they decided to fight their way past her. The street they were on was open, big enough for fighting, and though many of them were tense as though ready for battle, they seemed caught off guard, not as ready to attack as she was. But the fact remained that it was six against one, and most of them had had more training than her. She might be able to stop one or two of them, but the rest would either overpower her, or simply leave her to fight while they ran to the Alienage. She would have to talk them out of it.

“Attacking elves is not the purpose of our training,” she said, heart racing. “We-we must protect the weak, not prey on them.”

A few of her companions exchanged looks. There were titters. Eyes were rolled. Ariel, the tallest and most charismatic of the group, spoke.

“Avenie, it’s tradition,” he said, voice reasonable. “Practice. Elves today, Orlais’ foes tomorrow. Generations of Chevaliers have done the same.”

“The tradition is wrong,” she said. How could she make them see? She was a fighter, not a diplomat, and her voice shook even if her hands didn’t. She could only think of one more tactic.

“Julien, please.”

He was at the back, almost hidden in the shadows and head hung, but he looked up when she spoke. His black curls framing his face, eyes that same blue that always made her heart pound.

“You cannot agree with this. Please, make them see reason!”

He looked at her, blinked. Then, he looked at the ground. Her heart felt like it would tear into pieces.

Ariel drew his sword, the ring of steel echoing on the quiet street.

“This grows tiresome. Chevaliers, with me!”

Avenie drew her own blade, a noise echoed by the drawing of five others. They ran at her.

Avenie ducked, dodging out of the path of the sword that had been aimed at her chest. She came up and rammed into the nearest attacker’s chest, knocking him back. Someone tried to grab her from behind, and she spun, catching them in the chest with the flat of her sword, then lashing out at fighters to her right, to her left. She spotted Karine, one of the only other women in the group, attempting to get past her, but she leapt to the side and blocked her, at the same time kicking the man who tried to stab her in the side.

Bad idea. He grabbed her leg, pulling her to the ground. Her face hit the dirt, and she struggled to free herself as he dragged her across the dust. With a roar, she twisted, turning herself on to her back and jumping to her feet, knocking Ariel back at the same time. Righting herself, she wiped the blood from her nose, spat out the dirt, and held out her sword. But they were surrounding her, coming from all sides. Ariel’s grin was wolflike, and even Julien’s gaze was intense and cold. She stepped back. She would keep fighting them as long as she could. Even if they killed her, at least she would die defending others.

Then Karine cried out, doubling over in pain. Someone had slashed her in the back, and used the opening to break through the circle surrounding Avenie. A man ran to her side. All she could tell about him in the dark was that he was tall and solidly built, and he had a sword.

“With me,” he said. “We can take them together.”

Avenie nodded, not really having any other choice. He moved so he was at her back, facing those who were behind her. They separated.

Swords clashed in the night. Avenie was taking on Ariel and Julien, the strange man the three others. Karine was nowhere to be seen, must have stumbled off back to the Academie. Avenie hoped this meant she’d learned something.

As she knocked Julien’s blade aside, she glanced over her shoulder at the battle behind her. Though he was outnumbered, the strange man was fighting well, expertly dodging the three trainees’ thrusts and slashes. She saw him knock big Octave aside, slash a wound down his breastplate. The man stumbled and fell.

Before long, the battle was over. Several of her former friends lay on the ground, and the others had run back to the Academie. Avenie wiped her sword and re-sheathed it, noticing that Julien was not among the dead. She felt numb.

“Come on.” The man’s voice. He reached for her wrist, holding her steady. “We ought not to linger here.”

Too exhausted to do anything else, Avenie went with him.

The man’s name was Stroud. He was a serious looking fellow with dark hair and a handlebar mustache. Not the type you’d forget, but Avenie didn’t realize who he was until they were already speaking over drinks at the tavern.

“Jean-Marc Stroud?” she said. “The former Chevalier?” No wonder he had fought so well. “I thought you were exiled from the empire.”

Stroud took a sip of his drink, then shook his head.

“No, not exiled. I left by choice. But I do return from time to time.” His eyes twinkled. “You likely don’t remember, but I was among the Grey Wardens who visited your class at the Academie.”

Avenie did remember. Several weeks back, when they’d been learning how to fight Darkspawn, the Warden Commander had visited along with several others, who’d remained at the back of the hall. Stroud must have been among them.

Stroud set his stein down and wiped foam from his mustache. He was looking at her seriously.

“What are you going to do now?” he said. “You fought with your fellow trainees, and not, from the Academie’s point of view, over a point of honor. Things will be difficult for you after this.”

Avenie nodded. She ran a finger along the rim of her wine glass, but didn't lift it. Her stomach still felt too hollow for drink.

"Do you regret it?” Stroud said.

“No,” Avenie said immediately. “What they were trying to do was wrong. I’m just… disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“In the Chevaliers,” she said. She reached for her glass. Perhaps she needed the alcohol after all. “I thought… I thought Chevaliers fought for others, not just themselves. I thought they protected people.”

“Some do,” Stroud said. “Not all participate in the so-called tradition your friends were emulating. But protection is not a priority of the order.”

Avenie blinked away the blurriness that was starting to obscure her vision. “I… I don’t know what I’m going to do now. But I will not go back. I will not serve an order that places honor so highly above anything else.”

“So, you became a chevalier because you wanted to protect people?”

Avenie nodded.

“And because of that you stood up to your comrades in arms, your friends, even though you knew they might kill you?”

She nodded again.

“May I make a suggestion?” he said. “The Grey Wardens would welcome you as a recruit. Bravery and tenacity are things we admire. Not to mention the desire to protect. And we could use someone with your combat skills.”

Avenie took another sip of her drink, thinking.

“Is the training difficult?”

“Not nearly as difficult as training at the Academie. But it does require sacrifices. Your life won’t be the same after you join.”

“But I could do good.”

“Our purpose is to fight Darkspawn and stop Blights. So, yes, you would be doing good. You would also be able to move much more freely and widely.”

Avenie didn’t answer, so Stroud cleared his throat. “Well, perhaps you should take time to think about it. I’ll be—”

“I’ll do it,” Avenie said.

Stroud blinked. “Really? You’re sure?”

“Yes. I can’t be a chevalier anymore… but as a Grey Warden my skills wouldn’t go to waste. I’ll do it.”

Stroud smiled. He reached out and shook her hand. “Welcome, Avenie Caron,” he said. “The Wardens will be glad to have you. I’ll speak to the training master, and we can go to Commander Clarel in the morning.”

Avenie nodded. A Grey Warden. Somehow it felt right.

[parttimepuff]

Oh no rev has to talk about his extracurricular activities

"Why would Rev talk about his boyfriends?" Beep asked, tilting her head to the side. Her father wore the most deer in the headlights expression at that while his brother visibly and audibly struggled not to laugh. "And girlfriends, too, I guess." She added, almost as an afterthought. "B-beep-" Reverie muttered in hushed tone, trying to stop her. The king snorted. "Snrk. Yeah, ah don't think we need to go into that." Dedede stated, trying to move on for his sake. The Dream Fae, thoroughly embarrassed, had buried his face in his wings, halo burning hotter.

"You never talk about them!! What else do they mean about extracurricular activities!!!" Beep protested regardless. "Beep, I am Begging you-" Reverie pleaded. "You share that kinda stuff with yer kid?" Dedede half asked, half teased, not able to help messing with him just once. "Oh my god, no-" The Dream Fae insisted, despairing. "What? No? He keeps hiding certain memories from me." The Matter explained, miffed about it. "They are private-" Her father defended.

What she'd said caught the penguin's attention more than the banter. "You can look through memories?" Dedede asked. "Yeah, let's stick to that question." Reverie grumbled, wings crossed. "Yeah, but only if he’s not trying to hide them from m-" Beep began, then stopped abruptly, realizing exactly what she was explaining and to who, her eye wide. "…not feeling like either is a welcome topic, huh?" The king guessed. Moving past his embarrassment, the Dream Fae, too, understood what they'd landed on. "A-ah, well…" He tried to think of something to say. "I mean, I didn’t think you wanted to, talk about, that-" The Matter struggled to say. Now it finally dawned on the penguin how she managed the feat. "…ah. Yeah, maybe… maybe not." He mumbled.

A tense silence fell over the room which was broken by knocking from the front door. "Um, can I come back in yet?" The muffled voice of Kirby called in. Reverie wasn't sure if he was relieved by that or not. It might be the worst of the three topics they had now. The king stood up. "Can ah let him back in? Or, well, actually, we can both head out at this point." Dedede offered. "nnnn…" Beep groaned. She couldn't bring herself to decide one way or the other. By no means was she fully used to the hero's presence.

Seeing no one else making a move, Gremlin spoke up "…it's been a long day. I think we could all use a break. We can always meet up to talk more later, right?" He thought, looking around the room for agreement. "Y-yeah." Beep agreed hesitantly. The penguin nodded. "Alright, then. Ah'll see y'all later. And uh…" Dedede paused, looking between the father and daughter, mustering a small smile. "Welcome to Dreamland." He said, turning for the door. The Matter's eye welled up. They'd done it... It wasn't over, but they'd done it.

[aly-writes]

hi hi, if youre still taking requests (i wanted to ask bc ik u have very specific rules for sh) if i could request a one shot for sangwook feeling insecure abt his burn scars, maybe one of the others said smthn abt them, so reader shows him their old sh scars as like solidarity, 'we all have smthn going on' kinda thing🥺 bonding moment

this request is super cute and comforting, i'd be very happy to write it for you anon<3 sorry for the wait, lot's has been going on, but i'm glad i was finally able to get to this. i hope it lives up to your expectations!

word count: 1,774

warnings: mentions of self-harm, lots of mentions of self-harm scars, mentions of suicide and past suicidal tendencies, a little bit of comfort at the end

silent solidarities — pyeon sangwook

If there was one thing you learned from your stay in the green home, it was that everyone had something going on in their lives. The problems varied. It could be considered something low on the scale, such as not being able to afford an extra pack of their favorite treat. On the other hand, it could be something much more serious. Financial issues, mental health issues… the list could go on. Either way, it didn’t matter. No matter the seriousness of the issue, if it negatively affected somebody, it was worth taking a look at.

You liked to help people with their problems. Maybe—just maybe—it was because you understood the struggle of not having anyone to rely on. Feeling like you’re alone with no one to turn to. Thinking your issues were a burden, something that was up to you to carry by yourself and only yourself.

The few residents that remained in the green home thought that you were a beacon of hope. You were someone that they could vent their frustrations to when needed. You were a great listener, they all agreed on that. You were always so understanding and positive, it was almost like you weren’t even close to experiencing the stress that they did.

You helped with dinner, you did daily check-ups on those that would welcome them, and most importantly of all, you were a friend to anybody who needed one. And that was why you couldn’t leave Sangwook alone at dinner for the second week in a row.

Most of the other residents didn’t want to be around him. He was intimidating—you could understand that. It was natural to be scared after watching a man brutally murder another man with nothing but a hammer. Despite these common fears among the group, you knew he wasn’t as bad as they presumed. Call it a hunch.

Initially, you were only going to bring him his dinner and move along. He wasn’t one for talking and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. It was a surprise to many when he decided to show up and get his own dinner for once. You gave him a friendly smile and served up the food as he straggled behind the rest of the line.

Everything was going smoothly. At least, it was. A single comment was what made him turn around and go to his normal spot. Away from everyone else. Alone.

“Look at those scars, isn’t he aware that they can scare people?”

The comment came from one of the residents. Son Hyein, to be exact. She had a knack for gossiping and could never keep her mouth sealed when it mattered most. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes, and were about to go on with cleaning up the meal like normal.

But as you glanced up at Sangwook, you saw how his head tilted towards the ground. His feet were dragging just a little more than they usually were, and his shoulders were just a tad too tense. You were sure that people made comments about his scars before. They were such a prominent feature, after all. But that doesn’t mean that the occasional comment can’t get into his head.

You sighed softly, turning to Yuri and letting her know that you wouldn’t be able to help her clean up today. She thanked you for letting her know, and before you knew it, you were out the door. Following in Sangwook’s exact footsteps.

It didn’t take you long to find him. He was in his usual spot as you had predicted. Back leaning against the wall, his tray of food resting next to him. His head was down and his hair was covering his face. If you looked closely enough, you could almost see his eyebrows pinched together and his lips twitching downward.

You kept your footsteps as quiet as possible until you reached the spot next to him, sliding down the side of the wall. The only thing keeping your shoulders apart was the tray of food between you.

The atmosphere was quiet. It wasn’t tense, nor was it completely comfortable. Just quiet. There wasn’t a single word said between the two of you, and for a moment, you weren’t entirely sure if he had even noticed your presence. But that thought was irrational, you knew that he had, so you finally spoke up.

“Are you okay?”

It was a simple question. One asked so often, in fact, that most people had automatically come up with their own default answer. More often than not, it was a lie. Similar to the classic, ‘How are you?’ Most of the population would respond with a response that goes along the lines of, ‘I’m good, how are you?’

More often than not, these specified people were not doing good. But it was programmed into their brains to say that they were. That’s why you were expecting the answer that you received, his gravelly voice responding with a simple:

“I’m fine.”

You knew his tone all too well. It was the same one you used in the past, the one that you would muster up when someone was annoying you about your condition and you just wanted to be left alone. But if there was anything you had learned over your healing process, it was that things turned out better if you had company.

You didn’t want to force him to say anything, but you had some experience of your own when it came to the topic of insecurities. With a soft sigh, you gave him a glance.

“I think they’re kind of cool. They make you look strong, like somebody I’d trust to protect me.” You watched his posture loosen up a bit, and you quickly clarified your statement. “Your scars, I mean.”

“Your thought process is rare,” he responded blankly, keeping the scarred side of his face hidden from you. While it was a small statement, and frankly one that not many would be satisfied with, it was better than nothing.

You knew what he meant by it. Most people were scared of the way he looked, not welcomed by it. They didn’t have the most open minds.

You looked down at the sweater clamping around your torso. It was your favorite, it always had been. It was comfortable and oversized. You never had to worry about the sleeves slipping up a little too far or being too tight on your wrists.

The only time you ever took it off was to shower yourself and wash the piece of clothing. It was the perfect way to hide your vulnerability and an even better way to hide your insecurities. Nobody was aware of the marks on your arms. Not even your own parents.

You pursed your lips. Was now truly the time to do this? To a man you barely knew? But the little voice in your head was making a convincing argument.

The world has ended. What better time than now?

And it was right. You gripped your sleeve and gently rolled it up, allowing your wrist to come in contact with a human gaze that wasn’t yours for once. He hadn’t looked over at you yet, his gaze still fixed on the ground.

“I like to think of these as a sign that I’ve gotten stronger,” you stated proudly with a soft voice. Your eyes trailed over to him and you finally saw him look up at you. More specifically, your wrist. The widening of his eyes was so subtle that it was nearly impossible to notice.

You continued.

“I really wanted to die back then. Nothing seemed worth it, and the comfort of death sounded more appealing than the pain of living.” Your finger came up and traced the deepest scar of them all. “It took a lucky chance for me to realize that there was more to my life than I first realized.”

You turned towards him, watching as his eyes gazed up and down your arm. His gaze was so gentle. Looking at you as if you were glass and one wrong look would shatter you. You gave him a weak smile.

“Everyone has their own struggles and sometimes forget to think of other people,” you said, making it quite obvious who you were hinting to. You cleared your throat before bringing up your next point.

“Stuff like this—” You gestured to the many scars lining your wrist. “—can be hard to accept. I hated them. I hated them for years. But now that I look at how old they are, I realized that they’re a physical milestone. They show how much I’ve grown.”

You noticed that he was no longer covering his face with his hair, and you took the chance as it opened up. Your hand traveled up to his face and you gently traced his scar. His body tensed up as if he was in danger, but relaxed seconds later.

“It must have been rough,” you whispered, frowning. You weren’t sure how his scars came to be, but you could only imagine there was some type of story to it. You brought your hand down and gave him a soft pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure there are days where all you can think about is your story… but your scars show that you’re surviving. That you’re strong enough to keep going each day.”

And for the first time, he looked you in the eye. You weren’t sure of the emotion behind his gaze, but you knew that it wasn’t anything hateful or angry. He didn’t say anything and neither did you, but at that moment nothing needed to be said.

Your work here was done, you had said all that you thought could be spoken. You gave him one last encouraging smile before standing up. You brushed off the dust that had gathered on your pants and pulled your sleeve back down.

“Don’t forget to eat, you need to keep your strength up,” you called out.

As you traveled back to the rest of the group, you heard a faint voice call back to you. It was quiet, and you were convinced that he thought you wouldn’t be able to hear it. But you did, and what you heard was enough to bring an even bigger grin onto your lips.

Sangwook was a man of little emotion. But around you, it was different. And even if it took you a few more months, you’d do anything you could to hear that phrase be spoken to you over and over again in his voice. His warm, gruff voice.

“Thank you.”

[sukirichi]

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz 

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist ! 

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

[randomwriting-misc]

Endangered | Chapter Eleven

Paul Lahote x OFC

Endangered Masterlist

Summary: Vampires and wolves are not the only supernatural creatures to walk the earth, and they are certainly not the only ones in Forks, Washington when Charlotte Annabeth Swan, “Anna”, moves in with her uncle after the unfortunate demise of her parents.

Some may misidentify her as a witch, but that’s fine, she would rather them think that anyway. But the Volturi know the truth, and they are closing in on her.

December

December 16th

“This is past the point of ridiculous,” Paul says as I drift off on his shoulder for the second time. We are sitting in the living room of his house, a movie playing lightly in the background, one that I am struggling to pay attention to as I am snuggled into him. It’s a comfort so natural I don’t even realize I am falling asleep until I am awakened by Paul.

“The nightmares were bad last night,” I say groggily. Paul’s face is hard, and I already know what’s coming before he says it.

“They aren’t YOUR nightmares, Anna,” he tenses, voice harsh.  

“They feel like it sometimes,” I admit.

I can’t pinpoint what was the straw that broke the camel’s back, but Paul is over Bella’s mood. Maybe it was when I was so sleep-deprived, that I sobbed into his shoulder after school, unable to focus on anything as exhaustion took over my body. Maybe it was when I fell into such a deep sleep, he couldn’t wake me up, which terrified him. Whatever it was, he wanted it to end.

“She’s being selfish,” he hisses.

“Don’t say that.”

“She’s been ignoring everyone for months, and you are bending over backward to make sure nothing happens to her.”

I still hadn’t told him about the Volturi, that it wasn’t just about protecting Bella and Charlie anymore. It was about avoiding being hunted down. I knew it would just add fuel to the fire. The boys were already working themselves to the bone, just the three of them.

I also hadn’t told him about everything my parents left me in their will. It was still overwhelming, and Charlie and I had yet to go through all of the paperwork, but the assets and money alone were insane to think about. I never really thought about how old my mother was, not after she started aging normally with my dad, but it was old enough to have a great amount of wealth apparently.

“I think Charlie sees how bad she’s getting,” I provide, hoping that will quell his anger.

“It’s been bad, Charlie has been suffering too.”

“I’ll talk to him, okay? Get her help,” I say, hoping to move on.

“Or a psychiatric hospital.”

