#I’m working another double shift tomorrow! here’s hoping I wake up feeling okay

[flamingthespian]

Who up crying from the pain 👌

[ahockeywrites]

4 times you stayed at his + the 1 time he stayed at yours - Matthew Tkachuk

A/N: Hi everyone! I had this idea and within 48 hours I had it fully written. I hope you enjoy this 5k of fluffy Matty! Thanks to @calgarycanuck for proof reading this!!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, explicit fem!reader

One

It was a typical Saturday night for the Calgary Flames who were celebrating a big win over the Canucks. Your best friend, Matthew Tkachuk, had invited you and your roommate out to come to the bars. Jess had been quite friendly with Noah Hanifin, and you just hoped they wouldn’t be using your apartment as a place to spend the night.

You tugged down the sleeve of your deep green bodysuit and looked across to the bar, hoping to see Matthew ordering you another rum and coke but instead saw him surrounded by 5 beautiful women. Women who you thought were more beautiful than you. As you let out a small sigh, you turned to Lauren and struck up a conversation with her. She had persuaded you to join her for a hot yoga class followed by a brunch in the next few days to catch up properly as you had been working so much. The friends you had made through meeting Matthew were amazing, but it didn’t take a genius to notice that the feelings you had for him were slightly more than friendly. 

“I’m gonna go and get myself a drink,” you announced to no one in particular. As you pushed your way to the bar, you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist. “Hey you,” you heard the voice of Noah in your ear. “You want a drink?” he asked. You nodded and asked him for a double dark rum and coke. If Matthew was busy with girls, you thought, you might as well let someone else get you a drink.

Noah passed you the finished drink and you took a large gulp of it. “Please tell me this isn’t a bribe so I can let you and Jess go and fuck in our apartment?” you groaned, figuring out what he was doing. Noah did this often; when he wanted you to take Jess out of the apartment to set up for a dinner date or more often than not when he wanted the apartment to be empty so the two of them could spend time wrapped up in each other.

“I’m sorry, it’s not my fault she’s so hot,” he complained. You rolled your eyes telling him that you’d find somewhere to crash. Usually, it was the Giordano’s spare room, but after you quickly scanned the bar, you noticed they had already left. It turns out, the only people left at the bar were Matthew and his entourage, Jess, Noah and you. You had no choice but to try and pry him away from the girls surrounding him.

You finished your drink and made your way over to where he was sitting at the bar. As you tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around to see you and offered you a huge smile. Matthew got up out of his seat, pushing the girls away and gave you a large hug. “How are you going?” he asked, genuinely as he hadn’t seen you much during the night. A few of the girls gave you a dirty look, but you ignored them knowing that Matthew would rather spend quality time with you.

“I’m good, just not sure where I’m gonna be sleeping tonight,” you mentioned hoping he would get the hint.

“Noah and Jess going at it like rabbits again?” he questioned, knowing what you had to deal with. You nodded and told him that Gio had already gone home so using their spare room was out of the equation. “Just stay at mine, it's no bother,” he said with a smile. “You wanna go now?” he asked.

Matthew had never offered you his spare room to stay at, no matter how close the two of you were. Or was it that Lauren always took you under her wing and he wasn’t able to offer you the room? He thought that it was a simple offer but you were freaking out inside. The not so little crush you were harbouring on him was going to be made more obvious, surely?

“Yeah, I’m working an afternoon shift tomorrow so kinda need the sleep,” you replied. 

“Sure, lemme close up my tab and order an Uber,” he smiled back. Matthew reached over to grab the attention of the closest bartender and passed across his credit card. He pulled you into his grasp to make sure you didn’t blend into the crowd. As he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, he led the two of you to a slightly less crowded area so he could easily order the car home.

The outside air was cold, and Matthew noticed that you began to shiver as the wind picked up. Quickly, he slid his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders, “the car is only a minute away,” he informed you as you tried to warm up under his jacket. It wasn’t like Matthew was warm in just his jeans and t-shirt, but he knew his mother would kill him if he didn’t even offer you his jacket.

Matthew didn’t know why he just got up and left the girls at the bar as he was sure one of them would have come home with him. The friendship the two of you shared was strong and slightly flirty, but he also knew that the girls who were at the bar all arrived together and if he didn’t take you home safely, he would be worrying about it all night. For his sanity, this was what he kept telling himself, not that, god forbid, his feelings for you exceeded the bounds of friendship.

As if the car he ordered knew he needed to stop thinking, it arrived stopping directly in front of the pair of you. The driver lowered the window and Matthew checked it was for him and going to the right place. Once he was sure this was actually for the two of you, he opened the door for you allowing you to slide into the back seats. You shuffled your way across to let Matthew have some space. The drive back to his place was short, but he never let go of your hand, even letting his thumb brush over your knuckles occasionally. It felt more than friendly to the both of you.

The car abruptly stopped outside of Matthew’s apartment building and he jumped out to open the car door for you. It was strange, his behaviour, you thought, but maybe it was because you had never stayed the night in his guest room. He greeted the concierge in the lobby and directed you towards the elevator.

You had been to Matthew’s apartment before, but not like this. You knew he lived on the 35th floor and he had an amazing view of Calgary out of his bedroom window, but you had probably spent a total of one hour there, aside from the pre-drinks he occasionally held. He led you into his apartment quickly and stood in the kitchen, unsure what he should do. “I don’t know what you usually wear to sleep, but I can grab a shirt for you? And I think Taryn left makeup wipes in the spare bathroom when she was last here?” he seemed to be questioning himself more than asking you. One of his arms reached up to scratch his neck to add to the awkwardness.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, “a shirt would be great thanks.” Matthew pointed you in the direction of the spare bathroom and you started taking your makeup off. You looked at yourself in the mirror and just hoped that Matthew wasn’t gonna see what you looked like barefaced. In your mind, he couldn’t see you without your additional layer of confidence. You walked back through to the spare room to see him sitting on the side of the bed with a shirt in his hands. “Urm, I hope this is comfy enough,” he stuttered, unsure of what he should say.

“Thanks, Matty,” you replied, taking the shirt from him but not wanting to undress in front of him. He stood quiet for a second before realising he should leave and let you sleep.

“Goodnight Y/N, sleep well,” he said, bringing you in for a hug.

“Goodnight Matty,” you replied.

You walked back into the bathroom to change out of your restricting jeans and bodysuit to put on the soft shirt. Initially, you didn’t notice what he had given you, but when you looked in the mirror you saw the logo of the London Knights. And sure enough, on the back was the number 7 and the name Tkachuk. You laughed softly, he knew you weren’t a Flames fan so he would never be able to get you to wear his current jersey, but this was a step closer to him getting his best friend in his jersey.

Two

He didn’t mean to let you stay over again, you were just so tired after being his plus one to a Flames event. It wasn’t like you had found the event boring at all, just after an afternoon shift at the restaurant, followed by getting ready with Lauren and Jess and then having to control Matthew at the charity event, you were tired and ready to sleep.

Matthew had to almost drag you out of the Uber because you had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the car. “Y/N, c’mon, just a little further then you can crash for the night,” he encouraged you. You lifted your arms up, indicating that you wanted him to carry you up to his apartment. He groaned but lifted you up to carry you bridal style through his apartment complex. Somehow, you had fallen back asleep in the elevator on the way up and he had to try and open his apartment door without waking you up. He was successful and gently walked through his apartment to lay you down on his guest bed. 

It took a few moments for him to remember where the makeup wipes were but as soon as he figured it out he went to find them and started slowly removing your makeup. He thought he was doing a good job until he figured out you had put on a pair of fake eyelashes. There was no way he would be able to take these off without waking you up or hurting you and he decided that the former would be the safest option.

“Hey,” Matthew whispered softly whilst gently shaking your shoulder. You stirred slightly in your sleep so he shook your shoulder again with a little more force. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open to see a shirtless Matthew with a slightly dirty makeup wipe in one hand and a confused look on his face.

“You didn’t have to take my makeup off for me,” you spoke with a lot of sleep in your voice. 

“It’s okay,” he replied, “I was almost there but you’ve got these things stuck to your eyes and I really don’t want to hurt you.” You laughed having forgotten that you had put falsies on and told him to wait there and you’d try and take them off without your usual products. Luckily, Matthew had been able to detach the inner corner of both sets of lashes and you quickly pulled them off. It was slightly painful as you didn’t use your normal cleanser to help them detach, but they were removed and that was the main thing. You quickly disposed of them in the trash can in the bathroom and saw Matthew waiting on the edge of the bed with a shirt for you to wear. He handed it across and let you go back into the bathroom to change into it.

“Matty,” you began, “do you still have the makeup wipes out there?” You wanted to take off the rest of your eye makeup but were pretty certain that he had them somewhere near him.

“Yeah I do, come back out here so I can take the rest of it off for you,” he replied. You were slightly confused but went back through to sit opposite Matthew on the bed. He tugged you so you were straddling his lap and started removing the rest of your makeup. He was so deep in concentration that he didn’t notice you placing your hands on his hips to keep yourself still. If you didn’t do this, you were almost certain his hockey strength would have sent you flying. 

You asked him if he was done and he nodded telling you to get comfy in bed. Obliging, you made your way under the comforter and almost instantly you fell asleep. Matthew walked back in to see you completely knocked out and went to brush some hair off of your face. “Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered.

Three

Best friends stay over at each other’s houses, right? You convinced yourself that staying at Matthew’s house whilst he was on a week-long road trip was okay, simply because he had a better kitchen than you and his bathroom had a bath compared to just a shower in your apartment.

Matthew had given you his spare key to use when you needed to go in and check on the houseplants his mother had given him as an apartment warming gift. You did question why Chantal had given him a selection of plants but you didn’t complain as it meant you could take advantage of the amazing kitchen set up he had. As you dragged your bags filled with baking ingredients into the apartment, you noticed that there was a note left on the kitchen counter. It read:

Y/N, thanks for watering the plants on this roadie! I may have taken the extra brownies you made for me on this trip because the boys wanted something to remind them of Calgary. Stay safe, Matt :)

You smiled, knowing that the team always devoured any baked goods you brought along and you had even helped some of the children who were at the events with decorating fairy cakes. The kids adored you to the point some of the parents would get you to babysit them when they wanted a date night and how could you resist? It seemed like each of the children had you wrapped around their little finger as you found it hard to put them to bed at their usual bedtime as all they wanted to do was something creative.

The memories you had made with the children had to be pushed aside as you were here to bake, and you were unsure of how much you were going to make. First, you put the milk and butter in the fridge to make sure it was cold and unpacked everything else onto the kitchen counter. Then, you grabbed your laptop out of your backpack and loaded up the recipes you were planning on making. A batch of chocolate chip cookies, a tray of brownies and an apple pie was the bare minimum you wanted to make. You hoped that there would be enough time to make a set of 24 blueberry muffins too but would be happy to snack on the blueberries throughout the day. 

You fiddled with the dials on the oven to allow it to preheat and connected your phone to the fancy speaker system Matthew had in his house. The playlist you chose was one you and Matthew had curated to be perfect for relaxing days and it was exactly what you needed on your day off. The music allowed you to become lost in the baking and you didn’t realise the time was so late until you looked out of the large windows. The sun had set so you took a quick look at your watch to notice that it was nearing 9 in the evening. How you had become so engrossed in the cooking was a mystery to you as this seldom happened.

Notifications lit up your phone and you chose to reply to Matthew first, letting him know that his plants had been watered and you had even bought some fertiliser to help them grow. Then you dropped a quick text to Jess letting her know you were just going to stay at Matthew’s apartment for the night rather than risking an Uber alone at night. Sometimes you hated being a woman and not trusting society but you knew that Matthew wouldn’t mind you staying at his place as long as he knew you were safe.

It seemed as if your tiredness hit you quickly because once you ordered some food for a late dinner and had watched the Flames game, you were half asleep on the couch in the living room. Slowly, you peeled yourself off the couch and removed the blankets you had been hiding under to the other couch. The walk to the spare room seemed too natural and you noticed that there was a small collection of skincare products sitting on the counter next to the sink. You realised that they were minis of the same things you used. Matthew couldn’t have gone out of his way to figure out what you used and get some for you in case you stayed over again, could he? It seemed like something he could do but you thought he would do that for someone he considered to be more than a friend, unless? No, you thought to yourself, he couldn’t like you in the same way you liked him. 

Shaking your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts, you started to cleanse your face and then add the moisturiser on top. Once you had finished your nighttime routine, you walked through to Matthew’s bedroom and his closet to try and find something to wear to bed. The shirt you were looking for was the same one you had worn the first two times you had stayed over at his place. It was slightly hidden behind a few pairs of jeans and the occasional St Louis t-shirt but you found it and it was just as soft as you remembered. You slipped back into his spare room and quickly changed into the shirt.

There was just one more thing you needed to do and that was to box up all the baked goods you had created earlier. You made your way back to the kitchen and found the Tupperware you brought along solely for this purpose, then popped them on the kitchen island with a note for Matthew telling him that you were in his spare room and that he could eat as many of the snacks as his meal plan allowed him to. You also sent him a text warning him that you were staying at his in the spare room for the night as you didn’t want to head back to your place by yourself in the dark and he should be quiet if he arrives back before you were awake. He did reply, but much later so you were already asleep.

Matthew gently opened the front door to his apartment, not wanting to accidentally wake you from your sleep, seeing as it was 5 am. He placed his equipment bag down in the hallway and took in a deep breath, inhaling the smell of many different baked goods. Even if it was 5 am, there was no way in hell he was going to turn down something you had made. He waltzed his way across to the kitchen and was greeted by multiple boxes, each with a label on informing him what was inside each of them. A small giggle left his mouth as he read the note that you had left on top of the boxes and he chose to have a piece of the brownie before he went to check on you in the spare room.

The large comforter engulfed your body and he noticed how at peace you looked. Matthew wondered if you would ever be the one he came home to after a long road trip.

Four

6-0 loss. 10 minutes in the penalty box. Ejected from the game. This was the worst game you had ever seen from Matthew and knew that he would need space, so The text you received from him was unexpected.

Come over

Short and straight to the point. You were unsure what to expect but replied saying you were catching an Uber and were gonna be over in about 15 minutes.

Knocking on the door felt more appropriate rather than using the key he had gifted to you to use as you didn’t want to walk in to see him destroying plates and glasses. As the door swung open, a dishevelled Matthew silently greeted you. He was shirtless, displaying the bruises he had obtained from a night of hockey. You followed him into his place and went to get two glasses of water because you knew that he wouldn’t have drunk anything for himself.

The sounds of muffled crying filled the apartment and it tugged on your heartstrings. The feelings that you had developed for the St Louis native made you almost drop the glasses, but you were able to make your way back to the family room. 

Matthew was curled up, in the foetus position, on the largest couch. Tears flowed from his eyes, he was feeling emotions that he rarely felt after a game. He was a player who left all his feelings from a game on the ice, but it was impossible to do this when you’ve been ejected from a game. 

He knew you wouldn’t turn down an invitation to see him because he had noticed the extra time you spent at his apartment. But he thought it was for the kitchen, not the feelings you had for him.

It wasn’t like Matthew didn’t have feelings for you, ever since the first night you had spent at his place, he knew he wanted to be more than friends with you. But he was respectful, he knew how he would want someone to treat Taryn, so he treated you the same way. He assumed that you wanted to be no more than friends, and he was happy with that. 

The advice you gave him, the jokes you made (often at the expense of his teammates), just the company you offered him when he needed it. He couldn’t lose that, you were too good of a friend for him.

You placed down the drinks on the coffee table and just looked at him. He looked broken on the outside and it just made you think how broken he must be on the inside. It wasn’t a good game for the entire team, but his individual performance wasn’t brilliant either. Matthew was competitive, anyone who had ever seen him knew that.

“Matty,” you said. There it was, he thought, the one nickname that no one else could call him except you. 

You ran your hands through his hair, letting his tears continue to flow. It was hard for you, as a friend, to see someone this close to you go through this. But you knew that he needed to let his feelings out, and just be there for him when he needed you, whenever that was.

His right hand reached for one of yours and you offered it to him. It grounded him, knowing that he was safe in his house, safe with you, safe with his emotions. “I played shit, I don’t deserve to play in the NHL, let alone have the ‘A’ on my chest,” he spoke aimlessly. 

“Matty,” you consoled him, “one game does not define you as a player, you as a team member.” After this, you pulled him into your body, hoping that he would accept it. You remembered that he liked hugs when he wasn’t feeling amazing, so you knew it wouldn’t be pushing his boundaries. 

He continued to cry, wetting your T-shirt in the process, but he needed this. You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, hoping that wouldn’t be too far.

“Y/N,” Matthew sniffled, “I just wanna be held as I sleep.” 

“Of course, anything for you,” you replied softly. You gently unwrapped yourself from around him and offered him your hand to walk to his bedroom. He followed you and sat down on the side of the bed. “Just gotta brush your teeth, Matty,” you encouraged. He sighed but followed you to his en-suite.

“I’ll let you brush your teeth, I’m gonna find something to wear to bed,” you informed him. He pouted slightly but let your past. You were familiar with his closet and the exact shirt you were looking for. A London Knights game-worn jersey, it was soft and perfect for sleeping in.

It wasn’t the first time Matthew had seen you in his jersey, and he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time. He smiled to himself, the first time he had been genuinely happy all night. He tried to stop you from going to the bathroom to brush your teeth and take your makeup off but you were able to make your way past.

You tried to be quick with your skincare routine, somehow you had a bottle of everything you needed in Matthew’s bathroom, but knew you couldn’t rush any of the steps. As you were applying your final product, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. “I thought you were gonna be quick,” Matthew complained as he nuzzled his head into your neck.

“I was trying,” you replied as you turned to face him. He was so close that your foreheads were touching and you were able to look directly into his eyes. “We should-,” you started.

“Bed, yes,” he finished for you. All you wanted to do was kiss him, but you couldn’t take advantage of him when he wasn’t feeling good. He unwrapped his arms from you and offered you his hand so you could walk back to his bedroom. Matthew refused to let go of your hand as you both got into bed, and you allowed him to be the little spoon because he needed to be in someone’s embrace tonight. 

“Goodnight Matty,” you whispered, but he didn’t hear you as he was already asleep.

plus one

It was a drunk mistake that should never have happened he said, but nothing he said could prepare you to see photos of your now ex-boyfriend making out with some random girl when he had been on a ‘work trip’. Jess tried her best to help you by bringing you ice cream and watching shitty television with you but there was only so much she could do when Noah came over to take her out on a date. You were happy for her, you really were but seeing someone happy in a relationship was not what you needed right now. 

You allowed yourself to think over the good times you had with him, but they were so few and far between. He had pulled you away from the friends you had made out of the Flames players and they all became worried about you and suddenly you realised how toxic the short relationship was. Quickly, you scrambled to find your phone and noticed it had been two weeks since you had last texted Lauren when usually you would be texting daily and you hadn’t spoken to Matthew in three weeks. Normally, it was common for the two of you to physically see each other at least every day.

But then it clicked, your ex must have been jealous of the friendship you had with Matthew and his teammates. You understood slightly as you did have a crush on Matthew but that died down when you started dating him. It was a trust issue, he didn’t trust that you would stay just friends with them so he had to pull you away. It was slightly ironic, how he didn’t trust you as he thought you might cheat on him, but then he went and cheated on you.

There was only one person who could make you feel better and he would understand how shitty your ex was and how you needed to rebuild the friendship with him. As soon as you sent him a message, he was quick to reply saying that he was on his way to your apartment with Chinese food and a pint of your favourite ice cream. It was at this you noticed the butterflies forming in your stomach, the crush you had never went away, did it? 

You were brought out of your thoughts by a knock on your apartment door and went over to open it. As soon as you saw Matthew’s face you broke down in tears again. Quickly, he brought you into a tight hug, somehow not dropping the food he had brought. “C’mon, Y/N, let’s head to the couch and enjoy the takeout I’ve got?” he asked, unsure if he was asking you or himself. Your head might have been pretty much attached to his chest but he could feel you gently nod in response. 

He offered you his hand and walked towards the couch. You sat down first and he started unpacking the food onto the coffee table. “Just sit back and find something to watch,” he instructed. You followed as he said and he quickly left to grab some cutlery from the kitchen. You flicked through Netflix and settled on Brooklyn 99 because it could just stay on in the background. Sighing, you picked up your phone and reread the DM you had received from the girl’s best friend. You didn’t notice Matthew standing behind you until he picked your phone out of your hands and put it in his pocket. “Tonight, we’re gonna watch Jake Peralta attempt to solve some crimes, enjoy the takeout, maybe drink some wine, and forget about that asshole,” Matthew affirmed. You sighed again but knew that he would be getting his way. 

Matthew passed you a plate and some cutlery before disappearing back into the kitchen to collect a bottle of your favourite wine and some wine glasses. He sat down next to you on the couch and poured two generous glasses of wine. As soon as the food was opened, it was like the two of you hadn’t spent any time away from each other. The conversation flowed perfectly, as did the wine and after two episodes of B99, the two of you were slightly wine drunk, which you continued to tell Matthew was the best type of drunk.

“I missed you, Matty,” you admitted. He sent you a soft smile but knew that he felt the exact same way. Your ex was toxic for you and he was glad that you had gotten out of that relationship. The smile you had on your face was real and one of the purest he had ever seen in his entire life. Your happiness radiated to him too and he started laughing as you began to make silly faces at him.

You were lucky that Matthew had seen you wine drunk before and knew you were getting close to crashing and needing to be near a bed was almost a necessity. He wasn’t sure how, but he was able to get you to your bathroom, even as you were stumbling the entire way there. There was no makeup on your face so he quickly used a face cloth to clean your skin and was able to find some moisturiser to use on both of your faces. It was the most genuine smile he had seen you ever have in a long time and he was able to adore your beauty. 

“‘M sleepy,” you groaned, giving Matthew a small shove to try and encourage him to move out of your way.

“I know babe,” he replied, not noticing the term of endearment he had used for the first time. “You just need to put something on that you can sleep in.” You nodded your head and dramatically walked to your dresser and pulled out a matching set of short black satin pyjamas. It wasn’t a pair you usually chose to wear, but they looked nice. Clearly, your drunk head was trying to impress Matthew. You jumped directly on top of the soft comforter and didn’t care that you should have been underneath the blanket because you fell asleep almost immediately. 

Matthew came out to see you sleeping softly on the bed and gently picked you up to place you under the duvet and onto the mattress. A soft kiss from him was pressed to your temple and you subconsciously smiled in your sleep. He moved around to the other side of the bed and wrapped you in his arms, hoping this was the last night you were in his arms but not his girlfriend.

[statticscribbles]

Abandoned 10

Summary: Jasper Hale/Reader

This is the tenth piece in my Abandoned Series; the continuation of this imagine can be provided by: two or more requests for it in the ask box

Jasper is much quieter than Edward about his relationship, he carefully explains to you how his family reacted last time a human had been brought around, mumbling the family drama in between kisses.

“Wait so basically you guys caught the attention of the vampire mafia and they just left you alone?” Jasper laughs a little. “Somewhat, they’ll probably try again, it’s kind of why I’m trying to keep you hidden, the more safety the better.” “And the massive pack of werewolves isn’t enough?” “It helps, but I prefer more low-key anyways.” You nod curling into his chest. “I prefer it too, wouldn’t want everyone giving me stares for taking Jasper Hale away from their daydreams.” He laughs again and shakes his head. “Edward’s heard their daydreams, being in a relationship doesn’t stop them. You should hear some of the things he hears about Bella.” You smile. He turns to the window, watching the sun dip. “Time’s up huh?” He nods kissing you and sliding out the window.

You’re shuffling through the halls trying to avoid everyone as usual. You can see the Cullen’s resting in their usual spot by the wall. You slide past them, refusing to look as you can feel their eyes on you. It lasts less than a few seconds before you’re on your way to English. You slip into your seat grimacing as the teacher starts to talk about your next project. Math is less exciting your teacher scolding you for your low score on the last test. You nod, making your way to lunch. You sit at the edge of the cafeteria, you watch the Cullen’s out of the corner of your eye as everyone does. You let your thoughts drift, already you can feel the anxiety bubbling under your chest as you think of your mother visiting this weekend. You know she’ll ask all sorts of questions and snap at you. You rub your hands over your head and sigh, dragging yourself from the cafeteria and start walking home. You can feel Jasper’s eyes lingering on you as you leave. You make it home unlocking your door and wincing as you can hear your mother moving around upstairs.

“Mom! I got off early! Uncle Evan isn’t here. He’s at work and-“ You mother appears on the stairs frowning. “Your room is a mess, and the other rooms are so dusty.” “I don’t go into any other rooms besides mine and the bathroom. Downstairs is much nicer it’s where we spend most of our time.” You mother nods settling herself on the couch and waiting expectantly. “Where’s dad?” “He couldn’t make it, work is taking up all his time as usual.” You nod. Sitting awkwardly in the armchair. “I can call Evan and see if he can come home and-“ “I already called him. He’s on his way.” “Of course. Tea?” You hold out a mug and she nods to the table where you place it, you can hear the door open and sigh gratefully as your uncle walks through. “Hey Vivian.” “Evan.” She nods and he scowls. “You weren’t supposed to be coming up for another week. Why so early?” You watch your mother frown. “I wasn’t sure how I’d find the house if you had time to prepare and clean everything.” She huffs.

“Well as I’m sure your daughter has told you we only spend time downstairs.” He rolls his eyes and your mother nods turning to you. “Don’t you have homework?” You nod using the excuse to rush upstairs and into your room. You scowl, your books and everything on your shelves having been moved. You turn when you see Jasper standing against your closet. “Your mom seems, detail orientated.” You turn frowning shifting your books from alphabetical order back to how they were organized. Jasper freezes, sliding out of the window winking as you turn your mother barging in. “You uncle assured me you’re fine here. I’m leaving now.” She pulls you into a surprisingly warm hug and holds you for a moment. “You can come home anytime you need.” “I know mom, I know. I like it here, the weather is perfect.” She laughs as the rain picks up. “Of course you love it here, it’s always raining. The forest looks incredible, don’t wander too far.” She kisses your forehead and turns to the door. “Hey mom, don’t be a stranger, but please plan your visits.”

“Of course, now I have quite a drive ahead of me.” She smiles and you follow her down hugging her at the door. You turn to your uncle as she drives away. “Wow thirty minutes, record visit.” He laughs and you nod. “How was it?” He shrugs and you nod again. “She complained how messy the house is, I told her she was welcome to stay, she refused, as usual. And said she hopes you’re keeping your grades up and that no boys are distracting you.” He laughs a little and you squirm under his gaze. “Besides that crush you have, and yes it’s totally a crush. No one’s caught your interest?” You shake your head face pinking. “You should ask him for dinner, or whatever kids do these days, actually don’t do that, be safe. Consent and all that.” You frown at him. “Sorry was that too awkward?” “I haven’t even talked to him outside school. We’re not even friends.” You shrug and he pulls you into a side hug. “Seriously kid, just another half year to go and then you can go wherever you want. I know this is tough, it’s just till you’re 18.” You nod looking nervously back up the stairs. “She mess up your room again?” You nod shrugging a little. “Hey, you going to be alright?”

“Yeah. Just sucks being reminded I have no friends or really anyone besides you here. I don’t mind, but sometimes it hurts a little.” You shrug again and your uncle pulls you into a full hug. “Well how about after school tomorrow we go up to the river spot you like so much, I have the day off anyways.” He smiles crookedly and you return his hug. “I’d love that.” “No go up and fix your room before you have a panic attack.” Jasper’s still gone when you get back up and you finish rearranging your books and shelf, before putting away your laundry and starting your homework. It’s after ten when you give up hope of him reappearing, instead curling under your covers and trying to sleep.

You wake up groggy and shower, shoving yourself into your clothes and out the door. Your uncle drives you to school and as you get out you’re surprised to see the Cullen’s absent. The rain is pelting your already wet hair and you can feel your uncle’s chiding voice digging into your ears about how you’ll get sick. You skid into class curling against the radiator that you’re thankfully sat next to. You’re walking toward your usual table in lunch when Jasper arm swings around you and pulls you to his table. You blink up at him as he stretches sitting in his usual spot gesturing to the chair he pulled over. “Sit.” You obey nervously looking to the rest of his family. “We know you know. Jasper told us everything last night.” You blink at Edward. “So is the vampire mafia going to kill me now?” Emmett laughs smiling. Rosalie rolls her eyes. “I like her. You have good taste.” Emmett smiles at you and you shift in your chair. “Really hoping that’s not a double entendre.” Emmett laughs more. And Edward grimaces. “Jasper, really? Can you please not.” Jasper blinks at him and then smirks. “Feeling it is worse.” Edward scowls and you look confused. “What happened?” Bella smiles her voice lowering.

“Edward can read minds, Jasper can sense and change emotions, Edward more than likely heard Jasper’s thoughts, which Edward has had similar, so Edward trying to call him out on it is silly, especially when feeling things is worse than just thinking them.” She high fives Jasper who smirks again at Edward. “Wait, so you can just make people happy whenever you want?” “Yes. I can also-“ “Why’s Edward so grumpy then.” Rosalie laughs this time. “Esme is going to love her.” “Oh I forgot to tell you, I’m going hiking with my uncle later today! So I’m busy. Sorry.” You frown at the last part and Jasper pulls you closer. “It’s okay, Emmett and I were going to go hiking as well, less hiking more predators.” You frown twining your hands together. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Just a couple of bears.” Emmett shrugs. “No I mean the rangers put out a new limit on hunting, they’re checking everyone that comes in and out of the forests.” You chew your lip. “We’re going past Seattle to get it.” You nod appeased for the moment they wont be in danger. Emmett walks you to your shared biology class. “You do realize we’re like the worlds top predators, and we don’t exactly use guns, this isn’t anymore dangerous than you going to a café for a coffee.” You frown at him. “I just don’t want any of you to get hurt. It wouldn’t sit well with me.” He rolls his eyes.

You’re standing outside waiting for your uncle as he finishes getting his camera ready for the hike. He appears, locking the door and you both start up into the forest. “It’s nice you’re so easy to please you know, most kids want expensive shit and you lose your shit when it rains, it’s great. I’ve never saved this much money on Christmas and birthdays before.” He laughs and you nod jogging ahead excitedly. He overtakes you easily and you can hear his startled gasp. There are two wolves across the river. One a sandy blond, and the other a light gray almost silver, you uncle looks overjoyed, and you can see his camera moving. You’re nervous, they look huge, too big to be wolves and you hope Jasper hasn’t run into them; they look like they could do serious damage. You uncle steps forward and the wolves take no notice, you creep forward with him but hover back as he leans over the edge of the river on his stomach to try to get a better angle. He pulls himself back up and you can see the wolves have noticed growling and snarling as he nervously backs up, slipping and twisting his ankle as he stumbles from the river’s edge. The sudden movement he makes startles you, the muddy edge also claiming you as victim as you slip backwards gashing your head on a rock. You hiss, feeling slightly dizzy as you stumble towards your uncle.

“Shit.” He hisses and you nervously hover, half trying to drag him towards the trail. It takes you an extra two hours but you both manage to make it back to the house where you uncle hobbles to his car and insists you’re both going to the hospital.

“I’m fine! It was just a little rock is all. Nothing. Nothing bad.” You clutch your head wincing as the lights seem to distort for a moment. You can see the nurse who’s bandaging up your uncles ankle frown and call someone over. “Hello there. While I’d prefer we meet under better circumstances, let’s have a look.” You hiss and try to jerk away as the man shines a light into your eyes, you thrust your hands out trying to shove him away. “Warn me next time, it hurts.” “The light hurts?” He sounds worried. “I have a migraine from the rock.” You think he nods, but he carefully picks you up and places you on a hospital bed. “Just to check. I don’t think anything is wrong it’s a safety measure.” You can hear him talking to your uncle and then you start to fall asleep. The man shakes you awake scowling.

“Don’t sleep.” You nod blinking more as the bright light is suddenly gone from your vision. You recongnise you’re getting a MRI and the darkness seems to help clear your head. You don’t feel tired anymore or dizzy and as you wait for the nurse to come pull you out you hope you uncle is okay. “All done sweetheart, now lets get you seated here and-“ You cringe when the light’s flicker on. “Don’t worry we’ll move you to a dark room. We just have to get there first.” You nod keeping your eyes shut as you feel the hospital bed enter a darkened area. “There.” You open your eyes smiling at your uncle who’s leg is propped up. “Broke it.” You wince. The doctor comes in. “I’m going to shine this in your eyes now, try not to slap me again.” Your uncle laughs and you bite your lip. “Sorry about her Dr. Cullen.” “Just Carlisle is fine. Well seems everything is fine, you don’t have a serious concussion, and no sign of any other damage besides that cut, which we stitched up and your wrist.”

“Wait I have stitches?” Carlisle nods. “You kept your eyes closed so I just went ahead and saved you the trouble.” He smiles holding out a needle and thread that’s packed in a little sterile pocket. “What about my wrist?” You turn noting the cast for the first time. “Shit.” You blink at him and he smiles. “Just temporary, it’s not broken, but I figured it might be better than a sprain brace, they tend to make it worse before they get better.” “Thanks.” You nod. “Can we go home now?” Carlisle nods and you stand up swaying slightly as you uncle moves forward on his crutches. “My son offered to drive you home.” You uncle nods in thanks and you make your way to the car staring at Emmett in the drivers seat. He smirks. “Your chauffer has arrived.” He swings himself out opening the doors and helping your uncle in. You slid in while he’s fussing with the crutches and Emmett smiles starting the car and driving to your house.

“My dad was saying you drove here with a broken ankle. Very dangerous.” He tuts chuckling as you uncle laughs. “It wasn’t broken when I got in the car.” “So the car broke it?” Emmett turns eyeing the cast you have. “Can I sign it?” You nod holding it out as he pulls a marker out from his pocket. He smiles at you and opens the door after he takes your uncles keys. “Do you want me to do anything else? Take out trash? Laundry?” “You’ve done more than enough thank you. We can handle it from here.” “Make sure to elevate it!” He calls out as the closes the door.

Support My Writing?

[thiswasinevitableid]

62. you set off the fire alarm and I have a test tomorrow, and I might strangle you

Sternclay, sfw, please!

Why do fire alarms only go off in March? The one time Stern set one off (he fell asleep studying and the dinner he was reheating started smoking) it was in that endless stretch of time where the snow is no longer festive but will keep falling for at least two more months.

More importantly, who is responsible for interrupting his carefully planned out six hours of sleep before his midterm at eight this morning?

He stands in the freezing cold with the building’s other three occupants; the single man who looks like he stars in lumberjack porn and the girlfriends who live on the ground floor.

“Sorry” The other man mumbles, “I was making doughnuts and the oil I was using got too hot without me noticing.”

Stern runs a hand through his hair and keeps his voice low, “Why were you cooking with hot oil at three in the morning?”

“When I can’t sleep, I bake.”

“Can I suggest a less flammable hobby in the future?”

“Hey man, it was an accident. And it’s not my fault they stuck the fire alarm too high up for me to get to it before it called the fire department.”

“Too high? You’re taller than I am and I can reach mine.”

“My ceilings are higher and it was tucked between the cabinets and the roof.”

“Oh yeah, ours is in a super-weird place too.” Aubrey, one of the ground-floor neighbors, pats the offenders arm, “it’s okay Barclay, it’s just a little smoke.”

“That may be the case for you three, but I have an exam that’s worth thirty percent of my grade in six hours and I need my goddamn sleep.”