I flick his arm, “Seriously Paul, don’t say that about her. She’s family.”

He tsks and leans back on the couch, this time staying silent as I drift off. Before I am lulled off completely, I feel Paul kiss my temple tenderly.

I smile softly, he can never keep up the asshole schtick for long.

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

December 21st

After months of practice, my magic felt easier now, more natural. I had pretty good control of it, even fire was less terrifying than before. I got to use my abilities around the pack and Elders more as I trusted more people to know. If they could keep the boy’s secret, I knew they could keep mine. Slowly, I started speaking to individuals about it, and most reacted with a simple nod and a smile. Harry jokingly named me the official fire starter for the meetings.

Kim had been the first one we clued into my abilities. The girl had fallen into our routine well. It was often that Emily, Kim, and I found ourselves together as our respective partners roamed the woods. Another hiker had gone missing, and we had a sinking feeling they wouldn’t be able to find them alive.

She handled it in stride, just like she had Jared’s shifting. She didn’t ask too many questions, which was a relief. Most of the tribe had the notion of “less is more,” when it came to me and my nature.

All except for Billy Black. He asked more questions than even Sam did in the beginning. Knowing my father and mother personally, he drilled into me one council meeting. It took a promise to come over to his house the next day to quell his curiosity for the time being.

That’s where I found myself now, staring at the front door of the Black house, hesitant to knock in case Jacob would be the one to answer it. Our friendship was tentative still.

Taking a deep breath, I knock. To my relief, Billy answers.

With a smile, I greet him, “Hey Billy.”

“Anna, come on in. I made coffee.”

“You know the way to my heart,” I joke, following him to the dining room table. Two cups already sat in the middle. I sit down, holding the mug for warmth.

“Is Jake…”

“Out with friends,” he says, and I nod. There’s a beat of awkward silence before he begins to speak again.

“So, Will and Aurelia… they left Forks for a reason?”

“I can only assume so, they didn’t really talk much about it in detail, at least not to me.”

“What was she?”

I flinch, “Faerie.” I say simply. Billy just nods.

“I guess that makes sense, there was always a feeling around her, something not quite human, at least in the beginning. I thought I was just paranoid, especially when I stopped feeling that sense so strongly.”

“She gave it up to be with him,” I say, “When she got pregnant, they told me they were worried about vampires, she might not register as a Fae creature as strongly, but I would. That’s why they moved.”

“Anna, I hate to ask this but, do you know how they died?”

“The official report is a break-in gone wrong. But… I was the one who found them,” I choke, tears welling in my eyes, this was a detail I don’t talk about, with anyone really, “It looked like a massacre. I don’t think whoever was responsible was human.”

Billy grasps my hand on the table for support as a stray tear falls down my face.

“My mom thought it would be safe here, I don’t think she knew about the Cullen’s”

“She didn’t, they only moved back a few years ago. Until Sam shifted, we weren’t entirely sure that the stories were just that, stories,” he solemnly says, “I wish I had known, to warn them.”

Something in me breaks as the weight of the situation falls onto my shoulders.

“There’s something else, about their murders, but you can’t tell anyone yet, not even Paul.”

Billy gives me a skeptical glance but nods.

“I think the people that killed them, the vampires, were a group called the Volturi. They are some weird leaders in their world, who are old enough to remember the Fae. My mom was trying to through them off our scent, but I think they caught her up to her. I’m worried they will eventually catch up to me. I wasn’t home that night, but unless they didn’t go through the house, they know another person lived there.”

“You know we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s the thing, Billy… if it comes downs to them tracking me here. I don’t think you or anyone else should try to protect me. It’s not worth losing the lives of many just for mine. Especially the boys, I don’t think it’s fair of me to ask that.”

“Anna, you are a part of us now.”

“I know you all have welcomed me with open arms, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anyone died for me. I can’t. It’s not my right to expect that of you all.”

Billy’s lips are pressed in a tight line, and I can see he is struggling not to argue. In the end, he gives a curt nod.

“This seems like a conversation we should all be a part of, and we will have. But for now, we can table it. I would still like to talk about Will and Aurelia a bit, I have plenty of embarrassing stories about your father for you if you like to hear them.”

I wipe the tears away from my cheeks, happy for the break, “I would love that.”

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

December 28th

I walk into the house after spending the day with Angela and Jessica. Over Christmas, they had gotten some money and gift cards and wanted to go shopping in Port Angeles before school started up again. Charlie’s car is gone, so I knew it was going to a “fend for yourself” night. Paul was with Sam and Jared, so I was alone for the first time in a few weeks. Throwing my keys onto the entryway table, I turn and jump to see Bella sitting on the couch.

She’s wrapped in a blanket, with deep bags under her eyes and sullen cheeks. She seems dim. The life and color sucked out of her. The tv is off, there’s no book in her hand, and she is just staring, eyes glazed over.

I take a breath to prepare myself and step into the living room, she doesn’t even look at me.

“Mind if I sit?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even acknowledge me. I sit next to her, and she does something that surprises me. She moves the blanket to cover me as well.

Tentatively, I wrap my arms around her in a hug, instead of pulling away, she leans into me, her head on my shoulder.

I rub circles on her back and brush her hair back. It’s not until I feel wetness on my shirt that I realize silent tears are falling from her eyes. A deep sigh releases from me, but I don’t say anything.

We stay like that for a while, Bella is desperate for connection, and I’m desperate to have her back. Exhaustion takes over her, and I gently move her, so her head is laying on my lap before I fall asleep too.

Bella does not wake up that night.

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

December 31st

“Have I ever told you that I hate the cold,” I say wrapping a blanket closer around me as I sit on the edge of Sam’s truck bed. The beach is frigid, especially at night, and would normally be empty, but everyone is out preparing for New Year’s fireworks. We all brought pillows and blankets and chairs to watch them all together, turning the bed of a truck into somewhat of a pillow fort.

“Yes, my love, you’ve told me every day since the snow started to stick,” Paul says adjusting the beanie on my head, so it covers my ears. I press my cheek into his warm hand. He smiles at me, laughing at the number of layers I have on.

“There’s too much snow,” I mutter.

“It’s normal for this time of year.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m not doing any more outdoor activities until it’s at least 70 degrees. You can tell Emily.”

“So, I guess we will see you in May?” He lightly taps my nose and I pretend to try and bite him.

“May! Jesus, I miss when my winter was a cool 50 degrees,” I groan.

“You know there’s a simple solution here,” Paul smirks.

“Don’t say it.” I point a gloved finger at him. He throws his hands up like he’s innocent. I had convinced him to at least try and blend in, with a hoodie and jeans on instead of his usual cut-offs. I would be stealing the hoodie later tonight. The one I was wearing now was already too cold.

“What’s the point of having a supernaturally warm boyfriend if you don’t take advantage of it.” He jumps onto the bed of the truck and slips behind me. He removes the blanket around me, ignoring my cry. He put it around him to get closer to me, wrapping my back up, this time in his arms. I lean into him as he peppers kisses on the side of my face, arms squeezing me close.

“Because you get handsy,” I point out as fingertips lightly lift my hoodie and graze over my skin, leaving goosebumps.

“I do not.”

I give him a look.

“Okay maybe a little,” he gives, “I can’t help it, I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately. I’ll be happy when we catch the leech killing all of the hikers.”

“I will too, I miss you,” I say kissing the back of his hand.

“I miss you too.”

The moment is interrupted by Jared jumping over the side of the truck with a bang, followed by him is Kim, who he lifts up easily.  

“Okay love birds, break it up,” he says, and I roll my eyes.

“Big talk from the biggest sap here,” I joke.

“No, that title still goes to Paul, you should hear him, all night it’s “I miss Anna, I hope Anna is okay, Oh, I wonder what Anna is doing right now.” It’s incessant-“

Paul throws a pillow at him to shut him up, but I’m already laughing.

“Cute,” I whisper to him, and a blush creeps up onto his face.

“Ready for fireworks?” Sam says, walking up to the truck hand in hand with Emily.

“I’m ready for a space heater,” I groan. Emily laughs at me.

“My poor girl, you’ll acclimate eventually," she says tenderly.

“Honestly, I don’t want to, out of spite really. It is a crime for this to be normal weather. One day I’ll take you all to one of the places I grew up, you’ll see then.”

“Looking forward to it,” Paul says into my ear, his head leaning on my shoulder. Even through about four layers of clothing, he really is helping with the cold. His arms are still around my waist, hands resting on my hips.

We all settle into comfortable positions, Paul and I move so he is leaning against the back wall, with me still in between his legs. Jared and Kim have taken our place on the edge, sitting side by side. Emily and Sam sit in the chairs they brought, Sam playing with the ring on Emily’s left hand.

“Any New Year Resolutions?” I ask Paul, who thinks for a moment very seriously.

“Keep you safe, spend more time with you, figure out if there’s ever an end to all this,” he shrugs.

The confession weighs more than he lets on, you can feel longing from him. Tuning in a little more to the connection, you feel a bit of fear and a lot of weariness.

I turn to face him and place a hand on his face, “I’m sure there is an end. You deserve an end. To do whatever you want.”

“We don’t all get what we want though do we?”

I sigh, “Maybe not, but we can figure out what we want together. Maybe it’ll be easier that way.”

“Everything is easier with you.” He meets my gaze earnestly. I smile softly. It pulls on my heartstrings when he is so sincere like this.

“Well, there you go.”

“What about you?” He asks, and it takes me a moment to think.

“I hadn’t really thought too hard about it, but they are probably the same as yours.”

I don’t know how well he believes me, but before he can say anything, murmurs of the countdown to midnight begin, and his attention is pulled away from me.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!

As the fireworks begin, I pull Paul into a kiss, it’s a little desperate. I kiss him like it might be the last time, even though I know it won’t be. He matches my intensity as his hand holds the nape of my neck, the other wrapping around my waist to pull me onto his lap. My hands travel up to his neck and face, and I try my hardest to enjoy this feeling, committing it to memory.

The one true thought I have about the next year screaming in my head.

Stay alive.

Tagllist: @abaker74 @adaydreamaway08 @forkscult @eat-cake @sapphireplums @xcastawayherosx @smol-scream @sunsetevergreen @flacalatke

AN: If there is a strikethrough I was unable to tag :(

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

The Foundations of Decay - Part 2

Request: Maybe can we see Jason return and be mad at his dad and trying to approach his mom but won't since he is mad at Bruce?

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Warnings: Pretty comic accurate, beating with a crow bar, physical assault, accidental injury, torture descriptions, night terrors, Jason is very angry, Bruce is not helpful, reader is constantly on the verge of a breakdown, so, so, so much angst

Word Count: 8404

A/N: As you can see from the word count, I got carried away again. I wrote most of this during my exams so I gave reader all my stress and subsequently she spends pretty much the whole time on the verge of a mental breakdown. This also has a lot of references to The Killing Moon parts 1 and 2 in it, just as a warning if you haven’t read those yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the angst!

Ko-Fi

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Headcanon Requests Open!

Part 1

Y/N groaned as Bruce swiped her legs out from under her and her shoulder hit the sparring mat, yet again.

“You’re distracted.” He stated.

“No, I’m not.” She retorted through gritted teeth, ignoring his outstretched hand and pushing herself back to her feet without his help. She knew he was right, her mind felt like it was a million miles away, but she was not about to let him know that. She was angry at herself more than anything, which was why she had suggested sparring in the first place in an effort to try and work it out of her system before he noticed.

She swung at his head, but he ducked under her easily and connected his elbow to her back, clearly not using all his strength because she only stumbled forward a step. She spun around and managed to land a kick in the back of his knee, causing him to drop to one knee. But he caught her foot when she tried to kick him again, making her twist away from him to stay standing. She could tell he was barely trying, letting her wear herself out before he made a decisive move. And it only took two more moves for him to do so.

She swung at his head again, but instead of ducking under it this time, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back against his chest. He crossed her arms across her chest, pinning them with his hands on her wrists. Her attempts to kick him were futile as he locked her into him to stop her struggling.

He hooked his chin over her shoulder. “Anger’s a good motivator, if you know how to use it. But you’re not angry at me, so it’s only working against you here. Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

She went limp in his grip and he lowered them both to the floor, letting go of her wrists in the process and wrapping his arms around her waist instead. He kept his chin on her shoulder as she leaned back into him and rested her hands over his.

“I-I just-I feel like I’m losing my mind.” She confessed in a whisper, not missing the way he tensed behind her.

“Why?” He tried to keep his voice calm.

“I keep seeing him everywhere.” She did not need to say his name. Jason. He knew who she meant. It had been almost two years since she had stood on that rooftop and watched him die in her arms. “Every time we leave the house I catch glimpses of him, but when I try to get a closer look, he’s gone.”

He sighed. “Have you mentioned this to Dr Kline?”

Dr Kline, her therapist. The one she had been seeing for well over a decade now, ever since the Joker had grabbed her. “She said it was normal, a delayed grieving response. That it also doesn’t help that we’re nearing the anniversary.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“A few weeks.” She traced patterns on the back of his hand with her fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounded hurt.

She sighed. “I didn’t want to worry you. Dr Kline said it would probably stop once we were past the anniversary anyway.”

He nodded, pressing a kiss against the scar on her shoulder. “I don’t want you to worry about telling me things, okay?”

“Okay.” She agreed. “I’m going to go to his grave tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

She shook her head. “No, I need to go alone. But I’ll call you if I need anything, I promise.”

***

Y/N shut the mustang’s door softly, the red paint gleaming in the mid-morning sunlight. She locked the doors and pressed the keys into her palm, grounding herself as she took a deep breath and started walking. Gotham Cemetery looked better in the sunlight than it did in the city’s usual rain. She was not the only person taking advantage of the weather to visit a loved one. People were milling about among the graves, fresh flowers and other tokens of affection in their hands. But Y/N’s hands were empty. She knew Jason would not appreciate his gave being covered in meaningless things, no, he was never that kind of person.

The Wayne plot was near the back of the cemetery, up in the trees with the rest of Gotham’s oldest families. It was morbid to think about, that one day her and Bruce, Grace and Dick and any family they might have, would end up there.

Jason was next to Thomas and Martha, Bruce had insisted. She crouched down in front of Thomas’ grave first, clearing the debris away that had accumulated since she had last visited. Then she did the same for Martha’s before finally stopping in front of Jason’s. She could not believe it had almost been two years. Two years since she got the message meant for Bruce. Two years since she pleaded with the Joker for his life. Two years since she watched him die in her arms.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, wiping at the tears that slipped down her cheeks.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

The voice made her jump and she shot to her feet, turning around to face her visitor and automatically slipping into the fighting stance Bruce had shown her. She looked at the man standing a few steps away from her and was convinced that she had finally cracked. He was much taller, there was a white streak through the front of his hair, and a long scar down his left cheek, but it was uncannily him.

“Jason?” His name escaped her before she could stop it.

“Hi, mom.” He smiled shyly, taking a step towards her.

She took an automatic one back, her hands fumbling to pull her phone out of her pocket before she hit her emergency contact button. “I’ve finally lost it.” She whispered, her eyes never leaving him as her phone started ringing.

“No, it’s me. I’m right here.” He took another step forward, and she took another step back.

“No, I watched you die. I-I buried you.” She choked out, trying to force air into her lungs.

“Y/N?” Bruce’s voice came from her phone.

She took another step back, not paying attention to where she was and the back of her legs collided with Jason’s headstone. Her phone fell from her hand and hit the floor, but she did not. Jason moved forward and caught her by her forearms, keeping her standing. His touch on her arms seemed to make everything compute in her brain and ground her in reality, convincing her that this was really happening.

“You’re really here?” She was vaguely aware of Bruce’s panicked voice calling out from her phone as Jason reached down and grabbed it off the floor once he was sure she was steady on her feet. But instead of saying anything, he just hung up and dropped it back into the grass. She looked up at him with confusion before she had another revelation. “I wasn’t losing my mind! I’ve been seeing you for weeks.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I just had to see you.” He told her, even though he was older, all she could see was the little boy, her boy.

“Why- Why didn’t you come home? Or approach me?” She could not figure out why he would practically stalk her for weeks but never try to make contact.

“Because you were never alone, you were always with him.” The venom in Jason’s voice surprised her.

She studied him and noticed something was off, but she could not quite put her finger on it. “I don’t understand.”

“Why would I want to see him after what he did?” Jason scoffed.

“It wasn’t his fault.” Y/N said automatically.

“Not my death, mom. Although I do blame him for not being there for you, for letting you come alone. The Joker could have killed you too.” He looked pained at that thought. “No, I blame him for letting the Joker live.”

Her confusion grew. “Jason, you know his code-”

“That means he doesn’t avenge the people he loves?” His voice got louder and he took a breath. “And not even just because of me. The Joker hurt you too.” He noticed her confusion and explained. “You know Bruce keeps files on us all?”

She shook her head, she had no idea what he was talking about.

“Well, he does, and I found them one day. I know what the Joker did to you, when he grabbed you when Grace was a baby. What he let him do to you.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” She repeated as she screwed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of the pain and fear.

“That’s not what he wrote in the file.” Jason told her, his voice suddenly softer. “I wish you hadn’t called him. We both know he’ll already be on his way here.”

“Come home with me.” Y/N opened her eyes to see the look of pain on his face. “Jason, come home. You can see Grace and Dick.”

“I can’t, not until I do what he couldn’t.” He stepped forward and hugged her.

She wrapped her arms around him, conscious of how much he had changed.

“The suit will be gone when you get home.” He said into her ear before he pulled away and pressed a something plastic and square into her palm. “Don’t follow me, I’ll be in touch.”

He walked away and her legs gave out. Her brain was still trying to compute everything that had just happened as she looked down at her hands. He had given her a burner phone. It hit her then, Jason was alive. He was alive. And he hated Bruce for not killing the Joker.

“Y/N!”

She was vaguely aware of Bruce’s voice calling out for her, but her thoughts continued racing.

He appeared at the crest of the kill and made a beeline to her once he caught sight of her. His eyes scanned the area for any immediate threats before he dropped to his knees in the grass in front of her. “What happened?” He cupped her face in his hands before immediately checking her over for injuries. He found none and noticed her phone lying in the grass. He grabbed it before turning back to her, noticing the way she was blankly staring at a point over his shoulder. “Y/N?”

She shifted her gaze and looked at him. “Jason was here.” Saying it out loud seemed to make it even more real.

“Y/N,” Bruce’s voice was soft. “Jason’s dead.”

“No, he’s alive. I don’t know how, but he was right here. He was taller. There was a white streak in his hair and he had a scar on his cheek, right where he did that night.” She knew how she probably sounded. “I’m not crazy, he was right here.”

“I didn’t say you were crazy, but you said it yourself yesterday, you’ve been seeing him everywhere.” Bruce shifted forward and cupped her jaw again with one of his hands.

“Because he’s been following us, trying to get me alone so we could talk.” A few tears slipped down her cheeks and he brushed them away with his thumb. “He gave me this.” She showed him the phone, the only tangible proof she currently had. “He said-” She stopped, words clicking into place in her mind, as her eyes got wide.

“What? Y/N, what did he say?” He was looking at her with worry written all over his face, clearly believing she had finally lost it.