“Yeesh, man, chill out. They’re already waving us back in.” Aubrey points to the door of the three story house.

“I timed everything to optimize my sleep schedule so it actually is a big deal.”

Barclay glowers at him, “Look, I said sorry. But maybe get used to the fact the world doesn’t run on your schedule, mr. control freak, and fucking get over it.”

Stern keeps a smile flat as he bites out, “go to hell” and heads upstairs to salvage what’s left of his schedule.

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

The crash from downstairs comes at nine p.m; he has a huge day at his internship tomorrow, but Stern doesn’t hear any sounds after it, and he is not about to let a neighbor die on his watch.

“Barclay? Are you okay?” He puts his ear to the door, the heater drowning out all ambient noise.

“Nope, not really, agh, fuck, the doors locked, lemme try to stand-”

“Stay put.” He runs upstairs, grabs his wallet, and uses his debit card to trick the lock, “Shit, what happened?”

Barclay is clutching his forehead, blood between his fingers, and his ankle is swelling. “I got really dizzy, caught my foot on the couch and then my forehead on the table on the way down. Ow, fuck, it better not be broken” he growls as Stern kneels to look at his foot, “I’ve got a shift in six hours.”

“I can’t tell. You should get to a hospital; if it’s injured and you try to work on it, you might have an even worse fall.”

“Fuck, I’m not even sure I can afford the ambulance, let alone the fucking E.R.”

He knows Dani and Aubrey are out, “Any family in town, or a boyfriend?”

“No, if there I woulda called them.” He snaps, then tries for a slow inhale, “sorry, it just, it hurts-”

“I can take you in my car, that’ll be one less worry.” Stern helps Barclay up, gets him to his sedan, then tells him to hold tight while he gets something for his head. He ends up grabbing the first clean fabris he finds, which is how Barclay ends up in the E.R while holding a “Roswell, NM” tank-top to his forehead.

“Sorry to ruin your, uh, souvenir?” He mumbles as they wait for the doctor.

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, I know how to get bloodstains out of fabric.”

“That...that makes you sound like a serial killer.”

“If I were a serial killer I would wear things that could stain.” Stern winces, “sorry, I read too many true crime books.”

“I just don’t have the stomach for them. I like fictional mysteries but real ones?” he shivers, “makes me think an axe murderer is gonna break into my place. I mean, you did it with a credit card.”

“If you’d had the chain thrown it might have been another story. “

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Barclay shifts in the plastic seat, “you, uh, you don’t have to hang around. Know you got a rigid schedule.”

Joseph runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for being so annoyed last week when you set off the alarm. I’m not always great at handling changes.”

“To be fair, doughnuts probably weren’t the best stress baking choice.”

“Did they turn out?”

“Nah. I’ll have to try ‘em another time. Did, uh, did your test go okay?”

“Yes. I, um, I got a perfect score.”

Barclay laughs, the sound like warm honey, and Stern blushes at looking so deeply nerdy in front of someone with a smile like that.

“Mr. Cobb? We’re ready to see you.”

The bearded man gives an slightly awkward wave as he follows the nurse through the double doors. Stern returns the gesture, pulls up the chess app on his phone, and settles in to wait until his neighbor is done.

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

Barclay comes out his nap the scrchh of a brush on tile. His first thought is that he’s so late for work he’s unavoidably fucked. His second one is who the fuck is in his bathroom?

His ankle twinges, jogging his memory; he got back from the hospital at 11:30, no stitches needed on his head but bedrest required for his ankle. He’d been contemplating how to convince his manager to let him shift from the warehouse to somewhere he could sit. Joseph raised an eyebrow and asked for his phone while telling him to go get into bed. All Barclay overheard was a polite, steely voice mentioning the labor laws in Dane County and how it’d be a shame if someone were to arrange an OSHA spot check. The last thing he recalls before falling asleep was Joseph telling him he had the next day off.

That doesn’t explain the cleaning sounds, though.

“Oh, you’re up.” Joseph pokes his head in from the hall. His hair is coming loose from his usual slicked-down style and he’s in a V-neck and sweatpants instead of the suit Barclay sees him in most days, “I hope I didn’t wake you; since you gave me the spare key I thought I’d check on you when I got back from my internship and leave you some take-out from the Thai place around the corner--you said the green curry was your favorite--but then I thought I should wait until you got up to see if you needed anything, so I, um, I cleaned your tub while I waited for you to wake up.”

Barclay isn’t sure what part of that is the most baffling. Or the most touching.

“Why the tub?” He eases his legs over so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s satisfying. And I, um, I clean when I’m stressed.” He wipes his hands on the rag in his front pocket, “I was worried about you, and my internship was murder today. They’re mounting a case against one of the biggest employers in the state and everyone’s on edge.”

“Heh, kinda makes me glad I work at WalMart.” Barclay takes the crutch Joseph offers him and hobbles into the kitchen, “oh, uh, if you want to try some cake, there’s leftover cinnamon spice cake in the fridge.”

“I think I will, thank you.” He bends into the fridge and wow has his ass always been that nice, “can I grab you a drink from in here?”

“One of those pre-bottled Kahlua things in the door; have ‘em for a friend but one sounds good right now.” He watches Joseph open it for him, setting it down before he pulls out Barclay’s chair for him. Normally, the kind of fussing and light ordering around Joseph has directed at him makes him bristle. This last day, it just made him feel safe and cared about.

He could get used to this.

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

“Good lord, we’ve even got a flood warning.” Joseph sets down his phone as rain attempts to pummel the house to dust, “Some days I wish we lived closer to one of the lakes but this is not one of them. Should we check to see if Dani and Aubrey need any emergency supplies for if we have to shelter here? I always keep more than I need.”

“Nah, Dani’s got a strong self-sufficiency streak; got her a bucket emergency kit for Christmas last year.” Barclay pops the cork on the Pinot Grigio they got for dinner, “and I don’t think they forgot your semi-drunk promise that if they ever had to run from a flood they had full permission to break open your front door to be safe on the third floor.”

“I meant it, drunk or no.” Joseph takes down the plates and portions out the carbonara; he’s been trying to cook when he has time, both because he likes it and because it gives him and Barclay something to talk about. Not that they need the help.

Things changed after the trip to the E.R; Barclay would bring Joseph fresh cookies or pie. Joseph would offer Barclay rides when their schedules overlapped. Barclay introduced him to his favorite trivia night spot. Joseph took some of his cookies to a worker-owned bakery where a former co-student worked, which led to Barclay getting a new job.

Now they see each other almost every day, whether that’s watching movies on Barclay’s cramped couch or joining Dani and Aubrey for board game night.

He’s pleased with how the pasta turned out, even more so with the fact that when their legs bump together beneath the table, Barclay doesn’t pull away.

They’re on the couch, chatting about the recurring themes in ghost movies, when the storm starts in earnest. The sky is so dark it may as well be nine at night, the lighting and thunder performing a cacophonous two-man show across it. The closer the thunder gets, the more Barclay tenses.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah” a thunderclap makes him jump, “I know it’s silly but I fucking hate thunderstorms, I have since I was a kid.” He chuckles, “my mom would always end up making a pillow fort for me to hide in.”

“We could do that now.” He offers, tapping his foot against Barclay’s own.

“Know this might be hard to believe, but I wasn’t always six-two.” The other man teases.

“Don’t count me out just yet. Wait here.”

It takes some precarity and most of his thumb-tacks, but soon he’s waving Barclay to come join him.

“Holy shit” Barclay laughs as he sees the bed and part of the floor in Joseph’s tiny bedroom are curtained in blankets, “do you ever half-ass stuff?”

“No one can ever prove I haven’t.”

“Uh huh.” Barclay climbs into the fort, “that’s Joseph speak for ‘no.’”

Joseph plugs in his UFO lights and follows him in, “I’ve failed plenty of times.”

“Not on this. Man, this is gr-” A thunderclap makes him jump, nearly knocking one blanket down, “uh, maybe if I…” He lays on the bed, Joseph deciding it’s the least awkward option to join him in that position.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” The green of the lights add a charming tint to Barclay’s eyes.

“I wanted to.”

His friend looks away, keeps his gaze on his feet as he murmurs, “How come you’re always so nice to me?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“It’s, uh, it’s not because you want something from me?”

“Of course not. Barclay,” he touches the cooks arm, “anything you’re thinking is a favor with an ulterior motive....well, it isn’t. It’s something I did to look out for you.”

“What if I, uh, I didn’t think it was favor hunting and was, uh, a different word that started with “F’?”

This time, when the thunder sounds, Barclay nestles closer to him.

“Oh, Barclay” he drapes a protective arm over his waists, “I didn’t mean it to be. At least, most of the time. There were, um, sometimes when I was more flirtatious than I’d have been if it were anybody else.”

“Do you...want to flirt more?” Barclay mumbles into his shoulder.

Joseph tips Barclay’s chin with his hand, brings their lips together as lightning flashes through the window. When he pulls back, Barclay’s eyes are wide. He kisses him once more just to see if he can make them entirely pupil, then whispers, “I hope we can do more than just flirt.”

“Joseph” strong arms slip below and across him, “fuck, babe, if it’s not flooded tomorrow, promise you’ll let me take you out tomorrow?”

“I’d like nothing better, big guy. In the meantime..” he rolls so Barclay is atop him, “I have some thoughts on how to keep your mind off the storm.”

[transsergio]

Emily's Top Surgery (Read on AO3)

Penemily / Gen / 4038 words

Emily has top surgery and their loving, perfect, beautiful girlfriend Penelope is their caretaker.

Notes: I refer to Emily as Penelope's girlfriend intentionally; Emily is a non-binary lesbian and in this particular story, is comfortable with the gendered term "girlfriend". However, if you see Emily referred to as she/her at any point, that's an editing mistake on my part and I mixed up their pronouns with Penelope's. I went through this a couple times to make sure I gendered them correctly, but one might have slipped through the cracks!

Also feels important to say that Dr. Dolan is a totally fictional doctor and not a reference to any real life surgeon

-

Surgery Day

Penelope has seen her team through too much already. Kidnappings, stab wounds, bullets – their jobs aren’t exactly arts and crafts. Yet, she thinks this might be the most nervous she has ever been. She’s been rapid-fire tapping her heel for the last hour and forty-five minutes, and trying to distract herself with her cell phone. Morgan texted a couple times to check in (once on behalf of Reid), but otherwise, radio silence. The few messages mean more than she can say; she is intimately familiar with how busy they are on a case. But she really wishes any of them were there to squeeze her hand right about now. She’d even take Strauss.

In the middle of Penelope’s billionth Candy Crush level, a doctor materializes in front of her. She startles and fumbles her phone trying to click it off. “Is it over? Can I see them now? How’d it go?”

As the doctor peels his surgical mask off, she sees he’s laughing at her. That’s good, right?

He says, “Everything went just fine, Ms. Garcia. Emily’s in the recovery room now, and we’ll let you back there about twenty minutes after they wake up. They’re going to be a little groggy and maybe nauseous. It all depends on how their body reacts to the anesthesia. They’ll most likely sleep for the rest of the day, but make sure to keep up with their medications, alright?”

Penelope nods fervently. “Absolutely, Dr. Dolan. Can do. Will do! And I’m sorry to ask this again but I really have to make sure, the whole operation was totally fine? Nothing went wrong? Everything…chopped off okay?”

The doctor stifles a chuckle. “Yes, Ms. Garcia. Everything went exactly as planned, no complications as of yet. We’ll see you tomorrow for Emily’s one day post-op appointment to check the surgery site and switch out the bandages for a binder, and then for their first week post-op. Okay?”

Penelope smiles back, still nodding along like Emily’s health depends on it.

The doctor shakes her hand and ducks back into the surgical ward, leaving Penelope to update the group chat.

“Emily’s out!!!!!! Doc says all good!!!!!! Will be with them soon 😍💖🥳”

She types almost as quickly as her heart is beating.

Penelope makes it through another few rounds of mobile games and desperately refreshing her Twitter feed before she risks checking the clock. It’s been half an hour. Shouldn’t Emily be awake by now? What if they never wake up? Could someone be permanently anesthetized? Reid would know. Maybe Penelope should call Reid. No, she can’t do that. They’re all off in Texas trying to catch a serial killer and she doesn’t need to distract them, not when they’re already down two team members. Kevin Lynch is pretty good, she hopes. She’s seen his work and it’s adequate. Nothing like the multi-tasking Penelope pulls off, but in the same ballpark. His boyfriend, Grant Anderson, vouched for him. It was unnecessary, and maybe Kevin shouldn’t have sent the person who got Elle shot to sing his praises, but at least they knew Grant. Kevin was a stranger from another department. A back-up.

“Penelope Garcia?” A nurse calls as she emerges from swinging double doors.

“Yes, right here!” Penelope chirps. She leaps to her feet and scurries over as quickly as her heels will allow.

The nurse walks her through the recovery ward and the steps to Emily’s post-op instructions. Emily has four different prescriptions already filled and two cannot be taken at the exact same time while one is an antibiotic and the other is just for nausea which they might not need and –

“This is all written down, right? Sorry, my head’s just like, woo, swimming right now,” Penelope says. Her eyes are wide and darting frantically between the curtained beds. She hates the fluorescent lights. Her skin is buzzing with all the sour electricity. The nurse assures her they’ll send them home with physical copies along with phone numbers in case of emergency.

They round the nurse’s station and finally, come to Emily. They’re shifting slightly in their bed, leaning forward and sipping at a dixie cup of water. They're groggy and slow, with the IV still in their arm. Penelope’s glad they don’t have a mirror – their bangs are scattered over their forehead in three wispy chunks, a way Penelope knows Emily hates.

“Hey sweetheart,” Penelope coos. She leans over the bed's plastic siding to kiss the top of Emily’s head, and run her fingers through their dark hair. Emily leans into the touch.

They croak, “Hey,” and cough to clear their throat, wincing all the while.

“That’d be because you were intubated,” the nurse says. “Take plenty of cough drops and you should feel much better.”

Penelope assures the nurse they will while Emily drifts in and out of focus.

“Did it work?” they ask.

“Did what, Em?”

“M’surgery.”

“Oh! Yeah, totally. You’ll see in a little bit. You’re just sleepy.”

“M’kay,” Emily says. Their head lolls back into their pillows as the muscles in their face tighten.

“Emily, what would you rate your pain out of ten?” the nurse asks, coming closer with her clipboard at the ready.

“Uh, five? Maybe six.”

Penelope looks to the nurse. “Is that bad? That sounds bad. I thought it wasn’t supposed to hurt right now.”

The nurse jots down a few notes before she answers. “It’s not unusual. We’ll up their pain killers before we remove the IV.”

Penelope plants herself firmly at Emily’s side in the meantime. They’ve redressed Emily in their own clothes, an oversized button-down and sweats. Well, Penelope assumes they put Emily’s bottoms back on. The blanket is still tucked tightly around their body like they’re some kind of soft, hot mummy. They stay like that for another fifteen minutes, Penelope working her nails through Emily’s scalp as they try to relax.

When Emily rates their pain at a four, then a three, Penelope helps the nurse settle them in a wheelchair. They roll a few feet into the hall before Emily claws for Penelope’s arm.

“Where’s the barf bag?” Penelope asks. She has her hand out and ready for the nurse to pass it over, and swings it into Emily’s face.

Emily, thankfully, does not puke. Their slow, steady breath crinkles the blue plastic bag, but all they fill it with is air. They keep a tight grip on the thing for safekeeping, even as they’re helped into the passenger’s seat of Penelope’s car.

“You ready to go home, lovebug?” Penelope keeps her voice low and sweet, like dark honey. Emily nods and Penelope grants her wish, starting the engine and turning out of the parking lot.

-❤-

One Day Post-Op

Penelope holds her breath as the nurse unwraps the medical bandages. She wonders if Em is doing the same. While she’s watching them, Emily’s eyes flit between her and the floor-length mirror fastened to the exam room wall.

The nurse is talking, and they’re both supposed to be listening, but who could expect them to? Emily has spent a couple grand (after insurance) and something like four years waiting for these next seconds. Penelope is just as invested, if not more, in Emily’s happiness. She’s not going to get the camera out, but wonders if she should just in case Emily cries.

Their eyes follow the final bandage as it unravels from Emily’s form.

And Emily’s mind goes quiet. They have two, deep red swoops where their chest used to bulge. Above and below, their body is nothing but smooth skin. They thought this would feel like shock. Like disbelief that they were finally here. Instead, it just feels right, as if this is the way it’s always been and some crappy daydream is over at last. They giggle, and Penelope glows like the sun has risen.

“Wow,” Penelope says, soft. She’s wrenched with admiration.

The nurse is smiling in the corner. She takes out a roll of Steri-Strips and measures them against Emily’s new scars. Scars! Emily finally has scars!

“Now the bruising should lessen in the next three to four weeks,” the nurse says. Oh, bruising. Emily almost hadn’t noticed. Their body is splotched with patches of yellow, green, and purple as if it’s trying to camouflage itself, but Emily’s not hiding from anything anymore.

They’re given more practical information, like how often Emily should be walking to avoid blood clots, how high they should lift their arms, how much they should be carrying – most of which tells them to stay reclined, arms down, to sleep as much as possible, but get in ten minutes of walking every few hours. Penelope hears more of this than Emily does, and again, they’re given written instructions just in case.

Emily takes one last look before the compression vest goes on. This will be the most uncomfortable part of the process, thank god. Emily chose a surgeon who used a tighter suture method rather than the typical drains intentionally. Still, the fit of the binder is exciting. Emily’s never had something lie flat on them before. Their body now falls in one fluid line without anything, even nipples, to interrupt.

“Em?”

Emily snaps to Penelope, who is standing and holding the door for them.

“Oh, right,” Emily says with half a laugh and a daze in their eyes. They thank the nurse, and the receptionist, and a passing surgeon that isn’t even Emily’s on the way out. This is the most gratitude Emily’s ever contained in their life, and they need to flush it through their system.

“And especially you,” Emily gushes as Penelope helps buckle their seatbelt. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’re taking time off for me, or that you’re not stir crazy already. Thank you.”

Penelope grins like she might burst, and can’t answer just yet. She gets them safely onto the highway for home first. “Of course I’m here for you, dumb-dumb! Not only because you literally can’t do anything for yourself right now, or because the hospital said you couldn’t have the surgery without having a caretaker, but, well – okay, maybe half for those reasons too. But because I love you. I’m so happy for you, and how happy you’re going to be, and that this is so good for you. I love you so much.” Penelope sniffles.

“Maybe you should have said all that before we left?” Emily asks. “You’re gonna cry the whole drive back, babe.”

Penelope swats at them. “I know, I know! But you’re on a strict schedule, my lovely angel, and you need your meds in like, thirty minutes.”

Emily laughs and catches Penelope’s hand in their own. They squeeze it tightly and press their lips to Penelope’s fingers. Emily only releases when Penelope tugs their grip toward the steering wheel.

“Next stop, Recoveryville,” Pen jokes.

-❤-

Five Days Post-Op

Emily is more or less comfortably laid on their couch. They have an arsenal of pillows stationed behind them, under their arms, and at the bend of their knees, and Penelope’s militant care routine keeping them afloat. For the last four days, they’ve done nothing but watch French art films together, eat ice cream, and order takeout. It’s been a nice break, Emily realizes. One they didn’t know they needed.

Penelope emerges from the kitchen with a bag of Doritos and a bright blue DVD in her hands.

“This looks like a bribe,” Emily says with a wry smile.

“That’s because it is. I am in no place to object to your choice of movies, especially after I promised I wouldn’t make fun of the accents anymore. But I was sorta hoping this would be a good opportunity to manhandle you into watching a real classic.” Penelope blocks the television in her pink pajama pants and Emily’s Yale hoodie. Penelope is well aware that Emily loves when she wears their clothes; she has to be doing this on purpose. And it’s working.

Emily bobs their head from side to side, considering the offer. “Alright, shoot. I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

Penelope slaps the movie cover over her face. Mamma Mia! (2008) Dir. Phyllida Lloyd.

“Oh, god.”

And Penelope reemerges, scowling. “Hey! I didn’t complain when you made me watch that sad movie about the woman with the dead family. This time, no one’s dead! And they’re in Greece! Okay, admittedly no one wants to hear Pierce Brosnan sing, but if you ignore him and focus on Meryl Streep the movie gets a lot better!”

This is not the first time Emily has heard argument on behalf of Mamma Mia! and it likely isn’t the last, either. Movie night in the Garcia-Prentiss household is in a state of constant debate and usually decided by a fair and unbiased coin toss. Emily considers it a miracle that Penelope’s lasted this long without putting up a fight, and considers it part of her generosity as their caretaker.

Emily scooches themself into a more upright position. “Trois coleurs: Bleu is a beautiful movie and you said you liked it, first of all. And I thought we were watching my movies because I’m the one healing.”

Penelope hesitates. “…Yes, but I may have also been doing a little eensy weensy bit of work at the same time because they’re also like, really slow and boring and Kevin needed the tiniest, tiniest bit of help on the Texas case.”

“Traitor!” Emily is aghast. “What about the deal?”

The deal, of course, was the promise they made each other after their third movie night. Emily was texting throughout The Muppets Take Manhattan and not entirely invested in Kermit and Miss Piggy’s wedding. Penelope was hurt, Emily was confused, and didn’t fully get it until Penelope fell asleep twenty minutes into Deux ou trois choses que je sais d'elle. From that point on, they agreed to compromise more on movie selection and to pay undivided attention to the films they did pick.

“You passed out! I thought the deal was void if you weren’t awake during your own movie!” Penelope said.

“Why didn't you wake me up?” Emily argued.

“Oh, yeah, I’m going to wake up the person who just had surgery so they can pay attention to the third sad foreign movie of the day. You need your rest, and Kevin has maybe half of my inimitable skills!” Penelope’s words were jumbling together as she went up an octave. “I know I’m on vacation but the team needed help and I didn’t want to abandon them with some computer monkey who doesn’t know the first thing about my system, much less the way the team works, and isn’t even a regular assist on cases like me and—”

Penelope is cut off by three short raps at their front door. A welcome escape.

“Pen!” Emily calls after her. “We’re not done here!”

“I think we are!” Penelope shouts back. She passes down the hall and peers through the peep hole, though, she really doesn’t need to. She recognizes the voices on the other side.

“We’re not too early, are we?”

“It’s two in the afternoon, genius.”

“I mean in days since Emily’s operation. They might not be up to company.”

“Then we’ll say hi to baby girl and head out, no big deal.”

Penelope swings the door wide open. “Definitely say hi to me, definitely do that!”

Morgan and Reid stand in their building’s hallway, Derek carrying bags of Chinese food, and Spencer juggling some sort of gift basket. Their eyes are tired and Derek’s stubble is looking rougher than usual, but they perk up in the light of their friend.

“Hey, there she is,” Morgan says. He comes in for a tight hug as he and Reid crowd themselves inside. “How’s everyone holdin’ up?”

“Peachy keen,” Penelope says. She squeezes Derek’s shoulder and leads them back to Emily by Reid’s hand. “Look who missed their favorite co-workers!”

“Hey, guys,” Emily says. Their heart warms at the sight of them. “What’re you doing here?”

“Now how’s that any way to greet a friend?” Morgan laughs. He lowers their takeout food to the coffee table and dives onto the couch beside Emily. “You been good to Garcia so far, or do we have to put the hurt on you?” He playfully punches Emily in their arm, and they cower in mock pain.

“Hey, no roughhousing!” Penelope scolds. “If anyone pulls any sort of muscle in the next twenty minutes, you’re all in timeout.”

Emily and Derek snicker in their seats and launch into the most recent case details. It’s a lot of the gory, icky stuff that Penelope doesn’t want to know unless she’s in her bat cave, so she takes Spencer and his basket into the kitchen.

“Doritos, huh?” he notices the bag Penelope drops on the counter. “You were trying to get something from them?”

Penelope answers with her head stuck in the fridge as she paws to the back for Spencer’s La Croix. “I may have wanted to watch one of my movies today, and I may have offered chips in payment.” She fishes a couple cans of LimonCello out, and huffs. “So what’s all this?”

“It’s from JJ. She wanted to come herself but didn’t think bringing Henry over was the best idea,” Spencer explains. He holds his drink gingerly with both hands and peers into the basket. It looks a lot like the one Penelope used for JJ’s baby shower, and is also definitely the same basket. Inside are a few bags of beef jerky, chocolate, a backscratcher with a little pink hand at its end, and an airline neck pillow with the Texas flag patterned over it.

“Awe. I’m definitely baking her cookies,” Penelope says. She leans back against the counter and eyes Spencer up and down. “Tough case?”

Spencer shifts from side to side and looks into the dark pit of his La Croix can. “Not much worse than usual. It was just… long. And Emily would’ve been a big help. None of us speak Spanish.”

“But you didn’t want to call right now,” Penelope guesses. “It’s all over though, right? All good? Everything wrapped up with a bow for good luck?”

Spencer nods and purses his lips. He looks over his shoulder to the living room, where Derek is describing something with his hands and Emily watches, wide-eyed and entertained. Spencer says, more to himself than Penelope, “It’s always good to be home.”

-❤-

Two Weeks Post-Op

“Emily Elizabeth Prentiss!”

Emily freezes with one arm reaching desperately above doctor-recommended height, and another gripping the cabinet door like their life depends on it. They press their forehead into the shelf, groaning, “That’s not my middle name.”

“I can make up whatever name I want! You know what Dr. Dolan said, and this is so far out of bounds!” Penelope stands in the kitchen threshold with her hands on her hips. She sighs and tugs Emily away from the cereal cabinet by their waist. When their arms are safely lowered to their sides, Penelope puts on her serious face, with her seriously furrowed eyebrows, and her serious frown on her lips. She asks, “Do you, like, want to injure yourself? Is this your new favorite hobby?”

Emily is petulant. “No, I want breakfast, and it’s on the third shelf. Let’s just pretend you got it for me, okay?”

Penelope grumbles her frustrations under her breath as she pulls down the family size box of Lucky Charms. She flurries around the space until she’s collected a bowl and spoon and settled them on the other side of the kitchen counter, where a bar stool and carton of milk wait for Emily.

“Sit,” Penelope orders. Emily complies with a glint in their eyes.

“Thank you,” they say, saturating their words with genuine love.

“Oh, stuff it.” Penelope pecks a kiss to their cheek regardless. She tries not to think about how cute Emily is when they’re smug, but it’s a losing battle. The way their nose scrunches, the smirk; not helping. Instead, Penelope picks a smidgeon of a fight.

“Your hair is greasy.”

And Emily’s face falls flat and exasperated. They let their spoon rest in the pool of marshmallows. “Can we do this after I eat?”

“Oh, lovebug. Absolutely not,” Penelope smiles knowingly. “You haven’t washed it in like, four days, which tells me that it’s not as easy as you said it was. Y’know, I was wondering who said washing your own hair was too much work immediately after having an operation? It would have to be someone super smart and beautiful and funny and—”

“It was you, Penelope. We all know it was you.”

“Funny; it was, wasn’t it?”

But Penelope lets them finish their cereal. She was about to eat her own Eggo waffles, after all. Once the dishes are rinsed and in the washer, she marches Emily straight into their bathroom. The tub thankfully doesn’t share a wall with the toilet, making it easier for Emily to scoot in next to the faucet. Penelope folds Emily’s towel (the towel that is dark purple, and not spring green, which Penelope keeps carefully out of the splash zone) (unlike Emily, who does not mind if their towel is damp long after it should be dry, and probably growing some type of mold) (okay, it’s not growing mold, but Penelope insists that it will eventually become mold-ridden if Emily doesn’t start hanging it up more consistently) along the side of the tub. Emily fits the towel under their neck, and Penelope guides them into position.

“Your hair is so thick,” Penelope comments.

Emily says, “You tell me that once a week.”

“Because it is. Now close your eyes.”

Penelope detaches the removable showerhead and lets the water warm her hand. When it’s a comfortable temperature, she douses Emily’s head. She maneuvers carefully around Emily’s forehead to avoid hitting their face, though Emily’s eyelids flutter when they worry the stream is near. Penelope thinks with their long eyelashes, they look like butterflies about to take flight.

She works the shampoo in with a gentle, but thorough touch. It’s when she rubs the lather into Emily’s scalp that Emily lets a soft moan break, and Penelope smiles. She takes pride in her work, whether she’s at her desk or in her soapy bathroom.

The shampoo swirls down the drain as Penelope rinses Emily free. Emily opens their eyes and tries to sit up, but Penelope pins their shoulders to the tub.

“Hold on! I haven’t conditioned yet.”

“Isn’t shampoo enough? We’re going to be here again in three days. It’s a hassle.”

Penelope does not think so. For the low price of two-thousand dollars and the risk of post-op complications, Penelope’s seen her girlfriend relax for the first time in, maybe ever. She’s going to drag it out as long as she can. Which, for right now, means dumping a handful of conditioner into her palm and rubbing it through the tips of Emily’s hair.

The final rinse is cleansing, like the weight falls from Emily’s shoulders. Penelope swipes the towel from Emily’s neck and cocoons their hair inside. She manages to keep their shirt dry, for the most part. Emily sits up with a pain in their shoulders, and does their best to hide it.

“What’s wrong?” Penelope prompts. Their best is not nearly good enough, not when Penelope has the analytical eye of someone who loves them. Penelope plants Emily on their shared bed for the first time since their surgery, already grateful to have a little of Emily’s smell in the room again. She sits behind them and overlaps their legs with hers. Penelope digs into the knots wound through their back as if she's torturing for information.

“It’s almost like you have a stressful job or something,” Penelope says.

Emily snorts. “Yeah, something like that.”

Penelope massages her way down until Emily feels looser under her fingers. She leans her head into the crook of Emily’s shoulder and presses a kiss to their skin. “We could ask for more time off,” she offers.

Emily slouches against Penelope’s body. “We could. But we have to go back at some point.”

“Let’s pretend we don’t.”

Emily exhales. “Sounds good to me.”

[after-witch]

(Horrorfest) ‘Don’t Fall Asleep’ Dream Demon Dabi x Reader

Title: Don’t Fall Asleep (Dream Demon Dabi x Reader)

Synopsis: Inspired by A Nightmare on Elm Street. ‘Whatever you do... don’t. fall. asleep.’

Word Count:

Notes: Kinda-yandere, horror, violence, implied assault

You nervously chew on your bottom lip. You hate this habit, because you think it makes you look like a ridiculous schoolgirl. It reminds you of the many pasts that you left behind, the old versions of yourself that you shed like old coats when you first started college, then again when you graduated, and once more when you moved to  a new city. Always running, always on the move, at least until meeting actual friends and landing an almost fulfilling job in a city thriving with life and culture made you set down roots.

Roots which were currently threatening to wear thin, to rot and mold underneath your feet. All because of your dreams... all because of Dabi. 

“(Y/N)?”

You look up, and realize your friend had stopped talking a while ago. What was she saying before? Something about her job and--

“Are you okay?” Her tone is more annoyed than concerned, but you can’t exactly blame her. You’ve been drifting off so often lately, finding it hard to focus at work, at home, and even with your closest friends.

“Sorry,” you spit out. “I’m just--” You want to tell her, but you’ve told her before, and you knew she didn’t want to hear it. Not after the bad dreams had stopped for a while and everyone went back to a nervous, egg-shell type of normality.

They were so worried about you, but you were better now, so everyone was relieved; there were no more frustrated group calls and secret group chats where you were left out of events because no one wanted you to nod off and wake up screaming in the middle of a board game session.

You sigh and play with your ponytail. “Really stressed with work,” you finish, lying through your teeth. A look at your friend makes your stomach drop. She knows you’re lying. She’s going to make you tell her everything and--

“Oh,” she says. “No worries. So anyway, like I was saying…”

Her words feel muted as she repeats whatever story she’d been telling. She knows you’re lying, you think, she knows the dreams are back and you’re terrified and alone and--she doesn’t want to hear it.

You nod occasionally while she speaks, keeping up the pretense of conversation in the hopes that it will help you stay awake.

**

If someone were to hack into your phone, they wouldn’t find anything very strange. Unless they wandered into your alarms and wondered why in the hell anyone needed alarms set every 30 minutes or so.

The alarms are your saving grace. You started setting them when you realized that you could get sleep.. you just had to be careful not to sleep enough to dream. Experts said it took an hour or 90 minutes to dream, but experts weren’t being chased by some terrifying monster every time their brain decided to shift into REM, so experts could stuff it.

Truthfully, you feel proud of yourself for thinking of the idea in the first place. You weren’t going to let that bastard and his dreams keep you from sleep--no, you’d get sleep and keep him from you. Ha-ha, two birds, one stone--and one infinitely wise (Y/N).

Tonight, you decided that you’re going to get a few naps in before the sun rises; you have an important meeting at work tomorrow and the naps will help you brain feel a little refreshed. You still felt foggy, but nap after nap was better than no sleep at all. So you make your bed, cozy but not too cozy, double check your alarms, double check the sound on your phone, and fluff your pillow. Your eyes close easily and it’s not long before your conscious thought slips away.

You jerk awake, sudden and harsh, to the the sound of an obnoxious unknown ringtone you’d selected solely for its ability to annoy the fuck out of you. It was a true, cobbled together shitshow of a tune that you loved to hear, because it meant another successful nap.

You check a text message on your phone, then look over at your cheap dimestore clock you’d pinned to the wall, before glancing in the mirror. Check, check, and check. Everything was normal. Your phone worked right, the clock was working, and you could see your own reflection. You weren’t dreaming.

Your stomach grumbled. You hadn’t eaten since that afternoon--catching up on late work earlier had left you frazzled and you worked right through dinnertime just to make your extended (and oh so late) deadline. 

It was too late to order in, but you did have a frozen pizza somewhere in the back of the freezer. Happily, you got out of bed, pulled on your warm robe, and walked out of your bedroom into an dingy boiler room with peeling concrete walls and a roaring furnace making the floor and walls and air heavy with heat.

Wait.

Your heart pounds ferociously as you spin back, reaching helplessly for a bedroom doorknob that isn’t there. No, no no no--

“Did you have a good nap, (Y/N)? Did you get some sweet shut-eye?” The voice is taunting and cruel and absolutely terrifying. You screw your eyes shut and repeat the mantra you’d drilled into your head: “I am dreaming. I recognize that I am dreaming. And I want to wake up. I am going to wake up. I am going to--”

A voice, harsh, low, and right in your ear:

“That’s not going to work, you dumb bitch.”

The whimper that leaves your lips is unlike any noise you’ve made before. Helpless and hopeless, like an animal caught in a trap. Tears are streaming down your face as your force yourself to open your eyes, coming face to face with your tormentor. Dabi. The name and face that was etched into your memory from the first time you’d dreamt of him, years ago, when your life still felt normal and sane.

His face is partially scarred, and you cringe at the sight of bright, silver rings lining his eyes and cheeks; with Dabi this close, they practically glinted.

“IwantowakeupIwantowakeupIwanttowakeup--”

His hands are suddenly on you, harsh and hot and burning you as he shoves you against the wall. Your back collides with the concrete and you cry out at the searing pain that shoots through your legs.

“You’re not going to wake up. At least not for a while.” His grin is practically feral as he brings up one of his scarred hands to your cheeks, stroking it with a deceptive gentleness. “You’ve been asleep since this afternoon. Poor little (Y/N) fell asleep at her desk…”

You shake your head rapidly. “No--no, I set my alarms, I’ve been up, I, I--”

The slap to your face is sharp, light, and humiliating. “I-I-I,” he says, mocking and cruel. “Nah, sweetheart. I tricked you good though, didn’t I? Let you think you actually got something done for once, let you think you weren’t a total fucking failure.” 

He leans in close, practically whispering; his breath is acrid, like smoke, and his entire presence radiates an uncomfortable heat. “Can’t say I’m going to be as nice later on, though…”

You jerk your shoulders, a pitiful struggle makes him smile for a moment, but when you don’t stop trying to get out of his grip he pulls you forward and slams you back into the wall. Instead of hitting heavy concrete you feel yourself falling, falling--then landing with a surprising bounce on something soft.

You look to the side and see you’re on a mattress. Dabi is above you, both arms pinning your shoulders down with a firm force. He leans in close, as if to kiss you. Your entire being lurches at the thought.

“No!” You say, kicking your legs. “Get--get off, don’t--”

Dabi chuckles and pulls his face back. “Don’t worry, I’m not that fast. You’re not here for that, yet.”

You stare up at him. Your body feels numb, tingling in fear. You finally manage to whisper out: “Then what do you want?”

He tilts his head slightly before his eyes roam up and down your prone form. His gaze lands on your chest. His hands press on your shoulders and you can feel stinging, like running your hands under hot water in the kitchen sink.

“We’re going to play first.”

**

You wake up at your desk, your real desk, your real home. Your entire body aches as you force yourself to move, to jump around, wave your arms, as the tears blur your vision nearly entirely. You do your checks but realize it could be another trick, it could be--but Dabi would never have let you go, not at the moment when you finally pulled yourself out of the dream.

Suddenly, the elation at being awake, at being free, at being alive turns into searing pain; your chest hurts, it hurts so bad. You pull your shirt down--and scream.

You think, faintly, vaguely, wildly, as you call for an ambulance: well, at least they’re second-degree burns. I can still feel the pain.

**

You turn off the cold shower tap, trembling and shivering in the frigid air. They were brutal and sometimes painful, but they kept you awake, and that’s all that mattered. You quickly dry yourself off and slip into a thin nightgown before grabbing your toothbrush.

The bathroom mirror has never been a more unwelcome sight, but you force yourself to stare into it, to stare into your own, tired eyes. You look sick. You look older. You’re so sleep deprived that you honestly, truly think you might die from it. 

But you know that won’t happen, not really--because Dabi would certainly kill you before the sleep deprivation could. And his version of your death would not be nearly as merciful. If he would even kill you at all. Could you keep you forever, dead or alive, but dreaming all the same?

The thick burn scar running across your chest aches as you considered it.

You grab another handful of caffeine pills and swallow them, hard and bitter, chasing them with a chug from your lukewarm energy drink. God willing, you won’t sleep… at least not tonight.

[remmyswritings]

our secret pt. 2//regulus black x reader

Hello my beautiful Puffs!!! So I wrote this pretty early this morning, and while I just went over it again just now, please excuse any mistakes you find (dw @kashishwrites​ i did go back to sleep) Anyway I hope y’all like this <3 :) 

taglist: @willowbleedsonpaper​ @summer-writes​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @firewhisky-kisses​ @potterverseimagine​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​ @masterofthedarkness​ @imboredandneedalife​ @lila-lilakk​ @strawberriesonsummer​ @kalimagik​ @62442-am​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @curious-curios​ @jenniweaslee​ @cherrycolakxsses​ @peeves-a-legend​ @booksmusicteaandanimals​ @heart-of-tempered-steel​ @kashishwrites​ @siriusly-addicted-to-writing​ @redbulletxxxworld​ @pcseidcnsvoid​

part 1 

*Not my GIF, credit to creator*

It had been a year- a very long year- since that fateful day at Hogsmeade where you finally convinced Regulus to let his brother- and by extension his brother’s friends- help him stay alive. Of course with Regulus now working as a double agent for the Order it was getting harder and harder for the two of you to spend time together. He was a skilled enough Legilimens so that You Know Who wouldn’t have a clue but around you, everything went away. You were, and still are, his one weakness. That’s why sitting across from him after the Order meeting had ended, telling everyone about his plan to replace the horcrux you knew you had to act. 

“Reg,” you reached your hand out to him hoping the physical contact would make him look at you for the first time in weeks, “can we talk?”

He still wouldn’t look at you completely but he nodded, so you took that as an improvement. 

You pulled him aside hoping that nobody would disturb the two of you, “Mi amor, can you please look at me? Please?”

His eyes shifted down and caught yours and the second they did you realized why he hadn’t looked at you before- he was terrified and you were the only person he showed any emotion to. You threw yourself into his arms hoping that at least the physical comfort might help a bit. His body tensed slightly at first since it had been quite some time since the two of you had touched only to relax completely, as if his body were putty. One of his hands went to your lower back while the other ran itself through your hair, his face hiding in that little spot in your neck. You swore you felt something wet but honestly you didn’t care… you finally had Regulus in your arms.

“I love you so much Regulus. I hope you know that, and I’m so proud of you,” you started your little speech. “But please for the love of everything good in the world don’t push me away- not now. I need you, I need to feel your heartbeat in the morning and need to be able to run my hands through your hair. I need to hear you read poetry to me on the weekends and hear you sing those French songs in the shower. I need to see you lying next to me when I go to sleep at night and when I wake up again in the morning. Please stop doing this.”

He nodded again and his hold on you tightened even more, “I’m sorry my love. I’m sorry for pushing you away and for hurting you in the process. I just- I worry that someone will figure out who you are and what you mean to me. And if it weren’t for this war, we’d probably already be married and I’d have found us a beautiful flat to stay in and you would have an amazing job with the Ministry. And I want to have that with you, but I can’t- not until I finish this.”

“We can at least start it- our plans for the future,” you pulled away slightly so that you could look at him, “Let’s get married… tonight.”

Regulus at first look bewildered but understand where you were coming from. After all tomorrow he’d go on a mission where he could basically end up dead, so if anything were to happen (fingers crossed it doesn’t) then at least the two of you would be married.

“Ok, but who will officiate it?” You could see the light in his eyes that had dimmed over the past week, reignite itself.

“Um…” you looked around the room where you all were, “I think we can get Remus to do it, and we have enough people here as witnesses.”

Regulus nodded his head and turned around to face the others in the room. They had seen the two of you talk for quite some time now but out of respect had decided not to eavesdrop, although you had made it difficult for them to even try in the first place.

“We’ve decided we want to get married tonight,” the announcement was met with excitement. 

After a little bit of coordinating, you were whisked away by Lily and Sirius while Remus and James helped Regulus get ready. You were quite surprised when Sirius said he’d be with you but in his words “I want to finally spend some one-on-one time with my soon-to-be sister-in-law. Plus Regulus won’t let me touch his hair.”

Thankfully, you had a dress hidden away from several months ago when you were given the chance to go to muggle London. It wasn’t a white dress but that fact seemed to make it even more unique. You were soon helped into your dress and your hair put into a beautiful updo. You didn’t have any flowers to hold or a veil in your hair, but you still felt like you were a princess. 

When you were finally ready, and everyone else in the house was dressed up, you were led outside to the backyard. With just a little bit of magic, small lights filled the air between you and your love. Lily, who had become something of a sister to you since you arrived, walked you down the makeshift aisle. 

By the time you had met Regulus, tears had started to fall from your eyes and you could see that the same was happening with him. There was not a dry-eyed soul in the vicinity. 

After that, everything became a blur… at least until you got to the vows. When Regulus started to read his, you weren’t sure if you would be able to make it through yours.

My love,

Since the very first day we met I knew you would be someone important to me. Even at eleven years old, you were quite good at reminding me when I was acting like a pretentious ass, but I wouldn’t want anyone else in the world calling me out with the sass that you do.

I think we can all agree that you are my better half. Whenever I look at you all I see is light, absolute pure light. You make everything around me seem so much better and you’ve taught me what it means to be a good person. I don’t think I would even be here right now if it weren’t for you. 

You are everything I wish to be and more, my love.

Your hands trembled as you pulled out the paper with the vows you had written one day, with the plan for them to be used much much later.

Mi amor,

I can’t imagine a life where I wake up without you by my side. You’ve taught me what it means to be resilient and determined, especially in the face of fear and evil. And what love looks like. I mean to me you are the definition of true love. 

When I think of us and what we’ve been through I think of all those moments we had together, where it was just about us. There is no one else who I’d want to sass at some point in my day, and there is no one else who I would want by my side when I fight. 

You may think that I’m your better half, but to be quite honest it’s the opposite. Being your friend, and then your lover, you have taught me so much that I can’t possibly put it into words even though I tried. 

I can’t wait to start our future together, mi amor.

By the time you had finished, everyone had started to sob. That night as much as worry filled the air, so did love. When Remus finally said the words “you may kiss the bride” Regulus had almost swept you off your feet- not that you minded. 

The two of you were led back inside where your new marriage was celebrated with day old cake and some left over wine. You didn’t care though, all you felt was happiness and hope that tomorrow would turn out okay. 

For the first time in weeks, Regulus and you slept together in the same bed. You didn’t do anything that night except hold one another in your arms and whisper I love yous throughout the night. The next morning, you were thankful to have woken up first, being given the chance to see your husband look so peaceful was something that you loved. Your husband, there was something about even thinking those words that set a fire in you. 

When the time came, Regulus and you went down to the kitchen where you would wait with the others for his return. It was a nerve-wracking several hours, so much so that Sirius had to grab you by the shoulders to stop your pacing. 

Finally, Regulus appeared close to death and you weren’t sure whether to scream or cry. You rushed over to him, a mere heap on the floor, and with some struggle lifted him into the sofa. Your hands didn’t stop moving until every cut was sealed and no more blood was pouring out of him. By the end, you had to be dragged towards the bathroom and have your hands cleaned, not wanting to leave Regulus alone. 

5 days. 5. 

That’s how long it took for Regulus to wake up. By then every Order member knew not to bother you as you sat by your husband. Sirius would sit with you occasionally and would constantly make sure you ate and drank water… something about how his little brother would kill him if he found out that nobody had made sure you were okay. 

When those grey, stormy eyes opened, the tears that you had held back when he arrived broke through. 

“Sirius!” You called out, “Sirius! He’s awake.”

You had to hold yourself back from simultaneously tackling Regulus out of happiness now that he was awake and hitting him out of anger for almost dying.

The two brothers spoke in private as you were sent to go drink some water. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, leaning against the counter until you saw Regulus out of the corner of your eye holding himself up with the doorframe.

“What are you doing up?” You rushed over to him, “You should be lying down.”

“So this is the first thing I hear from my beautiful wife,” he smirked slightly.

“Oh- if you were expecting me to be mad, I am. I am very mad at you,” you cupped his cheeks with your hands, squeezing them slightly, “but I’m also very very happy that you’re alive and standing in front of me. So this is what you get.”

Regulus wrapped you in his arms and although he told you he was fully healed, the face he made told you otherwise. 

Some days later, Dumbledore stopped by and told you that it would be best for the two of you to flee. You Know Who has gotten word about a traitor in his midst and Regulus’ absence had made him a suspect. The two of you packed your things and then spent that night together with your little family that had formed in the past year. 

You all cried, laughed, and screamed one last time. Then Regulus picked up your bags and wrapped you up in his arms.

“One day,” he started, “when this is all over. We’ll come back. I promise my love.”

With a pop, the two of you disappeared into the night, heading to who knows where to start your new life together. 

[vintagedolan]

mixtape - track eleven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

I was hiding from myself too. I was hiding from the part of my brain that was like ‘what are you gonna do now?’. Like, there’s a part of your brain that does thrive off of feeling like shit.

The voice shifted, just for a moment. 

Yea-

It was a tiny sound in the back, from behind the camera. It didn’t even form a full word before Ethan continued talking, but Indy flinched anyway. It was always worse when she was unprepared for it. 

In her distraction, she’d streaked her concealer too far past her eye and sighed, using her finger to pat it in, ignoring the way it splotched. It probably wasn’t the right shade, and it was definitely expired, but it was enough for her to look like maybe she had slept in the last two weeks. 

She hadn’t. Not really. Every time she closed her eyes, even to blink, he was there. Sometimes, she welcomed it. But in that moment, standing in her mirror in her scrubs, she didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to hear his voice. Because she had to keep it together for 16 hours. 12 hours at the hospital on the peds floor, and another 4 at her shift at Jet’s afterward. So she kept her eyes open, took a deep breath, and walked out of her bathroom.

On the other side of the country, Grayson’s eyes were closed.

He wasn’t sleeping. It was 4 in the afternoon, which was the earliest time he could consider himself done with work for the day and escape to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. It only got down to the high forties in LA, even in January, but he climbed under his comforter anyways, pulled his baby blanket up by his face. 

Time seemed to crawl by while he lay there alone. He rolled to his side, pulling his pillow down to wrap his arms around it, and when he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn’t. On his nightstand, turned towards him, was the frame that Indy had gotten him for Christmas. He wished she hadn’t curled up so much when he’d taken it. He wished he could see her face more in the glossy material, wished she had given him a picture of just her instead. When he squeezed his eyes shut again he could see her face better, every feature committed to memory. So he looked. He focused on the different shades of blue in her eyes and pretended like she was in class, and that he was on her couch waiting for her to come home. 

A knock sounded on his door, and his heart tightened. 

Ethan stepped in the room with a bag of Monty’s and a hopeful smile. 

Grayson didn’t move.

“I brought you dinner.”

Nothing.

Ethan sighed, dropping the act. He was giving up on it earlier and earlier these days.

“Bro, you’ve gotta eat. You didn’t eat lunch.”

“Not hungry.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, tough shit then, cause I’m not leaving you alone until you eat at least some of this.” 

Grayson knew his brother, better than he knew himself sometimes, and he could tell by his tone that he was serious. He didn’t have the energy for a fight, and despite himself, his stomach growled at the smell of the fries in the bag, salty and warm. So he sat up begrudgingly and let Ethan pass him the bag, pretending not to see how his shoulders slumped in relief. 

He didn’t have to ask why Ethan stayed. It was to make sure he didn’t sit the bag down as soon as he closed the door behind him. So he waited, and he watched his brother eat his burger slower than usual, fighting to chew it and force it down.

“Where’s yours?” He asked eventually - he knew better than to think that Ethan hadn’t gotten himself a burger. 

“I uh… I ate with Eden.”

Grayson stopped chewing. His question was blatant in his eyes, and he waited for the answer.

“No, I didn’t fucking tell her,” Ethan grumbled, running his hand over his face. “But I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m fucking lying to her.”

“Did she ask about… her?” He caught himself. He hadn’t said her name since they left New York. 

“Not yet. She knows something is up with you though, and if she starts asking questions I’m telling her.”

“No.” It wasn’t a plea. It was a demand. 

“Grayson. She’s gonna find out eventually, I gotta tell her.”

“No. Twin code.”

“Don’t pull that shit man, c’mon, we aren’t six anymore. That’s my wife, and she’s gonna be pissed as fuck at me. If you don’t tell her, I’m gonna have to.”

Grayson stayed quiet and put the rest of his burger back in the bag, his small appetite fading to nausea at the thought of having to admit to anyone else what he had done. He hadn’t had to explain it yet - Ethan knew enough to put the pieces together, and he had enough heart to stay quiet on the plane, just passing over his napkin from his drink as an extra tissue while Grayson looked out the window and cried quietly. But he wasn’t going to tell Eden - he wasn’t ready for that.

Ethan sighed. “I’m just saying Gray, she’s gonna start asking me questions, and I’m not gonna lie to her, that’s not me. That’s not either of us.” He paused, hoping for a response he knew he wasn’t going to get. “Whatever. We have a meeting at 10 tomorrow.”

Ethan left the room in silence, and Grayson closed his eyes.

Indy’s struggled to keep hers open. It was almost 4 am the worst hours of her shift. She poured another cup of coffee from the nurses’ lounge, ignoring the fact that it was burnt as she sipped it down and willed herself to wake up. Part of her wished it was iced - warm drinks made her sleepy, and worse, reminded her of cold New Jersey mornings that she couldn’t afford to think of. Just the idea of reminiscing made her chest tighten enough for her to suck in a breath and start to search for a distraction. She read the schedule instead, checking to see what tech would replace her come 7 am. She still had two vital checks to do on each patient, opting to do them on the even hours. Her head tipped back as she drained the rest of her cup and tossed it in the trash, needing to keep her mind busy.

It wasn’t her job - only nurses could distribute meds, but she could prep the trays for the kids to make their lives easier. So she moved to the med cart and started to look through. 

“Adams, Adrian, Bellon, Campbell, Cortez, Jenkins, Kimp, Lopez, Mullins, Norton.” Her fingers stopped for a moment as she traced down the last names on the cart, mumbling them out. No Newcomb. She double-checked. Nothing.

Bekah didn’t have a tray. 

Indy’s heart sped up a bit, and she waited until she saw Ayria, one of the night shift nurses, coming out of a room.

“Hey, do you need me to get Newcomb a tray? Hers isn’t on here.” It felt weird to refer to Bekah by her last name, but she didn’t want to seem unprofessional.

Ayria frowned, coming to log into the computer on the med cart and check the charts. 

“Oh yeah, everything she’s getting is IV right now, no pills.”

Indy took a breath and steadied herself, glad to see that the clock had turned and she was able to make her rounds. She’d become an expert at taking vitals without waking the kids up - even some of the more seasoned nurses were impressed.

But she could never get past Beks.

The first day, during Indy’s orientation, Bekah could tell something was wrong. It was only three days after Grayson had left after all. Indiana knew that the floor needed a tech, and she knew they’d take her as soon as she asked. She also knew that if she let herself stay at home that she’d never leave it again. So she went and bought the cheapest scrubs she could find and mustered up enough energy to show up. 

She didn’t really need Ayria to show her around that day. She knew the unit inside and out from her time as a volunteer; she just needed the codes for the supply rooms and a list of her tasks for her 12-hour shift. But she was glad that they were together when they went into Bekah’s room because Bekah was kind enough not to say anything with someone else there. Now, she didn’t hold back.

“You look like shit,” she said as soon as Indy walked in.

“It’s 4 am, you should be asleep,” Indy countered with a smirk. The incident on Christmas was forgiven without a second thought, and she was relieved to be back to their normal banter as she put her blood pressure cuff on. 

“You should be asleep. This is your last shift of the week though.”

“Says who?”

“You’ve been here three days already, that’s the max you can work without overtime.” 

Indy kept quiet and wrote down her blood pressure in the chart. 

“Are you okay?” Bekah asked quietly, and Indy sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop the tears flooding her eyes.

“I’m fine Beks. Promise.”

Bekah contemplated if she should say it.

“Is it Grayson?”

Indy’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she held up the thermometer, and she had to blink hard to be able to read the numbers and scribble them down. 

Bekah took her silence as an answer. 

“Sorry. I know it must be hard, having him so far away,” she murmured. Indy couldn’t find her voice to tell her that it was okay. She fiddled with her blankets, tucking her in nicely and dimming her lights down to give her time to clear the knot in her throat.

“Get some sleep Beks.”

She held it together until she got outside her room, and then the tears escaped. As quickly as she could, she ducked her head and beelined for the nurses’ desk, using her oldest trick of drinking water to keep herself from fully breaking down. 

Valentina sat at her desk and watched with a frown, but she didn’t say anything. 

Indy gave herself one minute, and then she took a deep breath and got back to work. 

Time crawled, and she cursed herself for not leaving enough things to keep her busy for the rest of her shift. By 6 am, she’d resorted to cleaning the tables in the break room and reorganizing supplies in the supply closet to keep herself occupied. She knew the day shift nurses would appreciate the extra effort - they always sung her praises, thrilled to work a shift after her considering how well she set it up for them. 

Valentina came into the supply closet at 6:30.

“You might just work our daytime tech out of a job,” she said, making Indy jump and drop the bandages she was restocking.

“You scared me,” she said, catching her breath. “Just restocking.”

“You work too hard,” Valentina shook her head, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna burn yourself out sweetheart, and we need you around here.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“You act like I don’t know you’re going to your other job right after this.”

“They give me good coffee there, what can I say,” Indy teased, but when she looked Valentina’s eyes were sad. “I like to keep busy.” 

“Too busy,” she tsked. “You leave at 6:50 today.”

“Valentina-”

“Keep talking and I’ll make it 6:40,” she threatened. “And you get some sleep later, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Indy conceded, knowing it wasn’t an argument she could win. Nurses weren’t the type to lose an argument, and she’d never met a more nurse-y nurse than Valentina. She finished stocking quickly, gathering her bags and double-checking she’d finished everything before she headed out, waving goodbye to the nurses she saw. 

She was distracted on her way out, and she didn’t think when she hit the button to get into the next hallway. 

For two weeks, she prepped. Mentally paused and thought of all the things that could hit her out of the blue, make her come unraveled. She was ready, for the couples in the street holding hands, for the husbands coming to walk their wives home from work, the high schoolers on hot chocolate dates in the big city. But it was always the small things that got her. 

She hadn’t prepared herself, and her eyes automatically went to the walls when she cleared the doors. The ocean mural. The jellyfish, the sea turtle on the wall that Grayson had said looked like Ethan once. It hit her like a ton of bricks, her chest so tight that she reached up to press on it as she heard his voice in her head. It made her feel pathetic, the way she had to stop and grab onto the rail in the hall and steady herself for a moment. She counted her breaths, trying her hardest to shut her mind off, staring at the blue of the walls as she willed herself to be okay, just for another day.

Grayson was staring at the water. Or at least, he was trying to. The moon wasn’t very bright, but it reflected enough off the ocean for him to get a sense of which way the sun would come up. The whole surface was washed black by the night sky, and it was peaceful. He wanted to swim in it. He wanted to sink beneath it and find that blissful quiet you could only find underwater. 

He’d fallen asleep soon after Ethan had left him alone, which meant he found himself wide awake at 4 am, body tired of being asleep. Sitting in bed would only make things worse, so he sent Ethan a quick text and headed off in the Porsche towards the secret beach. There was no one else there so early in the morning, and he was grateful. It gave him the peace of mind to curl in on himself, let the tears flow freely as the waves lapped at the shore, returning over and over. 

Time ran away from him in the dark. His tears ceased eventually, dried themselves out as he sat in his misery. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he let it wash over him, sink into every pore and weigh him down, wishing he could somehow disappear into the sand as the sun started to rise and wash the world in light orange. His phone buzzed, no doubt a text from his brother. He elected to ignore it, keeping his eyes on the water, counting the waves as they came in. It was admirable, the dedication they showed; returning every time they got sucked back out. 

At some point, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he sighed, pulling his hood up over his head in a feeble attempt to hide himself from whoever was watching him. He stood up and brushed the sand off himself, ducking his head down and jogging straight back to his car, hoping whoever it was wasn’t trying to come up to him. 

As soon as he ducked into his car and pulled the door shut, he sunk down, resting his forehead against his steering wheel. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, smacking his dashboard. His radio turned on with a jolt, connected to his phone and automatically starting his playlist. Cudi blared through the speakers and he groaned, hitting all the wrong buttons in an attempt to get it to turn off.

“Stop, fucking stop!” In a last attempt he chucked his phone across the car, watched it ricochet off the dash and down into the floorboard. He threw his car into reverse with blurry eyes, desperate to get away from anyone who might have a camera. He was paranoid the whole drive home that someone was watching, eyes darting to the windows of any car he ended up next to at a stoplight. It wasn’t until he got the gate closed behind him and he was in the house that he felt like he could breathe again. With Ethan still asleep down the hall, he choked back his sobs as he sat down at the counter, face in his hands. 

Indy was taking deep breaths behind the counter as the line started to pile up at Jet’s. She looked to her right, frowning at the stress on her new coworker, Mariposa’s, face as the cups continued to line up next to her. 

“Hey Posie,” she called over between customers. “Do you wanna switch?”

“God yes,” she exclaimed, rushing to take Indy’s place at the register so she could move over to the bar. 

Indiana preferred it that way. She didn’t have to smile for a latte, she just had to pour it and try not to burn her fingers and move on to the next. It had come back like second nature to her, and she liked the fast pace. It gave less time for her to think, and she welcomed the numbing repetition. She kept an ear piqued towards the register, listening to the orders coming in so she could get ahead. The next one came from a taller man, his face hidden behind a coat.

“Just give me the biggest cup of the strongest stuff you’ve got.”

Indy dropped her cup, a half poured latte splattering all over her hands first, down her apron, then the bottom of her jeans and onto her shoes. It only took one look over at the man to realize it wasn’t Grayson, and she deflated. 

“Shit,” she hissed, flicking her hands in an attempt to chill the burn that was already searing on her skin. She side-stepped to the sink, flipping the cold water on and letting it flow over her hands. It stung even more, and she sighed at the bright red of her skin. She’d had enough burns from her time as a barista to know that it would blister. 

“Indiana, you okay?” Patrick called from the ovens, moving a line of pastries in and out.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

He frowned, but kept quiet, letting her get back into the groove of making drinks. Indy could feel him watching her, the familiar weight of a protective eye over her shoulder. At least he was kind enough to wait until her shift was over before he tried to talk to her again.

“Hey, how’s your hand?” 

Indy looked down and sighed at the sight of her red skin, resisting the urge to rub it. Instead, she moved to the first aid kit and grabbed a wrap bandage. 

“It’s been better, but I’ll survive.”

“Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow,” Patrick suggested as casually as he could. “You know, to rest your hand.”

Indy scoffed.

“It’s not gonna fall off Patrick, I’m fine.”

He sighed. “Fine, if you’re gonna make me say it then I will. You’re a hard worker, one of the best we have, but you’re exhausted. We can all see it, and you don’t need to burn yourself out like this for a minimum wage job. So, you’re off tomorrow. No exceptions.”

“But-”

“No. Exceptions.” 

Her anger bubbled up in her like the blister forming on her thumb, but she knew it wasn’t Patrick’s fault. He was right - she was just upset at the idea of having an entire day with nothing to distract her. An empty apartment had never seemed so daunting, and it was all she could think about as she clocked out, got her things together, and walked home.

It was quieter than she’d imagined when she got through the door, the click of the latch echoing through the still space. She thought of turning on music, but that only made her think of Grayson, singing off-key next to her in the truck. She could put on a movie, but it would make her think of cuddling with him on the couch. Her bed was where he had been so many nights. He’d cooked in her kitchen, he’d helped her move furniture in the guest room. 

She couldn’t escape him, no matter where she went. And so, as pathetic as she felt doing it, she sunk down right there on the floor, and she let the misery have her. It came in broken sobs that caught on her throat on the way out, too loud even for her own ears as she tried to imagine a day where she didn’t feel like the world was crumbling around her. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there. But eventually, the things no one ever talked about started to happen. Her butt went numb, and her head started to hurt, and her lips got dry from the saltwater that ran over them. None of that mattered though. What finally got her up from the cold floor was the fact that she was sticky - remnants of the vanilla syrup in the latte that she’d dropped finally congealing and making her feel more disgusting than the tears. She peeled herself up off the floor and headed to her bathroom.

Grayson was in the shower, with his head down, water splashing over his back and bouncing off his shoulders - a statue in the rain. It was the best place to avoid getting on his phone, considering he couldn’t, and that was the only way he could trust himself to not get on twitter and see the aftermath of the morning.

He wondered for a moment what he looked like from outside the glass shower door, standing there with his razor up by his chest. The blades clogged with the long hairs he shaved from his chest, leaving him bare and smoother than he’d been in months. He sat the razor down and moved to pick up a clear bottle from the shelf. Polis was scribbled on it in sharpie in Ethan’s handwriting, remnants of a Wakeheart meeting. Grayson could remember how excited he was to pitch the idea, even if it was over zoom. 

“I finally came up with the third body wash scent. Vanilla, with a hint of coffee and then a little bit of sandalwood to keep it professional and put together.” 

He’d had to whisper it - Indy was asleep in her room, the product of a good post study-session back rub that had lulled her into a much-needed nap. The team loved it, thought it complimented the other two scents they’d been testing well. Ethan was hesitant, but he kept his mouth shut and brainstormed a backup if needed.

Grayson was thankful for the gesture, even when he’d told him that he’d started planning it as early as he had. But he wasn’t willing to give it up, and he made it very clear in their first meeting back that Polis was a permanent scent. It felt like a tiny piece of her that he could hold onto. Still, as he stood there and held the bottle up to his nose, it wasn’t the same. As pitiful as it made him feel, he tried closing his eyes, tried to imagine she was there with him, standing in front of him, giggling like she always did when they showered together. 

He couldn’t do it justice. Couldn’t feel the warmth of her skin against his, couldn’t smell her shampoo or watch her try to bend over and shave her legs in her small apartment shower without bumping into him. He’d held her hips to help her keep her balance, listened to her laugh and talk about casual intimacy, heard the way it echoed off the tiles and became his favorite sound in the entire world. 

His tears mixed with the water, his pain palpable as he started to quiver just barely, the memory enough to break down the paper thin wall he’d managed to drag back up to protect himself. When his knees shook he gave up and sunk to the ground, green tiles of the bench seat icy against his back as he buried his face in his hands. He’d never felt weaker in his life, and he wished he was ten again, so his dad could wrap his strong arm around his shoulder and tell him that everything would be alright. 

He went for the next best thing once he managed to get enough energy to get up and turn the water off. A few swipes of his towel over his body and hair, then he pulled his boxers on and put on his robe, walking straight out of his room and down the hall.

Ethan’s door was open, but he wasn’t in his bed like Gray expected. He was at his desk instead, a look of stress on his face that Grayson was all too familiar with. A pang of guilt resonated in him when he realized what his brother was doing - picking up all the slack that he was leaving in his misery. 

He hadn’t said a word about it though, and that made it worse.

It took Ethan a moment to realize his brother was there, but as soon as he did he turned his desk chair, giving him his full attention.

“Hey.”

Grayson didn’t answer.

“You okay?” Ethan tried again. Grayson’s throat burned, and he shook his head, sitting on the end of the bed. He’d never been able to hide from Ethan, and luckily, he never really had to. Because Ethan was the type of brother to act tough when he needed to, but soften up at the smallest things. Which was why Grayson wasn’t surprised to see his brother rise up out of his chair, coming to sit next to him. The bed sunk down a bit with his weight, and Grayson let himself press up against his brother. The air felt heavy while he waited.

“You’re good. Just let it out.” Ethan’s voice was quiet, and he leaned his cheek against his brother’s head and felt him go to pieces. It was the hardest Grayson had cried since the airport, and every sniffle made his head pound but he couldn’t pull himself together. Those were the kind of moments where he wondered how people survived without twin brothers. He felt safe there with Ethan - if everything else fell apart, at least he’d have him. There were a million things he could say, but he already knew what the answers would be. Ethan would tell him that he’d find someone else some day, and that Indy would heal and that he shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what he did. He also knew that Ethan would say all of it even if he didn’t believe it, because their pain was shared.

Grayson cried himself out again after an hour or so, his sinuses pounding behind his eyes as the headache settled in. 

Ethan stayed still - he knew better than to leave him. It wasn’t until Grayson finally wiped at his eyes that his brother relaxed a bit, watched him stand up and run his hands over his face. It felt colder without Ethan right next to him, but he knew he needed to sleep. 

“Try to get some sleep,” Ethan echoed his thoughts. “We need to record the pod tonight if you can.”

“Okay. I can help with the emails, I know we probably have a shit ton.”

Ethan was already shaking his head before he finished.

“Just get some sleep, okay?”

Grayson nodded and gave him the best smile he could manage before he went back into his room, climbing back into the safety of his covers with his phone in his hand, just in case she called.

Indy’s pillow was wet. It was mainly from her hair soaking into the pillowcase - she didn’t have the energy to dry it after her shower. But she’d also made a terrible mistake. One scroll through the app store and a quick log in and she was back onto instagram, ignoring the now thousands of follow requests she had in her notifications. It only took one click to her explore page and her tears were adding to the moisture below her cheek. 

He had on his Cudi hoodie, the yellow one. She wished she’d been there to tell him not to wear it. It was too bright, a target for the cameras that seemed to find him. The first ones she saw stung. They were only of his back, taken from far enough away that she could pretend it was someone else. But she knew the way he sat, with his arms over his knees. 

The next ones hurt, because she could see his face. He was walking, and she knew him well enough to know he’d realized what was happening and tried to leave, just from his posture, the way he slumped while walking. His eyes were red, those dark circles that she’d ran her fingers over so many times worse than she’d ever seen them. Ever since he’d left, she’d wanted to know how he felt. If he missed her at all, if he was as miserable as she seemed to be every minute of every day.

It hurt worse to get her answer than it did to wonder. She’d hoped he was upset, but suddenly all she wanted to do was hold him, tell him it was okay, that she was okay even though she wasn’t. It was impossible not to scroll, looking for anything new, any hints as to what he had been up to since he’d gotten off that plane. 

She had never asked for a front row seat to his life, but she’d take it if it was the only glimpse of him that she could get. It made her feel pathetic, but she didn’t care enough to fight it.

Eventually, she found herself scrolling his page. She couldn’t tell how she got there, but she couldn’t seem to leave it either. So she just scrolled, averting her eyes from any comments, and pretending, just for a moment, that everything was back to the way it was. That he was just busy recording a podcast, or that he’d be sprawled out on her couch when she went out to the living room. 

She held onto it until she walked out of her room, knowing she needed to eat even though she didn’t want to. She kept her eyes off the couch, moving to her cabinets that were barren apart from a few avocados that were rotten. With a sigh she threw them in the trash that was close to overflowing, opting instead for the last box of mac and cheese she had left. 

Indy was thankful for muscle memory, her mind wandering off to better days where her kitchen wasn’t so quiet as she cooked the pasta she really didn’t want and took it back to her room, curling up under her covers as she ate.

Grayson had two empty boxes of vegan mac and cheese in front of him, one of which obviously had an ‘E’ scribbled on it that he’d ignored when he made them. He shoveled the noodles into his mouth, ignoring the way they burnt his tongue just barely. Ethan walked in and saw the boxes, opened his mouth and shut it again. 

“S’pod setup?” Grayson said around a mouthful.

“Yeah, I set up the pod, we’re good whenever you’re ready.”

“Gimminute.”

Ethan just chuckled and shook his head, happy to at least see his brother eating even if he was shoveling it down like he hadn’t seen food before. He waited, seeing that Gray was done within the next two minutes, sitting his bowl in the sink and stretching his arms out. He looked tired, but Ethan hoped the pod camera was far enough away from them to make the dark circles subtle enough. 

“Do you want some of my old concealer stuff? For under your eyes?”

Grayson hesitated for a moment, picking at his nails. “You still have it?” 

“Yeah, hang on.” Ethan ran to his bathroom, snagged the compact from his bottom drawer and brought it to the kitchen. “Come over here, you’re supposed to do it in natural light.”

He held it out for Grayson, who just looked up at him. 

“I don’t know how the fuck to do it, you do it.”

“Do I look like a makeup artist to you?” Ethan asked, and when Grayson stayed quiet, he sighed and flipped the compact open, swiping his finger through the semi-creamy substance and moving to pat it on his brother, frowning when it was more difficult than he thought it would be. “Look up you fuck, I gotta blend it.”

Grayson just rolled his eyes but did as he was told, sitting still until E said he was finished and led the way to the studio. They got settled in their chairs, double checking the camera angles. Ethan cleared his throat, waiting until his brother looked at him. 

“Are we… do you want to mention anything about…”

Grayson waited. He wondered if his brother was really going to be dumb enough to ask.

“Are we talking about the pictures, yes or no.”