“’The suit will be gone when you get home.’ Bruce, he’s going to the station.” She shot to her feet and was halfway down the path before Bruce realised what she had said.

People were staring as she ran past, but she paid them no mind. Even though she knew there would probably be a headline the following day about the Waynes sprinting through the cemetery.

She made it back to the mustang and was in the process of opening the driver’s side door when Bruce caught up with her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, his other hand covering her hand that was holding her keys. “Let me drive.”

She was still shaking, so she relented and gave him the keys. They both climbed in, and he shot off down the road. Neither of them said anything, but she was aware of the glances he kept throwing her.

He had barely pulled the car to a stop in the garage before she was out of the door and running for the elevator. She pressed the button impatiently as he joined her. They climbed in as soon as the door opened and he hit the button for the station. She knew he was just humouring her, that he did not think anything was actually going to be missing when they got there.

When the doors opened, they both went in two different directions. She ran over to her work bench in the far corner as he made his way to his desk. She knew before she got there Jason’s suit was gone because the dust sheet was lying on the floor. She rested her hands on the table where all the pieces had been and she wished she had actually mended the suit, like she had always meant to but never got around to. She took a few steps backwards before turning on her heels and walking over to Bruce.

He was pulling up the stations security camera feed and rewinding through it. She knew he was holding his breath as a hooded figure walked in through the tunnel door, setting off none of the alarms in the process. The figure checked several of Y/N’s workbenches before finding the one he was looking for. He dropped the dust sheet onto the floor and crammed all of the suit’s pieces into a bag. He seemed to look around for something. The mask Y/N realised; no one had ever found it. He seemed to realise it was not there and turned to walk out. But when he reached the final camera before the tunnel door, he pulled his hood back and smiled up at the camera.

Bruce hit pause on the video, staring at the picture with wide, disbelieving eyes. “That’s not possible.”

She watched him and remembered what Jason had said about the files. She took a step back from him before speaking, not because she was scared of how he would react, but because she knew if he touched her, her resolve would crumble. “He said you keep files on us all.”

“What?” He dragged his eyes away from the screen towards her, the gap she had created not escaping his notice.

“He said you had files on us all.” The look of guilt on his face told her all she needed to know but she needed to hear him say it. “I knew you had one on Dick, because of his parents. But not on the rest of us.”

“Y/N, I-”

“The journals are one thing, but actual files.” She took another step back from him as he turned fully towards her. “He found them, Bruce. And read them, because he knew-” She stopped, biting her lip in an attempt to rein in some control over all the emotions raging in her chest that were threatening to completely overwhelm her.

“What did he know?” Bruce was still looking at her guiltily, the distance she had created between them weighing on his heart.

“He knew what the Joker did to me.” She covered her face with her hands, trying not to remember. “He’s mad at you. That’s why he didn’t approach until I was alone.”

“He has every right to be mad at me.”

The tone of his voice broke her heart and she suddenly realised what had been different about Jason. He had reminded her of Bruce. Bruce before Gotham Square Garden, before he realised he was not helping anyone as vengeance. When he was still full of rage at everything.

“He’s not mad at you because he died.” She moved her hands away from her face and met his confused eyes. “He’s mad at you because you didn’t kill the Joker for killing him. And-and for hurting me. He blames you.”

“So, he should. You should as well, it was all my fault.”

“No it wasn’t!” She buried her fingers in her hair. She was teetering on the edge of panic, she could feel it. “I can’t do this right now.” She walked straight to the elevator and he made no move to stop her.

Alfred was sat at the table in the main room going through some documents. He looked up as she walked in. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She caught the look he sent her. “I-I just need some time on my own. Can you tell him that if he comes back up?”

Alfred nodded and did not press her further.

She walked upstairs into their bedroom and ditched her coat and shoes before climbing into bed. All the emotions seemed to catch up to her at once, she clutched a pillow to her chest and started sobbing. She eventually exhausted herself crying and dropped off into a restless sleep.

***

Bruce replayed the security footage too many times. Everything Y/N had said to him was running through his mind. She needed him, and he had managed to fuck it up again. He knew he should never have kept the files from her. They had only been his way of keeping everything in order in case something happened to one of them. He never imagined anyone else would find and read them.

But Y/N was not his only concern. Not only was Jason was somehow alive, he was completely hellbent on killing the Joker. He was tempted to not try and stop Jason. Things would be easier with the Joker completely out of play, and he deserved to pay for what he had done to Jason and Y/N. But he would not let one of his kids be the one to do it and he knew Y/N would never forgive him if he did not try and intervene.

He sighed and stood from the desk chair, he believed he had given Y/N long enough to calm down. They needed to have a proper conversation about everything that had happened. He walked over to his shelves and pulled out three boxes. But the one he was looking for was behind them, hidden away at the back. He pulled it out and opened the lid, checking that all the files were still there. They were, so he picked the box up and made his way to the elevator.

Alfred was sat at the table in the main room, working through some documents. He looked at Bruce over the top of his glasses as he put the box down on the table. “What did you do?” He sighed as Bruce shot him a confused look. “I’ve not seen Y/N like that for a very long time. She asked me to tell you that she needs some time alone. Don’t worry, she hasn’t left, she’s upstairs.” He added as Bruce’s eyes got wide.

“Where’s Grace?” Bruce asked, unwilling for her to overhear what he was about to tell Alfred, not yet at least.

“She’s in the living room, catching up on her homework while watching TV.”

Bruce glanced in the direction, knowing she would not hear them from here if they kept their voices down. “Jason’s alive.” He watched the way Alfred’s mouth dropped open and his eyes got wide.

“That’s-”

“Not possible, I know. But he approached Y/N in the cemetery and broke into the station earlier to take his suit back.” Bruce swallowed thickly. “He’s mad at me, for not killing the Joker-”

Y/N screamed.

Bruce’s heart dropped and he glanced at Alfred. “Keep Grace down here.”

He was halfway up the stairs before Alfred was even out of his seat. She screamed again as he hit the landing and sheer terror started clawing up his throat. He threw their bedroom door open, prepared to fight whatever was causing her to make those sounds. “Y/N?”

There was no one else in the room, but she screamed again as he tried to comprehend what was happening. Then it hit him. It had been so long since she last had a night terror that it never even crossed his mind. He was at the side of the bed in an instant, taking in the way her eyes were screwed shut and she was writhing like she was in agony. He steeled himself for what was about to happen and grabbed her arm.

She sat bolt upright and screamed again. She attempted to hit him, but he was ready. He climbed on the bed behind her and pulled her back against his chest. He locked his hands around her wrists, pinning them across her chest as she fought against him, just as he had done the day before when they were sparring.

“Y/N, you’re okay. You’re safe. Y/N, you’re home. You’re safe.” He kept repeating it over and over again until she stopped struggling against him. Sobs broke free from her chest and he moved her so she was sat across his lap. Her head tucked under his chin as she grabbed at his arm that was around her, trying to ground herself. He rocked them back and forth as he tried to bring his own heart rate back to normal.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for. It makes sense that everything that happened earlier would trigger one.” He tightened his grip on her.

“It was so real. The pain, his voice.” Her own voice cracked.

His heart ached, he wished he could go back to that night and stay in, let the city deal without Batman for one night, so she would have been safe. “He can’t touch you. He’s locked up in Arkham.”

“But he’s going to be able to get to Jason.” She whispered, her fingers digging into his arm.

“No, I won’t let that happen.” He assured her as he remembered Grace and Alfred downstairs. He sighed. “I need to go and sort something downstairs, but I’ll be right back. Okay?”

She nodded and moved out of his grip, standing on shaky legs. He kept a grip on her arm to stabilise her and stood as well. He pressed a kiss to her temple and let go of her as she walked into the bathroom. He watched her with worried eyes until the door shut and he walked out of the room.

Alfred stood from the sofa as Bruce walked into the living room, but Bruce’s focus was on Grace.

“Mom?” She asked, her blue-grey eyes wide with fear.

“She’s fine.” He sat down on the coffee table across from her as Alfred sat back down as well. He paused before continuing, trying to find the right words to say. “Grace, when you were a baby, something bad happened to your mom. I won’t go into details, it’s her story to tell, not mine. But for a long time after, she used to wake up screaming. Something happened this morning that dragged it all back up. But she’s okay. She just might be a little detached for a little while.”

Grace nodded, taking in everything he had just told her. Bruce did not miss the look Alfred sent him, but he knew it was not the time to come clean about everything. He would not make the decision to tell Grace everything without Y/N.

***

Bruce left at dusk. Y/N had tried to activate the tracker in Jason’s suit, but either it had been damaged when the Joker had beat him, or he knew enough about the tech to disable it himself. She wanted to go with him, but Bruce would not hear it. She knew she had terrified him today, worse than she had in years. He told her what he had told Grace when he reappeared in the bedroom carrying the box of files for her to read. He had promised he would back her with whichever version of the story she chose to tell Grace. She knew they were cutting it close. Grace was thirteen now, and she was not going to be oblivious about her parents’ involvement in vigilantism forever.

But Y/N had already lost one of her kids to this life, and while Dick might be alive and well in Bludhaven, he was still following in Bruce’s footsteps, even if he was Nightwing now and not Robin. The promise she made Jason still stood; she would not let Grace follow them.

“Mom?”

It seemed Y/N’s thoughts had summoned her, because Grace gently pushed open Jason’s door the rest of the way and looked to where Y/N was sitting on his bed.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?” Y/N tried to put a smile on her face, but it was weaker than she intended.

Grace walked in almost nervously, sitting on the bed next to Y/N. “Dad told me some things earlier.”

“I know. He told me.” Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was about to be said. “When you were about a year old, me, you and Dick were home alone. Your dad and Alfred had gone out for the evening, I can’t even remember where they went. But I had put you and Dick to bed and was sat in the living room reading when I heard footsteps in the main room. I went to investigate, and the Joker and four other men were there. He said he wanted to talk to me but then Dick came downstairs. The men were armed, and I didn’t know what else to do. So, I told him I would do whatever he wanted, as long as he left you and Dick alone. He agreed, so I told Dick to go back upstairs, and he locked himself in the nursery with you.

“I asked him what he wanted to talk to me about, but he didn’t want your dad or Alfred coming back while he was still here. One of his men grabbed me and I had to go with him, because if I hadn’t, he would have done something to you and your brother. They took me to a building on the outskirts of town. He wanted my help. He knew I was an engineer and he wanted me to help him disable Batman’s tech. But I told him I had no idea, that I had only met Batman once and didn’t exactly have time to check out his tech. But he didn’t like that answer. So, he-” She cut herself off and bit her lip to stop her tears falling.

“He hurt you.” Grace finished for her. “Like he hurt Jason.”

Y/N reached out and took Grace’s hand. “Yes, not exactly the same way he hurt Jason, but he hurt me. Batman found me and he made sure I came home. But for a long time after, I would dream that I was back there, with him. The only way I wouldn’t was sleeping in the nursery. But your dad helped me, even sleeping on your nursery floor just so I didn’t have to be alone. Someone brought up what happened this morning and it all came back to me. And then me and your dad had a disagreement and it made everything worse. I wasn’t planning on falling asleep, but it happened, and the dreams came back.”

“But you’re okay now?”

“Yes, I’m okay now.” Y/N smiled. “And it’s almost your bedtime.”

Grace groaned. “Do I have to?”

“You’ve got school tomorrow. Go on, off you go.” Y/N said, her smile getting wider.

“Fine, good night.” Grace said as Y/N kissed her forehead.

“Good night.” Y/N watched Grace skip out of the room and sighed. She really needed to have a conversation with Bruce about telling Grace about Batman.

It was not long after Grace had departed that Alfred stuck his head into the room. “How are you?” He asked as he walked in and took the spot next to her on the bed that Grace had vacated.

“He asked you to keep an eye on me?”

“He did. But I would have anyway.” Alfred said, looking around Jason’s room. They had not changed it since the night he died, much like Thomas and Martha’s room, it was still waiting for its occupant to return.

“How much did he tell you?” Y/N asked, keeping her eyes on the window.

“Enough.”

“Why do these things keep happening to us?” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and burying her head in her hands.

Alfred sighed. “You and Bruce have gone through more than two people ever should. But you should remember that you have come through it all.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Come downstairs. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Come downstairs.” Alfred’s tone left no room for argument as he stood and walked out.

Y/N wiped a hand over her face before getting up to follow him. She twisted her phone in her hands as she made her way to the kitchen, debating about whether or not she should call and tell Dick the news. She sighed, knowing he would most likely already be out on his own patrols. She walked through the kitchen door to find Alfred already halfway through making her a grilled cheese sandwich. She sat at the kitchen table and turned on the TV that now sat on the set of drawers in the corner. They had brought it for Grace because she had taken up baking as a hobby and liked following baking shows while baking herself.

She thanked Alfred as he set the sandwich down in front of her and took a bite as he started making a pot of tea. He joined her at the table when he was finished and fixed them both a cup. They sat in silence, only half paying attention to the news playing in the background.

Until the breaking news infographic flashed across the screen.

The TV had their rapt attention as the news reporter came up on screen.

“This just in, a masked man has broken in to Arkham State Mental Hospital. It is believed this as yet unidentified man has freed the serial killer whose real identity has still yet to be discovered, but is known as the Joker.”

They showed the security camera footage of the masked man dragging the Joker out of one of Arkham’s side doors. There was no denying it was Jason. He had poorly patched up his suit and had ripped the insignias off, but Y/N would know her own work anywhere. Instead of a mask like the one he used to wear, he was wearing a kind of red ski mask.

Y/N barely managed to set her teacup down without scolding herself because her hands were shaking so badly. She pushed herself to her feet, meeting Alfred’s worried gaze. “I just need to talk to Bruce, I won’t do anything else, I promise.” She explained.

“I will be coming to check on you.” He warned her.

She nodded before retreating out of the room and practically sprinting for the elevator. Seeing the patched-up suit had reminded her about the secondary tracker she had installed after he had once lost the primary one halfway through a patrol and Bruce could not find him.

The elevator doors opened, and she went straight for the desk, bringing up the tracker programme. She typed in what she needed, and felt her heart jump as a red blip appeared on the map of Gotham. Jason was moving, and fast.

She moved over to her workbenches and pulled a box out from underneath the one by the far wall. Bruce was not the only one keeping secrets in the station.

She pulled out the pieces of body armour and stripped out of her clothes. She pulled the armour on. It was nothing like the suits she had made for the others. It was light weight protection, bullet and knife proof, but would not do much against heavy blows. It was also thin enough for her to hide it underneath the tactical trousers and shirt she pulled on over the top. She laced up her boots, pulled on a coat, similar to the one Bruce used to own, and filled the pockets with the gadgets she might need. She grabbed a prototype box and threw it into her backpack. She pulled out a handheld GPS and connected it to the computer, downloading Jason’s live location. She wiped the location off the screen and left her clothes and phone on the desk. She scribbled a quick note for Alfred.

I’m sorry, but I know what I’m doing.

She pulled out a spare pair of the contact lenses and managed to get them into her eyes after a couple of attempts. She walked over to Bruce’s old motorbike and attached the GPS to the handlebars before pulling on the helmet and climbing on. She kicked up the stand and kick started the engine as she pressed the button for the tunnel door and shot out into the night.

***

Y/N tracked Jason to an abandoned, half-built tower, much like the one the bat-signal was built on. She pulled the bike to a stop and climbed off, wheeling it into a shadowed passage near a skip where no one would be able to see it. She pulled her helmet off and left it on the seat. She looked up at the tower and took a deep breath before walking towards the steps.

It was dark and she really wished she had a torch, but she knew that would just give her away to any unsavoury characters that might be lurking. She kept her guard up as she ascended through the building’s levels, keeping one hand in her coat pocket at all times. When she reached the second floor, she could hear voices above. Jason was screaming something she could not make out, and the Joker was laughing manically at him. The voices were broken up by hard thumps and grunts of pain. She threw caution into the wind and ran up the last flight of stairs.

The light of the city through the glassless windows was the only thing illuminating the two figures. The Joker was on his knees on the floor, Jason stood above him with a crowbar in his hand.

He was badly beaten; we believe with a crowbar.

The words snapped through Y/N’s mind, temporarily stealing the air from her lungs. But she forced herself to breath as Jason raised the crowbar again.

“Jason!”

The crowbar clattered to the floor in shock as he turned to look at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She came to a stop several steps away from him, trying to supress the memories that threatened to overwhelm her at the sight of the Joker. “Jason, don’t do this.”

“Why, hello, princess. Didn’t expect you to be my saviour.” The Joker cackled.

“You don’t get to speak to her.” Jason’s fist connected to the Joker’s face, blood spraying from his nose. “How did you find me? I disabled the tracker.”

“You disabled the primary one, you forgot about the secondary one I installed that night we couldn’t find you.” She told him.

“Is he here?”

“No. He doesn’t know I’m here either. Although Alfred will probably have noticed I’m missing by now and will have told him. He can’t track me tonight. He has no way to find where I am, I made sure.” She confessed, watching as Jason’s eyes widened at how she was willing to let Bruce lose his mind trying to find her, just to stop him from doing this.

“What did he say, when you told him what I was planning to do?” He reached down and picked the crowbar back up.

“He said you have every right to blame him for what happened to both of us. But he’s wrong, Jason, it’s not his fault.”

The Joker laughed again, and Jason went to hit him. Y/N stepped between them at the last minute, the crowbar connecting with her forearm with a sickening crack. It hurt like hell, and she knew that if she was not wearing the armour, he would have broken her arm.

Jason seemed to realise that as well because he stumbled back, the crowbar slipping through his fingers as a look of horror crossed his face. “Mom-”

“I’m fine.” She pulled up her sleeve to show him the plating along her arms. “Jason, I’m fine.”

“This has been an interesting turn of events.” The Joker said behind her.

Jason went to lunge forward again but she caught his shoulders. “Jason, this isn’t you. You’re not a killer.”

“He deserves to pay!”

“He does! But not at your hand! I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be, but please, for me, don’t do this.” She pleaded.

His shoulders dropped, his resolve waning.

“I knew you enjoyed our time together, princess.” The Joker was taunting them both.

Y/N pulled the gun out of her pocket, turned and fired a round into the Joker before Jason had even comprehended what the Joker had said. He stared at her with his mouth open as the Joker crumpled to the floor. “Mom?”

“They’re sedatives. I built it for Bruce, but his aversion to guns apparently extends to the non-killing kind.” She explained, choosing not to mention the live rounds she had slipped into her pocket in case she changed her mind.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked and suddenly Y/N was back on that roof, holding him as he bled out in her arms.

She pulled him into her, running her fingers through his messy hair as he buried his face into her shoulder. “You don’t have to apologise. Jason, come home.”

“I can’t.” He pulled back; heart break written all over his face. “Mom, I can’t. Have you told Dick and Grace?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t. It’s better that they don’t know.” He whispered before turning back to the Joker. “This isn’t finished. Mom, I will finish this. But what happens tonight?”

“I’ll sort it.” She noticed the look he sent her and slipped the small, silver remote out of her pocket and held it for him to see. “I won’t be doing it alone.”

“If you ever need me, the phone I gave you only has one number in it.” He told her.