“What the fuck do you think the answer to that is,” Gray grumbled.

“I’m just saying, if you mention it you can say what you want about it, get your own voice out there. Whatever you say, I’ll go along with it.”

“Great.”

Grayson took a deep breath, gave Ethan a look that read as an apology, and clicked the button to start recording. He stayed fairly quiet the first few minutes of the recording, waiting to jump into a conversation that didn’t make his throat tight. The podcast was his favorite place, because he could let himself actually speak, say what he wanted to say without worrying. 

It came back to bite him in the ass 45 minutes into the episode, when his guard was down and he had finally lost himself the way he did when he worked. They were talking about birds, and how they had a bad, unjustified rep. 

“I mean, Gizmo can be an asshole sometimes, but she’s only an asshole when people are like, scared of her,” Ethan mused. 

“Right! She gets all shy when I come home after a while, but when Dee came in the house the first time she was freaking out, just from hearing her and I swear, every time after that Giz just like, screamed every single time she was even in the house.”

“Gray-”

“No seriously! You remember how loud she got? Fuck, remember that time she went down to help mom with dessert and Giz was out and she cried?”

“Grayson.”

“What? Did I peak the mic?”

Ethan’s eyes were sad. “You… you said her name.”

“Huh?”

“Indiana. You said Dee, when you were telling that story.”

He swallowed hard. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He could see him spiraling, and he tried to reel him back in. “You’re okay. We can just cut it, and start again with a story about Gizmo.” 

“Yeah uh… just give me a second.”

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Just, uh, say what you said again before,” Grayson murmured, shaking his head to try and clear it. But it was too late - he was so consumed by what his mind had brought back to the surface that he could barely hear Ethan repeat his words.

“Yeah-” Grayson came in a moment late. “Giz is a special one.”

Ethan waited for him to continue, but jumped in when he didn’t. “She gets shy when you haven’t been home in a while and you show up. That’s the thing about animals dude, like people think about cats and dogs and they can recognize their emotions, but with stuff like birds and cows and shit, people just don’t think about them that way, and it fucking sucks. They have feelings too! Gizmo’s fucking sassy bro, she will let you know how she’s feeling, especially if she’s pissed. Bro, we should have Giz on the pod, do you think she’d talk? She can whistle, we could show off her tricks.”

“You can’t put a bird on a plane,” Grayson mumbled. His eyes were fixed down on the blue center of the table, and he was fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Yeah, but we can put the mics in our suitcases and just record at home.”

Ethan realized it a moment too late. He wanted to snatch his words out of the air, scratch them from the tape when he saw the way Grayson’s eyes met his, saw the gloss near his waterline. 

“Yeah - uh - um,” Grayson tried to save it, and then he covered his mouth, silencing the squeak that turned into a sob. He pretended it was a cough, bringing his hand up and running his fingers over his forehead, shielding his eyes from the camera.

“I uh, I miss home a lot more this time than I usually do,” he said, his voice froggy with the tightness of his throat. Ethan couldn’t say anything. There was nothing to say as he watched his brother fight and lose in his battle to keep his composure, covering his mouth as he cried, knuckles brushing up against the mic.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m sorry E.”

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay.” Ethan was up so fast he forgot to take off his headphones. They fell back into the chair when they pulled off his ears as he moved to his brother, pulling him up into a hug. “We can finish it later, we’ll just cut to an ad or something. It’s okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh. It’s fine bro, it’s fine. C’mon, let’s go get some air.” 

Air wasn’t what they found.

Instead, they found Eden, standing against the counter with her arms crossed in a way that had Ethan’s blood running cold. He thought the sight of Grayson practically curled in on himself might have softened her up, but she stood her ground until both of the twins were looking at her. 

Grayson knew that she knew, and she only confirmed it when she spoke.

“What. The fuck. Is wrong with you.” 

Back in New York, Indy’s phone was ringing. Or at least, she thought it was. But when she unlocked it and was blinded by the light, it was just her lockscreen, Grayson smiling at her with 3:04 written across the top. Judging by the darkness, she knew she hadn’t slept the afternoon away, but the buzzing continued until she finally climbed out of bed and realized it was the intercom system - the front desk calling her through the small phone on her wall that hardly ever rang. She pulled it off the receiver and held it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Ms. Cross, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

Her heart skipped, and she clutched the phone with both her hands.

“Who?”

There was a beat of silence, and Indy could vaguely hear her ask him for a name. 

“His name is Devin.” 

She sucked in a breath, letting her head and her hopes fall. 

“Send him up.” 

It took her a moment to process her grief before the panic set in. If Devin was showing up unannounced, something bad must have happened. She swung her door open, chewing on her nails as she stood in the doorway, waiting for him to appear. He came out of the elevator with a small duffle slung over his shoulder and a cautious smile that had her ready to cry.

“Dev, what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Charlie?”

“Also fine. We’re fine.”

She caught her breath, and then she was frowning. “If everything is fine, why the fuck are you here at 3am?”

“Because you haven’t answered your sister’s calls in a week, and she’s worried sick about you.”

Guilt panged in her stomach - she hadn’t meant to ignore her. In all honesty, she’d ignored everyone without realizing it. 

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just slipped my mind. Is she here too?”

“She’s got a wedding to shoot this weekend, and we only had one ticket anyways. Flight got delayed, tried to find a hotel for the night so I could wait until later this morning but I couldn’t find one so you’re stuck with me. Sorry,” he teased, reaching out to hold onto her shoulder. There was no malice in his voice, and Indy was grateful. “Let’s go inside.” 

He didn’t ask for it, but she made him a coffee anyways alongside her own. She was tired, her eyes burning, but it wasn’t anything new from the last few weeks. She fought it, pulling one of the few sweatshirts Grayson had left at her place over her head before she sat on the couch, waiting.

Devin was quiet, tapping his fingers against his mug, out of his element. 

“Dev.”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t fly to New York to drink coffee with me. Talk.”

He sighed, sitting his mug down on the coffee table and turning towards her.

“Inds, we’re worried about you.” 

Indy scoffed, a short, automatic sound. 

“I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. You really, really aren’t. You’re running yourself into the ground for no good reason.” 

“I’m trying to pay rent,” she countered, but even she knew it wasn’t true.

“Your hospital job pays more than rent. Jet’s is just because you’re scared to let your mind rest.”

Indy didn’t have an answer, so she sipped her coffee instead, cursing herself for telling Charlie everything in a moment of weakness. The silence was loud, and Devin sighed to break it after far too long.

“Have you talked to him? Since?”

Her throat was tight. “No.”

Devin wrung his hands together. “You do know it was fucked up what he did, right?”

“Dev-”

“I’m just making sure you know that. You can still make your own decision on however you wanna navigate it in the future, but you have to acknowledge that what he did was a new level of shitty. And he’s a good guy, I really do think he is, but he fucked you over, and you’re my family. And I protect my family. So I just need you to know that you didn’t deserve what he did to you, and he fucked up. Big time.” 

“Right.”

“Okay, good.”

She let him believe it, though she’d only said it to appease him. She wondered if he would feel differently, if he had seen. If he had felt, the way that Grayson had shook in her arms, the way his sobs seemed to be ripping him apart every moment that he was hurting her. She wanted to pull up her phone, show him the pictures from the beach, show him that he was hurting too, that he didn’t want to hurt her. She wanted to prove it to him.

“When does your semester start?” He asked, pulling her mind off of it. She swallowed hard, then took another drink of coffee. 

Indiana had spent three days in self pity when she got back from the airport. She let the misery have her fully - didn’t change her clothes, barely ate, hardly left her bedroom. And then, after that, she picked herself up and got to work. She applied for her tech job and called Patrick to see if she could get the schedules to align, and more importantly, she’d started to run numbers. 

Medical school. Just the application fees alone were going to hit her budget hard, so much so that she reduced it down to two. JCU, and UCLA. 

Her applications had gotten accepted three days prior, along with an email about a scholarship she was eligible for at UCLA that made it comparable to JCU’s tuition. But the money wasn’t the issue, and when it was time to accept, she knew that UCLA wouldn’t hold her spot forever.

She’d taken a deep breath, and emailed the registrar. 

“I deferred.”

She was embarrassed to say it outloud, and for some reason it was the brick of the dam that fell, and her tears began to flow. She felt Devin’s hand on her shoulder before he spoke.

“Good.”

She hadn’t expected him to be mean - in fact, the meanest thing she’d ever heard him say was what he’d just said about Grayson. But it still shocked her enough to have her frowning.

“Good?”

“Indy. Do you realize how long you’ve been a student? Do you know who you are outside of being one?”

“I-”

“You’re the smartest person I know, and I love you, but I think you need to take a step back and really look at what you’re doing. Take a semester, fuck, take a year. Live. Breathe. You’re already ahead, and you’ll still be ahead.”

“I’m not worried about being ahead, Dev,” she whispered, running her hands over her face.

“Then what are you worried about?” There was a sincerness in his voice, and a gentleness in the way he held her hand that made her cry even harder.

“I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore,” she blubbered, grateful when he pulled her over to his chest in a hug. He let her cry it out for a while, waiting until she was calm enough to hear him.

“I don’t have the answer to that, but I say, ask yourself what you really want the rest of your life to look like, and then do whatever you have to to get there. If it’s being a doctor, great. If it’s not, great. Just as long as it’s what you want.”

She took a shaky breath in, and blew it out through her lips, simply giving him a nod.

The problem was, she knew exactly what she wanted - and he was off in Los Angeles, cowering behind his brother.

“Baby, woah, hey, take it easy,” Ethan cautioned, side stepping into the war path she’d outlined, headed straight for Grayson. Her eyes were fire when she looked at her boyfriend and raised an eyebrow.

“He’s having a rough night, just take it easy,” he added.

He stoked the flames.

“You know who else is probably having a rough fucking night? Indiana. And we are gonna talk later-” she poked a finger into Ethan’s chest - “but right now, I’m not talking to you so I suggest you get out of my way.” 

There was a bite in her tone that had Ethan rocking back on his heels, questioning just how far his duties as protective brother would go. He breathed out a sigh when he felt Grayson’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine E.” 

He’d never admit it, but Grayson had been waiting. Ever since he pulled away on New Year’s, he had waited for the punishment. The anger, the disbelief, the spite that he thought would arise in Indiana at the realization of what he’d done. 

It wasn’t until he got off the plane and into his room that he realized his true punishment would be the guilt, and the grief, and the realization that he’d pushed away the only future he’d ever truly known he wanted. 

The anger was a welcomed change.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck, Grayson.”

“I know.”

“I don’t say a lot of shit about a lot of shit, but whoever you decide to be with could possibly end up as part of my family, forever, so fuck me if I’m invested, and I think I deserve an explanation on why I just got a call from Charlie to see if I’d talked to Indy, cause she’s ‘really going through it’.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her.” His eyes turned glossy, and Ethan stood up straighter.

“The fuck you didn’t,” she scoffed, running her hand through her hair to push her curls out of her face. “You realize how badly you fucked up, right? Right?”

“Yes.”

“And that you broke her heart right? Probably absolutely fucking destroyed her.”

“Eden-” Ethan spoke up.

“Yes,” Grayson answered, his chest tight. He wrapped his arms around himself, willed them to hold him together. It felt different, to have someone say it to him so directly, to confirm what he had done.  

“Then why? Just… why?”

“Long distance wouldn’t have worked, and I didn’t want -”

“Oh bullshit. No one would have tried harder than Indiana to make that work, you fucking know that.”

“She shouldn’t have to deal with that, with me being so far away -”

“God you fucking self-sacrificial fuck!” She yelled. “She loved you, you moron, and when you love someone, you give! You hit a crossroads, you sit down and have a fucking conversation, and you fucking give! That’s what a fucking real relationship looks like, not you deciding that you don’t deserve to be loved and running in the other fucking direction!” Her face was red when she stopped to catch her breath. Ethan looked just as shocked at the outburst as his brother. Her mind seemed to catch up to her ears, and she backtracked.

“Sorry, fuck, that was -”

“No, you're right. You’re right. Everything you said was fucking right,” Grayson didn’t even try to hide his tears. He blubbered into his hands, ugly choking sobs that he wasn’t sure how he even produced. Ethan was at his side immediately, arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“What do I do?” He asked, voice muffled by his hands until he finally raised his head and looked at Eden with pleading eyes, waiting for an answer she was reluctant to give.

“You let her live. Don’t text her, don’t call her. If she calls, you don’t answer. When you go home, you don’t see her. You let her let go, and move on.”

All he could do was nod, and lean into his brother.

Indy leaned against the wall. It was cold and unrelenting against her shoulder, but it held her up better than her own legs would. She’d dropped Devin off at the airport that afternoon, and found herself back on the ped’s floor, waiting. 

Valentina spotted her first from the nurses station, and the way she held her clipboard made it look like a weapon.

“My eyes better be deceiving me, cause’ I know that is not Indiana Cross standing in my hallway on her day off.” 

Indy found it in her to laugh dryly. “Relax Val, I’m here to see Beks. Haven’t gotten to visit her off the clock for a while.”

Valentina still gave her signature disapproving stare, but she gave it up with a sigh. “Well, her family is visiting too. Mom and Dad, if you wanna say hi.”

It had been a long time since she’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb. They were lovely people, and they truly did come see her as often as they could. But they also worked two jobs a piece to try to foot the medical bills, which meant often was scarce. 

Indy had never seen them in the same room before, and her stomach tightened. She was hesitant to go to Bekah’s room, scared to interrupt, but when she peaked her head around her doorway, she saw the couple sitting on the couch in the room quietly. 

Mrs. Newcomb spotted her, eyes brightening as she waved her inside. 

“Come in, come in!”

Indy was still hesitant as she walked inside, eyes darting over to a sleeping Bekah. She was curled up under her halloween blanket, brows furrowed down and skin pale. 

“Hi Indiana, how are you sweet girl?” Mrs. Newcomb asked.

“I’m good, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just thought I might stop by and check on her but I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, no you’re fine! She was actually asking about you just before she went to sleep, you and Earring, whoever that is. Hang on.”

Indy watched as she moved over to the edge of her daughter’s bed, running her thumb along her cheek until she started to stir.

“Sweetheart, Indiana is here to see you. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Bekah whined, but pulled her eyes open, smiling slightly when Indiana moved into her view.

“Hey punk,” Indy said, crouching down so she could get to her level. 

“Hey,” she whispered, voice hoarse. On instinct, Indy reached out to fix her head wrap, making Bekah’s mother smile. “What time is it?”

“6:55,” Indy answered.

“Mmm. Meds coming soon,” she mumbled. “Where’s Earrings? He doesn’t like needles, don’t let him see the needles.”

“No needles baby,” Mrs. Newcomb said. “Just some to make you feel better. You rest now.”

“Earrings,” she said again, and Indy could tell she was asking. 

“He’ll be here to see you soon,” Indy lied, rubbing over her wrap like she would her hair if it was still there. 

It didn’t click for Indiana until 7 rolled around, and Jennifer came in with a cup of pills instead of an IV pole.

Radiation and chemo don’t come in pills, Indy knew that much. 

Mrs. Newcomb watched the realization come across her face, and she gave her a sympathetic smile.

“She’s… she didn’t get her meds.”

“Indiana baby, it’s what she wants. The new round didn’t work, the stem cells failed. It’s time to let her rest. We’ll keep her comfortable, the doctor says it’ll probably be a few weeks, maybe a month.”

Indy’s throat burned, and her breathing quickened, chest rising much too fast. She couldn’t say goodbye to anyone - it took all her focus to make it out of the building, running down the stairs and across the lobby before she was dry heaving in the bushes, the sight of Bekah’s frail body in her bed appearing every time she closed her eyes.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. More of an instinct, really, that drove her to pull her phone out of her pocket and pull him up and call.

In LA, Grayson’s phone buzzed against his nightstand. A new picture of Indiana popped up - her contact photo that he’d taken one day in Jersey. With a knot in his throat and Eden’s voice in his ears, he reached over and turned it off before rolling away and letting his tears soak into the pillowcase.

[kaekiro]

Lest

Pairing: Eren/Mikasa II Rating: T II Words: 3032 II [AO3] Warnings: Mentions of blood and death A/N: In which Eren thinks Mikasa is dead and he doesn’t know how to cope. Instead, he acts a bit aggressively out of despair and frustration. Alternate canon au where EM is 19 yo and are already together. 

A few months ago, an AO2 user by the name of Lola left a comment on chapter 49 requesting that I write this! I don't think I've written one of these before, so I took all the pent up angst from the recent manga chapters and dumped it into here 😅 Hope you like it! P.S. I threw in a reference from the Netflix Series Dark! If you know the series, see if you can spot it!

The news didn’t quite register in his mind. He fell out of touch from reality, hoping that this was some kind of nightmare that she’d wake him from, like she always did. The messenger left in a rush soon after the written note was handed off to the Captain, and he felt his body go stiff the moment the paper was lowered and Levi glanced to him, then to Armin. Levi’s eyes betrayed nothing, but he knew deep down that something was wrong. And when his fears were confirmed, his blood froze over, stilling every limb and breath and bodily function for a long moment.

“Mikasa is missing.” 

He blinked rapidly, unbelievingly, and he almost wanted to laugh because surely the Captain was just making another bad joke. Mikasa and her going missing is something that did not go together, it was impossible. Unthinkable. He looked to Armin for assurance, expecting him to voice these exact thoughts. But his best friend’s face reflected the anxiety he struggled to repress, and that was when he began to realize the gravity of the situation. Levi wasn’t joking, and Mikasa was missing. 

He stood and walked out of the room with firm intent, ready to get his gear together and leave to go find her. 

“Eren,” Armin called, following him out of the room, reaching out to touch his shoulder.  “Eren,” he said more sharply, moving to quickly jump in front of him and block his path. He glared hard, wondering why he wasn’t as eager to help or even join him. 

“What?” 

“I know what you’re planning. You can’t go out there.”

“And why not?” he challenged, his frustration and impatience flaring. “Mikasa could be hurt and she needs me. She needs us.”

“Or,” Armin began, stepping to block his attempt to get around him, “she could be okay. It takes time for these messages to be delivered. During that time, or even right now, she could’ve already used a flare to signal her and her squad’s location. Or they could have been found by other scouts. This is Mikasa we’re talking about. Have some faith in her. Who knows, she could return here by tomorrow morning after they check her health. Just -- don’t do anything rash. We don’t have the resources to help keep you safe out there. And we don’t need any more people going missing, you of all. ” 

He saw reason in what Armin was saying, he truly did. But the sense of alarm did not falter. Instead, it kept nagging and screaming that something was not right. It wasn’t easy, but he stayed quiet and swallowed a whole lot of what he was feeling, knowing and repeating to himself that Armin’s instincts hardly missed their mark. He also knew that he could trust in Mikasa’s abilities, trust in her to come back. He had to focus on that, lest he go insane with worry. 

-----

Without waiting to be told, he woke up earlier than his squadmates and began chopping wood outside. The exercise helped burn away the stress he still couldn’t shake off, but the real reason he was out here so early is that he wanted to be the first to greet Mikasa. He pictured lecturing her for scaring him, checking over her injuries himself if she had any. And perhaps, when they were alone, he’d take her in his arms just to feel her’s wrap around him, to prove that she was really okay and that he didn’t need to get as worked up as he is. The thought makes his face warmer but heart lighter. Yeah, he would definitely do that. All he needed to do was wait for her. 

Yet, no one showed up that day. 

-----

He didn’t mean to do it. 

This realization dawns on him when the room falls silent and he feels Jean restraining his arms, sees Armin gazing down at the broken teacup with tears in his eyes. 

The liquid that dribbled from the wall and seeped into the floorboards used to be warm. It was the Captain that had heated the tea, suggesting that Sasha bring it up to him as he hadn’t left Mikasa’s room since they all found out the news. Unable to sleep, he was the one a new messenger delivered the news to early in the morning. He should’ve given it to the Captain as it was his message, but desperation took over and before he knew it, he lost complete sense of balance and stumbled until his back met something solid, eyes wide but unseeing as the unfolded paper fell to the ground. Some of the corpses retrieved were scouts that were part of her squad. The mission had transitioned from a search to a recovery effort for Mikasa’s and the others’ bodies. Involuntarily, he recalled what the bodies looked like during the recovery missions he’d been a part of, imagined seeing a bloodied sheet with a tattooed wrist peeking out. He distantly heard a shout of his name as he doubled over and vomited out what little he had in his stomach.

He doesn’t remember when or how he got to her room. But his body was curled on her bed, stiff, unmoving, and to his misfortune, awake. Sasha must’ve known this as she quietly stepped into the room because she offered words of comfort, trying to sound optimistic yet her voice lacked the hope he desperately needed. He didn’t reply to her, did nothing to acknowledge her presence at all and she had in turn understood, whispered her condolences after setting down the steaming cup on the desk, and shut the door behind her. There was a fleeting feeling of guilt in his stomach when he ignored Sasha and let the tea go to waste, but it couldn’t be helped. The only thing that managed to bring him some semblance of consolation was turning further into Mikasa’s pillow and breathing in softly, the pleasant scent of her hair and clothes barely there, but there nonetheless. 

Falling asleep had been a slow and painful process for him, his mind and thoughts consumed by worry and memories of her. In his dreams, she was beside him as she’d always been, weakly scolding him about something he didn’t pay any mind to because she was so close and cleaning his cheek with her handkerchief. He wanted nothing more than to grab hold of the front of her jacket, to tug her closer and press his mouth to hers just to see her surprised reaction. But when he did, what he thought was a dream instantly turned into a nightmare. He pulled back to look at her and suddenly found himself kneeling over her body, his hands and her clothes stained with her blood. She tried to tell him something and he knew it was important with how she was clutching onto him, but she could only manage a terrifying mix between a gurgle and cough before the light left her eyes. He shook terribly, would have screamed if the pain hadn’t made it impossible to breathe. Tears fell from his eyes as did promises from his lips, whimpers of I’ll make it right filling the space between them as he clutched the hand that fell from his cloak, his other hand moving to gently close her eyes. 

He woke up in a panic then, became even more frightened when Jean and Armin came into his line of sight as they shook him awake. 

“Eren!” Jean whispered harshly, “snap out of it! It’s just us!” 

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face as Armin helped steady his breathing, both of them taking in lungfuls of air and breathing out slowly, over and over and over. Eventually, with his legs tossed over the edge of her bed, he buried his face in his hands, rubbing furiously at his eyes to try and erase the remnants of his nightmare. Jean and Armin carefully sat on either side of him, offering their presence as he grieved. 

“Why did I let her go?” he asked tearfully, to neither of them in particular. 

“...Eren,” Armin started slowly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t give up hope just yet. It’s only been a couple of days. There’s no confirmation that…” the last words of his sentence, the ‘she's dead’ remained unspoken, but the three of them were painfully aware of it. Armin continued. 

“A-and besides… there was no way you could have known that—”

He startles both his friends when he stands up, grabbing the cup full of tea and smashing it against the wall. He completely ignored the cries of his name and would've swiped the books and sewing kit off Mikasa’s desk if Jean hadn’t forcefully held him back. 

“I did know!” he cried, tears dripping from his chin. Armin was telling him to be hopeful, but he knew that tone, knew that it meant that his best friend was assuming the worst, just like him. “From the very beginning, right when the three of us agreed to join the military! I just knew that something like this would happen, and I still let her follow me here!” 

The deafening silence that follows is what slowly drags him back to a more sensible state, enough for him to realize what he’s done. He takes in the scene before him, the broken glass, the tears in Armin’s wide eyes, Jean’s hands struggling to keep their grip on his forearms. What would Mikasa think…

His arms go slack at that thought. He wishes she was here to hold his hand like she used to when he was overwhelmed, and tell him that even if things didn’t turn out alright, she’d be right there. Perhaps she was there with him. Even if he couldn’t see her. He never believed in those kinds of things if he was honest, there wasn’t anything to prove it was true. But… there wasn’t anything to prove it was entirely false either.... and the idea that she might be here made him shift entirely. She wouldn’t want him to react this way, yet here he was, making a mess and about to damage her belongings. 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he murmurs, to Armin and Jean, to Mikasa. The hands holding his forearms let go. “I didn’t mean to…” 

He sees Armin nod, quickly wiping at his nose. “I’ll get something to pick this up—”

“No.” He reaches for the candle one of them had set on Mikasa’s dresser, using the light to carefully step around the broken glass. “I made this mess, I’ll clean it up.” 

“Eren,” Jean says as he clamps a hand on his shoulder. “you look like a pile of shit and you’re not doing well. Let Armin and me handle this.”

He sniffles, looking down. “You forgot to say ‘no offense.’”

“I fully intended to offend you.”

Though he can’t bring himself to smile, Jean acting like a jackass the way they always did with one another helped him a little bit, and it was enough to convince him to agree. When everything was picked up and fixed, they coaxed him to sleep in a different room, reasoning that he’d been in there all day and it’d be better if he was with them, in case of another nightmare. He takes one last look into her bedroom before leaving, an ache spreading within his hands and chest as he remembers sneaking in there late at night a little over a week ago, letting her head rest on his shoulder and arm sling over his abdomen. She was so warm, and the steady rhythm of her breath lulled him to sleep just minutes after laying next to her. He can’t imagine what he wouldn’t give just to be like that, at least one last time.  

-----

His eyes feel swollen and uncomfortably dry when he opens them, doing so long enough to notice the unmade sheets on the mattresses and floor, how he was the only one in the room. The morning light becomes too much after a few seconds and he closes them once more, his exhaustion from yesterday making him slump further into the flat pillow. I’m so tired… I wouldn’t mind if I could stay just like this for a while… 

He doesn’t know how much time passes but eventually, he feels his hair, outgrown and tangled, being pushed away from his face. The gentle nature of the touch is light but so familiar that he immediately peeks his eyes open, the silhouette blurry but undoubtedly her. His lips curl into a lazy and content smile before they part to say her name, his voice raspy but soft. Bit by bit, his vision clears until he can finally see her small, pretty smile. 

“Eren,” she responds evenly, her fingers carefully untangling the lock of hair caught on them. Her other hand is pressed against the floor she’s sitting on, supporting her weight as she leans heavily to one side. What he wants most is to nudge his way over and rest his head on her lap, but he hardly has the energy to keep his eyes open. And the soothing feeling of her movements was not helping at all. 

“Why are you on the floor? And not in your bed?” 

Not entirely sure himself, he makes a noise that, if anything, only tells how tired he is. She seems to leave the short line of questioning at that, successfully untangling another knot. “Well… you should start waking up so you can eat something before Sasha helps herself.”

A sense of anxiety washes over him for reasons he can’t fully remember at the moment, and he only shakes his head like a stubborn child, burying half his face into the pillow as if it helps make a point. All he knew was that if he listened to her, what has been happening the past couple of nights would happen again; he’d wake up from his dream and she would disappear along with it.

“I don’t want to wake up. I want to stay in this dream,” he says quietly, wistfully, closing his eyes tighter.

“...What?” he hears her ask, feeling her shake her head as she reaches down to touch his face and swipe her thumb across his cheekbone affectionately. “Eren… you’re not dreaming.”

He frowns and he opens an eye to look at her as if she’s said something crazy. 

“What do you mean I’m not dreaming?” 

“....You’re not dreaming? I don’t know a simpler way to say it.”

It takes all his effort but he pushes himself to sit upright then, a little more awake and even more confused. He takes in the sight of her, the concern on her face, and remembers thinking that he’d never get to see it again. That’s right, Mikasa was “missing,” but scouts were looking for her body. He had lost her. He briefly glances around the room, noting the white sheets and how they reflect the sunlight in a way that makes the room seem unnaturally bright, like he was in some kind of dream. Was this heaven? The afterlife?

“Am…. am I dead?” he genuinely asks, eyes widening.

Mikasa looks at him as if he suddenly sprouted an extra head, fixing herself into a kneel and pushing her palm against his forehead, the back of her other hand checking the temperature of his face and neck. “Do you have a fever or something? Why are you asking such strange things?” 

The firm and real touch of her hand snaps him out of whatever delirium he’s experiencing and he just stares at her, watches how she frets over his unkempt state. He couldn’t pay any mind to his dumb and embarrassing questions because this wasn’t a dream, and he wasn’t dead. This is real. Tears start to pool in his eyes, falling from them in thick droplets.

She looks even more worried, opening her mouth to probably ask more questions but before she can, he grips her arms and pulls her close to wrap his arms around her waist, his entire being weak and ready to collapse at the relief that pulses through him. He clenches his jaw tight, stifling his sobs but unable to control how they wrack his body. Her scarf catches the tears that won’t stop falling, and he only embraces her harder as he manages a barely audible, “I thought you weren’t coming back… I thought I lost you…” 

He knows that she finally understands the reason behind his bizarre behavior when she relaxes against him, her arms curling around his shoulders and head resting against his. 

“I’m sorry, Eren...”  

They stay like that for a few moments longer until her left hand coaxes him to look at her, her thin fingers wiping at the wet and darkened skin beneath his eye. “Plans were compromised, and we lost more than expected,”  she explains regrettably, her gaze fixed on her movements. “A small group of us were stranded for a short while, but… but I’m here now.” 

Her voice and words reverberate so nicely in his ears after spending so many hours longing to hear them, and yet there is a part of him that still feared that somehow this wasn’t real. Even awake and wound up in each other's embrace, he wasn’t entirely convinced, and he was becoming acutely aware of how he craved something more. So, in response, he nudges her hand away from his face so he can cup her cheeks and swiftly guide her lips to his. She inhaled sharply through her nose, clearly blindsided by his kiss and he would’ve felt more sorry if it wasn’t for the soft sensation of her lips, her breath and skin reassuringly warm against his face. His slight regret for surprising her (especially in a way neither of them was used to) diminishes entirely when her hands rise to wrap around his wrists and she kisses him back, over and over. When he pulls away, greeted by the sight of her blush and shy gaze, he takes in a lungful of air, finally feeling like he can truly breathe.

[marvelfansince08love]

The Pleasure is all Mine - Chapter 6

Word count: 4250

Pairing: Lou Miller x Female!Reader 

Warning: Angsty as fuuuck - I apologise in advance lmao.

A/N: Sorry for the slow updates... my shift pattern at work as changed so I’ve been working back to back shifts at the hospital, I hope to have my prompt request up in the next two days just before my birthday at the end of the week. Enjoy this chapter.. I had a love/hate relationship with it. 

Fun fact: I listened to ‘Prisoner’, ‘As you are’ and ‘Angel’ by The Weeknd in that order while writing the party scene.. so i feel like they are the songs that were playing at the time. So feel free to listen to those songs while reading if you like!

Thank you @imnotasuperhero you bloody diamond! 

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @redcrete​ @iamheartless @deadly-darling​ @gaylorrds @smuttty @existentialcrisiscat @saucy-sapphic @veteranwerewolf95​

I do not own this beautiful picture but this is basically how Lou looks in this chapter, so enjoy that image x

Chapter 6 

"Good morning New York City, it's 9am on a sunny saturday -" the ecstatic radio station burst with life, startling me awake. I groan in displeasure as I turn to hit the disturbing box before rolling back over and stretching my tired limbs, my hand brushes against the cool sheets in the empty space beside me making me pout; missing the warmth of Lou wrapped around me in our sleepy state. I hear my phone vibrate on my nightstand making me reach quickly for it, hoping that it's her. My heart flutters, my grin wide making my cheeks ache slightly at the received message.

Good morning beautiful. Waking up this morning without you next to me was dreadful, I miss holding you and watching your nose twitch and your eyelashes flutter as you wake. If waking up in a cold empty bed without you feels this awful I don't ever wanna sleep again - 9.03am 

Good morning to you too, the feeling is definitely mutual. Hopefully we won't have to feel like this soon... say tomorrow night? - 9.04am I reply nervously, hoping I haven't come across as too needy.

Is that a promise? - 9.08 am 

Signed and sealed - 9.10am

I'll be counting down the minutes, baby. Have a lovely day, I'll be thinking of you x - 9.12am

I sigh smitten with this wonderfully charming woman who seems to have my heart racing like no other.

I wish I could wake up every morning with her, I sulk thoughtfully as I begrudgingly leave my bed and head towards the kitchen ready to start the day.

As I continue to make my pancakes; that's not nearly half as good as what Lou makes, a loud knock echoes through my apartment startling me out of my funk. I place the pan onto the side and quickly make my way to the door and open it, revealing Rachel and Luke both with matching cheshire cat grins.

"Well well well, look who slept in her own apartment last night. Oh, but does that mean she's here instead?" Rachel teases while trying to poke her head through the door. I roll my eyes at them playfully before opening the door wider, letting them enter my apartment.

They both rush in and scan the open area in search of a tall blonde goddess making me laugh at the non subtle actions.

"She's not here if you must know. I slept alone last night," I answered with slight disappointment. They both seem to catch on to the tone and smirk wide.

"You wished you hadn't, though. Damn, she must have been good." Luke states, wiggling his eyebrows as Rachel walks towards the kitchen and grabs a bite of my untouched pancakes, chuckling in agreement.

"So I thought we could go shopping and grab a bite to eat before coming back here and starting our movie marathon, maybe order the Chinese later on?" I ask, wanting to change the topic. I got an agreed 'whoop' and an exclaimed 'YES!" from my friends who are far too interested in my breakfast.

Guess I'll add grabbing breakfast while out onto the agenda then I think to myself.

I huff jokingly before telling them to make themselves comfortable while I get changed for the day, already knowing that they always make themselves comfortable in my space.

Once dressed in my high waisted jeans and oversized jumper I make my way over to the two clowns who seem to be messing up my kitchen as they wash up.

"Can you guys ever just come over without making a mess? It's like having two children in the apartment," I laugh at the defensive 'Hey' from the pair before shooing them out of my kitchen and towards the door.

"Come on, I've gotta grab some breakfast considering you both eat mine." I sulk playfully as we make our way out of the apartment and onto the streets of New York.

***

"Alright, but getting kicked out of the store for giving my opinion on that awful flowery dress with those ankle boots was a bit far. If anything, I was helping the poor woman out by stopping her from buying it." Rachel complains while Luke helps carry half of her shopping bags through my apartment, I roll my eyes in slight annoyance already hearing this story three times since being out.

"Rach, we were pretty much finished in there anyway. And "the flower pattern on that dress makes it look like an 80s hippie threw up on you" wasn't very nice," I comment, taking my bags through the apartment towards my room, while they flop onto my sofa, bags still in hand.

I walk back through into the living room and flop down next to them and sigh in relief.

God, I hate and love shopping.

My phone vibrates in my jean pocket and I grin subtly as to not draw attention to the others:

Strawberries or chocolate? - 16.00pm 

Why not both? What's with the weird question? ;) - 16.02pm

Just some useful information to store away for future reference;), I miss you x - 16.04pm

I blush slightly and try to hold back a squeal as I bite gently on my lower lip before pocketing my phone away from potential prying eyes.

"Okay, all that shopping and carrying Miss.fashionista bags around all day is making me hungry, Chinese?" Luke complains, flashing us his emerald green eyes and a pout for good measure making me pout back in mocking sympathy.

"Of course, you big baby. Can't hack shopping with two women." I joke.

"Darling, I've been out of the closet since I walked out of there in my mums six inch stilettos. I can hack shopping with two women," He shoots back, making us all laugh. Rachel grabs her phone from the table in front of us as I grab hold of the menu and recite my usual to her. Once we've ordered, we make our way towards my kitchen to make our crazy cocktails for the afternoon.

Ever since I moved here, it's been a tradition that whenever we all have more than one day off in the week together, we meet up and have a 'friends day/ night gathering'. It all started after Rachel's 'love of her life' decided to run out on her the morning after a drunken night out leaving her crying on my doorstep and a distraught Luke not knowing how to handle a crying female alone. 

We continue to laugh and joke while making terrible margaritas and other alcoholic potions when Harry Styles'  'Adore You' echoes through the kitchen area making us pause as two matching grins face me while I blush under their playful stares.

"Cute," Luke whispers, making me hush them both before removing myself and my phone away from their prying ears.

"Hello you!" I greet with slight flirtation 

"Well if it isn't the voice of my beautiful goddess, I've missed you"

"I've missed you too, you charmer. Do you say that to all of the girls?" I tease, smiling smugly when I hear her laugh loudly.

"You know it's only you baby" she jokes back but the tone of her voice indicates her seriousness, making me smile.

"How was the party planning?" I ask, making my way to my bedroom. 

"It went great actually. We're all pretty set up for later on which is why I'm calling. I forgot to ask yesterday but I got so caught up with everything here I forgot to mention it. I want to informally invite you to Daphne's party tonight, the invite is extended to Rachel and Luke as I know it's your friends night" I smile at that, liking that she remembered.

"I would love to come! I'll double check with them but if there's alcohol involved they're usually up for anything" I joke making us both chuckle.

"Okay great! I'll see you later tonight then?" She says hopefully making my stomach flutter with excitement.

God, it's only been a day and I'm like this I mutter thoughtfully to myself. 

"I'll see you later. It's definitely at your place right?"

"As much as I tried to move it... yes it is," she grumbles all in good nature, I chuckle softly before muttering a goodbye ending the call. Practically skipping my way back to the kitchen where they are both plating up the food that must have just arrived. I excitedly relay the message to my friends, who cheer in response before chatting about what they are going to wear.

Once we have finished our food, Luke and Rachel leave to go and get changed for the party while I fret over my choice of outfit. Deciding that my black dress with off the shoulder straps shows off my curves the best, I slip it on with a pair of black heels. After touching up on my makeup, I curl my hair into loose curls to finish the look.

I really do scrub up well, I think feeling confident with my choice.

My phone lights up with a 'we're here' text from Rachel before I grab my long coat and make my way down the stairs of my apartment building.

***

Lights shine through the warehouse windows with party music blaring through big speakers making the lyrics crystal clear outside, a few party goers chat loudly outside while enjoying a cigarette.

"Oh, my God. I've never been to a celebrity birthday party before!" Luke exclaims, nudging Rachel and pointing towards another movie star that he saw on the big screen one time. I chuckle and shake my head at his starstruck face before looping my arm through his and walking towards the door.

"Luke, Daphne and the rest of them are just like normal regular people relax," I tease while Rachel nods in agreement.

"Yeah, what's so great about Daphne Kluger anyway." Rachel mutters while eyeing a tall tattooed blonde guy standing by the doorway of the entrance, she winks in his direction making him grin back in return. I roll my eyes at her boldness before continuing into the living room area which has been converted into a dance space for the night.

I scan the room searching for a particular blonde with crystal blue eyes but before I can make it further into the room I feel a pair of arms circle around my waist and a light pressure on my shoulder from the chin that's now placed there, soft lips brush gently against my jawline.

"Well, don't you look absolutely stunning. I love the straps on this dress, a lot of access to kiss you more." Her raspy voice sends a shiver down my spine as she places a gentle kiss on my shoulder. I smirk at her forwardness enjoying the feeling of her body against mine. I turn around in her arms to face and gape at her, holding in a groan of pleasure as my eyes scan every inch of her.

No one should look that good in a suit.

She stands in a black suit consisting of a white shirt with a black bowtie that hangs down loosely from under her neck collar. Her blonde hair pulled up in a loose bun leaving her face free, for the first time since meeting her I'm left speechless.

"Oh, dear... it seems I've rendered you speechless. Maybe I should come back once you've regained your senses, hmm?" She mocks with that signature smirk that makes my knees go weak.

"I..um.. you look..."

"Ravishing?" She implies still smirking.

yes

"Amazing was what I was going for... maybe even hot but your cockiness has bumped you down to just amazing," I joke matching her smirk, we stare at each other for a moment appreciating one another when a very loud cough interrupts our staring, making me turn slightly in Lou's arm.

"Well, you must be Lou Miller. I'm Rachel and this is Lucas but he prefers Luke, I see you've been taking up our girls' time lately, you must be really special" She states,  grinning at us both as she holds her hand out for Lou to shake which she happily reaches for while still keeping a secured arm around my waist.

"It's nice to meet you both. Sorry this place is a little crowded, Daphne clearly doesn't understand a small get together" she says, throwing on one of her most charming smiles making Rachel and even Luke giggle. I roll my eyes at their smitten ways.

Guess I'm not the only one that affected by the Miller charm

"Oh leave it out, Miller. You know you like a good party!" Daphne exclaims, stumbling slightly over to us weaving through the crowd of people as Constance and Nine-ball carry over a tray of shots with Rose and Amita trailing behind clearly still sober, ever the responsible two.

"Y/N darling, it's so good to see you again! I'm so glad you could make it!" She slurs, hiccuping in between words occasionally making me chuckle quietly before she pulls me out of Lou's arm and into her own squeezing me tightly. I pat her back gently before muttering "Hey Daphne, it's nice to see you again. Hey guys!" I address the others over Daphne's shoulder who smiles widely and waves while Constance holds up the liquid filled  tray.

"I got shots!" Making everyone cheer even Rose, Daphne let's go of her hold on me and reaches for a glass as Lou steps closer to me and hands me one. We clink our glasses, never taking our eyes off each other before letting the burning liquor trickle down our throats. I cough slightly at the sudden taste before whispering into Lou's ear.

"Where's Tammy and Debbie?" She pulls back long enough for me to see her point upstairs and wiggle her eyebrows at me, making me gasp and giggle at her childish behaviour.

"They'll be down soon though. Tammy's excited to see you again, she can't wait to have someone she can complain to about mine and Debbie's behaviour" she jokes, pouting playfully at me as I cup her cheek and pat it in mocking sympathy.

"Oh, you poor baby. Have you ever thought that maybe she's right to complain about it" I laugh at her offended expression, I notice some of the team looking in our direction not so subtly with small soft smiles while they talk with my friends in our makeshift circle between the bar and dancefloor, clearly enjoying watching me tease their friend.

The night continues on with our back and forth teasing and not to mention the subtle touch of fingertips and the grazed hand over my ass while we spoke with Tammy and Debbie making me scold her softly causing Tammy to laugh and a raised eyebrow and twitch of a smirk from Debbie. Throughout the night I've noticed a particular redhead staring over at us, her expression difficult to read in the dimly lit room as night fell over outside. I brush it off as slight paranoia with being around so many strangers. After a while we both get separated by Lou’s work friends who require her attention at the bar, she frowns in displeasure before I give her a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth and reassure her that I'll be okay. I wandered over to Rachel and Luke who seemed to have departed after the first two rounds of shots at the beginning of the night to go and throw some moves on the dancefloor. Luke catches my eye from the middle of the floor and reaches out his hand for me to take, I giggle as he takes a hold of my hand and twirls me around bringing me close to him before twirling me back out again. Rachel woops next to us, her arm around Daphne's waist making me raise a questioning eyebrow, she blushes and shrugs innocently at me before continuing to dance with her. As Luke twirls me out of his arms again I notice the same red head hovering by the dancefloor however this time she stands next to a tall brunette woman who seems to be whispering into her ear but her eyes never straying from my form. I avert my gaze feeling slightly uncomfortable but become distracted by Luke's ridiculous dancing.

After a while Tammy and Amita join our little duo on the dancefloor, laughing a little at Tammy's 'mum dance'. With all the laughter and alcohol in my system I stagger slightly towards the bathroom needing to pee. The queue is long making me groan and back pedal a little knowing I could always use Lou's en suite if needs be. Before I could fully turn back around a rough hand wraps itself around my bicep making me startle and tense at the unfamiliar touch, I turn to see the same brunette that was standing by the dancefloor with the beautiful redhead earlier.

"If you're looking for Lou, you'll be searching for a while. She kinda pre- occupied" she riddles, her voice hostile as she eyes me, smirking.

"I'm sorry do I know you?" I asked, confused by her behaviour. 

"No, but your girlfriend definitely does" she replies with that stupid smirk still in place. I frown at her childish behaviour wondering exactly how Lou would associate herself with such people.

They certainly aren't like the seven women she usually hangs out with.

"I don't have a girlfriend but if you are referring to Lou I'd appreciate it if you would shut the fuck up when you clearly know nothing" I snap, finally reaching my limit.

Who the hell does she think she is!

She laughs mockingly before replying:

"You got fire behind those eyes kid, she likes that in her women" she mutters standing with her arms crossed as she leans lazily against the wall by the bathroom. I open my mouth to retaliate but is interrupted by Debbie's harsh voice

"I don't recall you being invited, Madison."

Madison's eyes light up with glee and mischief.

"Debbie darling, so nice to see you again. How's Tam Tam?" I look towards Debbie's face, my eyes wide at her stoic expression.

I've never seen her so indifferent before but then again how well do you really know her.

"Get out." She mutters trying to not draw attention to us. Madison rolls her eyes unbothered by Debbie's tone of voice, she pushes away from the wall and brushes harshly past me.

"You might wanna see for yourself. We've all been tangled up in Lou Millers web before. A leopard never changes its spots, dear" she mutters before storming down the hallway and out of the building.

I feel hot tears surface before wiping them away quickly, which doesn't seem to go unnoticed by Debbie who lays a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Don't listen to her, she's a nutcase. She's always wanted Lou" she says quietly while escorting up the stairs and towards Lou's room.

"I'll wait for you out here okay? Go and freshen yourself up, don't show them that you are affected by their words you hear me? Lou really likes you Y/N, ignore the green eyed monsters" and with that she gently pushes me through Lou's doorway and closes it.

Once I've finished up I stand by the bathroom sink and stare at my reflection for a moment taking in my appearance before taking a deep breath and relaxing my shoulders.

I can do this, I reassure myself.

I walk out of the room feeling much better and meet Debbie by the staircase that leads back towards the party, she whispers reassurance in my ear before leaving me with my concerned friends to go and find Tammy.

"Omg Y/N are you okay? Did you get lost in the bathroom or something? Ew, actually I don't want to know what you and Princess Charming have been up to" Rachel says her nose scrunched up at the thought, Daphne giggles loudly next to her.

"Please it's adorable. I've never seen Lou so smitten before" Daphne states drunkenly. I blush at the confession and grin softly feeling less insecure about our developing relationship and less concerned about that woman’s words.

"No actually I um.. I bumped into Debbie upstairs and got chatting but I think I'm gonna go grab a drink ``I state, gaining a cheer from Daphne who leads the way to the makeshift bar where the kitchen island usually is. I scan the room looking for Lou wondering whether I could talk to her in private about my ordeal upstairs with her old 'friend'.

I instantly regret my decision.

I see a gap in between the sea of people showing me Lou standing by the other side of the bar, leaning against it. The redhead from earlier whispers into her ear making Lou shake her head in laughter, the woman fiddles with her bow tie as if to go and tie it but Lou stops her with a shake of her head, her eyes move away from the woman as she scans the room as if searching for someone. As if sensing my presence her eyes turn instantly towards me, her crystal blues widen but before I could see anything else the beat of the music grows silent as Daphne takes the mic from the DJ ready to thank everyone for coming.

I feel my heart shatter into a million pieces, tears run freely down my face as I try to hide within the sea of people on the dance floor all while looking for Rach and Luke. I quickly find them standing at the edge of the dance floor opposite the front door.

Perfect

I quickly grab a hold of Rachel's hand, her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of my distraught face.

"Oh my god, Y/N are you okay? What the hell! Did she do this?! I'll wrap that bow tie around her neck so tight I swear Y/N" I quickly hush her and barely whisper

"Please just get me out of here" with that she nods her head with such determination. Luke wraps my coat around my shoulders and pulls me against him as we walk out of the door while Rachel phones a cab.

"It's gonna take 10 minutes Y/N. I don't know how long we can avoid her for," Rachel says apologetically as she stands close to me. Luke let's go of me and says he's gonna go grab his and Rachel's things and that he'll be as quick as possible.

"It's okay I just need to get out of here" I mutter quietly not trusting my own voice.

Luke rushes out breathing heavily as he passes Rachel her coat.

"She's going insane in there... her and that red head have just had a massive argument and she's asking Debbie where you were. Y/N I think you should at least tell her you are going" Luke reasons.

A leopard never changes its spots, dear

"Oh my god, she was right." I whisper to myself, gaining their attention.

"What do you mean, darling?" Luke asks softly.

"The.. other woman there tonight.. Madison. She warned me, I just never thought Lou..."

"Don't listen to them Y/N. Whatever you saw in there it could have been a misunderstanding, those girls have been eyeing her up all night but Lou only ever had eyes for you" Luke reassures just as the yellow cab arrives out front. We all rush towards it but before I can step into it a hand grabs a hold of my arm gently spinning me around and slamming the door with the other, blocking me from getting in as she boxes me in between her body and the door.

Wet crystal blue eyes stare right back into mine, full of sadness and rage. Her breathing slightly erratic from running around the place, she whispers so desperately, so softly I barely hear her.

"Please don't leave. Please. Let me explain"

She likes that in her women

"Lou let me go, please. I'm just really tired and would like to get some rest. We can talk about this tomorrow okay" I whisper back feeling droplets of rain crash onto my face or is it my tears? I cup her cheek and brush my thumb over her cheekbone wiping away the frustrated tear that seems to have escaped from her eye. 

"Tomorrow" she clarifies with hope.

"Yes tomorrow" I certify making her relax slightly before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth as I turn away slightly still not ready for the contact. I see the hurt and sadness in her eyes as I slowly remove her hand from the top of the car and open the door making her step back. I climb into the car and see Lou press her hand gently against the window briefly, her blue eyes desperate for me to understand. The engine starts up and before I know it her sad form seems to grow smaller and smaller as we disappear back into the city. The last thing I see before going through the gates is Lou run her hands through her hair in frustration as Debbie steps towards her to comfort her. I turn away after that feeling guilty and hurt, the only real comfort I have right now comes from the two hands that hold my own in solidarity. 

Maybe I really don’t know her at all

[luca-moreno]

void

Luca word vomit idk

--

“You’re so fucking weird, Moreno,” one of the squad laughs as they haul on their packs.  

Earth isn’t at all what he expected.

Bootcamp isn’t either.

The hills in the distance look far away and the day is already hot. Luca feels sweat beading on the back of his neck, runs a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. He used to be so pale, now his skin turns darker shades he never realized could belong to him. He hates this harsh sun, the way its rays bite into his skin like tiny needles. It’s burning him, he thinks. He’ll wake up tomorrow red and sore. How did humans survive this long, on a planet trying to kill them daily?

He flashes the others a tight grin and a shrug and tries not to show on his face how the words bother him. “Yeah, I know.”

--

The wards weren’t friendly but neither was Earth or the Alliance.

But Luca puts his head down and he works. He runs the tracks, he climbs the walls, he shoots and swears and rolls and he keeps his head down and he’s just another inductee that his barely sixteen sol years flies under the radar to their eighteen. He’s baby faced and green and alone.

Nobody notices.

--

Wide hands gripped his shoulders and a smile flashed. “It’s not that long, Luca. You just gotta survive two more years. You can do it, I know you can.”

It was hard to hear over the din of the departure lounge. Luca’s throat grew tight as something akin to panic crawled its way up his throat. “I don’t... I know if I can. Not without you.”

Kiosho grins, mismatched eyes under a messy mop of blue trimmed hair. “Sure you can. Just don’t let them give you any shit. And Luca… even if you don’t feel it, bluff. They can’t tell the fucking difference anyway.”

--

He didn’t make the two years. He barely made it to one.

Code skittered across the screen of the terminal. His heart thumped so hard he could feel it in his ears. He cracked the firewalls like they’re nothing, swooped in and manifested a whole new reality and hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

It was… and it wasn’t and it still didn’t get him what he wanted.

--

The other boy notices Luca long before Luca notices him.

And why would he? He was just another tenderfoot, another one of the crowd, another pair of boots falling into line and pounding the pavement, another body in the mess hall trying to dig their way through the slop that’s considered to be their meals. Luca listens with half an ear as the gaggle of recruits around him bitch and moan about the food, picking at it unhappily but Luca remembers what it’s like to be hungry. He never protests.

The boy slides into the seat opposite him but Luca doesn’t look up.

“It’s your accent, you know,” the other boy tells him conversationally.

It takes a long moment before Luca realizes he’s talking to him. He looks up. “What?”

“Your accent. You probably don’t even realize it, but you do this weird little burr thing with all your words. Like drell and turians do.”

Luca lowers his fork slowly. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to say it now. “I didn’t grow up here.”

“I know,” the other boy smiles. He has blonde hair, and eyes the colour of earth’s skies when they’re running drills in the daylight. “Neither did I.”

It’s hardly unusual, lots of the recruits where from all over the terminus systems, most shuttled back to Earth for training. Luca holds himself short of leaning into a kindred spirit, if that’s what he even was. He takes a closer look at the boy in front of him - pale skin, long fingers, lean limbed.

His mouth clocks it before his mind does. “Spacer.”

“Yep. I’m Saxon, by the way.”

“Um. I’m… I’m Luca.”

Saxon picks something off his tray and eyes it critically. He glances around before he shrugs and pops it into his mouth. “Sure beats keleven nutripaste, huh?”

Some of the tension around his shoulders seems to ease. “Yeah, it does.”

--

There’s a lot Luca finds he likes about Saxon, and some he doesn’t.

But mostly it’s how he doesn’t feel so… alien… when he’s with him.

Music croons in the background, some old earth song Saxon had dug up from the archives and Luca strums along on the battered guitar he’d scraped all his meagre credits together to buy. Smoke curls around them, a dusty tobacco that makes Luca’s nose itch and his limbs feel weak. Don't you want to be free? Do you like girls or boys?

“So, do you?” Saxon asks one night, slowly taking the guitar out of his hands. The clouds are rolling in, Luca can taste something in the air that leaves him shivering. The rooftop is his sanctuary.

“Uh, do I what?”

Saxon looms closer. “Do you like boys or girls, Luca?”

Luca’s skin prickles in awareness. In heat. “Boys,” he whispers.

Saxon’s teeth flash in the darkness, and he pulls Luca in.

--

Luca wakes up alone, head throbbing and thick with something that was once sweet now turned bitter. His body aches, sore in places that he didn’t want to acknowledge and marked with splotches that make him double take when he sees his refection in the mirror.

He runs a hand over the marks and smiles to himself.

The smile doesn’t last.

“Saxon, wait up!”

The gaggle of recruits don’t stop but Luca only focuses on one blonde head. He jogs to catch up, still calling out. “Saxon!”

Finally they stop and Luca can feel their eyes on him. “Uh. Wait, so. I just wanted to-“

“Hey, it’s the duct rat,” one of the men laugh. Barely a man, but solid enough to pass. “That’s what they call ‘em, isn’t it?”

Luca’s gaze swings to Saxon, willing him to look at him. He doesn’t.

“Sax-“

“Give it a rest, Luca,” Saxon shifts on his feet. A glance over his shoulder, a shared laugh and almost an apology but not directed at him. Luca isn’t always great with signals but he can feel the sudden unfriendly prickle in the air, the hostility.

You’re so fucking weird, Moreno.

He opens his mouth.

Saxon walk off.

--

It happens more than once.

--

It’s confusing, like trying to hold onto sand slipping through his fingers, up until it isn’t. He finds his space, amongst the twisted wires and loose threads, in the circuitry and flow of an electrical current. He always had an affinity for machines, for tech and code. There were no nuances to wade through. 

On or off, I or O. Luca always knew where he stood with his tech.

He chose a path and followed it to the end.

“Hey, Luca.”

Luca’s head snaps up. Saxon is a black shape blocking out the stars in his quiet place. He tenses as Saxon steps into the paltry ring of light thrown off his datapad and sits beside him on the threadbare rug.

“What do you want?” Luca asks flatly. His face still burns from being rebuffed. His ears still ring with the sound of their laughter.

Maybe the first time he might have been able to convince himself it didn’t mean much. A misunderstanding. A misstep. He’s had so many of those here. But by the second and the third it wasn’t possible to kid himself anymore. And Luca didn’t know what else to do, kept going back, pinging like a moth against the light. 

On or off. On. On. On.

“Come on, don’t be like that, Luc.” Saxon leans close. He smells like dried sweat and beer, smoky and apologetic as he nuzzles against Luca’s neck.

Luca tries to lean away. “What, so you suddenly remembered I exist?”

“Aw, like I could forget.”

“You tried pretty hard.” Luca tries to climb to his feet but Saxon’s hand snaps out to curl around his wrist. He grips tight.

“Luca, wait.”

“Let go, Saxon.”

“No, Luca. Come on, I’m… sorry, ok? Jesus, just… wait.”

The inside of Luca’s chest is desolate enough not to shove him away. Not yet. He hesitates, allows Saxon to draw him back down onto the rug. Stars slide overhead, a sparkle in the sky that leaves Luca homesick. He wants to curl into himself but he draws his knees up instead.

“You know, you’re kind of a dick, Saxon.”

“And you’re too much, Luca,” Saxon sighs. He slides closer, hands on Luca’s face. Heavy hands that Luca can’t twist away from. “You’re like a puppy trying to hump my leg whenever I turn around. You’re… loud.”

“I am not loud.”

“No, I mean,” Saxon rocks back and waves his hands over Luca, his face twisted into something pained. “This. You. Loud. You can be… suffocating.”

That stings. Luca scrambles back and Saxon lets him go. “You gotta give people a chance to breathe, Luca.”

--

On or off.

Flick, flick, flick.

Off.

--

His messages scattered to the four corners go unanswered for months. He doesn’t understand. He came all this way, sold his soul to get here and Kiosho was nowhere to be found.

Luca hunches over the terminal. Frustration squeezes his throat. He’s starting to unravel when he’s never been together in the first place.

“Hey, are you okay over there?”

The sob gets stuck as he sucks in a breath. Blue eyes skim him, kind and warm and more than he probably deserves.

“Sure,” he forces out brightly. Happy face, he tells himself. Squeezes away the dampness. Don’t let them see. “Guess I’ll try again tomorrow.”

--

Tommorow.

[No new messages]

And so on, and so forth.

--

Sand shifts under his feet. It doesn’t do that on the Citadel. The walls might shift, but the ground was never knocked out from beneath him.

He wheezes painfully as the screams echo. Dust, that every present choking dust billows up around him and there’s pressure and pain and something wet at the back of his throat. He tries to sit up but his body won’t listen to the signals his brain sends. There’s another boom, another shower of debris and screams and Luca’s world goes dark.

--

When he wakes up, it’s to silence.

The nurses lean over him, lights shine into his eyes, their mouths move but there’s no sound. No hum of the recycled air, no rustle of leaves as the wind brushes them, no stomp of feet on the sealed paths.

Just horrifying, terrible silence and Luca’s own thoughts and the desperate, sudden urge to claw his way out of his own skin.

He doesn’t realize he might be screaming until the prick of the needle slides through his skin.

Then he doesn’t feel much at all.

--

It takes him three months to heal his leg and adjust to his new ears. Some days are better than others and the headaches are somehow the worst part. He gets fast at signing to the OT’s and the doctor’s although they’re unimpressed at his mastery of signed curse words and not much else. For a while he’s angry but that takes too much energy and he can’t maintain it for long.

And stupidly, he waits.

The day they tell him they’re going to release him, he finally plucks up the courage to ask. “Did… did anyone visit?”

Where there any messages?

The nurse is sweet, green eyed, red hair and freckled all over her nose like stars in the black. She shakes her head, a smile that smacks too much of pity on her mouth. “No, I’m sorry, honey.”

“Oh.” Luca sinks back against the pillows. “Okay.”

--

The Alliance took his hearing and replaced it with something half baked, but it’s better than the silence so he doesn’t fuss. They haul him in front of the brass where the truth comes out in incriminating shades of glowing orange and textured lines. A deep dive that wasn’t deep enough, or too deep, depending on how you looked at it.

“Your ID is fake,” they tell him and Luca wants to protest because no, not really. He’s still him. He’s still Luca, some kid from the wards, too loud, too much to hold everything that vibrates inside his bones. It had taken the ride to Earth to be noticed and then the spat in the medical wing to be diagnosed. The meds helped. For the first time Luca’s world evened out.

“Altered,” he’s brave enough to say. “Sir.”

There’s a snap of brows over the datapad. Another officer with a chest full of medals coughs nearby.

“He’s two years in on his training. He’s the legally the right age now.”

“There has to be a consequence. What he did-“

“We’re short on bodies as it is. And with what’s coming... Well, this kid was determined enough to get here all on his own. We should use that.”

All eyes turn on him. “Is that true?”

Luca swallows. “Uh. Yes, sir.”

“Why? Why not just wait until you were of age?”

“I was trying to find my brother, sir.” I was trying to find home.

“And did you? Find him?

“No, sir.” Not yet.

There’s a rolling beat of silence that has Luca’s throat feeling thick. His stomach churns.

“Verdict?”

If they send him away, he has nowhere to go. The Alliance wasn’t home, but it was a purpose.

“Let him stay, but hold back that promotion.”

--

They send him to the edges of Council space. Too human for the wards, too alien for earth. The things that made him stand out under Sol’s light become useful out here. Batarian, Turian, Drell, even Krogan, familiar to his tongue, to his hands.

He’d almost laugh about it, if it didn’t fucking hurt.

--

It’s not the glory the recruitment posters promise them. Its blood and guts and screaming and the desperate search for the quiet space in his mind to give himself a moment to just think-

But bullets spray, shields go down, the turret jams.

They die.

They save the colony, but they die.

“Did you see that?” Checo wheezes from beside him. In the distance there’s the booms of biotic explosions and the flash of figures in armor he doesn’t recognize. They’re not alliance, he knows that much. He presses down on the hole in his side and wonders why it doesn’t hurt. It should hurt, right? The bullet tore right through him and blood leaks through his fingers.

He doesn’t know if he’s cut out for this.

--

Funny how the fates shift. How time and circumstance and one insignificant little moment can set him onto a path he has no comprehension of where it will lead. One second of hesitation, one shred through his flimsy armor that knocks him down but doesn’t kill him and leads him to this.

He’s shuffled into a new squad. Sometimes he’s loud, but they’re louder and Luca doesn’t need to squeeze into the places left behind because they make room for him. Fold around him like he matters. His commander even kisses his forehead like the mother he never had never did.

--

On or off.

Flick, flick, flick.

On.

--

The reapers wipe out so much of the fleet. Names of those lost scroll endlessly over terminal screens. A memorial wall crops up in the docking bay and in the ship. Thousands and millions gone.

Two names typed into a search, one the name that had started it all, the other he wonders why.

Too much, too loud.

He was never very good at letting go.

The terminal blinks.

[Personnel unknown]

But unknown was better than dead, right?

 --

[kittybellestark]

This is kinda an endgame fix-it of sorts. Tony is alive.

After the snap Peter and May were poor.

They were lucky to get an apartment with two bedrooms. They really were. And it was still in queens which was nice. But they were starting from scratch.

The government was useless. Well, maybe not useless, they were doing they’re best with the missing people from five years ago suddenly return. They had to deal with all of the deaths caused by the return, as well as all the now displaced people. Undoing the death certificates, finding any missing people. The government was doing a lot.

But it didn’t feel like it. Those who were snapped out of existence didn’t have their savings anymore. Or their jobs. They were entitled to ‘financial compensation,’ but that could take years to get, and would probably end up costing more then they’d get.

So, May and Peter were currently poor. And while their apartment seemed nice enough, it was pretty run down. They were lucky that Pepper had lent them one of the Stark’s many homes in New York until they found a place for as long as she did. With Tony having been in a coma for as long as he had been, and is still dealing with recovery, it felt wrong to intrude in such a way.

They’re new apartment has already been broken into twice. And May and Peter were currently sharing a cellphone where they bought minutes as they needed. May was finding small jobs here and there that was enough to cover the bills. And Peter was chipping in where he could.

Then the ceiling in May’s bedroom started to collapse. And while typically this would be the part that Tony would swoop in and save the day, May and Peter currently had no way to reach of to him, and Tony was still deep into recovery, still not permitted to even stand on his own.

Peter and May started putting money aside where they could to get the ceiling fixed. It was April and school had been cancelled until at least September to deal with the influx of students. So Peter got a full time job as a bartender while he isn’t actually old enough to serve or drink his ID is technically doesn’t say he’s too young either. And May finally found a full time position working for a non-profit that pays well enough to help relocate people after the snap.

May’s mattress is brought over to Peter’s room, (because the living room is too small and doesn’t have a couch yet, only too foldable chair and a little table in between) and they become roommates.

After 3 months they still don’t have enough money to fix the ceiling and Peter is feeling antsy.

May likes to sleep with the lights off, and Peter doesn’t want to tell her that the dark makes him think about the battle, or space, or the time he crashed an airplane, or when he was trapped under a building.

May goes to bed early because she has to wake up early, which means that Peter doesn’t get to be alone very often.

Peter misses having privacy.

He misses getting changed in his bedroom.

And crying without worrying about waking up the person a few feet away.

He misses having a place solely his own.

Peter understands why this is happening. He gets it. He knows they’re poor right now. Peter knows that they can’t afford to fix the ceiling. And he feels guilty. And selfish for wanting a place of his own.

He feels so selfish when he looks down at the pizza him and May just ate -because they were both over tired and their stove broke- and sees it as a luxury. Sees the money that could have gone to giving him his room back. He feels selfish for putting money on their shared cellphone so that he can check the internet to see if Ned or MJ were also snapped. To see if the news knows about Tony’s recovery.

Peter feels guiltly and horrible for just wanting to be alone for longer than a shower. He just wants to be able to be alone.

When Happy spots Peter when he’s walking home from work at 3am, Peter feels guilty for taking the offer for the ride home. He’s wasting Happy’s money. He’s wasting Pepper’s and Tony’s money. He feels like a burden.

“How come you haven’t come round to visit boss yet? I thought you too were close.”

Happy doesn’t want to say that he misses the kid. Doesn’t want to tell Peter he’s concerned over the hallowed cheeks and sunken eyes. He wants to see if Peter is okay, but without the kid feeling like he’s put on the spot.

“Don’t know where he is.” Peter responds simply with a shrug.

The way Peter slurs his words slightly along with the raggedy look of the kid are some massive red flags for Happy. Peter isn’t going off on some tangent about anything and it isn’t right.

“If you called I could have given you a ride.” Happy tries to sound nonchalant, looking at Peter in the rear view mirror, the kid doesn’t even perk up.

“Gotta have a phone for that, Happy. And your phone number.”

Happy pulls over to where the Parker’s used to live. Where things were good and happy and there was no snap. And there was no missing out on five years of life or sharing a bedroom, it was just another day.

“You guys still live here?” Happy asks, hoping for something to turn the conversation around, hoping for something, anything.

“No, but I can walk the rest of the way, it’s no big deal.”

“Not happening.”

Happy pulls back out onto the road taking Peter out of Queens to visit Tony and Pepper and Morgan. Hopefully that’ll cheer the kid up. Morgan is the cutest kid, so it’s impossible to be upset by her. And now that Tony is doing better it’s bound to have Peter rambling in no time.

“Happy, Happy, what are you doing? You need to pull over. C’mon man, not cool. I gotta work tomorrow. Let me out!” Peter tried the open the doors to no avail not thinking to unlock it.

“Peter I’m just taking you to the Lakehouse, just for a night.”

“I have to work tomorrow Happy, I can’t not go. Just let me out.”

Peter felt desperate, and selfish. Tears were in his eyes and he was seconds away from crying. He couldn’t miss work. Couldn’t miss out on the money that went towards his privacy. Towards having his room back. 

As Happy turned to pull into the driveway for the Lakehouse it was turning to 4am and the kitchen light was on. Peter felt the tears escape and he couldn’t call May, or his job and they needed the money.

“Happy, please.” Peter tried again.

Happy and Peter both got out the car, Peter trudging behind, dreading the idea of intruding on someone else. He didn’t want to be there and he was sure he wasn’t wanted.

They both walked in, gathering the attention of Pepper, who was making food in her pajamas. Pepper looked up and smiled at Happy, not seeing Peter who has hidden himself behind Happy. 

“Look at who I found wandering through the streets of Queens.” Happy pulled Peter out from behind himself to show off the boy to Pepper.

“Wandering through the streets? Peter, honey I know you’re enhanced but it’s not safe to be walking through Queens in the middle of the night.” 

Pepper moved and gave Peter a hug, surprised at how skinny he way. He wore enough layers that it wasn’t that obvious in any place other than his face, but when she squeezed him. All there was, was bones.

Peter didn’t respond verbally, only a slight shrug, and that was so out of character for him it nearly had Pepper reeling.

“Let me make you some breakfast.” Pepper nodded to herself before moving back into the kitchen to make Peter some food too.

“I really shouldn’t be staying long.” Peter broke the silence finally when Pepper got him to sit with food infront of him.

“You just got here, honey, there’s no rush. We missed you.”

Peter doesn’t really believe her.

“I have to go to work. I can’t miss work.”

Pepper gives Peter a look. A look that he’s received multiple times from May, the look a parent gives when they’re trying to figure out if their child is lying. It’s the squinting eyes and the frown, with the one corner of the mouth turned up.

“I’m sure you can take the day off.” Pepper’s tone has an air of finality to it. “We’ll get May here tomorrow. It’s been too long since we’ve last seen you guys.”

Peter shrugged, feeling tired and defeated. Fighting Pepper is a battle Peter doesn’t ever want to take up. Sometimes you just need to accept your losses. This is one of those times.

“Can I use your phone to call in then? I’m supposed to work at noon.” 

Peter held onto his head with both of his hands, already coming up with an excuse to why he can’t come in.

“Didn’t you just finish your shift? Why would you work at noon.” Happy snorted, clearly not believing Peter having a job.

“It’s called working a double. My shifts are 12pm-2am. Now could I please call in?”

“I’ll call for you honey, where do you work?” 

Ah, shit. This wasn’t a turn that Peter was expecting. He didn’t think that he would have to tell Pepper where he’d work. 

“Death & Company.”

“Excuse you?”

“I work at Death & Company. That speakeasy styled bar where we all wear bowties and suspenders. It’s pretty rich people stuff, I’m sure you heard of it Pepper.”

“Peter, impossible. You’re sixteen, they wouldn’t hire a minor.”

“Except the fact that my ID say’s I’m 21. I just happen to be the type of guy that they like to hire. Also the tips are really good.”

“You can’t work there. I won’t allow it. I’m sure May and Tony would agree with me.”

Peter groaned, dropping his head onto the table. He didn’t want to do this. He was tired and missed having privacy and he was doing something good. Sure, maybe he got the job for selfish reasons. And maybe he’d stay a little later most shifts and have a drink or two with his coworkers. It’s not like it’s illegal anymore. Might as well reap the benefits of being a legal adult while still 16. 

“May actually knows where I work and is grateful that I’m helping out while not in school. Four months ago it would have been a problem, or I guess five years ago, but now we need the extra cash. Besides, you don’t own me, I’m not your child, I’m technically a legal adult and therefore can work at a bar. The last time either May or I have spoken to you was right after the snap, and the last time I talked to Tony was during the battle.  You didn’t give us anyway to contact you, and the only reason I’m here is because Happy brought me here even though I asked to be dropped at home. You can’t just decide to show up in my life now and tell me what I can and can’t do. You haven’t been here and you don’t get to choose to be here for me now.”