“I know. Jason, the door is always open if you change your mind.” She said, her heart breaking at the thought of him walking away for good. “This might help with whatever you have planned.” She pulled the prototype box out of her bag and handed it to him. “The mask you were wearing tonight didn’t look very bulletproof.”

He pulled the helmet out of the box and studied it before throwing his arms around her again. “Thank you.”

“Look after yourself.”

“I should be saying that to you.” He pulled back and shot her a smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

She nodded and watched him leave. He took part of her heart with him, the part that she thought had died two years prior.

When he was down the stairs and out of sight, she practically flung herself away from the Joker, her fingers hitting the panic button as her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor. The tears came again, and she fought with everything she had against the voice in her head telling her to load the gun with the live rounds and kill the Joker then and there. She dropped the gun to the floor, kicking it out of her reach as she buried her face in her knees.

She had no idea how long she spent on the floor before she heard the tell-tale growl of the charger’s dual engines in the alley below. It cut out, the silence deafening before she heard the heavy thud of boots against the steps. She could not bring herself to lift her face from her knees, but she heard Bruce’s footsteps stop a few steps away from her and knew he was taking in the scene in front of him. The gun and the Joker’s still form in particular.

“Y/N?” The suit creaked as he dropped to his knees in front of her. “Y/N, are you hurt?”

The question made her aware of the throbbing in her arm where Jason had accidently hit her with the crowbar, but she still shook her head into her knees. She heard him shuffling around and then felt his bare hands over hers.

“Honey, can you look at me?” His voice was soft, clearly scared of setting her off like he had earlier.

She forced herself to unwind her arms and lift her head from her knees. He was knelt in front of her, his gloves and cowl on the floor next to him. The black smudged around his eyes just highlighted the worry in his blue irises.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m okay.”

He let out the breath he had been holding. “Alfred called me, said you went down to the station to call me but when he went to check on you, you were gone. And you left everything there that we could have used to track you.”

“I had to come alone; he wouldn’t have listened if I didn’t.” She explained.

“Looks like he didn’t anyway.” Bruce sighed, glancing behind them.

“The gun’s mine.” She whispered and his head snapped back to look at her, his eyes widening again. “It was a sedative, he’s not dead. But I brought these.” She pulled the live rounds out of her pocket and showed him. “I wanted to do it. Even as I stopped Jason, I wanted to do it.”

He took the bullets from her, throwing them behind him. They listened as the metal clinked against the concrete before they rolled to a stop. She was absentmindedly rubbing at the ache in her forearm and he noticed. His fingers closed around her wrist and she let him take it from her. He slipped her sleeve back, his eyebrows pinching together when he laid eyes on the armour plating covering her arm.

“You think I built all that stuff for you, but never built anything for myself.” She sent him a half-smile, glad when he returned it.

His fingers made quick work of the clasps; they were no different from the ones on his suit. He pulled the plating away and set it on the floor before inspecting the bruise that had already began to form.

“He didn’t mean to.” She caught his eyes as he looked up at her again. “The crowbar, I stepped in between them.”

He nodded, not saying anything as he picked up the plate and secured it back around her arm.

“He said he plans to finish it.” She glanced over at where the Joker was still lying.

“We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t.” Bruce told her. “How did you get here?”

“The bike.”

“Where is it?”

“Behind the skip in the alley.”

He stood up offering his hand to her and pulling her up when she took it. He pressed the charger’s keys into her palm. “Take the car home. I’ll sort this out and then meet you there.”

“I can take the bike.” She protested.

“Please, do this for me. You don’t know who is out on the streets. I’ll feel better if I know you’re safe.”

She nodded. “Okay.” She reached down and picked up her gun, not missing the emotion that flashed through his eyes as she pocketed it again.

“Take your helmet. I won’t need it.” He pressed his lips against her forehead, keeping her against him a moment longer than he normally would, before he reached down and grabbed the cowl off the floor.

She watched him pull it on before she started walking away, listening as he pulled out his phone and called Gordon.

***

The pain radiating from Y/N’s arm was agonising. She knew she should go upstairs and let Alfred have a look at it, or at least ice it. But she could not uncurl her body from where she was perched in Bruce’s desk chair. The footage from her contact lenses was playing on a loop on the screens and she had no energy to stop it. Her head nodded forward but she snapped it back up. She would not fall asleep. Not right at this moment. She knew if she did, she would be back there. Hanging by her wrists from the ceiling in that barren room. Trying not to scream as the Joker touched the picana against all of her bare skin he could reach while telling his goon which voltage to set it at. Feeling the ice-cold water rush over her skin as they increased the voltage further until she screamed Bruce’s name.

She was so lost in her own mind that his hands on her shoulders made her jump up and throw an elbow at his head. Bruce caught her arm, letting go immediately when she cried out in pain and cradled her arm against her chest.

“You need to go and see Alfred about that.” He said with a sigh.

“I know.” She said, her voice thick as she watched him strip the suit off.

He pulled her contact lenses off the upload plate and replaced them with his own, hitting the upload button on the computer. He turned back to her and offered her his hand. She took it, letting him pull her up before he led her towards the elevator. She curled into him once they were inside, trying to use his warmth to banish the images that would not stop running through her mind. He pressed his lips against her temple as the doors opened. He led her into the kitchen and assured her he would be right back as he went to wake Alfred. She sat down and watched him go, the pain being the only thing grounding her in the present.

When they walked back in, Alfred sent her an exasperated look but did not comment on the way she had lied to him and ran away. “Let me have a look.”

She let him take her arm and roll up her sleeve. He sighed as he looked at the forming bruise. He poked and podded at her arm, watching her reactions carefully. He turned to Bruce. “Get her some ice and painkillers.” He did as he was asked as Alfred turned his attention back to Y/N. “It’s not broken. But it’s going to be sore for a while.”

She nodded as Bruce walked back over and handed her an ice pack wrapped in a tea towel before grabbing her a glass of water and a pack of paracetamol. She took the painkillers and set the glass on the table.

“Right, if I’m not needed anymore, I’m going back to bed.” Alfred told them.

“Thank you.” Y/N said, and he shot her a small smile before walking out.

“C’mon, we should go to bed too.” Bruce said, but his eyebrows scrunched together when she did not move and avoided his eyes. “Y/N?”

“If I go to sleep, I’ll be back there.” She whispered.

“If I could go back to that night, I wouldn’t leave you alone. I would make sure he never laid a finger on you, even if that meant killing him.” He confessed, crouching down in front of her and resting his hands on her knees. “But I can’t go back. I can’t change what he did to you, or Jason. But I will be there for you, no matter what. And, honey, you need to sleep.”

“He asked me not to tell Dick and Grace, said it was better if they didn’t know.” She was stalling and she knew he could see right through her.

“He’s right, but we can have this conversation when we wake up tomorrow.”

“Bruce-”

“I’ll be right there with you.” He assured her. “If you don’t want to sleep in the bedroom, we can sleep somewhere else?”

She moved her hands to his face and leaned forward until her forehead was resting against his. “I don’t think that will make a difference.”

He sighed, his thumb tracing her jaw as he moved a hand to her face. “Okay. Come upstairs with me then?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. He pressed a chaste kiss against her lips before pulling back and standing up. She took his offered hand and let him lead her up to the bedroom. Neither of them said anything as they changed and got ready for bed. Once they were settled, he pulled her flush against him and she buried her face in his t-shirt.

“I think we need to tell Grace everything.” She murmured, already feeling her eyelids getting heavy again.

He hummed in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing. The sooner the better.”

“And I know what he said, but I think we have to tell Dick that Jason’s back. Just in case we end up needing his help.”

“We can call him in the morning.” Bruce said, already sounding half asleep. “Go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you.” She whispered.

He pressed his lips against her hair. “I love you.”

Taglist: In the reblogs

[13uswntimagines]

Breathe Again (Alex x Press!Reader)

Gravity Pt. 2. After the incident, Y/n and Alex have a lot to navigate. This is how they find their way back to some semblance of normal. There's a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, and a lot of recovery.

@literaryhedgehog and hope you enjoy our 20,000 words.

TW: Talk of depression, survivor's guilt, almost dying and a few other mentions of homophobia.

Gravity pt. 1

You had always struggled with the idea of normal. It was an intangible concept that made no sense in your world. You had never been normal. Your anatomy. Who you chose to love. How you flew around the world for soccer. Nothing in your life fit into a mold of normalcy.

Until a year ago, you thought normal was an overrated barrier. Only stuffy or intolerant people would be proud to call themselves perfectly normal. It was something you would overcome, thank you very much. Definitely not something you would long for in your bones. Something you would set as your end goal.

Until it was.

This was just another step towards that goal, you reminded yourself. An important step.

You swore at the beginning of your recovery that you weren’t going to talk about the incident. But it felt different when Julie Foudy had asked for an interview for the 1 year anniversary.

You hadn’t recoiled from the request like you did for so many others. You trusted Julie and you felt like it was the right time to uncork that bottle so to speak.

You had to learn how to talk about your past to let it go and move forward.

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, twiddling your thumbs as Julie bustled to set up the microphones around you. Despite the lengths they had gone through to make you comfortable, you were too nervous to even pick at one of the donuts she had brought with her.

“Alright, we’re all set up. You ready for this?” Julie asked, gently placing a hand on your forearm.

You blinked up from your staring contest with the donut, slightly relieved that her eyes didn’t hold the pity people still often regarded you with.

It’s why you picked her after all. She may have been the one to reach out to you initially, but you had chosen to say yes to Julie. Foudy was upfront with her questions, not harsh, but not trying to get some emotional tearful come-to-Jesus scene either. She just wanted the story. Wanted you to explain what happened the night you were finally going to talk about.

“As I’m ever going to be,” You breathed out.

Alex sent you an encouraging smile, and Charlie gave you a little wave. You couldn’t help but wave back at the toddler, or the way your lips ticked up at her little giggles.

“Just tell me if you need a break, or if you feel uncomfortable alright? This is all on your terms,” Julie said, settling into the chair just opposite of you.

You gave her a tense nod, trapping your lip between your teeth.

“Well then let’s get started.”

*****

Laughter permitted theme song

Your stomach flipped at the familiar theme song. The song you and Charlie had danced to hundreds of times in the kitchen as you various friends and family talked about some of the team’s most hysterical moments.

You almost wished that’s what she wanted to talk about.

“So this episode is going to be a little more serious than our normal content, but I think we should start by setting the scene. Go ahead Y/n,” Julie said, her smile evident in her tone, and you shifted again in your chair.

The entire room was set up to make you feel comfortable. The blinds were closed tightly and the lights were low. Alex and Charlie were set up on the far side, munching on the donuts you knew Julie brought to try and ease your nerves.

“Well, we’re in the team hotel and you brought Vegan Donuts,” You said calmly, picking at the item. Despite Alex’s protests, you were adamantly not vegan, but you appreciated the thought. You shot Julie a wry smile. “Which are pretty good, but not as good as the regular kind.”

Her thoughtfulness is why you agreed to this, and her understanding of boundaries.

“They were requested I believe,” Julie said, raising an eyebrow at you. She wouldn’t outright say who requested them. She wouldn’t be the one to out your relationship.

You shrugged “I can’t believe you didn’t spring for the cronuts you got Alex last time,”

“They don’t have a Dave’s in ——“

“Excuses, excuses,” you laughed, and Julie joined in, getting into the comfortable flow of banter. “We got some good ones last time we were here. I wish I could remember the name of the place.”

“Voodoo baby,” Alex said, nodding as she remembered the pastries. Charlie had insisted on getting a bear claw because auntie Sydney had watched Brave with her, and she thought it would make her turn into a bear. It hadn’t, but you had a wonderful time finishing up the almond and chocolate pastry for her.

You frowned, distinctly remembering following that bearclaw with a butterbeer. “I thought that one was the one by Universal?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a chain,” Julie added, eyes watching the whishfull look that took over your features, and the sad smile forming on your lips.

“I think that was the only good part about that trip. The donuts,” You mumbled.

That morning had been tense. You and Alex had shared a room for the first time in forever, and it ended in a passive aggressive argument.

Most of the conversations you had at that point in your relationship had ended in arguments. At least the two of you could pull it together long enough to feed Charlie breakfast without incident.

“How does it feel to be back here?” Julie asked sensing the shift in tone and subject.

She wouldn’t force you to talk about it, but she would take the cues you were giving her. She would only push as far as you let her.

“A little bit crazy. Like, it’s been such a long road,”

*****

6 Weeks

Alex’s fingers tapped idly against the steering wheel, her eyes flickering to the glass doors that were becoming increasingly more familiar with each passing week.

It was frustrating. She had never considered herself an impatient person, but each week the minutes ticked by and she felt herself growing insane sitting here, watching those doors. Growing insane because she was regulated to the car while you were in physical therapy. She so badly wanted to help you, but you just wouldn’t let her. You wouldn’t talk about it, and she was getting fed up with each little “I’m fine” you gave her.

It didn’t take a genius to know that you weren’t fine. Not at all.

She let out a loud puff of air, her grip tightening on the wheel. She didn’t know what was worse, you ignoring her completely, or being there but not being there. It was scary how you would just sit and stare sometimes.

How you shied away from her and Charlie like you never had before.

She glanced up in the mirror, rolling her eyes as you struggled through the glass doors, your sling getting caught on the handle and the steps seeming taking every ounce of your strength to navigate. The way the nurses hovered around you would be funny, if your inability to admit you needed help wasn’t so frustrating.

Alex turned the engine back on so the AC would start running, and hopped out of the car, getting over to the passenger side right as you reached the car.

“Hey stranger,” Alex said, pecking your lips and opening your car door for you.

You huffed, turning your head away and shuffling your feet in front of you, placing the sling between the two of you. “I could have opened it,” you said, wincing as you ducked down into the car, taking a few extra seconds to settle yourself into a comfortable position.

Alex sighed as you awkwardly reached for the seat belt with your non-dominant hand. Your fingers could barely reach the metal, and the way you grit your teeth told her that the position you were contorting yourself into was not good for you.

“I know, but I wanted to be a gentlewoman,” Alex said, grabbing the seatbelt and reaching over you to click it into place, and placing another kiss on your lips as she pulled away.

As she walked around to get into her side of the car, Alex tried not to be offended by the fact that you had turned out of the kiss, so she had grazed the edge of your lips where they met your cheek.

She shook her head, sliding back into the drivers seat. It was normal for you to be more distant after therapy. It would just take you some time.

Alex would have been worried about how quiet you were, the silence broken only by the clicking of the blinker, or how you seemed to stare listlessly out the window as she drove.

It wasn’t the comfortable silence the two of you were accustomed to either.

“How was your appointment?” Alex asked, careful to keep her voice light.

“Pretty good. Did the treadmill today,” you said, voice devoid of emotion.

“That’s exciting,”

“I only got like a quarter mile,” You mumbled, scratching the back of your neck, remembering the days you would run 13 miles in a clip just to get out of your head.

“Hey, that’s still progress,” Alex said, reaching across the central console to grab your uninjured hand.

You let her intertwine your fingers, but she frowned when they remained limp in her grasp. How she longed for the days you would tighten around her fingers and bring it to your lips.

“Horrible progress. I could be outpaced by a 2 year old,” You scoffed.

She wiggled your hand, until you looked her way. “Babe, you’ve gotta give yourself some slack. It’s only been 6 weeks,” she said softly.

She didn’t say that you had only just gotten back on solid foods. That you had only just started walking without the stupid cane.

“I can’t even keep up with Charlie, what is she going to tell all her friends? My mom was great but now she can’t take more than three steps without wheezing and needs help to pick up a fucking spoon?”

Alex paused, thinking over her next words. This was the most you had opened up since you came home from the hospital, and she didn’t want to have you claiming up again.

She was thankful for the red light, as she wiggled your hand again until your eyes met hers. “I think Charlie is happy that she doesn’t have to visit you in the ‘mean building’ anymore. I think she tells her friends that you can eat chocolate chip pancakes with her again, and that you give the best snuggles. You’ll get the rest. You’ve just got to be patient,”

“You just don’t get it,” you scoffed loudly, halfway attempting to untangle your fingers

But Alex didn’t let you. She wouldn’t let you slip away.

“Then help me get it,” Alex said, a hint of the frustration she had been trying so hard to hide slipping into her voice.

You opened your mouth then shut it, not sure what to say. You tried again. “I, I just.” You closed your mouth again. How could you put into words a feeling that you didn’t even fully understand yourself? When it wasn’t rational to feel like you were falling apart, not because you had almost lost your life, but because you had lost muscle in your biceps. And calves. And probably everywhere else too, but it was hard to tell when you lost so much weight from just not being able to have solid food for six weeks.

It’s not that you weren’t grateful to be… but you had always been in good shape. You had worked hard to maintain your health all your life, even with the different hormone swings and medications you had taken. It was something that you had genuinely taken pride in.

It wasn’t that your six-pack had defined you. But without the ability to, fuck, even run a quarter mile without collapsing in a puddle of sweat, you weren’t even sure who you were. What you were supposed to do with your life.

“It doesn’t matter,” You said finally, closing your eyes tightly. None of it mattered anymore.

“It does. Tell me so I can understand,” Alex pleaded, and you knew she was near tears.

It made you hate yourself that much more.

“Just drop it. It’s not worth it,” You huffed bitterly.

Her fingers caught your chin before you could turn back towards the window, and gently forced you to look at her. “You’re always worth it,”

****

9 weeks after

You didn’t want to be here, enough said. You didn’t want to be within 100 yards of the practice field. You didn’t want to be on stupid metal bench on the sideline. You didn’t want to be around the team.

You weren’t sure if that was because you knew you would never get to play again (whatever your PT might try to say to the contrary), or because of how fucked they looked on the field. They just weren’t clicking.

Sophia and Morgan were trying to stretch the defence, but in doing so they put themselves out of position, forcing Tobin and Christen to hold onto the ball for too long. Your eye twitched as you watched them run through a build up again. It was a mess.

One you doubted Vlatko understood how to fix considering he kept praising them for drawing defenders. Sure it was good in theory, but the pocket kept closing around them before they could make it effective.

Each blow of his whistle rasped on your already worn nerves. You didn’t want to be here. It was bad enough just watching instead of being out there. You didn’t want to be here to watch the thing you loved go to shit.

“If you keep frowning like that you’re going to get premature wrinkles,” Lindsey said, plopping down on the bench beside you, squirting you lightly with the squeeze bottle.

You glared at the woman. It wasn’t her fault you didn’t see her coming, so it wasn’t her fault you had flinched and twinged your shoulder when she suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision. But you had flinched, and it hurt, and you couldn’t even respond by flicking her head like you normally would, because that would hurt too. So instead you wiped your face and flicked the water droplets at her, internally cursing the asswipe that shot your shoulder. “I think wrinkles are the least of my worries, when I’ve got a scar the length of a stiletto across my abdomen that’ll never go away.” It would never look the way it was. You would never be the way you were.

“Weren’t you the one who told me that ladies love scars?” Lindsey said, wiggling her shoulders suggestively.

“It’s not the same kind of scar,” You mumbled, shaking your head. It didn’t make you more badass. It was just a reminder that you were the one who got lucky. 1 of 40 that got to walk away only mildly scathed.

“Okay, Harry Potter,” Lindsey said, squirting you again. She wasn’t here for this mopey bullshit. They told her not to push (Alex begged her not to make it worse), but maybe a little nudge was what you needed. You always did respond better to challenges than soft critiques. You ripped the stupid bottle out of her grasp, but didn’t spray her back like your old self would.

No, you set it down on the bench beside you without a word. Lindsey frowned. Not even a quippy comeback. This was going to be harder than she thought.

“What do you think of the 4-4-2 lineup?” She asked, tilting with her chin towards the group of ragged looking youngins heading your way.

“It’s new, and pulling you guys all out of position,” You shrugged half-tossing the water bottle to Sophia. You blatantly ignored the sting that ran through your shoulder at the move. It was mostly healed and you figured the only way to make the pain go away was to use it after all.

Sophia caught the sloppy pass with ease, squirting the liquid into her mouth as she approached. “Becky and Abby keep closing the gap. Im not sure how to slip it,” She said in between sips.

You bit your lip, eyeing the group of defenders on the other side of the pitch. They were good, but making mistakes trying to contain Tobin on the left. “It’s because you keep going center. I’d slip to the left towards Kelley and wait for the cross or through because they keep collapsing the pocket.”

“Why not right?” Sophia asked, still breathing heavily (taking Lindsey’s cue to keep you talking).

“Because Morgan is already pulling Chrystal to the right. You want to split them wide and give Rose or Christen space to come forward,” You explained, kind of wishing you had a dry erase board to better describe it. Your hand gestures to illustrate your point felt kind of goofy, even if it was settling to talk about something other than therapy, or the incident. Almost like you could step out of your head for a second. “It’s not the answer for every play, but with the way Abby and Becky are playing right now it’s the better move to try and pull Kelley wide and overload Abby.” It would be more effective than trying to outpace them.

A ripple of agreement made its way through the growing group of youngins, being careful to not crowd you too closely, but still pacing in tightly to hear what you had to say.

Morgan groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Why didn’t Vlatko just say that?” It was so much easier when you described what they needed to do, so much more direct than Vlatko’s half directions.

“Because he’s too obsessed with Lynn’s zoomies to think of much else,” You scoffed, considering it wasn’t doing the team much good anyway. Maybe a small part of you wouldn’t ever forgive him for playing an alternate at the Olympics instead of the people named to the actual roster…. You also wouldn’t forgive him for his half assed response to questions around team security and his refusal to add more to it.

Sensing your drifting, Lindsey nudged your side. Catching on, Morgan asked “But what if the wing pocket closes too?”

As you started talking strategy again, Lindsey looked up to see Alex watching the interaction. Alex seemed frozen in the process of opening her water bottle, distracted from the task by watching you, a mix of fear and hope on her face. Lindsey met Alex’s eyes with a nod.

Alex could relax for now, it was Lindsey’s turn to stand vigil. They were a team, and they would all have a hand in helping you recover.

****

Alex took a long sip of her water, watching as the youngins all crowded around you. You looked more relaxed than she had seen you since you came home from the hospital, in your element using your hands to describe what they needed to do.

She wouldn’t lie, it hurt a little to see you so animated when she had been trying, and failing, to engage you in conversation for weeks. Not to mention you had fought her tooth and nail against even being brought to this practice in the first place! It was only practice negotiating with your daughter at bath time that kept her from giving in to your stubbornness and letting you stay home, but of course just like your daughter once you were actually doing the thing you argued so much against, you were perfectly content.

Maybe content was the wrong word.

She could still see the squint of your eyes, and how you shied away from contact. Whatever it was you were talking about was better than letting you focus on whatever self-destruct plan was forming in your head.

You could push her away as much as you wanted, but she wouldn’t let you destroy yourself. Not after everything you had been through.

“She looks a little better,” Christen said, beginning to rub circles on your girlfriend's upper back.

Alex sighed into the touch that reminded her so much of you (old you).

“A little. Getting the sling off helped some,” She hummed.

You had been more active with Charlie since the sling came off too, even if it was just in the small ways like helping to feed her breakfast in the morning. It was a step, and recovery was all about little steps in the right direction.

“Maybe being around the youngins will help too,” Christen suggested, hopefully looking at all the team babies gathered around you. Or sprawling on the grass close enough to listen to you, in Mal and Rose’s case.

No one would deny that you lit up a bit at getting to talk strategy, no matter how loathe you were to admit it.

“It’s good for her to get out of the house,” Alex said, unconsciously mirroring one of your doctors.

The one you hated because she always gave you homework you didn’t want to do. Homework Alex hadn’t let you wiggle out of this week.

“How have you been?” Tobin asked softly, taking up your girlfriend's other side seemingly out of nowhere.

“It’s just… hard.” Alex sighed. “There are moments where she’s so much like her old self, and then in the next she’s so…distant. And she won’t let me help her.”

She knew you needed time to process, and support to figure out how to deal with everything that happened, but it was difficult not to get frustrated. She was a fixer, but she couldn’t fix this. You were both fighters and it was heartbreaking to watch you seemingly lose all the fire she had fallen in love with.

“No Al. How have you been?” Tobin asked more firmly, emphasizing the you.

Alex was silent for a moment, her mind blank with the enormity of wordless feeling. “I just feel… helpless. I’m watching her slip away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” Alex’s voice broke and she looked up, blinking away the tears that had suddenly appeared unbidden.

Christen set down her water bottle and pulled Alex into a hug, rubbing her hands gently on her back. After a moment Alex squeezed back and made to let go, but Christen continued holding on, swaying from side to side until Alex leaned into her and buried her face in her shoulder.

“You’re doing the best you can, and that’s all anyone can ask.” Christen whispered, petting Alex’s hair and finally pulling back. “You’re going to therapy and making sure Y/n is too. It will help, it’s just going to take some time to see it. ”

“I know. I just… I love her and it hurts to see her like this,” Alex sniffled, brushing a finger under her eyes to stop some of the tears.

“I know. It hurts us too,” Tobin added, hugging Alex’s other side.

If Alex was going to always make sure someone was taking care of you, the least they could do was make sure she was taken care of too.

*****

“If he subs in Sonnett, you’ll probably be better off shifting to a 5-4-1,” You said, thinking of Vlatkos typical stance on Sonnett. She could be a midfielder (a damn good one too) and fill in for JJ in most cases, but he was too stuck on regulating her to the back line.

“Even if he sticks her in midfield?” Mal asked, finishing up a daisy chain and crowning Rose with it.

“It just kind of depends…” you started, looking up from Mal’s spot on the grass to see Alex. Alex was crying with Christen.

It didn’t take a genius to guess the cause. A pit formed in your stomach.

“Depends on what?”

“Um, on who shifts,” you said, watching as Tobin stroked Alex’s hair. This was your fault. She was trying so hard to make sure you were alright, but half the time you couldn’t pull yourself out of your head long enough to return the favor. It was another thing to add to the list of things you had fucked up.

The only thing you had managed to do right was take that bullet for her, and instead it scarred her for life. Sure she didn’t get shot herself, but watching you refuse to beg for your life with a gun held to your head had almost the same effect.

You knew that because she could talk about it. And every time she told you she understood, understood anything, it was another knife to your heart. You didn’t want to hold back (you didn’t intentionally internalize), but you just couldn’t seem to let her see your most vulnerable parts the way she was willing to show you hers. No matter how hard you tried.

Watching her wilt each day that passed where her efforts went seemingly unanswered hurt, but you couldn’t seem to stop. You didn’t know how to Tell her about the emotions and thoughts that flittered unendingly through your brain. How you wished sometimes that you had chosen to follow your mother down the hospital hallway when you had the chance.

She would never tell you that you were a burden more than a partner, but she didn’t have to. You already knew it deep within your soul. Could feel it in the scar tissue surrounding your collarbone.

You were brought back to reality by Vlatko calling for practice to restart. Lindsey bumped her hip against yours playfully and got up as most of the youngins groaned and took off back toward the field. You watched them, waving away the thanks they tossed over their shoulders as they went. However, a small group of girls stayed, shifting around in front of your bench.

“Thank you,” Morgan said, looking down at her hands which were twisting around the edge of her jersey.

“It’s just simple positioning,” You mumbled with a halfhearted shrug, scratching the back of your neck.

Sophia’s voice was almost a whisper. “No, Y/n, we just. Thank you for sa-…”

“Don’t thank me,” You cut her off, unable to stand how anxious her voice was. How similar it sounded to Alex when she pleaded with you to tell her how to help.

“But-..”

“No. Don’t thank me,” You voice was deadly calm, leaving no room for argument.

You didn’t deserve their thanks. Not when 39 people lost their lives. Not when you were actively hurting the people you loved the most.

You weren’t a hero. You were a pathetic excuse for a normal person at best.

*****

Present time

“So your recovery. A lot of athletes struggle to relax and heal from injuries, but you had a few more than most get during a typical season.” Julie said sympathetically.

“Definitely, you should hear me complain about my shoulder.” You nodded, smiling a bit at Alex’s eye roll, and resisting the urge to run your fingers over the thick line on your shoulder. (Truth be told the complications with being shot in the abdomen were much more severe, but nothing bad annoyed you more than the shoulder restrictions). “But I think in our case, we had to deal with the mental stuff as much as we did the physical stuff,”

“That can almost be more challenging,” Julie said, leaning forward at the change in topic. Mental health was a big issue at the moment, and she hadn’t expected you to be open about your struggles with it.

“Yeah. It’s really hard to fix something that you can’t physically see, or sometimes even adequately describe,” your hands moved as you tried to explain. You had struggled so hard with putting your feelings into words, something Alex could understand too. Couples counseling wasn’t the magic wand everyone claimed it was-- no one had mentioned the amount of homework they had prescribed to help you get more in sync.

“And having the right mental state, it’s an aspect of being an athlete that is often overlooked by the general public,” Julie nodded

“I think we try to downplay its impact because it’s been drilled into our society that admitting we have a problem is weakness. So instead we bury it down, and it just festers and gets worse. Like an untreated infection,” you looked over at Alex, who smiled wryly at you. “And it works for the most part with anxiety about tournaments or trades,”

“But it didn’t work this time,” Julie said, prompting you.

“No. The longer I ignored it, the more everything seemed to fall apart,” You wiggled your fingers, almost like sand was slipping through your hands. You had almost lost your two favorite girls, you had pushed them to the brink.

But Christen hadn’t let you push her away too. She made you face your inner self, despite how afraid you were of what you would find.

“And why do you think you ignored it for so long? You didn’t think you needed help?”

You bit your lip, contemplating your next words. Once they left your lips you would never get them back.

“It wasn't that I didn’t think I needed help. It was just that I had to learn how to accept it,”

****

3 and a Half Months

“Do you want to look at jeans? It looks like American Eagle is having a sale,” Christen said. She peered into the shop window, trying to see behind the display items and the sale sign blocking the view of the rest of the store.

You shrugged halfheartedly. “If you want.”

You were never really big into shopping, but Alex had insisted that you needed to get out of the house.

Christen had suggested going shopping, since maybe a new wardrobe would help brighten your mood, but so far the only nice part was watching your sister ogle her girlfriend.

It almost made you miss those moments with your own partner.

“I don’t really need any right now… Okay, next store. I think I see a Ghirardelli chocolate shop. Want to go there? Or we could go to Ross’ they might have one of the weird jerseys you're into,” Christen suggested. “Or we could go to a cute clothes store. If we find some heels big enough you could finally be taller than Tobin, or you could make Alex’s jaw drop with a little black dress,”

The thought of trying on clothing sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. You didn’t want to accidentally look in the mirror and see the new, thick lines on your skin. Or risk your sister seeing them.

It was bad enough you couldn’t hide them from Alex.

“When have I ever worn dresses or heels?” You scoffed.

“When have you ever not changed out of the same pair of sweatpants 5 days in a row? I thought maybe you were trying new things this week,” Tobin joked, poking you mischievously from your other side.

Christen sent her girlfriend a look that could scour milk, before turning back to you. “Well if you don’t like anything I’ve suggested you could always give an option yourself.” She turned and walked over to a sign with the map of the outlet mall. “We could go to the Baby Gap. See if they have anything for Charlie?”

You rolled the idea around in your head for a second. Charlie was easy to shop for. She was safe. It meant you didn’t have to try anything on.

She was still obsessed with Paw Patrol so as long as you stuck to the theme, she should love whatever you picked.

“Yeah. Charlie needs new pajamas anyway.”

“Great! It’s this way, I think,” Christen said. She started walking and slowed down so you could join her. “Where is Charlie, by the way. I expected her and Alex to come with you when you said you’d meet us here.”

“Um, I think Alex took her to the beach. It was one of her little daycare friends’ birthday or something,” You mumbled, awkwardly scratching the back of the neck.

You knew you wouldn’t have been able to handle the noise of the kids screaming. And Alex just couldn’t seem to understand that you couldn’t explain why it bothered you sometimes.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Christen said, “We could have rescheduled if you wanted to go to that.”

“To a two year old’s birthday party?” Tobin snorted. “I don’t think you’re missing out on much.”

You shrugged again. “I wanted to see you guys more anyway.”

You left out the part where Alex kicked you out of the house for the day. The fight hadn’t been bad, but it most definitely wasn’t a shining example of communication.

“Oh, okay.” Christen bit her lip slightly, she could always tell when you weren’t giving her the whole truth.

“I’m sure Al is just excited you’re out of the house,” Tobin added, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

Your tense didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the way you tried to subtly remove the appendage.

“I don’t think anything I do can make Alex excited anymore. She yelled at me because I brought Charlie cereal the other day,” You scoffed.

“I’m sure there’s more to that story,” Tobin smirked, elbowing you lightly.

It didn’t matter that it was less than an hour before dinner. Your daughter had been crying for cereal and it was a small bowl. It definitely didn’t deserve the reaction you had gotten.

You were trying and she couldn’t even acknowledge that.

Just like she couldn't understand why you suddenly didn’t want to be completely public with your relationship. She was pushing you and you didn’t know how to respond.

“She got mad the other day because I didn’t want to hold her hand at Whole Foods. I literally don’t think I can win either way. I try and I get shot down. I don’t try and I get in trouble for it,” You said softly, your hand tugging at the hair in the back of your neck.

“Those are like 2 completely different scenarios,” Tobin said, “And neither one of them feels like you’re telling the lead up to the event.” You rolled her eyes at her, but mirrored her grin.

“You two just need to communicate better.” Christen said, breaking your silence. “Maybe you need, like, a date night so you can open up and reconnect again,” Christen said.

Her voice was unnaturally light, as though she were making a throwaway comment. You stopped and looked at her. “What do you mean reconnect?” Christen froze for a second, then tried to pass it off as stopping to look at a display rack outside a clothing boutique. It didn’t work. You planted yourself in front of her. “Did she tell you something?”

“She may have mentioned that you’ve been a bit closed off since the incident, but that it was expected considering…-“

“Considering what?” You asked incredulously, squinting your eyes at your slightly older sister. “That I'm fucked up in so many other ways?”

“I think she meant that you’ve both been through some traumatic stuff and everyone knew processing it all might be a challenge,” Tobin said, stepping between the two of you, her hands raised in a pacifying motion.

“Oh no, you don’t get to change the subject. Considering what, Christen? What has she been telling you? That I’m tough to get along with? That I’m apparently ashamed of her and Charlie? Let’s hear what specifically you have been hearing about me.”

“Well, the being ashamed of her and Charlie is a new one,” Tobin said

“Stay out of this,” you said, not even turning to look at her. “Considering what? Christen?”

“Calm down Y/n people are starting to look,” Christen hissed.

The comment only made you angrier. You stood to your full height, gritting your teeth. “Answer the fucking question Christen.”

“It was expected considering the things that man said. Considering that he dragged you out in front of the world fully intent on making you beg for your life and then taking it. Considering how difficult it is for you to ever admit you need help,” Christen tried to explain, her hands moving rapidly to try and get you to understand.

“Is that what you two are always whispering about? How difficult I am?” You scoffed, turning away and running both hands through your hair, tugging at the root and closing your eyes tightly.

You shook off the hand on your shoulder, ignoring the broken plea “Y/n-”

“You know, I should have just fucking died. It would have made life easier for everyone,”

“No, Y/n don’t say that,” Christen said, looking down at her hands.

“That’s what you’re all thinking isn’t it? How much easier life would be without me--” You roared, wheeling around to face your sister.

“Would you shut the fuck up and listen for a second?” Christen yelled, whirling around to glare at you. You saw that her face was red and her cheeks were already starting to get puffy, the way they always did when she cried. “You don’t get to say that. For starters it’s not true. None of our lives would have been easier if you had died, so try and get that fact through your dense head. It would have been more difficult, actually, because there would have been a fuck ton of paperwork since you didn’t have a will. We would have had to get some lawyers to try and figure out your shit and life insurance money or whatever and it would have been awful. And dad and I would have had to decide everything ourselves and it would be a nightmare because everyone knows you and mom are the decision makers in our family.” Christen’s voice broke and she swiped angrily at her cheeks. “And they’d probably name a memorial or stadium or something after you and your heroism, and I wouldn’t have been allowed to be angry at you and the dumbest fucking decision you’ve ever made in your life because you would be dead, you bitch.” She gave a small sob and turned away from you slightly, as though trying to hide the fact that she was wiping her nose on her sleeve.

You sighed. You wanted to say that at least you wouldn’t have been around to watch it, but your experience told you otherwise. You remembered how painful it was to watch them cry and to not be able to comfort them. You remembered that your mom had to watch you struggle every single day.

But sometimes, just sometimes, you liked to think that you would have preferred it to this. To knowing you were drifting away, and being unable to stop it. Like a surfboard caught in the current being dragged out to sea.

Sometimes you just wanted it all to stop.

“Yeah. Love you too. If you want to be angry with me now, I promise not to die in the next five minutes.”

“Fine. And get me some fucking ice cream, I’m still mad at you.” Christen said hiccuping once and swiping at her face with her sleeves. Now that she was facing you, you realized it was one of Tobin’s sweatshirts. She turned, mumbling “I’ll see you at Gap,” before walking quickly away into the heart of the shopping center.

“For the record, I’m really glad you didn’t die,” Tobin said seriously, grabbing your hand tightly, before chasing off after your sister.

You threw your head back with a “fuck,” tugging on your hair.

Why did you have to fuck everything up?

****

4 months

You glared at the drab blue wall, adamantly not looking at your therapist, or at Alex. You didn’t care if your pout or crossed arms made you look childish. Therapy was hard enough as it was, and adding Alex into the mix just made it that much more difficult.

You could be honest with the lady you had never met. You paid her not to run for the hills with some of the things that passed through your brain. But Alex. Alex had the full ability to leave and take Charlie with her when she found out just how fucked up you were.

“I don’t know why you want me to say it out loud,” You huffed.

“We’ve talked about this,” Your therapist (Clarke) said in a voice that reminded you of the one Alex used with Charlie.

You worried your lip between your teeth. You and Clarke had talked about this at length, as had you and her wife Lexa (your trauma therapist).

With Alex baring her soul, it was important for you to show her you were trying. And while you had made great leaps, admitting feelings out loud was so difficult. Especially to Alex.

“I know,” You mumbled.

Alex scoffed next to you. “So you’re fine with me bearing my soul, and not sharing yours with me?”