“Peter, I’m so sorry that we’ve ignored you, but there’s been a lot going on, we’ve just got Tony back home and he’s able to do things again, and there’s Morgan and the company too. It’s been a lot.”

Peter felt tears in his eyes. He didn’t like doing this. He didn’t want to, but he might still be a little drunk. It’s been exhausting and he hasn’t gotten to talk about it with anyone, and now Pepper is here and it’s convenient.

“We’ve been threatened with homelessness multiple times, we’ve been robbed twice, our roof has caved in, we have one phone where we buy minutes when we need it, we don’t have hot water, our appliances barely work, May is working two jobs that don’t pay anywhere’s near as much as her old one and I’m working as well and sometimes we have to choose which utilities are more important to us. May had to talk a week off of work last month because she got the flu, knocked her down pretty good. I wanted her to go to the hospital because her fever hit 105 degrees, we couldn’t really afford it before everything either, but it would have been doable. Now she didn’t want to be brought to the hospital because it’d be cheaper for her to die and wouldn’t lead to me being homeless. We had our electricity and water shut down for a little while because of that.” Peter took in a big breath, trying to reign in his frustration, trying not to take it out on Pepper. “I understand that you’ve been through a lot these last few months, years even, but so have I. It isn’t your fault, but you’ve also not been there, so please don’t try to force yourself into a situation you will never understand. I need my job. May needs me to have my job. This isn’t about what you or Tony want, it isn’t about what you do and don’t like. It’s about what May and I need. And that happens to be me working at a bar for the unforeseeable future.”

The two sat in silence, and Happy backed his way out of the kitchen. It was clear that Pepper was processing Peter’s words. It was a lot. He couldn’t blame her for that. Or for her not being there. It happens. Life gets in the way.

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry Peter. I’ll call them for you. Just the one day, and then you can go back to work if you’d like. For now why don’t you go to bed sleep a little bit. Then you can see Tony and meet Morgan.”

‘Meet Morgan.’ Because Peter hasn’t done that yet. Because Peter hasn’t been important enough to meet her before. Or important enough to see Tony. Maybe Peter just isn’t important. He’s an intern. Just an intern. Always will be an intern.

“Sure, tha-that’s fine.”

“Okay, you can take the first bedroom on the left. On this floor.”

Peter nodded with a mumbled thanks, moving out of his spot and to guest bedroom. When he entered the room it was obvious it was made for visitors. There wasn’t anything personal in there. Queen size bed, white comforter, white pillows with a colourful quilt. A tall dresser and desk, an ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet. 

It was too much. Way too much. It’s probably a memory foam mattress. He doesn’t deserve this. He wanted privacy, not to abandon May in a time of need. Peter just wanted his room back, not to be sicced on Pepper or Tony when they’re also in a time of need. All he needed was his creaky twin size mattress on his nearly okay bed frame, in his dingy bedroom that totally didn’t have mold or mice. All he needed was to be able to go to his own bedroom at night and be alone, not in this knock-off hotel room. 

May deserved it. Not him. May deserved better than him. Better than what she got. 

“I need another drink.” Peter groaned, closing the door behind him and through the room. He opened the window, throwing himself and his bag outside. 

The fresh air coming off the lake helped calm Peter’s nerves. The sun rose in colours of pink and orange and red. There were still stars in the sky and the moon too. 

Peter found himself being drawn to the docks. He sat down at the edge, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. The bottle was still mostly full, so he took a swig hoping for it to solve any problems. Of course it didn’t. It never could, why would it start now? Just because Peter was seated on the Stark’s dock, using up valuable resources, money and space didn’t mean that anything would be solved. It just meant that the sinking feeling in his stomach grew heavier and heavier. 

He should be at home. Dreading work, but grateful for the extra money. He should be in his shared bedroom with May. He should be doing more. May should be the one swept off her feet and given a day off. Why should he have anything good? Why should he be sitting here, privileged, when others are struggling much worse than he is.

He takes another swig.

It doesn’t burn anymore. Not like it used to. 

“You know, Whiskey was the first drink I ever had. Mind you, I was six years old and told I needed to drink it to show how grown up I was. I’m sure there’s a different reason as to why you’re drinking.”

Tony’s voice shock’s Peter’s system. There’s electric currents and his vision whites out for a second, he nearly drops his bottle. Peter can’t stop himself to turn around, finding Tony standing there, keeping himself up with a cane, his right arm a prosthesis, and healing burns up his face. Tony has a sad smile on his face as he carefully maneuvers himself to sit down next to Peter.

“I know that look.” Peter says carefully. “It’s not your fault.”

“Peter, you’re drinking.” Tony huffs, pulling the bottle from Peter’s hand.

“Don’t put this on yourself. It’s not like I drink all the time. Only after my shift sometimes. I’m legal, technically, and it’s not hurting anyone. Controlled environment with other adults. The whiskey was a gift from the owners because I bring in the most customers.”

Peter laughed, it was a heartbroken, self-deprecating laugh. The tips of his ears were red, and Tony noticed how Peter’s eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears. Tony was surprised to see that Peter was also skinnier, his cheekbones and jaw more prominent, his collarbone popping more and his spine visible through the sweater. 

“So then why?” Tony asked, testing the waters a little bit. 

This was the first conversation he was having with Peter after five years. Their first conversation and it isn’t one of happiness. Tony finally gets to talk to his kid and he’s scarred he’ll push Peter into closing off. 

Peter considers his answer. “Well I’d rather be dead and I can’t do that to May because that’s selfish of me. And I don’t have any privacy and we can hardly pay any bills. I don’t even know if Ned or MJ were snapped or finishing college. It’s been five years and I don’t really fit anymore. I just feel so selfish for wanting my own bedroom.”

Tony felt like an asshole. Of course Peter would be struggling with adjusting to a new world. He should of reached out sooner, though Tony wasn’t very lucid these last few months, finally weened completely off the pain medication this week. 

“Can I hug you, kid?” 

Peter nods, sobbing once he’s held in Tony’s arms. Tony rubs Peter’s back hoping to bring any comfort to the kid. Being alive for the last five years has been hard, trying to mourn the loss of half the world, move on from what once was, and then try and reverse everything to bring back Peter.

“Ned and MJ were both snapped as well. It was one of the first things I checked when I made it back. And I don’t know how much it helps but I literally invented time travel to bring you back, not for the greater good, but because I’m a selfish man who wanted my kid back. I know that there is no excuse for why I’ve not been there since you came back but I’m here for you now and whenever you need me in the future. I’ll put my number and Pepper’s and Happy’s and Rhodey’s number into your phone so you can call any of us whenever you need.”

Carding his fingers through Peter’s hair helped soothe Tony and he hoped it would also soothe Peter. Having a crying boy in his arms made him more like a failure than he already thought himself to be.

“I don’t have my own phone. May and I share, and we hardly ever have enough minutes. I wouldn’t deserve it anyways.”

“No, no, Kid you deserve it so much more than anyone else, and you deserve everything good. You’ll have a phone by the end of the day, with so many minutes you wouldn’t know what to do with any of it. Whatever you need, I’ll get it for you, but I need you to promise that you’ll only drink on special occasions or parties and not when your sad, or angry, or upset in anyway.”

Peter sobbed, his whole body shaking in Tony’s arms, he tries nodding, though the way that his body is shaking it made it hard to decipher, but Tony knew, he always knew.

“I don’t know why I thought things would be like normal. It didn’t really click that it’s been five years, but then it really was, and May and I don’t have anything and I went to space and died then came back to life and was thrown into a war. I can’t even sleep anymore, especially not in the dark. I don’t know why I thought things would be the same. Everyone moved on, the world moved on. There’s no room for me anymore.” 

“Okay, okay, Underoo’s. It’s okay, I know it’s hard and what you’re feeling I’m sure a billion others are feeling too, and that doesn’t make you any less deserving of your feelings. We’re going to find a place for you in this new world. We’re going to help you the best we can. You’re my kid too, and I’m so sorry I haven’t been there for you, but we’ll do this together, however you want to. You get to call the shots here. You have a room here for as long as you want it and forever after that, we’ll get you and May set up wherever needed. I love you, Pete.”

For the first time in a while Peter feels like things will be okay. He’s here with Tony and the world isn’t ending, and he has a room and someone who can tell him that it’s okay. He’s not happy, but he’ll get there.

[hollyhomburg]

Dream a little Dream of Me (KNJ)

Summary: Sometimes being in a long distance relationship isn’t so bad, other days Namjoon wakes up and misses you so bad he almost feels like it will summon into existence (and the one time it actually was) 

Word count: 9.3k

Tags: Long distance relationship au, Fluffy smut, Namjoon makes sweet (and slightly blasphemous) love to the reader, oral (M. + F. receiving), light spanking, mostly vanilla accept for the dirty talk, unprotected sex, cock warming, Namjoon is hung af and he has a bit of a size kink so he likes it. 

Song Rec: BTS – Home 

A/N: this one-shot was inspired heavily by the song Tokyo! I started writing it way back when mono first came out which is why it is set in the past! I hope you guys like it!

Waking up to you is Namjoon’s absolute favorite way to start the day. 

There are a few sublime moments- the skin of your fingers along his lips, the slight brush of conditioned hair, soft at the ends brushing his face and the shifting of a familiar weight across his lap as you sling your legs over his. the weight of your body and he feeling of your soft skin pressed against his that rouse him gently from sleep. He wakes up and groans, but keeps his eyes closed, a hand coming up to rub against your back as he steadies you where you sit across his lap, peppering kisses across his bare chest.

“Good morning sleepyhead, or should I say afternoon,” your lovely lilting voice says against the skin just below his jaw. Maybe today is a Saturday or a Sunday or a Monday, he could have work in an hour or in five minutes but that he is not going to get up from this spot no matter what, not for anything. He hums a hello against your lips. All he wants is to spend the rest of time wrapped up in your arms, eyes closed against the early morning sunlight, idyllic and all too yellow behind his eyelids. 

“Namjoon” you slur, sleepy, fingers running across his collarbones and making him shiver. He’s a little too cold for the warm summer light streaming through that window, his hands tighten on your warm body.  “Namjoon?” your voice strengthens deepening far lower than it should be, and then he’s knocked out of the dream ripped away from you by someone’s hands on his shoulders, larger and rougher, and definitely not his girlfriends. 

“Namjoon you need to wake up,” Seokjin says as Taehyung rips back the covers out of his hands, where he’s been clenching at them, waking up Namjoon with the cold draft of air. Namjoon sleepily opens his eyes, And he takes in not you, not his bedroom or yours on the other side of the world. No sunlight only cold Tokyo in the middle of winter. 

He’s still half asleep, hand still reaching out for someone who’s not even in this country let alone this side of the world. The lingering endorphins from the brief Sleep paralysis makes him feel like he’s still asleep before he crashes down to earth.  “Namjoon- oh my god- get up we have to go.”

“What?” Namjoon mumbles still reeling from sudden wakefulness. His legs and arms feel like pins and needles. Like he left them in the sunny morning with you halfway in-between the dream world and here. The crushing reality of a long distance relationship: that dream is the closest he’s going to get to you this month. 

Taehyung sighs, annoyed. “Wheels up on the jet in 50, we need to leave in ten and you’re still not packed” Namjoon curses and Tae starts piling his things into a suitcase with little regard for any order as Seokjin tosses him a pair of pants and his cosmetic bag that holds the stuff for his morning routine. 

“Why didn’t you try to wake me sooner?” Namjoon asks through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Jimin did,” Taehyung says helping their leader pack away his laptop, “you just wanted to sleep still” that’s right, he’d been up into the early hours of the morning working on his mixtape and that was the reason why he felt so out of sorts. There wasn’t another reason, the little bit of his chest that had tighten when he’d woken up again and found you not next to him, again, for the nth time this month, of course not. 

He checks his phone half a dozen times for a text message from you in-between the ride to the airport and takeoff, checking and double checking the time where you are. You’re still at work and your current workplace has a strict no phones rule. But his phone still feels heavy in his pocket even as their private jet readies for takeoff. His numbness lingering even as he gets on the plane and watches the ground falls out from underneath him. 

Most days, your long distance relationship was an unintended consequence of both of your busy lives. You both kept in contact as much as possible through your days. But times like this when Namjoon was on tour were extra difficult for both of you when the variance in his schedule made it impossible for you to fall into your usual routine of calls. He’d talked to you late last night of course, as you’d been waking up to go to work. 

Namjoon tried his best he really did, but sometimes, like today, the distance between your two cities got to him. He waits during the long plane flight anxious until he gets the chance to just talk to you again, not even see you. The jumpy feeling of wanting to sleep never quite leaves his bones during the flight. 

He steals himself just as they get off the plane back in Seoul at 11 am when you should be just getting out of work. He calls, and you don’t pick up, and he feels himself crumple further.  Fuck- he just- he really wanted to talk to you after last night, maybe tell you about his dream like he always did.  And he wanted to hear your teasing voice over the phone teasing him about having his head in the clouds, and then his rebuttal (a constant inside joke between you two) ‘good thing your head is up there too.’ 

Namjoon can’t wait to sleep as he watches Seoul creep by in the car, caught in morning traffic, unable to find rest in the constant jostling. Next to him Jimin clicks away on his phone rapidly turned away from Namjoon. Though he does send the elder glances every few minutes. “Are you okay Joon?” Jimin asks, setting his phone protectively in his pocket.

“Yeah I’m alright,” Namjoon won't bother trying to explain to Jimin about missing you. Jimin doesn’t have a girlfriend, only a few long-distance hookups like the rest of the boys (besides Jin whose girl was waiting for him back at the apartment complex, their apartment right next to the dorm). But Jimin gives him a sympathetic glance regardless, ever the empath. All of the boys know how much Namjoon misses you on the daily, have long since stopped teasing him whenever he looks at his phone, smiles at his phone, or insists on calling you the second they get back from a performance to update you on how it went.

“Do you miss her? When I came you’re your room earlier you were saying her name.” 

Namjoon flushes at that but nods, unashamed of his love for you even if it is a little embarrassing. “I miss her every second, and I guess even in my dreams too” he chuckles uncomfortably and scratches at the back of his neck. The words are so true that the dreg up this offal crushing bitterness in his chest. It’s strange, the cloying feeling of homesickness even as he’s just gotten to the city he’s lived in for most of his life. 

“Aren’t you going to go visit her soon? Do you have any trips planned?” Jimin types out a message on his phone after he asks the driver how much longer it will be until they get home. 

Namjoon shakes his head, “no not yet, her current assignment is a little more demanding than her last and she doesn’t finish out her contract until the end of the month.” 

He checks his phone again to see if you’ve gotten out of work, finding nothing, decides that you must have decided to work late again. He sends a quick text reminding you to grab some dinner and take care of yourself and ignores the texts from his family asking him over for dinner tomorrow night. Shoving away the bitter frustration budding in his chest. 

At least he’ll have time to sleep over the next few days, they have the next 2 weeks off, a rare stretch of free time that Namjoon was fully intending on using to relax.  Maybe after the first few days, he could do some more work and finally finish his mixtape. Hopefully, this bad day won’t just be another in a string of them like they are sometimes.

He can hope, but things look bleak as they return to their dorm and Namjoon feels no excitement or joy at being back. They unload the vans of their luggage that's a little dinged from the tour. Dome of the staff stays to help- but there isn’t all that much to unload. 

Namjoon checks his phone again on the way up the steps and inside the apartment, missing the suspicious looks that Jimin and the others cast his way as he gets closer and closer to his room. Jimin hovers in particular, Taehyung almost says something and Hoseok barely stifling an excited anticipatory laugh. Jimin signals to him behind Namjoons back with a murderous look to stay quiet or else. He opens his door still looking at his phone, it not bothering to look up.  

“What are you doing Joon?” you ask

“Just trying to text you” and then he does a double take, not believing his eyes because you’re standing there, wearing a shit-eating grin on your face, definitely not on the other side of the world. His phone slides out of his hands and thuds face down on his bedroom floor as you give a guilty grin and have the Gaul to say, “Surprise?” 

He shouts your name, suddenly more awake than he’s been all month. Stumbling forward into your arms on unsteady legs, he picks you up and spins you around. You yelp at the sudden feeling of weightlessness gripping his shoulders. Your strong boyfriend who doesn’t know his own strength especially when he’s excited,  crushing you to his chest and lifting you like you’re a paperweight.

“Oh my god! How are you here!?“ he says, suddenly overwhelmed as he breathes in a deep breath and gets all of you, the smell of your favorite vanilla and flower perfume and the conflicting scent of your shampoo, the feeling of your body pressed up against his this time real. He sets you down but doesn’t let go, pulling away so that he can kiss you, thankful and happy and smiling wider than he has all week. Feeling your lips slot together with his like two puzzle pieces finding their spot. 

He’s barely aware of the others by the door, disappearing after giving Jimin a high five for pulling off the surprise, shouting hello to you before they disappear and give you your privacy, not that you’re paying attention to anything other than Namjoon. 

And oh, Namjoon almost melts at the taste of you, his arms squeezing you need to reaffirm that you actually are here. That this isn’t just another dream. That he wasn’t going to wake up on the plane and be alone again. It’s so much better than any dream, lucid or otherwise that he could have, suddenly has him feeling all kinds of fragile under your hands. 

He doesn’t realize- until he pulls away from the kiss, keeping your foreheads pressed together, breathing out a light relieved laugh- that he’s actually crying. Happy tears tickle his cheeks and his dimples as your hands run through his hair, smoothing over his shoulders that have relaxed incrementally from the tight frustration he felt earlier. 

Your eyes aren’t dry either “Oh Joonie” you say, the same second he bites his lips, trying to keep the tiny happy sob from welling up, blinking away tears even as he feels them slipping over his cheeks to linger in his dimples. 

“I missed you so much baby,” he says, nuzzling his nose in yours with an Eskimo kiss, “so fucking much-“ the next words running over his tongue in a flash, “when did you get in? How long are you going to stay? If you had told me you’d be here for work then I would have-“ 

Even as he rambles, assuming that you’re here as part of your current assignment all he thinks is please, let it be for a few more days, let it be for a week. Even though he knew that you leaving would be so much harder, having you here always reminded him of what he was missing but he never cared, never minded one bit even as it got harder and harder to part with you. 

“Two weeks,” you say with a smile (not that it’s dropped at all since he walked through his bedroom door). 

He freezes, “you’re kidding!” you’ve never stayed for more than 10 days at a time, you’ve never spent that long in each other's arms and now-now Namjoon is going to have a full uninterrupted fourteen days with you and he won't even have to work! He could glow with how excited and happy he is. 

Jimin leans against the doorway, his facemask pulled down around his neck,  “Glad you got in okay Y/n”  you grin at Jimin, suddenly Namjoon remembers the way he was hiding his phone in the car, “oh you little sneak-“ Namjoon starts to curse, still smiling. 

“I had to have one of them give me the key code” at the same moment Jimin says, ever the bratt “-come on if you’re not going to use these two weeks off to the fullest you’d have a literal meltdown” with a roll of his eyes. 

Jimin is kind enough to close the door on the way out, giving you your privacy, You’ll say hello to the others in a minute, or maybe a few hours, or maybe tomorrow, He closes the door, lumbering over keeping you by his side; his hands come up to cup your cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re here” 

He kisses you slowly on either side of your cheeks, then your nose, then finally when you’re practically leaning up on your tippy toes- your lips. His hands squeezing your hips running up and down your sides, pressing kiss after kiss there, even as they shift from thankful and sweet to more heavy. 

You suck his lower lip as he groans into your mouth. His hands find the spot between your ass and your legs, hefting you up to wrap them around his waist before he walks you over to the bed, still kissing you and sets you down. Pressing forward even as you do to kiss you into the sheets until you’re dizzy and panting with it. His hands hungry and searching under your shirt as you pull him closer by his belt buckle. 

When he finally parts from your lips he’s panting, your chest heaving unevenly too, he rests his forehead against your collarbone kissing your sternum as he pulls up your shirt.

 4 months- it’s been 4 months since you’ve been pressed to each other in your most basic forms since you’ve been at your most intimate and since you’ve last made love. And you’re loathed to be denied that another minute now that you’re in each other's arms. Namjoon needs you like he needs air right now, is almost shaking with the way your core is pressed up against his. His hands just can’t get enough of you as he squeezes and strokes and exults in the simple pleasure that your body brings him. 

“I wish I’d had time to book us a hotel and everyone’s here- but fuck, I need you,” He says in between your peppered sweet kisses. Pressing another kiss along his jaw, sucking a little then harder when he urges you with a hand running through your hair. 

It’s not often that you both get to be so sloppy with your loving, usually, you have to be so careful to be gentle not to tempt a single bruise, but now you can bite and mark as much as you want. Any hickeys won't matter and will be healed by the time he has to go in front of a camera.

 Namjoon almost wants to sigh with the release of it.  his neck is sensitive, his shoulders and his chest too as you suck along his collar “I can be quiet,” you murmur looking up at Namjoon with sultry eyes that make lust spark in his gut. 

Pulling away though, half laughing at your words, unable to not grin at them because if they’re one thing you’re not it’s quiet. “Baby that’s a lie- you can never be quiet” he purrs, as if to prove his point, he rolls his hips forward languidly, letting you feel the length of him through his jeans already hard. The action makes you yelp and groan, the feeling so deliciously welcome after so many months apart. 

“Should I gag you like we did that one time in Paris? Or can you be good for me?” he punctuates this with another hard roll of his hips, teasing you even though you’re already worked up enough, he’s so hard in his jeans it’s almost painful. You and Namjoon get up to kinky shit just as often as any other couple, but despite his words, right now he wants to hear and savor you. 

“The shower!” you almost moan gripping onto the front of Namjoon’s shirt like you couldn’t bear to be parted with it, “they might not be able to hear us in the shower,” Namjoon and you scramble off of his bed. He catches glimpses of your smile when you shuck off your shirt making him blush and he feels like a teenager again, about to lose it for the first time. 

He shoves off his shyness and sits on the toilet as you turn the water on, waiting for it to get warm, Namjoon tugs you closer in-between his legs, now that he can see all of you run his hands over your back and your ass, over the swell there and feel that weight in his hands, your body hasn’t changed much over the last few months. 

Every time you leave, Namjoon is worried that you’re going to change a little, and that slowly that change will add up and suddenly one day he won’t love you as much, or more likely, you don't love him anymore. But having you in front of him always makes him realize how stupid it was to think that for a second. It was always going to be like this with you. 

You’re a little unnerved to be so bare before him, struggling against shyness he not cross your arms over your chest as your hair spills around your face, when you finally slip your underwear off to join the rest of your clothes on the floor. the sudden ravenous heat died down and tenderness taking its place. 

Hand hands tease your ass, spanking once twice, just to see you inhale sharply. he imagines the pink peeking under your skin and wants to make you flush red with love for him. 

Namjoon is nearly breathless with how beautiful you look to him, how perfect you are in his bathroom after you both just took flights, and probably look less than your best; he’s aching with it all up and down his chest, the affection growing like flowers carefully nurtured by your love and blossoming further within him.

“God, I love you,” he says between the kisses he peppers kissing down your stomach stopping to reach the top of your mound, “there isn’t an inch of you I don’t love.” 

“Good to know you view me as a god, love you too” your smirk is cocky, and god, it makes Namjoon want to wreck you. You add as an afterthought even though it’s anything but. Even if it’s playfulness the words are heavy, and Namjoon would never stop for a moment to wonder if you meant it. he knows you love him, feels it in every fiber of his being. 

Namjoon makes you swallow that teasing retort by standing gripping you under your thighs and surging upwards to set you on the bathroom counter next to the sink, he pulls you forward roughly, manhandling your legs and squeezing your calves with his hands. 

As a firm atheist Namjoon has always found eating you out to be a religious experience. You’re his love after all, and your body- your being is the only thing that’s ever captivated him like this. 

He takes to you like a sinner would to prayer, and gets on his knees to worship you.

The glistening stain of your arousal turns the tops of your things sticky, he runs his thumbs through it and drags them to his mouth, keeping eye contact with you even as you shiver when he makes a contented hungry noise in the back of his throat at the taste of you.

Namjoon finds himself lapping up every little bit of it too eager to be quite as gentle and as careful as he usually is with you sucking roughly on your clit. The taste of you is ingrained in his memory and makes him slowly lose all composure as he half growls-half groans against your core. Fuck, he forgot quite how good it was, how the heady sweetness of your sex made him ravenous, he holds down your hips to the edge of the sink, looking up to see your lips parted and bitten, eyes glassy in the way that you get when you get drunk on pleasure.  

Your moans are strangled behind a hand in an effort to be somewhat quiet but Namjoon doesn't care anymore let them hear. He reaches up pin it back to the counter and laces it with his own, squeezing softly.

Namjoon feels your entrance flutter around his lips as you whimper, and he rocks his hips searching for friction as you thread your other hand through his hair instead of gripping the edge of the marble counter for support, like you need to anchor yourself against the onslaught of Namjoon’s tongue and sumptuous mouth at your core. 

After so many months of missing his touch, you’re so sensitive, your legs shaking as he licks broad strokes up and down your core, suckling teasingly on your lips and your clit alternating to really get you shaking. Your entrance flutters around his fingers when he slips just the tips in, teasing around your more sensitive opening rather than dip inside just yet. 

Despite the fact that he wants you so bad he might just cum in his pants (and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d cum while eating you out) he feels the need to savor you, to drink you down slowly and carefully orchestrate your breaking as slowly and as lovingly as possible. He feels your entrance trembling to be filled and as if in answer his hard cock jumps, dripping precum onto the tile floor. 

But you tug on his hair when he teases too long, whining into the open air, “please Namjoon- please” he leans back for a second, looking up at how wrecked you are already.  Your chest heaving now nipples pink in the steamy air and inviting him to suck at them, your leg trembling in the wake of your oncoming orgasm. 

“Anything for you baby,” Namjoon lays his palms over your stomach, grabbing onto your hand that’s on the counter and lacing his fingers with yours as he begins to lick in nice even patterns, broad strokes all the way with a firm pressure just how you like to fall apart, never does he take his eyes off of you. Maintaining eye contact to see your lips fall open in a ragged moan.  

When you cum, your entrance clenches so hard that it lets little drips out that Namjoon licks up greedily, even as your hips kick up to get away from the overstimulation. And you plead by use of his name over and over again, though even you’re not sure if you’re asking for more or for him to stop at this point. 

Namjoon grins and sucks a slight hickey into the top of your thighs letting your chest heave and you cool down, “fuck Namjoon- fuck” you say breathless as leaving his mark on you before he stands, knees a little weak from kneeling for so long, and tugs you off of the counter though you stumble into his arms for an entirely different reason. Namjoon feels pride at making you able to fall apart like this, to the point where you can’t even stand without his arms around you, legs turned to jelly in the wake of the pleasure he and only he can give you. 

And suddenly the shower seems like a bad idea, a very potentially hospital visit inducing idea. Neither of you are very coordinated as is, both of you seem to reach the same conclusion at the same time 

“Shit should we-“ he says the same moment you prompt “bath?” and he laughs because of course, you would be on the same page- and it’s not like Namjoon’s corner bath isn’t comfortable and large enough for two or even three people. and deep with jets to massage out muscles (one of the perks of living in an expensive apartment was that all of the amenities were heavenly). 

You kiss lazily as the bath fills with water, the fire in your gut cooled, while Namjoon’s is still burning- even then, he almost enjoys kissing you enough that he’ll ignore the weight of his erection between the two of you pressed to your soft thigh. His generous length that you’ve surely missed along with the rest of him. Your hand soothes up and over his thigh from where he sits on the edge of his tub, brushing over the tip of his cock with teasing fingers making his hips jump as you tighten your grip and pump him slowly. 

Relaxing back onto your knees between his legs, kissing his thighs And leaving hickeys there as you pump him. You might have a thing for his thighs, for their thickness the same way he has a thing for your ass.  he smiles as you stroke him and pepper kisses up to his length, teasing him because he likes to be teased just as much if not more than you do.

He tries not to feel a little bit prideful of how small your mouth looks compared to his length, how it looks like he shouldn’t be able to fit in your mouth and how he knows you can. He remembers the first time you’d seen it, uttering out a ‘that’s going to break me’ and immediately setting out to see if it would with a determination that had made Namjoon cum hard. You might be a tiny bit of a size queen and it might make Namjoon a little bit smug. 

“I missed you so much Joonie” you repeat against his skin, looking up at him with the little glowing smile, “Did you think about me getting on my knees for you when you where in all of those hotel rooms? Was that how you got yourself off thinking of my mouth?” you whisper the words against his head, lips brushing his slit and wetting with precum before you lick your lips, humming at the taste then leaving your tongue his length teasingly making his thighs twitch and shake just like he made yours. 

“You know I did” god you’re- you’re his everything, no one can make him come undone like this, so delicately- so teasingly, as you stare up at him, knowing he has a thing for eye contact when you’re blowing him as you take him as far as you can lips stretched around his widest part. And Namjoon can’t look away, at the same moment, he feels the warm water tickling at his hand and realizes the tub is filled. 

He groans pulling you off of him by your hair no matter how much it kills him. “we’ll have time for that later- I need to be in you right now so bad baby girl” you smile positively feline as you see how broken down he was by just a taste of what you can give him. He holds your hand for support as you step into the tub and sink into the water, Polite and gentlemanly even as he aches to wreck you again. 

You and Namjoon are like that, the push and pull equal, tenderness and passion in equal measure too. But now he wants all control and you let him take it as he manhandles you into position.  The water around you is warm and calming even as Namjoon turns you around and presses you close to one of the jets, the water thumbing a delicious pressure right along your oversensitive clit, your hips jerk but Namjoon’s hands are there on your hips holding you. 

“Stay just there for me love, no moving” you’re panting even as Namjoon pushes on the small of your back to lowers you onto your elbows on the edge of the tub. Pressing soothing kisses down your spine as his generous length prods at your entrance. He presses a kiss along your shoulder before he begins to slide in. The stretch making you shout a moan that sounds suspiciously like his name. Inch after inch stretching you out deliciously until you feel so full with him you're shaking with sensitivity.

He thrusts completely in, slowly exulting in the delicious heat of you the feeling of rightness and completeness settling all over him. The tightness after so many months of having nothing inside of you makes you crazy and hazy and numb to Everything but Namjoon. His head hitting the spot inside you that makes wetness flood around him, his lips peppering kisses along your shoulders, his hands cupping your breasts and rolling your nipples gently with his fingers. 

Your insides spasm around him as the water jet wreaks havoc on your front, he gives you as long as you need to adjust before you’re reaching back and tugging on his hips, hands shaking along with the rest of you as you moan out “please Namjoon- please move I need- need you” you’re hiccupping with how worked up you are, and of course, Namjoon is never one to deny his baby what she needs when she asks so nicely. 

He sets a brutal pace each one of his thrusts sending you further and further towards the edge, “fuck you were made for me baby” he groans out as he keeps the pace, thank god for his stamina honestly because he could fuck you like this for hours, has fucked you for hours. 

His hands dig into your hips to the point where he knows you’ll have bruises afterward as he leans forward and lavishes kisses all up and down your neck. You cum like that, him roughly thrusting in and out of you, your clit almost numb from the pleasure assaulting you. 

He gives you no respite, even as you shake with overstimulation, whining and groaning and moaning, all thoughts of being quiet for the others completely forgotten. If anything your moans just seem to spur Namjoon on more, and the wet sound of your arousal joins the sound of your moans echoing off the bathroom walls. He gives your ass a slap, watching it jiggle in the water, watching his length sink inside of you. 

It’s been so long, now that he finally has you on him he knows he won’t last long, he slows, trying to savor you before he pulls you up, sitting back, he kisses you even as it kills him to pull out of your twitching heat, turning your blissed out and ropey body around to have access lips hungry and sloppy against yours. You look up at him, cheeks flushed, more love in your gaze than words could say. 

You’re both so fucked out already, Namjoon’s dick almost hurts from how much he wants to cum, hard and purple and twitching with want against your stomach. But he wants to do it differently than that, wants to see you face when he cums. He sits back on his heels, “come on baby, sit on top of me,” he tugs your hips around him, supporting your shaking muscles with your hands on his shoulders to lower yourself over him, hissing a little at the lingering sensitivity and what will surely be soreness tomorrow.

He kisses at your neck as he starts to fuck up into you his hands around your waist to guide the movement of your hips. In this position he can touch you and kiss at your chest, thumbing along your nipple and groan into your chest to try and soften the noise when he finally cums. Signing your name in a hapless stream as his hips stutter while he rides out his orgasm, painting your walls with his cum. The glide suddenly wetter, your core tightening around him as the satisfaction fills you.  

And just like that his kisses turn lazy and loving instead of hungry, lips drunkenly moving against yours as he holds you in the warm bubly water, blood rushing in his ears, love tugging at his chest, as the slightly wet tips of your hair tickle his skin and your run your fingers through his hair.

You’re still connected, he barely softens inside of you still hard and aching for more. But instead of pulling you off of him he just rests there for a second, and you’re comfortable too to feel his length stretching you open for a few minutes longer. The intimacies of the action as you’re both as physically as close as you can be without being one and lingering in that closeness after so many months of distance. Your warm wetness tight around him makes him relax further. 

“I missed you my love” he utters against your skin, eyes fluttering, suddenly sleepy even though honestly he could go another round, looking up at you with this doe-eyed happy expression undisturbed by doubt. 

You cup his cheeks, running your thumbs over his dimples. Leaning forward to kiss them, making him chuckle, “I did too Joonie,” you murmur pulling away a little, “lets shower and get into bed yeah? You must still be tired” 

He is tired enough that he lets you wash his hair sleepily closes his eyes as you run a soapy cloth over his back. He leans into the affection, resigned to the fact that you’re determined to take care of him even though he would have settled for just a rinse under the shower. 

He stumbles when you lead him back into his bedroom, neither of you bothering to put clothes on as you sink underneath the covers and hold each other close, chest to chest. he rubs shapes into your back with his thumbs, and quietly, reverently, just watches as you fall asleep until he joins you, content and feeling suddenly at home in your arms.  

When he wakes, he’s not surprised to find it dark outside- the time change and your nap probably fucked up both of your sleep schedules to the point where you’re both going to be sleeping weird hours for a little while. Your warmth next to him makes the bed at just the right temperature as the cold from outside presses in with hungry fingers. 

He looks down at you nestled in the side of his chest his arm around you. Your eyes closed cheek squished against his skin looking absolutely adorable. He tilts his head to press a kiss against your forehead sleepily, running his hand up and down your back. He’s unable to stop looking at you, seeing you like this, always reminds him of the first time he ever saw you:

To say that Namjoon stayed late at the studio often back then would have been a gracious understatement. It was a rare day if he left before 2 am, even rarer if he didn’t just straight up decide to sleep on the couch in the corner of his studio and wake up when he’d gotten the bare minimum.  It wasn’t like it was uncomfortable; just easier than going all the way back to the dorm to sleep. The others were equally as bad, Yoongi and Hoseok especially. But to Namjoon, the reliance on work was different. If he spends all of his time working then he had less time to confront the empty side of his bed, how his body itched with wanting at the thought of warm arms around him. 

In short, Kim Namjoon was very very lonely. 