Your lips formed a thin line. You knew it wasn’t ok, but that didn’t change how you struggled to find the words to explain what you felt.

Clarke cleared her throat. “Let’s not try to assign guilt to sharing emotions right now. Alex, it sounds like you feel like there is an unequal emotional investment in your relationship. Y/n, I would like to hear your perspective. Do you feel like there is equal communication in your relationship?”

“No,” you said softly, finally looking at Alex’s slightly glassy eyes.

It made you hate yourself that much more. You couldn’t be what she needed.

“Then why--” Alex started.

“Alex,” Clarke gently cut her off. “You will have a turn to talk in a minute. It is currently Y/n’s turn. She has been working to put her feelings into words for a while now, it might take her time to compose her thoughts. Okay, Y/n. Explain what you mean.” Clarke waved her hand, gesturing for you to continue.

You sighed, scrubbing your hands over your face. “I know it’s not fair for Alex to share and for me to not. I know it’s not fair to expect her to know what I need when I won’t tell her. I know. But when I actually try to speak, I just. I can’t. It’s too hard. Knowing and doing.. They’re different.”

“Why do you think it’s hard for you to share your emotions?” Clarke asked softly.

You glared at her. She knew why. The two of you had spoken about it at length. But Alex didn’t, you reminded yourself. You opened and closed your mouth several times, trying to figure out how to say it. “I-…”

You paused, the words seemingly getting caught in your throat. Alex’s hand found your arm, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, all agitation seemingly faded.

You gulped. You could do this. You had to.

“We almost died. I didn’t expect to walk out of that stadium. I wasn’t supposed to walk out of that stadium,” You choked out.

When you left the locker room, a little part of yourself knew you weren’t supposed to come back. When he let Alex go, you didn’t expect to ever be able to tell her you loved her again. When he dragged you out in front of them all, you didn’t expect your life to continue.

Sometimes a small part of you didn’t believe it did. Or that it should have.

But how did you tell the person you held most dear that you didn’t think you should have lived while 39 others didn’t?

“You did walk out of that stadium. You both did,” Clarke said, leaning forward in her chair. “But I’m interested in your word choice. Supposed to.”

You felt Alex watching you as you stared intently at your nails. You rubbed the ridges on your index finger with a thumb nail, the sense of the smooth yet bumpy texture alleviating some of the charged atmosphere of their observation.

You heard the unasked question, the request for you to explain more. God how you hated Clarke’s prodding sometimes. You decided to avoid the question by going back to Alex’s initial complaint.

“I know I should share more. It’s just, some of the thoughts that run through my brain are… intense. They’re not normal person thoughts. I know that they’ll upset her and I don’t want to hurt her anymore than I already have.” Your voice finally broke and hot tears burned a trail down your cheeks.

You moved a hand up to swipe away at your cheeks but Alex’s hands stopped yours. She gently held your face in her hands and smoothed away the tears with the tips of her thumbs. You looked into her eyes, which held none of the anger of earlier, but instead a sort of melancholy love.

“I think it hurts me more when you won’t talk to me,” She said, half a smile on her face as you brought one of your hands up to hold the back of hers. Her hands were still on your face. If it weren’t for the feeling of your heart pounding in your throat, you would have thought it had stopped.

“Why is that Alex?” Clarke asked. Alex glanced her way briefly before all her attention was back on you.

“I know you’re struggling, and you’ve always been right there to help me when I’m struggling. I love you so much for it, but it's hard when you won’t let me help you too,” Alex said, finally removing her hands from your cheeks. You caught them with yours, and gave them a squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “But I don’t even know how to classify and deal with the shit in my head,” You said, willing Alex to understand. It wasn’t that you wanted to hold back, but if you didn’t know what she could do to help… “ how can I force you to be miserable with me when I have an unsolvable problem?”

“Like what?” Clarke asked thoughtfully.

“Like the fact that if I sleep in the same room as her, she can’t get a full night’s sleep because I’ll wake up screaming every four hours?” You knew it bothered her that you had stopped sleeping in the same room, but if you could avoid interrupting her sleep-

“If you didn’t then I would get far enough in my dream to watch you get shot over and over again, so that’s really no problem,” Alex said.

You looked at her, shocked that she had hid it from you. It was your job to help her with nightmares, you had always held her and talked her through the dreams that plagued her at night. But looking into her face, you both started laughing. The irony of the situation was overwhelming and you collapsed into her, forehead touching her shoulder as you both cackled about the role reversals that this session had revealed.

When you could both breathe without beginning to laugh hysterically again, Alex touched her forehead to yours. You leaned against her, running a hand up to ruffle the tips of her hair.

“Babe we’re a team,” Alex said her voice low, but still amused. “I need to know what our opposition is so we can strategize and score. And so we can communicate that some problems aren’t as bad as you think they are.”

You smiled into her hand. “Promise me you won’t leave when you realize how messed up I am? I don’t know how to be normal anymore.”

”Neither do I, but we can work on our new normal together,” Alex said, leaning back and meeting your eyes. On her lips you saw her small nervous smile. Like the one she had the first time she asked you to dinner. Or the first time you were alone in a hotel room, and she suggested skipping your gym day for a different form of exercise. Or when she had told you that you would be welcoming a mini version of yourself into the world.

“Excellent work today, the both of you,” Clarke said, and you jumped slightly, remembering that the two of you weren’t alone. “Our time is almost up for this session but I think the two of you might benefit from some list making. First, the things the two of you are comfortable with. The things you like to do, or would like to do. The second, a list of things that make you nervous to try. Things that would need to be talked about first. And the third, absolute limits. The things that you have no interest in pursuing. It would help you set your goals I think.”

You shot her a half glare. God, you fucking hated homework.

“Either that, Y/n, or we can revisit the topic of how you felt like you weren’t supposed to walk out of the stadium. I noticed you changed the subject earlier, but if you prefer…”

“No, I think your wife picks that part of my brain apart enough, thank you,” you said quickly. “List making sounds great.”

*****

Present time

“It sounds like the two of you had some hard work to do,” Julie said softly, a sympathetic smile gracing her lips.

You looked over at Alex, gently bouncing Charlie in the corner. It wasn’t something you considered easy. You weren’t fighting a battle with a right answer. You had been struggling with a monster you couldn’t see. You couldn’t touch him, but you had no doubt he was there.

“There were definitely some times when I was in a bit of a dark place,” you agreed, “and I was really lucky that I had people around me who were not only patient enough to stick by me through those times, but also cared enough to call me on my bullshit and prod me into doing the work that recovery takes. You know, they say time will heal everything, but that's just blatant oversimplification.”

“Oh absolutely,” Julie agreed.

You shifted into your seat, running a hand through your curls (a nervous habit you would never break) “I mean. They don’t talk about how much time you have to spend walking through those moments and working through the things you don’t want to think about. How much time you spend looking at yourself and finding things you can be positive about amongst all the flaws.”

“No they don’t. Which creates the sort of environment where someone does take time to do that kind of work, and people don’t understand it. So thank you, to you and all the other athletes and public figures who are taking the time to be vocal and educate our society about mental health.”

The hand in your hair tugged harder at the strands. You still didn’t like it when people tried to paint you as an advocate. As some champion for the cause. You were just a person trying to find your way back to something that resembled normal.

“I think that people also don’t understand that there is no magic wand you can wave to make it all better. Sure, antidepressants or anti-anxiety medications help, and sometimes they do help a lot, but they’re not an end all be all. You still find moments and situations that show you just how far you still have to come,” you said.

“That sounds like a story there,” Julie said, leaning forward in her chair. “Care to tell us about it?”

“Well for starters, we learned our new least favorite holiday.”

******

7 months

You could feel the eyes watching you. It was a little hard to ignore, even after 7 months. You knew, and hated, how much Alex worried, but at a big ‘family’ get together, the whole room seemed to be waiting for you to have a breakdown. It was just a bit unnerving (especially when you were already on edge to begin with).

You shouldn’t be on edge. It was a normal get together. Something that the team did every year for the 4th of July in the days leading up to it. You were safe, surrounded by the people you loved the most.

You rubbed at the back of your neck, trying to flatten the hairs standing on end.

It was just so loud. You sat back into one of the lawn chairs, taking a big sip of your drink, and watching as a bunch of the youngins kicked a ball around with the kids. Your fingers flexed at a particular squeal, trying to prevent the images from flooding through your brain.

“If you hold that bottle any tighter, your fingers are going to fall off,” Tobin’s voice appeared like a tether, grounding you to the moment.

You rolled your shoulders, trying to shake the feelings swirling in the pit of your stomach. “It’s weird being around so many people.”

Tobin shrugged, side-eyeing you. “It’s not really different from practice.”

“It’s more… open,” You mumbled, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck.

Open wasn’t the right word, and both of you knew that. It was one thing to be around the team, but another to be around the team and their families.

You had never been the most social person on the planet. The fact that you were sitting in a chair not talking to anybody but Tobin was a fairly normal party experience for you. Still, this party felt like it was on a different level. One that only you hadn’t been given the cheat codes to.

Your fingers clenched at another particularly loud scream, and you gulped. Trying to push down the images, the feeling of him breathing down your neck, and the Yelp that followed the gunshot. You scanned the party. Alex was off mingling with your sisters and the various partners of your teammates like nothing was wrong.

“We all feel it too, you know,” Tobin said softly, tapping your hand.

Your eyes tightened and you opened and closed your mouth several times. You knew they all dealt with the fallout too, but sometimes you just felt so much like an outsider.

But before you could get the words out, you saw something flying towards you out of the corner of your eye.

You caught the ball just before it smacked into your face, glancing up at the little feet approaching you. You couldn’t help but smile at Charlie’s little toddler waddle.

“Careful darling. You gotta give me a heads up when you send a ball my way,” You said, holding your hands out to your toddler, and passing the ball to your sister-in-law.

She smiled impishly at you, grabbing your hands and letting you pull her into a hug “Sorry Mama,” she mumbled into your chest.

“It’s alright baby,” You said soothingly, running your fingers through her hair.

It was honestly so comforting to have her in your arms, feeling her safe in front of you. You knew your crazy mood swings had to be confusing for her, but you really did try to keep life as normal as possible for her. Physical contact was still difficult for you, but you made an exception with Charlie. She didn’t ask about the new bumps on your skin.

She didn’t stare at them, or give you pity eyes when she saw them.

Charlie tolerated you holding her still for a few minutes before she really began to fidget. She had definitely inherited your inability to sit still. “Go play?” She asked suddenly, reaching for the ball in Tobin’s arms.

You kissed her forehead and carefully released her, carefully holding her hands as she got down to make sure she didn’t stumble.

“Yeah kiddo, go have fun,” you said, winking at her.

“You come play with us,” She said, tugging your hand.

“You know I don’t play anymore baby. Why don’t you ask Mommy and Aunt Chris?” You explained softly.

“Want Youuu!” She whined, throwing her head back and attempting to yank you to your feet.

You sighed, shaking your head. “No kiddo, not today.”

“But Mama!” She stomped her foot emphatically. You saw Tobin covering her mouth in your peripheral vision, doing her best to hide her grin at what she too clearly thought was an adorable display of temper.

“No.” You said more firmly, giving your daughter the patented ‘mom’ look (which wasn’t as good as Alex’s but it was pretty close). “Go ask Mommy or Aunt Christen.”

Charlie dropped your hands with a pout. “You no fun anymore,”

“You know,” Tobin said, taking a sip of her drink, “it’s not that big a deal if you wanted to go play a game with the kiddos. It hardly counts as soccer, the rules they’re following.”

“I don’t play soccer anymore,” you said stiffly. “End of conversation.”

“I’m just saying, Y/n. You don’t have to play professionally to play soccer. A pick up game with your kid is not gonna hurt anyone, and you might even enjoy it. You went through a lot your last game, but it doesn’t have to be your last. You should at least consider going out on your own terms.”

You were about to respond to her. You had a response prepared. But all thoughts left your head as

BOOM. EEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee BOOM

Pop, pop, pop

“I think I need to go get a refill.”

*****

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Christen whispered, leaning over conspiratorially towards Alex. “Y/n looks so serious.”

“Maybe Tobin is asking for her blessing,” Alex said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Don't joke with me like that. You know I’ve been dropping hints for months,” Christen said, slapping your girlfriend's shoulder.

“You know there’s nothing stopping you from asking first,” Alex said, trying not to laugh and looking back at you and Tobin.

“Perry already told me she was making a plan. Tobin never plans,” Christen mumbled.

“I know, you want her to have a chance to make it special,” Alex said, nodding, her heart melting just a bit at how carefully you were holding your daughter, and how you were letting her hold you.

Despite the strides you had made, you were still incredibly jumpy with physical contact. You barely tolerated hugs (or hand holding if you were anywhere near public sight).

It was nice to see you making an exception for your daughter. She just wished you would make an exception for her too. Hell, she wished you would acknowledge her in public at all.

“Little Miss looks like she’s about to have a serious meltdown,” Christen said, following Alex’s gaze. “Do you need to go handle that?”

Alex shook her head, as you leaned down so you were eye to eye with the toddler. “Looks like she’s got it.”

Even with your mood swings, you had never dropped the ball with Charlie. You got a little more stern than you had before, but nothing that made Alex worry.

“Well, if you’re sure.” Christen shrugged. “I know she wants to make it special, so I’m not going to ruin it for her. But if there was some chance you maybe heard something and wanted to give me a hint about what she was planning so I could get my nails done ahead of time, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I doubt Tobin would tell me over Y/n, but…” Alex jumped slightly and looked up at the first fireworks going off. The sun hadn’t even gone down yet and the actual 4th was still a few days out, but apparently Christen’s neighbors hadn’t gotten the message. “If it’s your nails you’re worried about… what’s going on?”

“Should we follow her?” Christen watched as you all but sprinted into the house, turning to look at Alex, then her girlfriend.

Tobin was out of her chair nearly as quick as you were, and already approaching the pair.

“I’ll-”

“I’m on my way inside anyway,” Sophia said, standing up from the chair she was sitting in a few feet away from Alex’s feet. Alex saw Christen blush slightly, wondering how much of their earlier conversation might have carried over to the youngin. “I’ll see if she’s alright while I’m there.”

“It’s fine Soph. I can handle it,” Alex said, already starting to stand from her chair.

“No, really. I’m already going in to get some more ice. And,” Sophia paused. “This many people is a bit overwhelming. Y/n and I will be fine. Inside.”

“If you’re sure,” Alex said, squinting at the youngin and her fidgeting fingers, trying to place the nervousness she could feel pouring off the woman.

Sophia smiled and saluted. “Absolutely.” Then she turned and walked towards the house.

*****

Your fingers gripped the white marble countertop so tightly that they were turning pale. Your mouth tasted metallic.

Another bang sounded from just behind the sliding glass doors. You bit your tongue harder. You weren’t actually smelling smoke in the air. The pain in your tongue battled with your memories. You could feel his arm loosen around your neck, the warm liquid hit your back as you fell, and his dead weight on top of you as you both hit the ground.

“Fuck,” you breathed out as the noises rang through your head. Another bang, and more cheers, echoing Alex’s and Christen’s screams that night as you fell.

You jumped slightly at the sound of the ice machine on the fridge beside you. Then a glass appeared in front of you and your hand reached up automatically to grab it. The cold from the glass burned into your skin, drawing you away from the heat of your memory.

“I thought this might help,” Sophia said, nodding at the glass and popping an ice cube straight into her mouth.

“Thanks,” you said, smiling warily at her. You placed the cool glass against your neck, gasping slightly as it touched your racing pulse. It reminded you that you weren’t in that moment, with him breathing down your neck. You were here, in your sister's house, surrounded by friends.

“Fhe cowd is wewy cawmem” Sophia said around her ice cube.

“Hmm, have you been spending too much time with Sonnett?” You mumbled, tipping the glass and catching an ice cube on your tongue.

The cold was almost like Lidocaine, numbing everywhere it touched as it seeped into your nerves. It slowed your brain and helped to clear the last vestiges of that night from your immediate thoughts.

Sophia leaned over and took the ice cube out of her mouth, dropping it in the sink. “Okay, MOM. I said the cold is weirdly calming.” She grinned at you, holding her own cup of ice against her cheek.

“Don’t let Charlie hear you say that. She doesn’t like to share,” You smirked, tipping your glass towards the young forward, just thinking about the tantrums your daughter had thrown when Emily kept calling you Mama Duck at camp because all of the youngins were following you around.

“I could tell. She’s kind of a ball hog, though she’s got a good pass when she remembers to.”

“She gets all her talent from Alex, trust me,” you snorted, swirling your ice cubes around.

“You inspired a lot of kids to play soccer when you were younger,” Sophia said, looking into her glass as she twirled her stack of ice with a finger. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

You gulped, swallowing down your retort and shoving another ice cube in your mouth instead.

You didn’t want to be a role model, or someone for people to look up to. How could you when you hadn’t even acknowledged people bleeding out in the hallway in your haste to get to Alex. How could you be when you couldn’t even hold yourself together long enough to enjoy a family barbecue.

“I know it’s probably not comforting, but I’m glad I’m not the only one who couldn’t sit through the fireworks,” Sophia said, opening the freezer and rummaging around. “Some of the other youngins thought to bring earplugs, but it’s not even the fourth yet so I didn’t expect them. Oooh, ice cream sandwiches.”

“We forgot that the ordinance allows idiots to try and blow themselves up 3 days before and after the 4th, so we weren’t prepared either. But even with ear plugs the actual day is going to suck,” You said with a shrug, trying to pretend it didn’t bother you. “Hand me an ice pop would ya? I don’t want Tobin to be upset we’re eating the only processed crap Christen let’s her bring in the house.”

“Cherry, grape, or orange?”

You scrunched your nose and shook your head. Sophia had a lot to learn about digging through freezers if she was going to make it on the team.

“The mango ones she hides under the gross lemon ices,” You said with a wave of your hand. Your sister always held the good goods under the foods she knew you hated when you were younger.

“Yaasss!” Sophia dug deeper into the freezer more and extracted two mango ice pops. She handed one to you and then bumped the freezer closed with her hip, opening her own. “And tell me about it. I live walking distance from a park where they hold a giant fireworks display every year. I might die if I had to listen, that’s why some of us are planning a camping trip. Want me to throw your wrapper away for you?”

“Which some of you?” You asked suspiciously, handing your wrapper to the younger girl.

You knew they were all chomping at the bit to ‘thank’ you for whatever (despite your adamant stance that no thanks was needed), but you didn’t want to be involved in a pitty trip.

“I forget whether it was my idea or Morgan’s idea first, but some others heard about it and wanted to come along. Thus far I think we’ve got me, Abby, Mal, Rose, Morgan, Emily, Lindsey, Midge, Sam and Kristie. Lindsey did some research on the closest camping sites we could go to that would be far away enough that we didn’t hear the city fireworks, and found one in a wilderness area or national forest or something.” Sophia smiled wickedly and bit into her ice pop. “Bastards can’t set off their noisy fucking fire hazards near protected forest.”

“You know, Charlie’s never been camping. Someone’s going to have to teach her to make the perfect s’more,” You said, your lips ticking up. The forest with no loud booms did sound like a fantastic way to spend the holiday.