The night he meets you, Yoongi comes to his door nearing 4 am.  Leaning in the doorway until Namjoon pushes back from his desk and decides that yes, he’s had enough of work today. “Did you finish the collab track?” he asks hushed as he gathers his things. Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat. No then. Namjoon could understand his frustration. Today the lyrics just weren’t coming out right; the right wording somehow escaping him even though he could taste it on his tongue and just a hair out of reach. 

Namjoon pulls on his jacket when he’s ready and not his new knit cardigan, they won’t be outside for long anyway, and Yoongi will probably turn the heat up in the car to the point Namjoon sweats, Yoongi likes it warm. 

The agency building is nearly empty at this hour save for the janitors, they hush thank you’s and bow as they pass, the glass rooms are all dark save for one that they have to pass through, and empty, except for one person leaning over a desk slumped with exhaustion completely asleep and still accept for her measured breathing. 

Namjoon and Yoongi both watch as they pass to see if the stranger is awake, neither of them recognizes the foreign woman slumped over the pile of papers.

Namjoon pauses at the door, “who’s she?” he asks, because he’s certain he’s never seen her around before or he would have introduced himself. She’s pretty, with simple features but thick lashes, striking even if she has a little drool on her pillowed cheek, which will probably stick to the paper when she finally wakes. 

“I’m not sure, though one of the managers said something about a consultant arriving this week from overseas that they’re hiring to deal with HR and the new American staff, this must be her.” 

Namjoon nods, it makes sense why you would be here, and why you would be sleeping here- he’s been a victim of jetlag enough times to know you get whatever sleep you can get when you can get it. His heart swells with sympathy, and he pauses even while his companion keeps walking. 

Yoongi turns back to raise an eyebrow. “Joon?” he prods. Namjoon steals himself when he sees you shiver to toss his spare cardigan over your shoulders and shutting off the desk light before he joins Yoongi. Satisfied when he glances back to see you relax further into the desk in the warmth of the thick cardigan in the chilly office. 

“I’ll get it back at one point.” He says in response to Yoongi’s knowing smirk. Namjoon is too tired to blush. 

You don’t see each other again until a few days later in a meeting you smile when you see him and Namjoon trips over the doorway as his manager introduces you to the boys. The conversation is mostly banal, save for your surprising fluency in Korean, which earns you compliments from more than one of them. Yoongi shoots Namjoon a devious smile and prompts, “now Namjoon will finally have someone to practice English with.” 

Namjoon blushes and hits Yoongi on the arm. Later, you find Namjoon’s office, shy in the doorway as he rubs the back of his neck, “Mister min told me that this was yours after he saw it folded over my desk, thank you for leaving It for me the other night.” 

Namjoon takes it from you, he can tell you washed it- he has the urge to lift it to his nose and breath in deep, probably get a sense of what you smell like. He hopes you don’t notice his blush. “It gets pretty cold here sometimes they forget to turn off the ac in the winter” he justifies, fingering it in his hands before he gives it back to you, “you can keep it for the office in case you get cold again.” 

“Namjoon-ssi Its designer I really can’t,” 

“Consider it a welcome present then,” his dimpled smile puts you at ease. You start to practice English with Namjoon most afternoons that he’s there, slipping into Korean effortlessly and explaining to him why what he said was a little off. 

Conversations over work turn into hours spent over coffee or food when the only time he can spare for a conversation is over dinner, which becomes a habit and- are these dates if you barely talk about work? if he feels like himself when he’s around you to the point where it recharges him instead of drains?

 You always protest when Namjoon pays- and he reassures you with a hand on yours- anything Namjoon can do to repay your kindness and your hard work he says, though at this point he’ll make any excuse to get more minutes with you. 

He even offers you the cot in his studio when you want it at one point- working late. To which you tease, “maybe I’ll sleep there just so you offer me your sweaters, I could have a whole collection by the end of the month” your wink makes him blush harder than he ever has and stumble over his words. You’re the only one who can make him so disarmed like this, fumbling in Korean or English, no matter the language Namjoon feels like he can never find the right words to quite flirting how he wants.  

He can’t even imagine how terrible his concentration would be if you wore his sweaters even more often than you already do, you look so small drowned in it, having to fold the sleeves over a few times to stick out your hands. the others notice his fixation- teasing him about it by stopping by his studio and warning, “better not try to get any work done today Joon” with a wink or a teasing “off to another English lesson?” 

But of course it had to end somehow, your contract was only for 4 months after all. 

Namjoon knew that this was your livelihood- switching cities every few months and switching companies to help them rearticulate after overseas expansion. Namjoon has asked you more than a few questions about your mobile lifestyle in the past after he’d learned that the most you’d ever stayed in one place after college was 6 months.

“I’ve never liked a city enough to make me stay,” you said the first time he asked you why you moved around so much- even when the companies would offer you permanent positions.

And in the last week before you leave to head to your next job- you express the opposite when you end up walking back from an early morning coffee with Namjoon. Your hands brushing between the two of you as you walk. Pausing in the street to watch the light fade, a thick scarf wound around his neck. “It’s going to be hard to leave Seoul,” you said, eyes flickering to Namjoon. 

In a moment of braveness, he takes your hand and squeezes, brings it up to his face to set the back against his cheek. and feeling like he’s almost going to cry, says “it’s going to be hard to watch you go.” barely tempting the words into the morning light for the fear of the damage and hurt they would cause both of you.  

The last time Namjoon sees you he can’t swallow down the lump in his throat. You try to give him back the sweater that he gave you the first time he saw you. But he pushes it back into your hands, smiling even as he’s barely able not to cry. because even with all this pain- he’s better for having known you.  “please, just take it to remember me by, I’d love it if you wore it and thought of me when you’re in New York.” 

He’d tried to forget you when you’d left knowing it would be better for him if he did. Less heartbreak even if the weight of all of the almost he had with you drag on his shoulders as he hops from city to city on tour. He tries to concentrate on work instead of your social media feed, tries not to text you and fails on the daily. 

And then a reprieve, they’re invited to do an award show in New York and Namjoon is quick to text you and tell you their plans and ask if you’d like to grab dinner afterward even if it will be 1 am by the time they get out, and you agree. 

after all these months, you’ve never expressed your feelings beyond an ‘i miss you’ but when you see each other again those feelings boil over into actions. 

He meets you on the street corner in new york city after it’s rained, the light hanging all hazy and bleeding into you, you look the same as you do. He shouldn’t be surprised to find that you’ve kept his cardigan or to find you wrapped in it looking small and delicate under your red umbrella. smiling up at him. 

And he’d been uncaring about who might be watching, pulled down his facemask and kissed you, shocked for a second before the umbrella was discarded so that both your hands could fist in his baggy sweatshirt, and you’d kissed him back like you missed his lips ravenously no matter that it was your first kiss. 

You’d never made it to the restaurant that he’d planned on taking you to the reservation unused. instead, you’d gone back to your apartment, and the rest had been history. 

He remembers that night, the first night he’d gotten to see you like this, curled up next to him hand over his chest to feel his heartbeat, he remembers feeling just as lucky as he feels in this instant. He remembered that he’d hoped beyond hope that your whispered confession of love against his lips earlier were true. That this love would last and that you’d both be able to handle the distance. 

It had, and though it had been hard there was nothing more satisfying or rewarding than waking up to you like this. 

You start to stir gently in his arms and he kisses you on your shoulders, trailing his lips up your neck, by the time he gets to your cheek your eyelashes are fluttering. You make a happy noise in your throat, blinking away sleep and smiling when he’s the first thing you see. 

God, Namjoon wouldn’t trade this for anything. He can barely believe you’re actually here. Was it just yesterday morning when he’d woken up after dreaming of you? Well this, the real thing- was so much better than any dream. it’s too early to really be awake, but you’ve both been asleep for more than 12 hours at this point. 

“Wanna make coffee and watch the sunrise?” he asks you, sleepily you nod against him, and he separates himself to go put the coffee pot on. At first, he’s planning on bringing it to you in bed,  but then you appear wearing one of his large grey shirts and the comforter cover around your shoulders. Your hair dried funny after the shower you shared last night, curling on one side and straight on the other, endearingly imperfect as only you can be. 

You exchange sleepy gentle kisses against the counter while you wait for the coffee to finish. The coffee pot beeps somewhere in between when you start deepening the kiss and he keeps Running his hands up and down your back, tempted to go for another round. 

And then it’s out to the balcony carrying the blanket that Namjoon tosses over you after you crawl up the lawn chair, it’s not exactly comfortable or warm.  As the sky gradually starts to lighten you curl up around Namjoon, running your fingers through his hair and commenting on the new color, careful to be quiet and hushed when you know the other’s rooms are on either side of you.  

Namjoon’s glad you made the choice to come out instead of going back to bed in search of more carnal pleasures. The steam rising from the coffee cup clutched in your hands, sharing sips- because of course, you’re the couple to share one cup of coffee in the morning. 

“God you have a good view,” you say after a sip and hand the mug back to him from this position you can see every inch of Seoul slowly turning from steel grey to honey gold. 

“Any view with you in it is a good view” you make a dismayed noise, slapping his arm lightly.  

“Don’t be cheesy,” but you mollify him with a kiss to the underside of his jaw, feeling the little bit of stubble there rough against your lips.

“Can’t help it, you make me like this” he grins. Holding you a little tighter, thumbing the curve of your elbow, “I wish it could be like this all of the time” You’re quiet, silent, and Namjoon tries to catch your eye over the lid of the coffee cup. 

You bite your lip, and he’s sure something’s wrong, how many times had he said something like this and you’d replied, ‘I do too Joonie’ but now, you’re uncharacteristically quiet and a little stiff in his lap. After a pregnant moment, your eyes flicker up to meet his. 

“What if it was?” 

He straightens, suddenly awake, “what do you mean?” your next words come out in a rush turning to look at him as they spill from your mouth, holding his hand firmly in yours. 

“I didn’t want to tell you- not until I knew it was actually happening- because I didn’t want to get your hopes up but, you’re not the only reason why I came to Seoul.” Namjoon quirks his eyebrows, his hand busies its self with rubbing at the skin against your back. Waiting, expectant and hopeful, he urges you to continue with a nod of his head, eyes wide.    

“I got a job offer,” you breath out “for a company here in Seoul- a permanent position” Namjoon pulls back abruptly. Staring up at you incredulously. “You’re joking!” he says in disbelief. But if the quirk of your lips as you try not to smile too widely has anything to say- you’re not lying. 

Which means… which means you don’t have to be in a long distance relationship anymore. 

Which means Namjoon can wake up to you in the morning many more days of the year that he had previously. And he can have all of the domestic fantasies that you’d confessed over the phone. Getting to ride bikes along the river together. Having coffee in the morning every day. Fuck he’d even settle for something as mundane as folding fucking laundry because with you everything was amazing.  

Namjoon hops up from the chair and hops up and down when he realizes it, wrapping you to his chest after a moment, nearly tackling you into the lawn chair and pulling you back into his lap.  “Oh my god- this is the best surprise, like ever- I can’t believe you hid this- you’re so, you’re so ugh” Namjoon punctuates the last frustrated words of excitement with a kiss to your mouth that shocks a giggle out of you. 

“That’s amazing news- I can’t wait until you can live here and we’ll be able to see each other every day.” 

“I didn’t mean to spring this on you at all or assume anything. This doesn’t mean that we have to like- get an apartment together or anything but-“ 

“Wait,” Namjoon says, leaning out of your arms for a second, “do you not want to live with me? Do you not want to move in?” 

“No of course not- I just didn’t know if you would want me too, I didn’t know if we were there yet is all and-“  but Namjoon’s already tugging you back inside, giddy like a kid on Christmas. Instead of explaining he knows exactly what will put your mind at ease. 

“I wanna show you something,” he murmurs, knowing that it will be enough of an explanation.  Because for all your secrets and scheming and surprises, Namjoon is just as good at planning as you are. 

Dimples peaking out as he leads you through the dark apartment loud in his excitement. he leads you back into his bedroom, still, a whirlwind from yesterday. his suitcase is pried Open like a clam with clothes sticking out of it. Yours are too, everything is scattered nothing organized in true Namjoon fashion. 

He gets the small bag out of the pocket where it’s lived for the past month, handing it over to you trying not to look too nervous. his hand hovers on yours the bag in between both of your hands “don’t- don’t open it when you see it, i mean- obviously look in the bag but-” you quirk your eyebrow at his stuttering and he makes a frustrated noise before he hands it over. But his hands still shake; before you open it you reach up to smooth out the wrinkle between his eyebrows. A loving action. You’re puzzled at what it could be- it’s surprisingly heavy in your hands. 

You tear out the black wrapping paper to get at the small heavy thing in the bottom “You didn’t need to get me anything- you know you already sent me like an entire wardrobe from France right? And chocolate from Belgium that I ate in like half a second.” 

“It’s not-” Namjoon just laughs, nudging your shoulder with his nose “just open it already before I die of anticipation” Namjoon sits on the edge of his bed and ignores the urge to get down on one knee- because this isn’t that- not yet anyway. His leg jumping in anxiety a little, Instead of pulling you closer by your hips to sit pressed against his. resting his chin on your shoulder to watch your expression dawn from confusion to shocked surprise. 

“Kim Namjoon!” you shout when you pull out the heart-shaped velvet box- you won’t open it, not yet, because if this is what you think it is then you understand what Namjoon meant about not opening it yet. “you did not buy me a goddamn ring!” 

“I might have” he winks, “I picked it out from an antique shop, I really wanted to do this with more intention-but” Namjoon hums as he runs a finger along your chin tilting your face up to meet his. “I’m serious about you, I’m serious about this, living together- everything. Now you know- even if I’m not going to ask you just yet,” his smile shifts into the teasing air you often have in your relationship. “not until I can surprise you with it of course” you look at him, cup his cheek and gulp before you hand him the velvet box back with a shaking hand, not even asking to see inside even if curiosity is blooming in your- curiosity and incredulity and joy- and Namjoon hasn’t even officially proposed yet and you're already bouncing “You sure you don’t want to look at it at least?” 

You look at him wide-eyed, “some surprises are best saved for last,” Namjoon laughs at that, standing up to put the velvet box on top of his dresser in a place where you can see it. A sight that will tease you until one day you walk in and find it missing, and later will find it on your finger. After all- he never doubted that you would say yes. 

He pulls you up to your feet kissing you, your lips sweet and soft against his, “as much as I love seeing you in just my shirt you should probably get dressed, We have a busy day ahead of us,” he murmurs against your lips.

You raise an eyebrow in response, pulling away from the kiss to search his face “What do you have planned?”

Namjoon grins. “How do you feel about apartment hunting?”

Taglist:

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[jar-full-of-pixel-hearts]

Sugar Kiss Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2

Space Force Netflix

Fuck Tony Scarapiducci x Reader

Notes: I get a little bit cared away by my inspiration so this part is kind of long. But, I hope you will stay until the end because it’s really important ! I hope you will like it !

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.  

—-

F. Tony couldn’t really explain what kind of impulse took him that Friday evening on his way home. But, one thing was sure, he needed to see you. 

After one week of feeling ashame and stupid. Writing draft after draft of tweets not sure of the good things to write, apologies, joke, publicity proposition, before immediately erasing them. He became foolishly hopeful to cross your path on the entry of the General Naird office or in the lobby.  It’s only when Wednesday arrived that the idea that maybe you were mad at him slowly started to drive him crazy, leading him to be distracted and sad. 

On many occasions that week, people had asked him if he were okay, confused in front of his unusual silence and the way he was absently biting the nail of his thumbs. 

Even Brad, who usually had a smile each time the four stars general became angry at Tony, started to ask questions that Friday morning.

“ Are you okay ? You are sit on this chair for almost thirty minutes now “ 

“ Yeah yeah interesting. Brad...did...Y/N is the kind of woman to do the cold shoulder traitement...or things like that...did she bring you a box of somethings this week...did she get ill ? “ Tony asked, ignoring the previous question of the one star general about his state of mind.

“ Y/N ?  No I didn’t see her this week, she had that new product she was preparing to release so she was kind of busy. And she certainly is not ill, my wife always knows when one of us is sick. I don’t know how she does it, it’s almost like if she ....” Brad replied half mumbling to himself. “ Why do you want to know if she is the kind to do the silence traitement...what did you do F. Tony ? “  

The joy that maybe you weren't mad at him, abruptly chasing the dark cloud, making him jump out of the inconfortable chair.  

“ She had a cake release ? It wasn’t announced anywhere ! How should I were suppose to known that !” He exclaimed, already writing his next tweet for the moonlight cake twitter. Returning to his office, letting Brad wonders what’s happening and repeatedly calls his name. 

But,once the funny tweet was ready, he still couldn’t send it either, having a strange feeling that it wasn’t the right thing to do. Feeling that Fuck Anthony Scarapaducci didn’t had often in his life.

And there he was, standing in front of the bakery door, waving at you, a smile full of hope plastered on his face . 

Like always, you were stunning even in your simple casual jeans and t-shirt . At your expression, who’s quickly shifting for the most adorable smirk he ever seen, you didn’t expect to see anybody tonight.

Trying to calm the now fast beat of his heart and stop the fog invading his brain as you were reaching to unlock the door. A thousand of sentences started to spin in his head. But, none of the brilliant introductions or explanations for his presence really seem to justify the impulse who’s caught him. Letting him totally mute in front of your amused gaze.  

 “ Well, I know you didn’t really have close hours in space, Spaceman, but on earth it’s kind of a  popular thing. “ You joke, your smile illuminating his night. 

“ Yeah I know...We work on that...I was near and I thought to come see if you still were there...” He lied. “ I can come back another day if you prefer…?” 

“ And let me eat all by myself the two last cinnamon rolls of the day ? No, come in, save me of a devastating sugar rush “ 

" If you insist on offering me a cinnamon roll…" He smiled, passing the door.  

Looking around, admiring the simple but elegant Moon theme you had put in the main room.  Succeeding somehow to make something like space, usually cold, welcoming and warm just like you.  

“ Welcome to Moonlight cake F.Tony “ 

“ Thanks, I like it, it’s really...it’s really you, but with the moon...like Space Force is great but here it’s...really moonie...Instagram aesthetic...” He replied, realizing too late that he was babbling. Closing his eyes,cursing against himself. He suddenly opened them at the soft touch of your hand on his arms. 

“ Thank you, it was kind of the idea... F. Tony, I’m sorry but...are you...are you mad at me, for not telling you sooner about twitter ? Because I swear I thought that you knew“ You shyly ask, the expression in your face, a mix of curiosity, hope and sadness, hurting him. 

“ Mad at you, me ? Naah, of course no...I didn’t reply because of all this job the general Naird had for me this week. That man is so lost if I’m not here to read his tweet and arrange his meeting...” Fuck Tony reply, exaggerating his expression. The last grumble of his own fear that you were mad at him leaving his body like a stone out of his chest” And your uncle tell me about that cake release so I just think that you didn’t need that kind of distraction, that all I swear “  

Seeing you smiling again, the expression so painful for him, leaving your face. He caught himself smiling, like if your happiness was sufficient to make himself happy, like a human bluetooth device.

“ Take a seat I will come back with the pastries  “ You offer him, disappearing being the double door of the kitchen. 

Absently sitting on one of the bistro chairs of the counter, passing a hand in his hair to keep them smooth and in order. F. Tony gave another look around him, discovering your touch in every little decoration and design. Passing from the soft grey of the wall from the blue roses on the counter and the framed picture of the moon. 

“ Sorry for making you wait, I put a batch of cupcake in the oven for tomorrow. So, what brought you here ? “ You asked, contouring the long surface before sitting at his side, putting one of the dessert plates with the precious roll in front of him.

“ I um...I “ He started, fidgeting with his fork, the thought of telling you that he simply wanted to see your face crossing his mind before being shut down by his ego and fear of rejection “ I’m here to offer you my help with the media and talking about an idea“ He suddenly exclaimed, the fog of his brain vanishing.  

“ I'm listening “ You reply, tearing a piece of your roll.

And the simple things that you were truly listening to him,giving you all your attention ,gave him one of the best feelings in the world. 

" When I plan a meeting or press conference we always have the same company hired by the government who serves us awful coffee and hard as hell cookies. No surprise after that, that these reporters ask stupide and horrible questions, they are angry. But, if we serve them your soft, sweet pastry...happiness." He explained, taking a bite of his own sweet. 

" That seems a really great idea, but what makes you think they will accept the change. They will maybe not like what I have to offer or my price. "

" We will probably have to make a plan with a smaller size of your product, bite size, smaller but more for the same cost to bake. But trust me, after a taste of your stuff they will say yes to everything you will ask." He replied, sure of his affirmation. Naird maybe didn't take him seriously when he was talking about social media, but, even he was able to see that in planification, F. Tony didn't play games. " The reputation of Moonlight cake is perfect in the town and at the base. Link to the space force event you will become a legend." 

"Did you think about what it will cost me to do this ? Transport, staff and stock ?" 

" I had thought of it too. If you bring some regular stock, we can sell them at the cafeteria, to the soldier and staff, creating a limited event. So, you will raise your sales of the day and It will also give the chance to gain new customers. “ He continu, glad to not lose all his capacity in front of your brilliant gaze.   

"That's smart,but I'm only a small bakery in a town in Colorado. Government won't hire small business like mine usually" You asked, your knee brushing his as you instinctively approaching him, caught in the discussion. 

" Please, I'm Fuck Anthony Scarapiducci. " He smirks, approaching his face of yours, like if he was about to give you a secret. " I have important contact. " He wink, his heart racing,your delicious perfume waking up is sense. 

" And you will help me, just like that, for my pretty eyes? " You reply,almost in a whisper playfully flirting.

" Y/ N I could do so many things for just the sight of your pretty eyes…" F. Tony flirty confesses, his face at only few inches of yours, giving a glance to your lips. 

Your gaze locked, you slowly approche of each other, attraction pushing you like a magnet. 

Before being suddenly distracted by the loud noise of the oven clock. 

" I...I have to take the cupcake out of the oven" You shyly tell, taking a quickly step back.  

" Yes, no problem I um…" He started misunderstanding your shyness for regret, preparing already himself to leave.  

"I will come back in a minute, stay there please “ You ask, giving him a shy look back before coming into the kitchen,a smile on your lips. 

"Yes! I... I will wait for you here….that you come back…here " He replied surprise, his mind slowly realizing that you almost shared a kiss. That you would actually let him kiss you.

“ They are perfectly gold and smell divine “ You announce, coming back in the main room where F.Tony was waiting for you, lost in his thoughts. “ Are you okay, you seem really serious right now “ 

Lifting his decided gaze on you, his heart beating like crazy, he didn’t bother to reply getting up off his chair before cupping the side of your face with his left hands, his finger tangling into your hair. Approaching gently his face of yours, building his courage, he suddenly kissed you, passing an arm around your waist. 

The kiss, at first sweet and gentle, becomes quickly passionate. Putting your hands on the back of his neck and his shoulder, trying to keep your balance as your head was starting to deliciously spin. You feel his lips leave yours, making you miss the pressure of his mouth almost immediately. 

“ I really have to go...both of my phone's vibrate...Naird need me...I...I text you...I swear…” F.Tony whispers, taking a step back before kissing you quickly one more time in the lips. “ I’m sorry“

Turning on his heels, passing the door, a mix of emotion bursting inside his chest. He let you in shock in the middle of the bakery, your fingers brushing your lips, your heart and his resonating at the same beat.

—

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[ajokeformur-ray]

okay so what about getting asleep on the sofa while watching TV and then he wakes you up to go to bed and he's just so happy you're by his side that he dances with you around the room like he does with penny and you're still sleepy and you murmur 'we better dance like this at our wedding, future husband' hhhhf im SOFT

I’m soft omg this is the life ????? also I love that shoulder thing he does in this scene ugh. He’s such a cutie pie.

Warnings: swearing, smoking (why do I still bother tagging these?) and implied nsfw at the end. You may need to bite a pillow to keep from squealing, this is soft.

word count: 1, 981.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @mapreza1 @insomniabird@mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft@help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs @seeking-dreamland @sweetheart-syndrome @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx @0callmejude0 @the-one-that-likes-riddles @hannibalsslut @folliaght @freeeshavacadoo @bingewatchingmylifegoby @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything @okamiredfoxx @sp0okysp0oky @the-pandorabox @mardema @jibanyyan @honeyflvredcoughdrop @emissarydecksetter @jokerfleckk @epidendroideae @chuuntas @stillmabel @pumpkinpeyes@onehystericalqueenposts @the-jokers-wolf @nalsswa @justahyena @arianatheangelworld @soullessblondbitch @gothamslittlejester @twentyonestarrynights @sirianfromsixties

You were exhausted.

All day had you had to be in contact with people. You hadn’t had a free moment to yourself. Even when you had gone outside your university to have a cigarette, people had wanted stuff to do with you. It hadn’t been more than an hour since leaving the apartment building that you had wanted to go home again. At least Arthur didn’t socially wear you out; one look at you and it seemed like he could read your entire mood, and know what to do to be around you peacefully, without causing you any sort of distress. He was an actual angel and you didn’t know where you would be without him. Your entire life revolved around Arthur, and though you knew that that was mildly unhealthy, you also knew that you wouldn’t have it any other way. He was the kind of man to demand that all eyes were on him. He was unaware of the beauty of his own self, and that only increased his allure, somehow.

When Arthur had finally come home from work late in the evening, just as tired and worn down as you were, you had already been curled up on the sofa, ready to go to sleep. Instead, however, you had jumped up with more physical energy than you thought you had left in you, such was the effect he had on you, and reheated his dinner, spoken to Arthur about his day, and made him feel loved. Loving Arthur Fleck was a gift, but it seemed almost surreal for him to love you back just as hard, if not even more than you loved him. He felt deeply, which meant that he hurt deeply, and rarely could he experience a single day without another punch to the face. Sometimes, life expressed that particular sentiment physically, and you were always there with a gentle touch to patch up his wounds. It was the emotional ones which required more tender loving care, and you only gladly obliged. He deserved the entire fucking world, and though you couldn’t physically give it to him, you could make him feel like he was on top of it.

When at last all your daily responsibilities, stresses and duties had been tended to, Arthur had invited you to sit beside him on the sofa. The Murray show was on, but you weren’t concentrating on it. Not only did you not like the host - he was a rude man who preyed on other people to get a cued laugh from the paid audience and sometimes you found yourself wishing that someone would just permanently shut him up - but you were just so tired. You leaned easily against Arthur’s upper arm, feeling his body heat radiate through his thin cotton shirt. Naturally did his arm curl around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. You shifted so that you were pressed completely against his side, his body warding off the chill in the apartment; the heating was just too expensive, even and most especially given that it was winter and therefore, the government could get away with putting up the prices because of the ‘supply and demand’. It was bullshit, but what could you do? You were a working class citizen working to the bone just to survive and therefore, you had no real voice and no power of your own.

You were asleep before you knew it. The scent of cigarette smoke kept your own nicotine craving at bay, and the feeling of Arthur pressed tightly against you and the gentle smell of his cologne kept you in that secured lull which promised a good night’s sleep in preparation for all that was waiting for you tomorrow. You couldn’t wait for Sunday; it was your Day with Arthur. Once a week, every Sunday, did you only make plans for each other. You didn’t leave the apartment on Sundays, anything important could wait until the following day, and so you were left to indulge in each other in whatever means were most appealing on that day. Often, you stayed in the bedroom and played card games, smoking together and watching Charlie Chaplin re-runs.

The first thing that you became distantly aware of was that the bed you were lying against was moving in a steady rise and fall. There was a rumbling just under your ear and then Arthur’s gentle, patient tone threatened to send you right back to sleep.

“Y/N, darling. Come on, it’s time for bed.”

You groaned. “Nope. Sleeping. Shush.”

Another rumble ran through Arthur’s chest and bubbled up and out of his throat, the sound creating a lovely laugh. You adored it when he laughed genuinely. It was such a rare sound and you cherished it, so different was it to the terrifying attacks he so often experienced. 

“No,” Arthur hummed, “You gotta help me get you to bed. I can’t carry you.”

You sighed sleepily and sat up. Arthur laughed both at the expression on your face and the way your hair was sticking up on one side, laying completely flat on the other. 

“Sleepy head.” He teased, his eyes soft and full of love for you. The harsh blue light from the television screen illuminated the dark circles under his green eyes, and you felt guilty. Had you kept him awake while he waited for you to stir?

You stood, taking Arthur’s hand, and he pulled you close to his chest, swaying with you. He spun you slowly, a sweet smile on his face. His hair was fluffy, freshly washed, the dark curls framing either side of his forehead. His waistcoat was perfectly matched with his trousers, and he looked so ethereal. He was heaven sent. As he pulled you close again to dance with you without music, your sleep addled brain failed to consider the potential consequences of your next words.

“I want to dance like this with you at our wedding, future husband.” Your eyes were already sliding shut as you relaxed against his chest.

Time seemed to stop as your words seeped into your brain. Arthur froze and you even felt him stop breathing.

You weren’t tired any more as reality doused you awake just as surely as a cold bucket of water tipped over you would. You stared at Arthur’s still chest, not blinking, your entire body trained on the person in front of you, his hands still tightly gripping you.

A shuddered inhale. A bubble of quiet laughter. Silence.

“What… what did you just say?”

You dared to look up into those beautiful green eyes you so adored. You had memorised that face so well that you could recall it perfectly even in your sleep. Many a night had you fallen asleep staring at it, hoping that its features would find you in your dreams.

Little did you know that your wildest dreams weren’t inside your mind, but physically present in the bed with you.

“What is your shirt made of?” You reached out and plucked the sleeve of his shirt between your thumb and forefinger. You had a reason for the apparent sudden change in topic. You would make your point known in all the ways you could think of. It was the least you could do for Arthur.

“No, Y/N, what did you - “

“I’m getting there.” You smiled patiently, pleading with him inside your mind to go along with you.

Arthur nodded, sighed and seemed to accept that you would repeat yourself when you had had your fun as, with a slight bite of impatience, he said, “I don’t know, cotton or something. Please tell me what you said.” His voice was quieter towards the end of the sentence. Did he think it was a joke to you?

You shook your head and made sure to look him straight in the eyes. “No.” You disagreed. “It’s made of husband material.”

You saw some pre-existing spark in his eyes explode into a fire as the most beautiful smile lit up Arthur’s entire face like a christmas tree. You hadn’t intended to say this here and now, but your mouth had made the decision for you, as it so often did when you were tired. Actually, scrap that - your mouth often made your decisions for you, and your brain was left to figure out the aftermath. Your brain to mouth filter had always been faulty, even more so when you were tired.

“Wait here.” Quick as a flash were you gone, disappeared into the bedroom. You left Arthur’s arms feeling empty with naught for company but the ghost of your touch. Like a whirlwind, you were back just as quickly as you had gone. 

In your hand was a small black box, which was clenched painfully in your grip. Ready? Go!

“Here.”

You handed it to a wide eyed Arthur. His hands were shaking and nearly did he drop the box. He sought to cup it in his hands. “W-what… I don’t -” Laughter. Cruel and painful laughter ripped its way out of your love’s throat, making him cross his arms over his shoulders as he buried his face in the material of his work shirt. He doubled over, turned his back to you, and violent chuckles threatened to destroy the very gentle, loving atmosphere that had naturally occurred when the two of you were together. 

You put a hand on his back, rubbing up and down his spine, feeling the different vertebrae through his clothing. You said nothing, you only stayed, and that meant so much more to Arthur than anything else that you could have done. Guilt racked him as he squeezed his eyes shut. He had ruined the moment. You had just presented your future together to him on a silver platter, the entire scene practically gift wrapped in its perfection, and he had ruined it with his condition. As he quieted to hiccups and straightened up, breathing in deeply, you said, “Don’t you dare think you’ve ruined anything, Arthur.”

He hiccuped, “But - “

“No.” You smiled gently to take the bite out of your words, and pulled him into a hug. Immediately did your fingers find the dark curls at the nape of his neck. Arthur’s head sunk down onto your shoulders, taller than you was he, and he pressed his nose into your jugular. His lips soothed the day’s tension away, and you allowed him to lavish you with kisses.

Slowly did you realise that he hadn’t answered your question.

“Arthur.”

Something in your voice caught his attention and he straightened up.

“Are you gonna’ answer my question?”

“Wait… you weren’t. You weren’t joking?” He was so incredulous, so disbelieving, that you couldn’t help it. Your jaw dropped. Did he really think so little of himself? You didn’t even need to think about it. Yes. Yes, he did.

“I would never fucking do that.”

Arthur looked down to the floor in shame, and you found the fallen box - he must have dropped it during his sudden attack - and picked it up, dusting it off. You opened it to reveal a set of modest antique rings. It was the best you could afford. The design was plain and simple but elegant. 

“So, how about it? Will you marry me, Arthur?”

The ferocity with which he kissed you took you aback, as again and again did he mumble “yes” against your lips. Your legs somehow found his waist, and it was with speedy movements and little care for the late hour that you showed Arthur just how much you had meant your question. The rings lay abandoned on the living room table; you would put them on each other tomorrow. For now, you would consummate the as yet unofficial but official vow to love each other in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part.

[artificialqueens]

Spirit, Part 2/2 - (Gigi x Crystal / Gigi x Nicky) - Opalescentcheetah

A/N: I’m finally back with more magical shenanigans! I’m so sorry this has taken me so long, but I hope the chapter is worth the wait! Thank you again for all the love on Part 1, it really means a lot to me and I’m so glad you all enjoyed it <3 Feel free to drop by my blog, @opalescent-cheetah, to say hi - I love hearing from everyone!

Thank you so much to DenDenMonMon and Crazy4Kameron for beta-ing!

Summary: It’s three years later, and Gigi is going to college to chase her dreams. Unfortunately, the warehouse and the playful spirit that lives in it won’t fit in Gigi’s luggage.

~

Gigi wakes to dappled gold and pillowy warmth. She rolls over, careful not to disturb the gentle arm draped across her midsection, and meets eyes as soft as the sky after the first winter snow.

“Good morning, Miss Goode,” Nicky whispers, a smile in her sleep-heavy voice. Gigi loves the mornings after Nicky stays over, when she can wake up to tender kisses and warm tan skin, to the way Nicky’s eyes seem to sparkle faintly in the half-light.

“Good morning,” she replies softly, their faces close, limbs still entangled. “What’s the time?”

“Nine thirty. I was going to wake you up earlier, but you looked so peaceful.” Nicky’s words are brimming with affection, and it sets Gigi’s heart aflutter. She kisses Nicky again, a brush of butterfly wings at the edge of her mouth, before sliding out of bed and into the crisp morning.

The boxes lining the walls are a harsh reminder that it’s her last full day here, for tomorrow, she and Nicky will be moving to their new college dorm in preparation for their freshman year. There’s an aching nostalgia beneath her excitement; even if it’s only for a few months at a time, Gigi will be leaving behind her family and all her childhood memories. She’ll be leaving Crystal.

~

Gigi laughs as Crystal wraps her up in a white lab coat that’s just a little too tight around the shoulders, smoothing down the rumpled collar with velvet hands.

“Nearly done,” Crystal says, a playful twinkle in her eyes, and Gigi watches as she gathers handfuls of beaded necklaces from a nearby box and begins to sort through them. This has almost become tradition: every time she dresses Gigi up in the clothes they find in the warehouse, the finishing touch is always a stack of accessories. Gigi doesn’t mind it, but her favourite thing is the way Crystal smiles softly to herself while she picks them out, as though she is making the most important decision in the world.

She returns, this time, with all the green and orange ones, and puts them on for Gigi with the utmost care.