****

Present

“It had to be strange for you to want nothing to do with soccer,” Julie smirked, sharing a look with Alex.

You laughed. “I just told you that I had to practically hide in a freezer to get away from some fireworks, and THAT’S what you took away from that story?”

Julie shrugged, more for your benefit than the audience listening at home. “You also told me that fireworks were your first thought when the incident started, so I wasn't surprised. So many vets and survivors also have similar responses. But for someone of your caliber, I kinda expected you to find comfort in soccer. It seemed like you might after the story of your tactics talk with the youngsters at practice.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” you nodded thoughtfully. “I think, at least once I got to the point where I had recovered enough to THEORETICALLY play, it felt like there was a lot of pressure. Like every time I got near a ball there were imaginary eyes boring into me and waiting for me to lose control.”

“Charlie seemed like she was pretty insistent to get you to play with her,” Julie said with a wry smile.

“And in the end, Charlie was the one I started playing for,” you said, wiggling your fingers at the toddler squirming in Alex’s arms. “At least until I realized I wanted to play for myself.”

****

7.5 months

When you were little, you were obsessed with the little thumping sound your foot made when it came into contact with the ball. You spent hours mastering those sounds, and your ball control was impeccable as a result (even better than Tobin’s if you did say so yourself).

You always relished in that control. When everything was going wrong in your life, the one king you could dictate was where that ball went.

Maybe that’s why you were itching to pick it up again. Or maybe it was just that you were happy to relax for once and enjoy that the forest was quiet enough for you to actually hear the ball.

The woods just… absorbed the noise of your teammates chatting, and the other national park patrons milling about. The trees made you feel safe (even if that was seemingly ridiculous). No one would break the serenity to try and harm you here.

You shifted a bit in your chair as Emily, Sophia and Morgan very carefully juggled the ball around your giggling toddler.

They were pretty good. Not as good as you or Tobin, but not as bad as some of your other friends.

“No emmy. Do the around the world,” Charlie directed, clapping her hands gleefully at the ball tricks.

You saw Emily grimace and glance around the camp, scanning. There were situations where Sonnet was willing to do skills she hadn’t perfected yet, but around your toddler who didn’t know to duck away from the ball yet was not one of them.

“I’m not sure I can do that one short stack. We might have to ask Aunt Tobin,” Her eyes held yours for an extra second before she continued looking around the treeline.

“Mama can do it better than Aunt Toby,” Charlie said, grabbing the ball and walking towards you.

“Which is why I was going to give Aunt Tobin a chance to practice,” Emily said, catching up to Charlie and trying to redirect her away from your orbit, “besides, your mama still has half her drink left, so we don’t want to bother her while her hands are full.”

You sighed, Tobin’s reminder from Christen’s party ringing in your head.

You wanted to do this on your own terms.

“It’s alright, I’ll do it,” you said, sticking your drink in the arm-chair’s cup holder and standing up. You walked forward to take the ball from your gleeful child before you could think about it. “Take a step back while I warm up though, okay? Mama might need a second to find her footing."

You twirled the ball in your hands, focusing on the dappled light that shone on it through the trees from the setting sun. You dropped it onto the ground at your feet, taking a deep breath.

You flicked the ball with your foot, almost making it balance on the toe box of your shoe, but grimincing when it rolled off instead.

“What, are you losing your touch in your old age?” Sophia snickered.

“Watch it pipsqueak,” You huffed, trying to act angry at her even as a grin flicked across your face. Honestly, her teasing was more motivating than any words of encouragement would have been, nothing like a bit of competition to get you fired up. You shook your head and again flicked the ball, but caught it this time.

Something in your chest relaxed as you began to successfully juggle the ball. It wasn’t anything fancy, hell you probably wouldn’t have even bothered with the moves a year ago, but it was a start.

“Yay Mama!” Charlie cheered. Emily was holding your wiggling toddler a few meters away, clearly trying to make sure she didn’t get in the way of the ball. “Now do the around the world! Please!!!!!”

“Yeah y/n maybe you can teach Em while you’re at it,” Morgan said, taking a sip of her beer. Emily elbowed her in the side, and she sputtered as she spilled a sip of the lager on herself.

“She’s hopeless, even Tobin gave up,” Lindsey snorted, shaking her head. That was an understatement. Emily had pushed the normally chill midfield so far she yelled at the poor girl.

“Y/n are you going to do the dumb trick or not?” Emily asked, glaring daggers at Lindsey.

You shrugged, bouncing the ball off your knee a few times easily. You had the mechanics, it should be fine.

You bit your lip, catching the ball off your knee and sending it up again. You felt like the collective intake of breath the youngins took as you circled your calf around it before catching it on your toe box yet again.

“Yes Y/n!”

“Nice!”

But no cheer was louder than your daughter’s “yay Mama!”

“Again, again!” She clapped, drawing a smile from your lips. Your chest puffed up just a bit. You were proud you could get her to smile again.

You flicked the ball up, catching it on your nose before dropping it yet again. You kicked it between your feet a few times, prepping to juggle, before suddenly a foot darted between yours to stop the ball and flick it away.

“You’re losing your touch grandma,” Morgan said giggling, as you battled to keep control of the ball. You almost got it back from her and she quickly kicked it towards Sophia.

You raced off to get it, almost gaining possession after an ill fated elastico from Sophia, but Emily toed it away before you could.

“You guys don’t play fair,” You grumbled, your smile never leaving your face. “It’s 3 on one,”

“Come on mama, get it,” Charlie clapped, running off towards Emily.

“More like 4 on 1 and a half,” Lindsey smirked, stepping in and taking possession from her girlfriend.

“You guys are trying to kill me.”

*****

“Just pretend like you’re not watching,” Alex hissed under her breath, watching you out of the corner of her eye. Christen and Tobin ignored her, cheering with the rest of the camp as you juggled the ball around the world. Alex smiled at the grin on your face, relaxing as you continued your dance with the soccer ball. It was good to see you so happy.

“She’s still got it,” Christen said, “As though it hasn’t been more than a week since she touched a ball.” Your sister shook her head, amazed and proud at the skill in your muscle memory. “Absolutely ridiculous. Has she been better about touch and stuff?”

“With Charlie yeah,” Alex turned and watched you chase after Sophia. Charlie was ecstatic, so you must have been having fun. Charlie reflected your mood like a mirror. “She’s been way more involved with Charlie at home too,”

“Is this the first time she’s played soccer with Charlie again?” Tobin asked, sipping her drink.

“Yeah,” Alex nodded, biting her lip. You had practically banished all the balls from your house after the incident.

“Well whoever asked her to do a trick was absolutely brilliant,” Christen said. “You know she can’t resist showing off for Charlie, especially on a skill she worked so hard to perfect.” Christen cupped her hands around her mouth. “Come on Emily, kick her butt!” You turned and stuck out your tongue at her before chasing after Emily and the stolen ball.

“I think it was Charlie. I swear, all she has to do is bat her eyes and Y/n melts,” Alex laughed as Lindsey and Emily double teamed you to keep you from finally getting the ball from Sophia.

“Mommy, come on, Mama needs your help!” Charlie ran over and grabbed Alex’s hand. “Aunt Emmy wont play fair!”

“She won’t?! You guys need back up huh?” Alex grinned leaning down just a bit.

“Yes, right now! You need to play on Mama’s team so it will be fair!” Charlie said bouncing as she dragged a laughing Alex towards your scrimmage. Tobin and Christen watched as Alex ran over and surprised Lindsey by kicking the ball from behind her over to you. Charlie laughed and clapped as you and Alex passed the ball back and forth, keeping it away from your four teammates.

“I couldn’t have planned this better if I tried,” Christen whispered. Your smile at Alex reminded her of how you were before your mom died. So relaxed, and free of the sadness of her death and of the weight of unexpected motherhood on your shoulders. Charlie was one of the lights of your life, but Christen could still remember you crying into a vodka soda in her living room before she was born, berating yourself for not wearing protection, worrying about whether you would need a lawyer to fight for custody if your relationship with Alex ever fell apart.

“They’re gonna be alright I think,” Tobin said, wrapping her arm around Christen’s shoulder and leaning her head against Christen’s.

Christen swore she heard your mom's chuckle by her other ear and a warm hand brush her free one. “Yeah, they’ll figure it out.”

****

The campfire flickered, moths and other bugs flitting above it in the darkness. You watched it from your place in the circle, listening to the sounds of the crickets and Alex helping Charlie brush her teeth in the background.

Your teammates were sitting at their own spots around the fire (assigned pretty forcefully by your daughter during desert). Tobin leaned against Christen, wrapped in her arms as they whispered to each other. Sophia and Morgan were debating making another smore (once Charlie couldn’t see and protest the two smores each rule), and Emily and Lindsey were playing what seemed to be a very competitive card game on the ground.

“Okay I’m done Mama,” Charlie said, appearing on your right and climbing up into your lap.

You wrapped your arms around her, squeezing her tightly before kissing her on her head and releasing her. “I think it’s bedtime for little lady bugs,” you said, gesturing at the tent where Alex was waiting to tuck Charlie in.

“Story first,” She demanded, cuddling deeper into your chest, and rubbing her head on your shoulder.

“Yeah, story time Y/n” Emily said with a smirk, tossing a marshmallow at you.

You batted it away, smiling as Alex came over and sat down next to you with a sigh. Now that Aunt Emmy agreed you should tell a story there would be no end to it unless you told one. “Which story does my lady bug want to hear? The one of the brave knights defeating the orange dragons and saving the princess?”

“The one with the sun and the moon,” Charlie said, grabbing your arms and wrapping them around her. Story times were a very serious affair, and everything had to be just so. Specifically, she needed to be in a hug the whole time.

“Ah yes,” you smiled. You looked up at the stars, some barely visible through the gaps in the tree canopy. The moon shone in a silver crescent, a cheshire cat grinning down at you as you began your story. You looked back at the outline of the fire. “A long long time ago-”

“Before the dinosaurs?” Charlie and Emily said simultaneously. Around you conversation dimmed, and you saw the youngins scooch closer to you to listen.

“In a time way before the dinosaurs,” You said dramatically, drawing out the “waaaaaay'' and eliciting a giggle from everyone listening.

Your voice turned serious again, easily hushing the crowd as you continued. “The sun shone so bright above the sky. The people loved her so much. They loved to dance and play under her warmth.”

“They played soccer?”

“Some of them,” you said, smiling at your daughter, who knew the story as well as you did, but always begged you to tell it.

“Only the cool ones.”

You raised your eyebrows at the blond defender as your daughter pouted at the interruption. Only she was allowed to interrupt your stories.

“The sun would look down and see them, and realize how lonely she was high up in the sky. She wondered if she would ever find someone who wanted to play with her too.”

“What bout the moon,” Charlie asked.

“Well the moon was always gorgeous. She would rise when the sun got tired, with a necklace of her stars. People loved her so much that they stayed up to watch her and her friends. The sun longed to meet the moon, but all she could get were brief glances. The moon was unreachable, but the sun tried. She stayed up as long as she could to see the moon and her beauty, but she knew that she was too bright. She had to set in order for people to see the moon’s radiance.”

“The sun loved the moon,” Charlie asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“So, so, so much,” You nodded, kissing your daughter's forehead.

“One night the moon stopped the sun before she could set. She was sad that they could never be together. But the sun said that she would grow cold and dark every day if that’s what it took for the moon to truly shine.”

“Did they get to live happily ever after?” Emily interrupted this time, her voice slightly wet. She always teared up at the story, no matter how many hundreds of times you had told it.

“Yeah they did. The moon reminded the sun that she was a reflection of the sun's brightness. The only way they could light up the sky was by working together,” Alex said, reaching up to squeeze Charlie’s dangling foot, to Charlie’s squealing delight.

You blinked up, your eyes locking with Alex and latching onto her words. She was the moon standing out despite being amongst millions of stars. It was hard to remember that you could shine bright too sometimes.

“Now I think it’s bedtime little one,” Alex said, standing and reaching down to pick Charlie up. Charlie settled happily onto her hip, satisfied enough by the story to not protest. “Want to give mama a kiss before you go?”

“Night, night mama,” Alex helped Charlie lean down and give you a kiss on the cheek. You accepted it, and gave her a loud kiss back on the forehead. Then you hesitated, and pulled Alex down as well. You saw her eyes widen before her lips gently touched yours. It wasn’t your first kiss since the incident, but it was the first in front of anyone but your toddler.

It was nice. Her lips were slightly sweet from the chocolate and sticky from the marshmallow, with just a hint of her beer in the background. It reminded you of your first kiss, sweetened by Cotton candy and funnel cakes all those years ago. Your fingers hooked in her belt loops holding her closer to you for an extra second. The extra second you would always savor.

The wolf whistles and Charlie’s squeal of “gross mama” were drowned out by Alex’s little hum. You couldn’t help but smirk a bit. You still had that spark even after all this time.

Then she stood, glowing red in the firelight, and whispered “I’ll see you in a bit,” before she carried Charlie to the tent.

*****

Alex Morgan was the most gorgeous woman you had ever seen. There was never any question about that. It didn’t matter if she was dressed to the nines for a night out, or covered in sweat with no makeup on.

You always knew she was beautiful, but sitting here with the glow of the fire, she was absolutely stunning.

You felt a bit like a teenager, stealing glances around each sip of your beer.

The youngins had opted for some more smores, and were now in their tents winding down from their sugar crashes. Tobin and Christen were walking hand and hand somewhere in the treeline, probably looking for a nice place for some alone time. You heard the whisper of a podcast playing from Emily and Lindsey’s tent, as they had apparently settled their argument about whether to listen to Welcome to Night Vale or Nothing Much Happens before falling asleep. Sitting here by the crackling of the embers with Alex, you felt completely alone. You reached out and Alex’s hand naturally wound itself around yours.

“So, do you want to talk about that kiss earlier?” Alex, said, the smile on her face illuminated in the glow of the fire.

“It was nice. I like kissing you. You know that,” You said with a half shrug, taking a sip of your beer.

“I like kissing you too.”

You nodded, way too seriously and smirked at her “It’d be kinda bad if you didn’t. Might make this whole thing super awkward,”

“Yeah, sharing a tent might get a little uncomfortable,” Alex said dryly. “But, I liked that you kissed me in front of them. I mean, not in a weird way, but, you know. I thought it might mean, you might want us to be official?”

“I thought having a kid together made us kinda tied for life,” You chuckled, shifting a little bit uncomfortably in your chair.

“Always and forever,” Alex said, smiling at you, “And I know I didn’t want to be public before, but I’m ready. I’m ready to marry you and be out, to everyone.”

“I think you’ve had too many of these,” You mumbled, flicking the half full beer in Alex’s hand. “Why don’t we just put off this conversation until tomorrow. You know, when we’re both more clear headed.”

“Because tomorrow we will have a toddler to overhear us, not to mention several gossip mongers we call teammates. And I really didn’t think it would need to be a conversation. You wanted us to be official for years. Isn’t that what we were fighting about before we went on a break last, um. You know, the last time we were on a break,” Alex mumbled.

You smiled grimly. “I think we were fighting because Arsenal offered me a contract and you wanted to keep Charlie in Orlando with you.”

“Oh,” Alex said lamely. “I thought there was more to it than that.”

“You took Charlie to Tottenham for 3 months without me, and I understood that. I just wanted you to understand that I wanted time with her too,” you said softly, squeezing Alex’s hand. “I’m her parent too.”

“Yes, I know,” Alex said, squeezing your hand, “I never meant to make you feel that you weren’t. I think at the time I was just caught up in the logistics. Sharing her with you seemed the same as coming out, since people would notice if I was flying my toddler to London.” Alex took a deep breath and moved to sit in front of you, holding your gaze. “But I’m not scared of coming out anymore. And I want you to know that. I want to come out, I want to marry you. I want to update my facebook status, as though that isn’t something people stopped doing in middle school!”

You gulped. That wasn’t something you were ready for. You didn’t know if you would ever be ready for it.

“Thank you,” you said softly. “I know I should be really happy about that, because I love you. But no. Beyond the team I don’t want to be public.”

Alex frowned. She sat back on her heels, but didn’t let go of your hand. “But why? It’s not because. You’re not ashamed of us, are you?”

“What? No! That’s not-“ You sputtered, practically spitting out your beer. “That doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

Alex smiled at the shock on your face. If ever there was confirmation that she was wrong that was it. “Can you tell me why then?” She asked gently.

You lifted her hand and kissed it. “I promise I will someday, if you are willing to wait for me to find the words.”

Alex nodded, accepting the communication technique Clarke had implemented in your relationship. You would open up to her, you just needed time to find the courage, or to put words to the feelings first.

“I love you,” You said earnestly.

“I love you too,” Alex said, leaning forward to kiss you slowly. “Come one, let’s get some sleep. Lindsey set an alarm for a sunrise hike.”

“Ugh. Not one of those again. I thought the disaster in Hawaii was enough,” You sighed dramatically into the kiss, and Alex laughed again. The tension between you two disappearing as quickly as it had come.

*****

9 months

You looked up at the walls of the stadium, trying to remember how to step forward. The door was only meters away, you had been through it hundreds of times, but your feet weren’t moving. Today just felt different.

“Y/n?” Tobin said, walking quickly up from behind you. You groaned internally. Of all the people to see you hesitate, the one who had your significant other on speed dial would not have been top of the list. You were fine, you didn’t even feel nervous. You weren’t nervous. “Are you okay? Should I call Alex?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, adjusting the strap on your bag. “Just taking it in.”

“You’ve been ‘taking in’ that door for 10 minutes,” Tobin snorted, shaking her head.

“It’s my first full field practice for Portland in months, can’t I savor the moment?”

“Alex said to call her if you started being weird, even if you said you were fine,”Tobin mumbled, shifting her shoulder strap. Both your girlfriend and her own had made her swear to keep an eye on you when they went back to their respective clubs, and she didn’t know how comfortable she was hiding that you were practicing with the Thorns again.

“Can you wait until after Y/n and I have had a chance to take in the stadium, Heath? It’s supposed to be a quiet ritual.” You turned to look at Sinc, hiding your quizzical expression from Tobin.

“Whatever you two say,” Tobin mumbled, deciding that this fight wasn’t worth it. You were an adult that could make your own decisions.

You both waited for Tobin to be safely inside the stadium before Christine nudged your side. “Alright kid, spill.”

You smiled at her, then turned back to look at the doors to the tunnel. A tunnel to the locker rooms and under the stadium, one almost identical to the last one you had been in. Over 9 months ago. You exhaled “I just. This is the first step. It’s one I have to make, I want to make.”

“You’re rambling,” Christine said, elbowing you again.

“You’re mean,” you made a face at her but couldn’t help grinning.

“I can always call Alex and let her hash this out with you,” She shrugged, flinching away when you sent a particularly hard slap to her stomach.

“You do that and I will climb the wall of this stadium so I can get onto the field and kick your ass in drills.”

“You know, Jessie had a panic attack at the first Team Canada practice back. She couldn’t go near the tunnel,” Sinc said softly, her voice reminiscent of the tone everyone used with Charlie when she was at practice with you. “She got changed at the hotel and came in through the front door.”

“And what about you, oh fearless Captain Canada?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and shifting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Locker rooms are no sweat for you?”