“Green for the dress,” she tells her as she works. “And orange to match your pretty hair.”

“I look like a crazy doctor,” Gigi admits when she’s done.

Crystal simply grins, completely unfazed, and hands Gigi a ginger toy cat to finish the look.

“I did a great job,” she says, half to herself. “Didn’t I, Crazy Doctor Goode?”

Gigi snickers, holding the plush cat close.

“Always the best, Miss Methyd.”

~

“Are you ready to go?”

“I am, I am, I’m sorry I’m–”

“Don’t be.” Nicky smiles, wrapping an arm around Gigi’s waist and pressing a kiss to her head. “There’s no rush. She won’t mind if we’re a little bit late.”

“I know, I just wanted to be there earlier so we could spend more time together.” She rifles through her bag, double checking everything.

“I understand that.”

Gigi exhales when her fingers brush a package wrapped in soft tissue.

“I’m ready. Let’s go.”

~

The warehouse door rattles with the late autumn chill, but Gigi hardly notices, curled up in the warmth of an old beanbag with Crystal’s favourite candles burning nearby. The warehouse smells sweetly of caramel, the firelight shivering as Crystal flicks her fingers through it, mesmerised.

“I’m done,” Gigi says, and Crystal looks up immediately, eyes bright with excitement. Gigi hands over her sketchbook and Crystal studies it for a moment before her body begins to shift. Her red hair spills into auburn waves as her ruff disappears, smooth skin and a colourful dress quickly replacing her glittering fur. The crystalline scarlet of her eyes twists into a stormcloud blue and, quite suddenly, Gigi is looking at herself.

“I love the colours,” Crystal murmurs with Gigi’s mouth, running slender fingers up one blue-and-yellow plaid sleeve. The dress skims the tops of her thighs, ivory buttons gleaming, and she’s wearing a pair of chunky white heels with gauzy socks pulled over her knees. It amazes Gigi, how Crystal can so effortlessly bring each of her sketches to life.

She has to admit, though, that she has never gotten used to seeing Crystal wearing her face. Crystal insists on it - “you should see what you would look like in your own design,” she always says, and Gigi doesn’t usually argue.

“I want to see how you would look in it, too,” she tells Crystal this time. Crystal stops midway through a spin - she seems to be enjoying the little flared skirt - and stares thoughtfully at Gigi.

“Okay,” she agrees, her body morphing back into its usual form, red fur bright against the spring plaid. “How do I look?”

Gigi hides her smile behind her hand. “Gorgeous,” she says. “Very colourful.”

“Perfect.” Crystal curtsies clumsily, stumbling in her high heels, and Gigi snickers as Crystal falls into her lap.

“Stop laughing at me,” she whines, but there’s humour laced through her voice as she flicks Gigi over the head with her tail. “I don’t know how you deal with having legs like this. They’re so stiff!”

“I don’t know how you deal with not having feet,” Gigi counters. “Besides, you were spinning around without a problem earlier - you’re just embarrassed that you tripped over.”

Crystal rolls over in Gigi’s lap to face her, eyes wide with mock offense. “I can’t believe you would call me out like that!” She gasps before falling limp, the back of her hand pressed dramatically to her head. “I’m revoking your friendship privileges.”

“I’ll get them back eventually,” Gigi says with confidence, tickling her sides. Crystal wheezes, jolting upright to grab Gigi’s shoulders when she nearly squirms off of her lap.

“And how do you know that?” she queries, her overdramatic act all but forgotten.

“Because you love me,” Gigi teases. Crystal’s grip is tight, her face a breath away, and for a moment Gigi loses herself to the warmth of her eyes and the way they crinkle at the edges as she breaks into a smile.

“Okay. That’s a very good point,” Crystal says, tapping Gigi lightly on the nose. “But I’m keeping an eye on you.”

“Whatever for?”

“You know what for.” Crystal narrows her eyes, still sparkling with playfulness.

“No, I’m not sure I do, actually.” Gigi flutters her lashes innocently. “But… while you’re here, I do have a question for you.”

“Alright…”

“What was your favourite design from today?” Gigi reaches to pick up her sketchbook, letting Crystal lie back down in her lap as she flips through it. When she finally stands, Gigi watches with tingling legs as she shifts into a leather biker number, noticing with amusement that she’s even changed her fur to match the bright pastel hues of the outfit.

Crystal takes a moment to examine herself, toying with the chains dangling from her belt before she makes the silver shinier.

“Yeah yeah yeah, definitely this one.” She twirls, steady now that she’s no longer wearing shoes, and nearly knocks over a candle with her tail. Gigi can’t help but laugh as Crystal bows dramatically, a giddy smile lighting up her face.

~

Gigi holds Nicky’s hand as they walk up the familiar path to the warehouse. It’s a nice day: it’s sunny, the air blooming as warm as the sparks of flame from Crystal’s palms. Gigi thinks of her, already aching with the nostalgia of her late teenage memories - she’s lived here, surrounded by the same people, for her entire life, and she can’t imagine what college will be like without them. She doesn’t even need to leave to know how much she’ll miss it all.

But it’s leaving Crystal that hurts the most. She’s the only one Gigi won’t be able to call or text while she’s gone, and she’s the only one without another life to go on with: all she has is her curse, trapping her in the confines of the warehouse. At least there are the breaks, Gigi reminds herself, when she can come back to meet Crystal’s gentle embrace and see the playful joy in her eyes again. She only hopes Crystal will be okay on her own.

“What are you thinking about?” Nicky asks, swinging their clasped hands.

“Just…” Gigi hesitates. “Just about the last three years, really.” About Crystal. The only part of her childhood she can’t take with her. The words hang unspoken between them.

“You’re going to miss her, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Gigi rests her head on Nicky’s shoulder as they walk, grateful for her company, her quiet understanding, and for the fact that she doesn’t have to leave Nicky behind, too. “You, Crystal and Jackie were like my first real friends. Do you remember that time when I got locked in the warehouse?”

Nicky snorts. “How could I forget?”

“This is going to sound so cheesy, but I guess that was the day that I realised what real friendship is like,” Gigi murmurs.

“I’m glad you did,” Nicky replies, and there is a heavy layer of seriousness beneath her words. “You stopped trying to be friends with those bullies after you met Crystal. It was such a relief, honestly.”

Gigi can’t help but snicker. “I was so dumb.”

“You’re still dumb,” Nicky says affectionately. “But that’s why I like you.”

“You know what? I’m not even going to argue with that.”

“Good,” Nicky laughs, “because if you tried to act all ‘cool’ again, I might have to reconsider this relationship.”

Gigi draws back, eyes wide with mock offense. “You would never!”

“Try me.”

“I’m not going to. I like you too much for that.”

Nicky presses a kiss to her cheek. “Fine by me. I like you a little too much for that, too.”

Gigi giggles, and they keep walking as road turns to rubble, loose stones crackling beneath their feet. The old warehouse sits, lonely and imposing, at the crest of the hill, its metallic walls gleaming harshly in the morning sun. The sight of it is comfortingly familiar.

Nicky suddenly bursts out laughing. Gigi swings her head around to look at her, loving the way she tilts her face up to the sun and how it dapples her cheeks with roses.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry, I was just” - Nicky snorts mid-sentence - “just thinking about that time Crystal pretended to be me. It was so terrible it was funny.”

Gigi grins at the memory. “Apart from her accent, it was actually pretty accurate,” she teases, laughing when Nicky elbows her playfully.

“Shut up. I knew you could tell the difference immediately.”

“Not until she started talking,” Gigi counters, still smiling. “I went outside just for a moment, and when I came back…”

~

There’s two Nickys.

“Hello, Gigi,” one of them says wryly, her arms crossed over her chest, icy eyes dancing with amusement. The other is crouched on the concrete floor, fixing something on her shoes.

Gigi’s eyes dart from one Nicky to the other. “Hello,” she says eventually, stifling a smile.

“Sacré bleu,” growls the Nicky on the ground as she stands. Her French accent is rough, too throaty and harsh to be real, but it doesn’t matter because Gigi can already see that this Nicky is doing everything in her power not to laugh. “You’re an idiot, Gigi. Salope!”

“Oh my god, I don’t talk like that,” Nicky sighs with breathless laughter, resting her face in her hands. “And if you’re going to keep using French phrases, I need to teach you to use them properly.”

“I think her impression is spot-on,” Gigi giggles.

“Who? What are you talking about? I’m Nicky, I don’t know who that - who that dumb bitch is.” Nicky jabs her thumb at Nicky, face pinched in an exaggerated expression of distaste. Her rough French accent is falling apart over peals of choked laughter, her shoulders shaking with silent mirth.

“You can stop now,” Nicky groans, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “This is insane–”

“Salope!” the other Nicky yells, throwing her arms up in the air with delighted enthusiasm.

~

Gigi is bombarded by a hug the moment the warehouse door swings open.

Crystal’s fur is practically sparking with excitement as she pulls Nicky into the embrace with her tail. Gigi relaxes into the warmth of their arms, feels Crystal’s smile against her cheek.

“Oh my gosh, you guys,” Crystal squeals, stepping back, “you’re both going to college tomorrow! You must be so excited!”

Gigi scans her face, her ruby eyes, for any sign of distress, but Crystal is radiating nothing but sunshine and positivity. Gigi bites her lip.

“We are,” she murmurs. Crystal must hear the hesitance in her voice, because her smile softens as she reaches out to gently pat Gigi on the head.

“I’m going to miss you,” Crystal whispers, almost reassuringly, but she isn’t looking Gigi in the eye anymore. “I have great news too, though! You won’t believe this, but I’m finally allowed to go back to the spirit realm! My… curse, I guess? It’s been lifted!”

“That’s - that’s great news,” Gigi says, trying to smile for Crystal, but her voice breaks. She’d known this day would come eventually, when Crystal would finish her task and be whisked away back to the spirit realm for good, but it’s not enough to prepare her for it. She feels Nicky’s arm on her shoulders as Crystal’s joyful expression crumbles like melting ice. Gigi covers her face with one hand, overcome with shame. “Shit. I’m - I’m sorry, I’m really happy for you, but–”

She trails off when Crystal whimpers. Gigi looks up, only to see her bottom lip quivering, her eyes liquid lava. Crystal falls into her arms, sobbing, and Nicky reaches out with a comforting hand as they slide in a heap to the ground.

“I can’t stand to see you upset,” Crystal sniffles. “I’m going to miss you both so much, you don’t even understand–”

Gigi chokes down a wave of emotion, struggling to maintain her composure as Crystal cries into her shirt. Even Nicky - stoic, calm Nicky, crouching just beside her - looks like she’s blinking back tears.

“I - will I ever get to see you again?” Gigi whispers hoarsely.

“I don’t know.” Crystal’s voice wobbles. “I’ll do my best to come back, I promise, but… there are restrictions.”

“Fuck the rules,” Gigi mutters. “If you’re free now, shouldn’t–”

“I wish it worked like that,” Crystal sighs, cutting her off. “I’m still one of the lower spirits and there are still a ton of rules because… well, I don’t know. I guess they’re worried about us causing too much chaos.”

Nicky jumps into the conversation then, her eyebrow arched in incredulity. “They don’t want you causing chaos in the human realm, and yet they trap you here when you’ve done something wrong? That’s like telling a robber not to steal and then locking them in a bank vault.”

Crystal manages a weak laugh. “It’s so stupid, right?”

“God, I–” Gigi swallows thickly, still holding Crystal close, trying desperately to memorise the way her fur shimmers as it catches the light and how her palms spark with heat every time their hands touch. “I can’t imagine never seeing you again.” Her voice is breaking and she pauses, eyes swimming with tears. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much. Thank you for making the last years of my childhood so wonderful.”

“Aw, don’t get all sappy on me, Miss Gigi.” Crystal’s face is soft with a watery smile as she draws back, hands still clasped around Gigi’s shoulders. “That’s my job, silly.”

This gets a laugh out of Gigi. “I’m stealing it, just for today.”

“Yeah. She’s got to get her feelings out now, otherwise she’ll be a mess in the car ride tomorrow,” Nicky comments lightly, rubbing comforting circles into Gigi’s back.

Crystal giggles. “For real, though, you must be so excited. You’re finally going to fashion school!”

“I am, I’m really looking forward to it.” Gigi wipes her eyes with the heel of her hand. “It sucks that I can’t take you and the entire warehouse with me, though.”

“It’s okay. Once you’re there, you’ll be too busy to miss me that much,” Crystal says, but she sounds like she’s reassuring herself as much as Gigi. “And I can finally go home. How good is the timing, though? I got the message just yesterday and begged them for one more day so I could say goodbye.”

“The greater spirits must think you’re crazy - stuck here for thirteen years, and yet you still want an extra day!” Gigi jokes, a genuine smile creeping onto her face. Crystal always makes her smile.

“Oh, I know! They finally told me what my moral task was, too, and you won’t believe this - empathy! They trapped me here for thirteen years because they thought I was annoying!”

Gigi sputters out a laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! Apparently I was insufferable beforehand. They were like” - Crystal puts her hands on her hips and adds a gruff edge to her voice, pinching her brows - “oh, yeah, took you long enough to learn to care about others and stop being such a little brat even though we never told you what the problem was, so, uh, we guess you can come home now.”

“What did you do to piss them off so much?” Gigi asks incredulously. Despite her numerous conversations with Crystal over the course of three years, she doesn’t think she’s heard anything worthy of a decade-long banishment.

“I can only imagine,” Nicky snickers.

“Hey, shut up,” Crystal giggles. “It was kind of like what I was doing here, before I met you - pulling pranks on people just for the laughs, except I was always the only one laughing… Oh, and I guess Rock was too, except she must be a lot more empathetic, because apparently she finished her task five years ago.”

Gigi remembers hearing about Rock: Crystal’s best friend from the spirit realm, equally as spritely and just as much of a prankster. According to Crystal, they got on like a house on fire.

“You must be excited to see her again,” she murmurs.

“Yeah. I doubt she made friends as good as you two, though,” Crystal says, gazing at Gigi and Nicky with unadulterated warmth and affection. “I can’t wait to tell her about you guys. She’s going to be so jealous of all the fun we had.”

“I’ll give you something more for her to be jealous of,” Gigi says, biting back a grin at the way Crystal’s eyebrows shoot up with eager curiosity. She feels for the bulky weight in her bag and pulls out a package, delicately wrapped in orange tissue paper. Crystal’s fur is practically sizzling with excitement as Gigi deposits the gift in her waiting hands.

She tears the paper away with gusto, revealing a motorcycle jacket made of soft leather. It’s a sleek ebony with a red satin inner lining, crimson leather popping at the collar. Crystal toys with the silver buckles before letting out a quiet gasp when she turns the jacket around: her name is embroidered into the leather, red and silver letters gleaming bright against the midnight black.

“Did you make this?” she whispers as she hugs it to her chest, staring at Gigi, wide-eyed with wonder.

“You should’ve seen her,” Nicky says warmly. “She spent hours obsessing over it… she wanted it to be perfect.”

“And it is.” Crystal’s voice is choked with emotion, fresh tears welling at her eyes. “It’s more than perfect… Oh, Gigi, I love it, I’m never going to take it off.” In one swift movement, she slides the jacket onto her shoulders, unable to stop admiring the immaculate craftsmanship.

“I’m glad you like it,” Gigi murmurs. She can’t help but swell with pride at the awe and disbelief blossoming across Crystal’s face - all the long nights she put into finishing the garment feel more than worth it, just for this moment.

“Are you kidding? This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Crystal gushes, pulling Gigi into another hug. “I’m going to wear it all the time so I can think of you every day, and all the other spirits will wish they were banished for thirteen years just so they could have something as cool as this.”

Gigi laughs. “Make sure to emphasise that it’s hand-made and one-of-a-kind. They’ll be really jealous then.”

“Oh, I will!” Crystal promises. “Thank you so much, Gigi. It’s so gorgeous! I can’t believe you made it just for me… it even has my name on it!”

“Do you remember the last time you were shapeshifting into all of my outfit ideas?” Gigi asks her.

Crystal nods emphatically.

“I remember you said your favourite was the leather biker one,” Gigi says, a smile in her voice, “so I made something similar, just more fitting to your colour scheme. Now, you don’t need to turn yourself all pink and yellow.”

Crystal’s cheeks flare gold like she’s been kissed by sunlight. “That’s so sweet,” she squeals, looking like she’s about to cry again.

Nicky shuffles closer, resting a steady hand on both Gigi and Crystal’s shoulders. “Seeing as this is our last day together,” she says gently, “do you guys want to do something fun?”

~

“But, Gigi, our exams–”

“Shush, you’ve been stressing non-stop for three weeks! Give yourself a break,” Gigi says, pausing when she sees Jackie’s dubious expression. “Fine, we’ll revise later. But Crystal’s been dying to meet you, so you’re not getting out of this.”

She leads Jackie to the warehouse, pushing open the door to the charcoal scent of fire… and a lightshow.

Sparks sizzle, shooting up like fireworks until they bounce off the high ceiling and shower the room in a cascade of embers. A ball of scalding gold begins to take shape in the midst of the firestorm, twisting as it expands and splits into two. Behind it, Crystal’s face is illuminated with rippling light, orange flames dancing in her eyes.

She hasn’t noticed them yet. Gigi watches, breathless with awe, as Crystal juggles the fiery orbs between her fingers with unparalleled dexterity. Finally, she closes her fists, plunging the room into a muted darkness still spitting with dying embers–

And then flames shoot up her arms, flaring outwards in a plume of scarlet and gold. The jewel tones of Crystal’s fur are amplified, as though her soul is incandescent, blazing through her skin.

She raises her arms with a fiery swoosh and suddenly, she’s a phoenix, as the topaz flames streaking from her arms billow into brilliant wings.

“Woah,” Jackie breathes, and Gigi can only nod in agreement, lost for words. She’s never been exposed to the true scope of Crystal’s powers before, and stars, how she wishes she had. Crystal is beautiful, shrouded in fire - she looks confident, commanding… she is electrifying.

She is nothing short of a goddess, and Gigi can’t tear her gaze away.

Then Crystal turns, tongues of flame still surging from her arms and back. Gigi takes a moment to admire her, her soft jaw alight with warm gold, before Crystal’s face cracks with realisation.

She’s seen them. In an instant, the flames vanish, leaving nothing but a handful of embers sizzling on the cold concrete floor. The building is abruptly plunged back into a colourless darkness.

A moment later, the warehouse lights flicker to life, and Gigi blinks as her eyes adjust.

“Hi, Gigi!” Crystal waves cheerfully from the lightbox before bouncing over. “And you must be Jackie, right? It’s so good to finally meet you!”

“Crystal! That was incredible!” Gigi gushes, unable to stop herself, her intentions of formally introducing Crystal to Jackie momentarily forgotten. “How come you’ve never done it before?”

“Oh, uh…” Crystal scratches the back of her neck, suddenly shy. “It’s just a thing I’ve been practicing. I didn’t think you’d like it - the last time I did something like that with people around, they, uh… they started burning.” She bites her lip sheepishly as Jackie grimaces. “I think they survived. I mean, they must have, they were okay enough to run away screaming.”

“Ah. Well.” Gigi frowns, not quite sure what to do with this new information. “I thought–”

“Wait, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Crystal’s eyes are round with worry as she runs up to delicately cup Gigi’s face, checking it for burns, before her gaze flickers to Jackie. “Crap, what an awful first impression. I’m so sorry.”

Gigi’s throat tightens as Crystal steps back, her shoulders drooping with shame. She looks so tiny compared to the whirlwind creature of flame that lit up the warehouse mere moments ago, Gigi almost doesn’t recognise her.

“We’re alright.” Gigi moves closer to hold both of her hands, comfortingly rubbing her thumbs over Crystal’s knuckles. “It was a beautiful show, Crystal. You’re very talented.”

“Really?” she seems to brighten, then, dark lips quirking up in the beginnings of a smile.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Jackie interrupts, startling them both, “how did you do that, Crystal? When Gigi said you could control fire, I thought she was exaggerating, but… wow.”

Crystal’s smile stretches into a grin, so unreserved and genuine that it makes Gigi’s chest flare with warmth. Crystal wears happiness well.

“Magic,” she tells Jackie easily.

Gigi can’t help but giggle when Jackie’s eyebrows crease in disbelief. Crystal meets Gigi’s gaze, her face flashing with delight, before she steps back and transforms into the thing of legends: a creature made entirely of ice cream.

“Magic,” she says again, her voice slightly more garbled now as ice cream drips down her chin. Jackie’s eyes look like they’re about to bulge out of their sockets, and Gigi almost chokes on her own laughter.

~

They take the long way home, skirting the town, following the lines of trees flanking the unpaved road. Nicky drives, humming softly to the pop music pounding through the car as Gigi shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

She knows that Crystal won’t be there. She knows that she’ll open the warehouse door to be met with a dark silence, colder now that Crystal’s warmth and energy is gone, the faint smell of caramel still lingering if she breathes in deep enough. Gigi knows this, but she still wanted - no, she insisted on coming this way, even if it’s just so she can stand there one more time and let the memories sink into her skin.

They turn a corner, and Gigi’s heart plummets.

She blinks, sure that she’s hallucinating, but the warehouse is no longer silhouetted against the crystalline sky; instead, there are enormous yellow machines, whirring and crunching through what’s left. Gigi’s skin prickles with how hauntingly wrong this is, and it takes her a moment to realise she’s shaking.

The car stops on the side of the road and Gigi feels Nicky’s arm snake around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug across the centre console. Gigi presses her nose into Nicky’s neck, breathing in the familiar French vanilla scent of her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Nicky murmurs, stroking her hair.

“I knew she wasn’t going to be there. But…” The words tremble, bitter and acrid on Gigi’s tongue. “But this… this makes it all worse.”

She can’t even bring herself to hate the childish whine that’s crept into the edges of her voice. The biggest reminder of Crystal she had left in her life is now gone, and all their memories swept away with it, reduced to rubble. Gigi feels its absence like a stab through the chest.

“I know.” Nicky’s words are weighted with grief. Her embrace is tight, cozy, and Gigi sinks into it as a heavy silence falls over the car.

Several heartbeats pass before Nicky draws back again, gently brushing her thumb along Gigi’s jaw. “Let’s go home,” she murmurs. “We can stop for ice cream or something on the way back, if you want.”

“Wait. I… I want to stand there one last time.”

“Are you sure?” Nicky’s eyes flash with doubt, but Gigi is already pushing open the door, stepping out into the crunch of gravel. She looks back at Nicky and nods, just once.

“One last time,” she says again. “Come on, Nicky. Let’s go say good-bye.”

Nicky hesitates before sliding out of the drivers’ seat, taking Gigi’s hand in her own as they traipse up the hill. There are fences everywhere now, dotted with neon warning signs barring people from getting too close.

It’s not like anyone even comes here, anyways, Gigi thinks to herself. Anyone but us.

She lets out a heavy breath as she scans the wreckage. Sheets of metal and demolished shelving planks are piled in a heap, ready to be removed; the boxes of toys and clothes and things that Crystal loved so much are gone, and with them - and her - all the colour and liveliness of the place has disappeared too. It seems, quite suddenly, like a memory from another lifetime, and the ground that Gigi stands upon is now unfamiliar.

She feels Nicky squeeze her hand as she closes her eyes, remembering the golden days when she’d run up into Crystal’s arms and meet the sunshine in her pearly smile. She holds the memories close in her chest, resurrecting them over the cold, lifeless sight that now lies before her.

A warm breeze whisks around them, stirring up the long grass at Gigi’s feet. For a moment, it feels as though Crystal has her arms around Gigi’s shoulders again, grinning against her cheek.

Gigi swallows down the lump in her throat.

“Goodbye, Crystal,” she whispers to the sky, and when she turns around, she doesn’t look back.

Nicky drives her home, leaving her at the doorway with a gentle kiss and a glaze in her eyes that might be pity. Gigi kisses her back and watches the car disappear before she knocks on the door, three times, breaking into a genuine smile when she sees her parents’ joyous faces. It hits her when she falls into her mother’s embrace how much she’s missed the comforts of her childhood home and her family; no amount of FaceTime calls could make up for this cosy sense of security, this unconditional love.

It feels so good to be home.

When she sits with them at the table, armed with a plate full of fresh biscuits and a hundred stories, she forgets to be sad. Instead, she loses herself in the laughter and the easy conversation.

Later, she opens the door to her bedroom, dizzy with the events of the day. She’s more than ready to finally relax, after the long drive home and the churning horror of seeing the ruined warehouse. A part of her still refuses to believe that it’s gone: to Gigi, it will always be Crystal’s warehouse.

She blinks herself out of her trance and finds herself standing by her old wardrobe. Throwing open its doors, she runs her hand through the rows of old clothes and outfits that didn’t make it to her college dorm.

Her fingers brush soft, worn denim and she stops.

It’s the outfit from the day she met Crystal.

Gigi pulls it out, suddenly choked up. In her mind’s eye, she sees Crystal, flower crown sitting crookedly around her horns as she smiles. She can still hear her bluebell laughter and the loud clicking of an obscene number of beaded necklaces.

She traces her fingers over the seams, smiling at the memories, still crisp and clear despite the years that have passed. Crystal might be gone, but seeing these reminders fills Gigi with so much joy that the ache of missing her doesn’t hurt quite so much.

After another moment of silent reminiscing, Gigi hangs the denim outfit back up in her wardrobe and continues to rifle through the rows of colourful garments. In the shock of seeing the warehouse torn apart, she’d forgotten the collection of things Crystal had given her to take home over the years. The denim number was only the first.

Gigi can’t help but giggle when she finds three plastic takeaway boxes stuffed with accessories. If anything reminds her of Crystal, it’s this: she loved her jewellery more than anything else.

“There can always be more,” she once said sagely, handing Gigi a stack of necklaces. “More is more, and more is… better.”

Sliding the boxes out of her wardrobe, Gigi goes to sit on her bed and–

“Shit!”

She scrambles up as though she’s been burned; there’s something beneath the covers, something that seems to crackle beneath her weight. Whatever it is, she’s sure it’s not supposed to be there. Leaving the boxes of jewellery on her bedside table, she gingerly draws back the sheets.

She nearly cries when she sees it, messily folded, still wrinkled through the sleeves. Her breath catches in her throat when she picks it up, holding it as though it’s made of glass. The bird on the front looks like it might be smiling.

It’s Crystal’s favourite beaded jacket.

She’d pulled it out of a box when Gigi first met her, and she wore it for the rest of the day. Gigi smiles when she remembers how adorably ridiculous Crystal looked, with the colourful patterned jacket and a green-and-gold clown hat, and almost laughs when she thinks back on her own fear. It’s hard to imagine being scared of Crystal now.

Something falls out from between the folds of the jacket when Gigi opens it up, catching her eye as it drifts down to her bed. It’s a sheet of paper, scrawled over with tight, blocky letters.

Hi Gigi!

I kind of timed this really badly because you don’t seem to be back from your big fancy college yet, and if I could figure out where that is, that would be awesome, but the fact is that I have absolutely no idea. Am I rambling? I think I’m rambling.

Stars, Gigi, I miss you so much you have no idea. I’ve been wearing the jacket you made for me every single day and it’s so comfy and beautiful and honestly, I might not be a high-ranking spirit, but I’m definitely one of the coolest. If not the coolest. So thank you for that!

Oh, and Rock wants to say hi, by the way. She’s super jealous of my jacket (as expected) and she wants one too, but I told her she could only have one if she became as close with you as I did. She just told me I sucked. Whatever! I’m still the one with the epic jacket.

Speaking of which, I wanted to leave you something to remember me by too, so here’s my old favourite jacket. It’s really special to me because I was wearing it the first time you came to the warehouse, and I want you to have it now. Can you believe how much things have changed since then? I remember how scared you were and how lonely I was, and somehow we ended up being best friends. I’m really happy we did. Those were some of the best years of my existence, and I’ll treasure them forever.

I’d better wrap this up quick, I can hear footsteps outside your door. I don’t think your family would be too pleased to see a spirit lurking in your bedroom, even if they know who I am! I hope you’ve had the BEST time at college and that I can get permission to come visit your realm again (hopefully when you’re actually back home, so you can tell me all about fashion school!)

Okay, I really should go.

I miss you!!! <3 <3 <3 <3

Love,

Crystal

The note is enough for the dam in Gigi’s eyes to finally break. Trembling with emotion, she slides onto the floor, hugging the jacket and the note so close against her chest that she hears the paper crinkle.

Everything about it feels so wonderfully Crystal, from her fast, messy scrawl to the doodles lining the margins of the page. Gigi reads the note again through blurred eyes, treasuring every word, unable to wipe away her smile even when her cheeks begin to ache. She doesn’t know whether or not Crystal saw the ruins of the warehouse, but suddenly it doesn’t seem to matter. All that’s important is that she managed to come back, and that she still misses Gigi as fiercely as Gigi misses her.

And now, Gigi has another sliver of her, another glorious memory brought to life in fabric and colourful buttons. The statement piece of a collection.

It still smells of embers and caramel candles.

~

She returns the very next weekend.

The door creaks loudly on rusted hinges when she pushes it open and timidly looks inside, only to be met with darkness.

“Hello?”

Her voice echoes once before there’s an enormous crash, followed by the clicking of hooves on hard concrete. A moment later, Crystal appears, half of her face illuminated by the stripe of sunlight through the door.

“You came back!” she squeals, bouncing giddily on the spot, her fur shimmering with crimson stardust.

“I told you I would,” Gigi says, a smile forming on her face of its own accord. “I have something to show you that I think you might like.”

“Ooh!” Crystal claps her hands in excitement, and fiery sparks spray onto the ground. “Hold on, let me get the lights. I keep them off, usually, because I read somewhere that they’re not friendly to your planet.”

Gigi hums in agreement and watches as her grey silhouette darts across to the lightboard. A moment later, the room is washed in pearly white, reigniting the sparkles in Crystal’s hair. She’s beaming, her face alight with elation, and Gigi can’t help but grin too.

“You’re still wearing the jacket,” she comments, stepping into the warehouse and letting the door swing shut behind her. This time, the loud CLANG doesn’t make her jump.

“Oh, yeah.” Sheepishly, Crystal toys with the edges of the colourful garment, tracing the white patterns on the sleeves. “It makes me think of how much fun I had when you were here, and that makes me happy.”

She looks unusually shy, her eyes trained on the floor as her tail twitches behind her. Gigi closes the distance between them and gently adjusts Crystal’s collar, the plastic beads cool beneath her fingertips.

“It suits you,” Gigi tells her warmly. Crystal finally looks up, her candy-apple eyes swimming with what might be incredulity or a wonderstruck elation.

Perhaps it’s both, Gigi thinks, digging around in her pocket for her phone. Crystal is watching her as though she isn’t quite sure whether or not Gigi is real, and that familiar pity wedges itself between her ribs.

“The thing I want to show you today is called Snapchat,” Gigi explains, opening the app. “It has tons of filters that we can mess around with.”

“Filters?” Crystal asks, perplexed, as she peers over Gigi’s shoulder. “Filters for what?”

“For your face.” Gigi suppresses a smile when Crystal scrunches up her nose in confusion. “Here, I’ll show you.”

She picks the infamous dog filter and tilts her phone until they’re both on the screen. A moment later, canine ears and noses appear on their faces, and Crystal starts back in surprise.

“That’s us!” She gasps, gaze darting between Gigi, her phone, and back again in disbelief. “But - but how does that work?” Frantically, she pats her face, feeling her nose and ears and horns, watching with wide eyes as her hands phase through the dog ears on screen.

Gigi bursts into laughter. “I told you, it’s a filter,” she giggles. “The phone scans your face and puts the filter over it, so it looks like you’re a dog, even though you’re not.”

“Oh.” Crystal lets her hands fall, and Gigi can almost see the thoughts spinning behind her ruby eyes. “So humans invented a way to… to pretend that they can shapeshift?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

It seems to click, then, and Crystal’s face lights up with amazement.

“That’s so cool!” she exclaims, stealing Gigi’s phone and peering eagerly at her dog-eared self. “Hey, why did my ears change? I liked the spotty ones!”

“I’ll have the spotty ones now,” Gigi says, shifting until she’s back in the frame and the black-and-white ears appear on her face. “Wait, watch this.” She opens her mouth, and Crystal’s eyes bulge when a long tongue unfurls on the screen. A moment later, Crystal follows suit, howling with excitement when she gets her own dog tongue.

“Are there any more of these ‘filters?’” she asks eagerly, her gaze still on the phone as she pulls faces at herself.

“Yeah! There’s plenty. If you give me my–”

“Wait! I just had the best idea,” Crystal interrupts, tossing the phone back to Gigi before running off. Gigi scrambles to catch it, blinking confusedly as Crystal disappears between the shelves.

“Crystal?” she calls out in concern, but all she hears in response is the scraping sound of something being dragged along the floor, before Crystal comes back around the corner with a large bean bag in tow.

“I found this again the other day,” she explains as she proudly deposits it in front of Gigi. “I thought that… if you came back, maybe we could use it. And here you are!” She throws her arms out for emphasis before flopping down into the bean bag, sending a spray of dust up after her. “It’s been here a while,” she adds, apologetically, when Gigi sneezes.

“That’s fine.” Gigi waves dust particles away from her face before taking a delicate seat on the bean bag. Crystal promptly grabs her shoulders, pulling her backwards until her entire weight is settled in the soft plush, curled up close to Crystal’s side.

“There. Perfect.” Crystal turns her head to grin at Gigi, breath warm on Gigi’s nose. “Now you can show me more of your filters!”

Gigi scrolls through the options as Crystal leans against her shoulder, the beads on her jacket pressing into Gigi’s arm. Finally, Gigi raises her phone above their faces, capturing them both in the frame, and–

Crystal shrieks with laughter, her hands flying to her face. She taps her nose, pulls at the corners of her mouth, snickering when the image on the phone mirrors her actions… except the miniature Crystal reflected back at her has Gigi’s crystalline eyes and button nose, whilst Gigi’s cheeks are glittering with gold, dark lips stretched around a grin.

“Wow, Gigi, you look especially lovely today,” Crystal giggles, pointing at Gigi’s face on the screen. “Red really suits you.”

“Why thank you,” Gigi replies graciously. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“I know, right? I should wear blue eyes more often.” She sits up in the beanbag as her features begin to change, and a moment later, Gigi finds herself staring… at herself.

“This is so fucking weird,” she says slowly, unable to stop a smile from pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Thank you. I live to please.” Crystal flicks her hair, still red and sparkling, over her ruff.

Gigi chuckles, lost for words. Crystal’s power is astonishing - when Gigi meets her eyes, it’s like looking in a mirror. It sends a strange shiver up her spine, but when Crystal grins shyly, glossy lips gleaming under the warehouse lights, Gigi can’t help but smile back.

~

Oh, what she wouldn’t give to see Crystal’s smile again. That endearingly playful smile was the only thing that never changed, even as her body shifted into all sorts of weird and wonderful things. Gigi hugs the jacket to her chest, tears streaming freely down her face in the privacy of her bedroom.

She recalls the paradise sunset of that second weekend, when she turned around on her way down the hill to see Crystal’s shimmering form silhouetted in the doorway, the amalgamation of colours on her jacket visible even from a distance. When Gigi thinks of the warehouse, she doesn’t see the wreckage and the big machines; instead, she remembers the glorious sunlight on the edge of Crystal’s face that afternoon, remembers how Crystal breathed life and excitement into everything she touched. She remembers how every day from then, the promise of her return hung silently in the air, sparkling gold and bright.