Sinc cleared her throat, suddenly finding a crack in the pavement very interesting. “I think I stand with most of the Canadian side when I say that the showers give us the most anxiety. We could hear it all in there you know. I still hear the echoes of it at night.”

You bit your lip, not sure if you had crossed a line. “Oh. That must make the end of practices fun.”

“Oh ya betcha, the bus reeks. But it’s what we have to do to feel comfortable.” She shrugged, and you couldn’t help the next thought that went through your head. If only Alex had ended up with them instead of in the showers across the hall.

But then the entire Canadian side would probably be a lot lighter. His number would have definitely been bigger, and you didn’t doubt he would have made them all pay for your defiance.

You shook your head as though it would clear your thoughts and turned back to the door. If you just took five steps...

“What are you two sad saps staring at? The door totally isn’t that interesting,” Your head snapped around to meet Kling’s jubilant smile. It was almost infectious.

“Oh, I’m just nervous about going into the stadium and Y/n is keeping me company,” Sinc said, smiling wryly at you.

Klings head tilted to the side, reminding you a bit of an over curious puppy, her eyes bouncing rapidly between you and Christine.

Sinc looked back at the stadium, and held her keys tightly. You noticed she had a tiny can of pepper spray that you had never noticed before. “I don’t know if I’ll ever play another game where there’s not at least a part of me worried that someone in the audience has darker intentions.”

“First, it’s a boring practice. I’m pretty sure all we’ll be doing is the beep test and some shitty drills,” Klings said, throwing her arms over the two of your shoulders. You wiggled out from underneath her, trying to hold in your cringe at the sudden contact.

“And second?” You asked, rolling your eyes with a grin.

“The USSF doesn’t give enough fucks to get us actual grass. No one cares enough about the NWSL for an asshole to come play shoot ’em up at one of our practices in lieu of a political statement.”

You snorted while Christine doubled over laughing. “You’re the worst.”

“Love you too, babes!” Kling blew kisses over her shoulder as she walked into the stadium.

Christine shook her head, still smiling. She straightened and adjusted her bag on her shoulder before striding forward and pulling open the door. Then she turned to look back at you. “You ready?”

You took a deep breath and nodded, walking forward into the stadium. “As I’m ever gonna be,”

*****

Ten months

You wanted this night to be absolutely perfect. It was your anniversary and this year needed to be more special than ever. Alex deserved to be wowed after everything the two of you had been through this year.

So you had pulled out all the stops.

Charlie was at Krashlyns house for the night. You had gone to get food from her favorite restaurant, and split dessert from the cheesecake factory. Candles lit your dinner, the light sparkling in her eyes as she looked at you over the rim of her wine glass. The two of you had talked and laughed and it felt reminiscent of a time before the incident.

“After you m’lady,” You smiled, pulling open the front door for Alex with a little bow. She giggled, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers and placing a very sweet kiss on your lips.

“Such the gentlewoman,” she said, her breath fanning across your lips. “I had fun tonight,”

You smirked, pulling her in for another kiss. Gentlewoman was not exactly the term you’d use, knowing your next plan for the night. “I’m glad. You deserve a little fun.”

She giggled at your little eyebrow wiggle, smiling against your lips.

It was nice to feel this carefree again.

You pecked her lips one more time before pulling away and gesturing her through the door.

“You just want me to go first so you can stare at my ass,” Alex said, swatting your side gently with her purse before walking though.

When she noticed you hesitate in the hallway behind her she turned around, walking back to you and closing the front door. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Her hands cupped your cheeks, pulling your lip from between your teeth gently with her thumb.

“I thought maybe we could cap it off with a bath? We used to love those,” You murmured softly, a light blush covering your cheeks.

Alex didn’t think her smile could get any wider. She had forgotten what it looked like for you to be this kind of nervous.

“I think that sounds perfect,” she breathed out, pecking your lips again.

You chased her lips as she pulled away, your blush deepening when her fingers tangled in the baby hairs at the back of your neck. She pushed you backwards, pinning you against the doorframe.

But it didn’t bother you. You didn’t feel the uncomfortable tingle at the back of your neck that had followed you since the incident.

You were too wrapped up in Alex and meeting her tongue with yours, and how warm and comfortable you felt. How safe she made you feel.

She pulled away again, tracing her thumb over your lips (wiping away a smudge of her lipstick). “The bath?” She asked.

You nodded, your mouth still hung slightly open and your cheeks a light shade of pink.

How she had missed seeing you like this, and you trusting her to see you like this.

Her fingers traced down your arm to grasp your hand tightly and pulled you into the house.

The stroll to the master bathroom was slow, and deliberate. Filled with smiles and stolen kisses.

God you felt like a teenager, so addicted to Alex.

You couldn’t even make it up the stairs without pulling her back in for a kiss. It felt good to let yourself indulge in your feelings for her, to allow yourself to just be.

But when you finally got to the bathroom your nerves returned. You awkwardly turned on the water, before looking back at your girlfriend.

Your hands clenched and unclenched at your sides. You weren’t sure how you were supposed to proceed. You two hadn’t been this intimate in nearly 10 months. It was another layer of vulnerability that you didn’t know how to initiate.

But Alex’s warm hands on your cheeks and soft voice kept you grounded.

“It’s ok Y/n,” She said.

And you knew that she was giving you permission, either to continue or to not.

Your fingers found her hips and slipped under the hem of her shirt, running circles on the warm skin of her sides. “You’re sure?” You asked, your eyes flickering up to meet hers.

“With you, always,” She murmured, helping you take off her shirt.

The little knot in your chest loosened a little at the act, and you felt your confidence grow as each garment came off.

This wasn’t new to you, and despite the pause in your physical relationship, you knew this side to Alex like the back of your hand. You knew where to press and where to run your fingers to get her to relax, just like she knew how to turn you into putty in her hands.

You felt completely at ease by the time she was bare in front of you. She hooked a finger under your chin and pulled you up for a steamy but sweet kiss.

“Are you going to let me help undress you too?” Alex asked against your lips, her voice earnest.

You gave her a very short nod, closing your eyes tightly. How would she react when she saw the scars? Sure you had gained some muscle back, but you were nowhere near where you had been before the incident.

“Hey, look at me,” Alex said, a finger running across your cheek. Your eyes blinked open to meet worried blue. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this,” She said, and you knew that if you said the words it would all stop. You wouldn’t have to take the next steps, you wouldn’t have to expose yourself.

But you wanted to.

“I want to. I’m just. Nervous,” Your voice shook a little at the admission.

Alex held your hips, running her thumbs in little circles at your waist. “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” she whispered against your lips.

“I trust you,” You breathed out. And Alex searched your eyes for something you couldn’t place.

Once she found whatever she was looking for, she very slowly and carefully began to undress you.

You hissed when she accidentally brushed one of the thick scars on your thigh where they had put a central line in.

She paused, looking up at you for permission to continue. Sure she had seen the new lines that littered your skin, but you had never allowed her to touch them. It was as if letting her touch them was admitting you were broken, and that terrified you.

But you wanted to give her that.

You wanted to let her see your vulnerability. You wanted to share that part of you with her.

You nodded. “You can touch them, if you want.”

Alex kept eye contact with you as she slowly pressed into the scar. A shiver ran down your spine when her lips joined her hands, both taking off your pants and pressing little kisses into the line.

She followed the same process as each of your scars was revealed.

By the time she was finished you felt like you could melt into the cracks of the tile, with heat emanating from the crisscrossed lines across your body where she had kissed you. Stepping into the warm water only aided in that feeling.

“Let me just get some lavender oil,” She said.

Your eyes were glued to her form. God how did you get so lucky?

You remembered the first time the two of you had ever done this. How absolutely enamored your 18 year old self was. It was absolutely amazing that those feelings hadn’t really changed. Hell, they had only intensified.

“What?”

You blushed a bit at being caught staring. Your finger tapped erratically on the side of the tub.

“Remember the first time we did this?” You asked, cracking a whishful smile.

Alex let out a laugh at the memory, placing a few drops of oil into the water. “Yeah, you were so nervous you tripped over the side and almost face planted in the water,”

You giggled too. You had almost broken your nose that night, but it was all worth it. It had ended well anyway.

Alex paused at the edge of the tub, hesitating again. “Can I?” She asked, gesturing towards your lap.

It was normal for her to sit facing you when the two of you were in the tub. But she didn’t want to cross a line you weren’t ready to cross.

“Yeah,” You hummed, leaning back to allow her to sit.

She stepped gracefully into the water, leaning against your arms that naturally rose up to envelop her. You leaned into her head, closing your eyes for a moment to just sense her. The smell of her damp hair, even as she soaked in lavender. The feeling of her muscular shoulder on your arm. Her smooth ankle rubbing like a cricket against yours. Her.

“I’m not ashamed. I think you know that, but I felt like I had to say it out loud,” You said softly, running gentle circles on the smooth skin of Alex's back.

You felt her sudden intake of breath at the change in subject, but now felt like a good time to have this conversation. You were both open and relaxed and ready to listen.

She pulled back, but not out of your arms.

“Ashamed of what?” She asked, brushing a curl from your face.

“I’m not ashamed of you and Charlie,” You said gazing into her eyes.

“But you still don’t want to marry me?” Alex tilted her head sideways, but she sounded less hurt and more curious.

“I do. It’s just,” you paused, biting your lips and trying to gather the last bit of courage to finally explain. “The only reason you got to walk out of that stadium was because he didn’t know that we were together. If we get married and go public, you lose that option with the next crazy who shows up.”

“Babe,” Alex said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you and Charlie,” You breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut.

Alex cupped your cheeks, rubbing her thumbs under your eyes to wipe away your tears. “Babe, we’ve talked about this. We’re a team. You don’t have to carry the weight of it all on your shoulders.”

“It’s just…You’re the sun and I’m the moon. I would die every night if I had to in order to let you spread your light,” You recited.

She shook her head, with a small smile (cursing the story you had always been obsessed with just a bit). “You’re the moon and I’m the starrs. We light up the night sky together.”

You rolled your eyes, her amusement infectious. “I want to be out with you, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to protect you,” You said earnestly, kissing each of her hands and leaning into them.

“Babe, we protect each other. And we both protect Charlie. How about we take small steps. We don’t have to do a big announcement. We can be like Chris and Tobs, and just be,” She said, in the voice she always used to explain difficult things to Charlie (like how she couldn’t pull Blue’s tail).

“Small steps?” You asked, gently pulling Alex in for a kiss.

“Small steps,” She confirmed, finally closing the distance.

The kiss was slow and langued, expressing all the emotions that you couldn’t put into words.

“Hey, how would you feel if one of those steps included me on the field?” You asked suddenly, a much envious grin on your lips.

“Like playing?”

“Maybe…” You smirked, and Alex raised an eyebrow at you. You never just ‘maybe’ did things. “Possibly trying for an Olympic spot?” you said, more like a question than a sure fire plan.

The smile that broke across Alex’s face was absolutely blinding.

Soccer wasn’t just your career, it was a passion the two of you could share. There was nothing quite like embracing after a big goal or a big win. It wasn’t something you wanted to completely give up on her.

“I think I would love that,” Alex said, her eyes darting across your face and lower. And as both of your gazes strayed from each other's faces you were reminded of another passion you both shared.

******

Present time

“And here you are. Fresh off a successful beginning of the season with the Portland Thorns,” Julie said.

“Yes! Thank god they took me from North Carolina,” You laughed softly, ignoring Alex’s eye roll.

At least you were in the same time zones when you played for North Carolina.

“No offense to any North Carolina fans watching, of course,” Julie said, leaning into a microphone with a grin, “But I think I can say on behalf of all Thorns fans that we are very lucky you decided to play soccer again. You scored, what, three of the goals last game?”

“Four and an offside,” Alex said from the corner.

“Four and an offside, not to mention assisting in most of the other goals that game.”

“It was against Kansas City, it doesn’t really count,” You shrugged.

“I think Rachel Corsie might disagree with you there,” Julie said, smiling at you, “But if Kansas doesn’t count, let's talk Olympics. The camps for the olympic roster are coming up. How are you feeling about competing? Are you competing?”

“You know, for a long time I gave up on being USWNT quality. I let that dream go a year ago. And now, I think I’m just starting to realize that I might not have to,” you said, looking at Alex and Charlie. “But I don’t think that whether I compete with the national team again is the important thing to focus on. That’s all everyone has been asking since my name appeared on the camp call up sheet, but by focusing on me, and my relatively unimportant decision in the grand scheme of things, we’re overlooking the people who should be remembered this week. For this camp. For this game.”

Julie stayed silent, nodding at you to continue. You swallowed. “There were 39 people who never got to walk out of that stadium. Who paid the price for our society’s acceptance of homophobia with their lives. We should be focusing on honoring them and their families.”

“Thank you Y/n. Listeners, let’s have a moment of silence in honor of these players, fans, coaching staff, and other team faculty who died at the game last year.” You saw Julie close her eyes, and you watched Charlie bounce on Alex’s legs as the silence filled the room.

Julie opened her eyes and leaned back into the microphone. “All of the jerseys on the field tonight will be signed and auctioned off with all proceeds going to the Trevor project. Thank you everyone for listening, and thank you for joining us today Y/n.”

“Happy to be here Julie.”

*****

You looked up at the bright blue sky as you sat down in the stadium. It was perfect weather, with a cool summer breeze in the air. You smiled at the roar of the crowd filling the stadium, Charlie bouncing on your lap in front of you. Families weren’t usually allowed in the Camp section, but Charlie was given an exception (she was a staple at camp with you and Alex after all).

On the field in front of you, team Canada was filing into line, raising their arms to acknowledge the cheers of the crowd. Charlie stood on your legs and started cheering “Yay aunt Sincy!” and you held her hands and cheered for Christine with her.

Then the announcer started calling your teammates onto the field. “This year’s starting lineup. Number 1, Alyssa Naeher, Number 3, Sam Mewis…”

Like Team Canada, your teammates had specially designed pride jerseys. Like last year, the numbers were rainbows, but one of this year’s new additions were black sleeves. Dark black sleeves with 39 stars in a large variety of colors. The captains’ armbands were also black, with a little rainbow band of 39 names circling the center.

It was the perfect memorial. The best way to make sure that the right people were remembered, and you were so proud that US Soccer and The Canadian Soccer Association had okayed the way the teams wanted to honor the anniversary.

They had agreed to the jersey designs, as well as to the minute of silence the teams were going to have before kickoff. Both teams would meet in the center of the stadium to hold hands and remember their mutual losses. And the anthems of both teams would be played tonight, no matter who won or lost.

But the biggest surprise was the one you were the most nervous about.

To someone who didn’t know soccer, they wouldn’t think twice about the little swap. They wouldn’t question why a USWNT vet suddenly decided to switch numbers. They wouldn’t connect the dots to your barely concealed announcement.

But the fans would know. They would understand exactly what the message you were sending them was as Alex walked out into the light of the stadium wearing your number instead of her own (which was left empty because you may or may not have laid claim to it). She raised a hand as the announcer called her, “Number 18, Alex Morgan.”

Tobin patted her back as she joined the line, her eyes finding yours in the crowd.

“Yay, Mommy!” Charlie yelled, standing on her seat and waving frantically to Alex.

She waved back, and then met your eyes, both of you smiling. In that moment it was just the two of you in the stadium, and you took a deep breath, finally able to breathe again.

[ofgravitation-moved]

                   emi fukukado: the smile hero, miss joke!

** since we have barely any knowledge of emi in canon, she will be very headcanon based. below is what i envision as her past / childhood! credits for help with this go to guiltscorched​ / kit! as it ties in with their aizawa also! subject to change with the manga! but let’s be real, it won’t. **

quirk: outburst. / further information here. ( her wiki is so empty, omg. )

history: emi’s family are a group of entertainers. they run a small party business and her father uses his outburst quirk to have birthday parties for children, office parties, you get the idea. her mother’s quirk just is a small amount of enhanced strength when angered. 

as a young child she grew up in the prefecture near ketsubutsu high. while she loved attending parties with her family, she always aspired to do more with her quirk. and when the time came for high school, emi applied to several different schools, but when she was accepted into ua-- she knew where she was going.

after taking the entrance exam, she was placed into class 1-A, however, as her classes first year progressed, her teachers made an evaluation at mid term: they deemed her unfit to stay in the class due to her grades and her quirk capabilities. emi was placed then into class 1-B-- in the last seat, before the winter break. 

on the train home that year for the holidays, emi didn’t know which was worse: giving the news to her parents, or the fact that she was the only one that knew of the news? it wasn’t a happy holiday. despite her parents encouragement, emi spent her break heartbroken and down trodden. finally, sick of being upset by a decision that was out of her control, she made the best of it: and started to train. she went to the gym each day, ran a mile or two after dinner. when she came back to ua, she wanted the teachers to know they’d made a mistake. 

during the second half of the semester, emi ignored the whispers of her classmates, and mostly kept to herself. she kept training, and sure, she had a few friends she’d talk and hangout with-- but, proving herself was her priority. in her second year, she made a big impression on her first day. she’d trained all break, and gotten a lot stronger, not just physically, either. she’d worked with a therapist who taught her effective measures to use her quirk in tense situations to gain the most momentum with it. 

third year she still maintained a ranking in class 1-B, but she’d blossomed in her years at ua. she was doing internships with heroes and starting to make a name for herself as miss joke. & more than ever, she’d had her eyes set on an old friend when at graduation she learned they were to be sidekicks at the same agency. 

during her time as a student, emi struggled a lot with social acceptance. her quirk wasn’t meant for combat-- and the amount of times she’d heard that from her teachers, it was nearly ingrained into her skull. but she didn’t let their words dissuade her from her dream. she did what was necessary to change their outlook, and they eyes of her peers. socially, with the switching of classes, teenagers would be teenagers. and emi didn’t have many she was close with. the same continued for her into adulthood. 

despite what her quirk could tell you about her, she’s been a very private person for a lot of her life. her quirk allows her enough of a loud presence as miss joke that emi can at times, hide behind it. she’s been alone a lot of her life and leads more of a private life, which is fine, but it makes her dive more into her work. but she does crave the attention of one person who’s always seemed to be the one constant thing in her life: shouta aizawa.

during their time together at the agency they’d both been placed at as sidekicks, emi got to know aizawa all over again. she’s realized over the years that her feelings for him, if anything, had only gotten stronger. odds kept them apart in highschool, and how emi wishes they hadn’t. as all things, aizawa was quick to move onto the next agency-- and just like that, she was alone again. this time, she made sure not to lose touch. while they kept in contact, emi continued her work at the agency, and a few years later, when a teaching position at ketsubutsu opened, she applied-- never looking back. .. maybe it was time for a fresh start? maybe it was time to move on. 

she didn't date, and if she did-- it never lasted. she just continued her hero work, and making lesson plans for her students. just life she put her all into her training, she puts her all into teaching with her class, now. and in her class, there are no transfers allowed. 

occasionally she will sub at ua if someone is out sick or on a longer mission, so she can be seen around campus a lot. or she just drops be to see old friends, perhaps one in particular more so than others.

** emi is not ship exclusive with aizawa’s, but considering her canon is largely based around him, i feel as though he needs to be included! however!! kit’s (guiltscorched ) aizawa is one of her mains! **